Massage

Sometimes the greatest pleasure is doing nothing. I lay on the sofa, arms spread, and let her take control.

When she locked the door and moved behind me, I knew that grade review was not going to end the way I expected.

Renata showed up at my apartment with a bottle of wine nobody had asked her to bring. The next morning, neither of us pretended it had been the wine.

I never thought getting waxed would change anything. But when he ran the wax over my buttocks and told me to get on all fours, something in me lit up.

His fingers moved slowly up my thighs. Then I knew that massage was going to be something completely different from what I’d asked for.

The young man arrived with his massage table under his arm, and she already had two glasses of wine in her. What followed was much more than a back massage.

My son organized the evening without telling me his plans. I understood when he took his guest to the bedroom and left me alone on the sofa with his friend.

We went from client and prostitute to something with no name. On that beach vacation, she broke the taboos she had carried all her life.

The warehouse manager never gave him more than half a smile. That night he found her alone at the bus stop, with no buses and no way out.

I went to drop off a package for my mother-in-law and ended up with my hands on something that wasn’t her ankle. I can’t regret a thing.

That morning I thought I was alone in the house. I walked naked down the hallway and, as I turned the corner, there she was, with a look that wasn’t a mother’s.

I looked down when I saw my skirt was shorter than was prudent. I crossed my legs on the stool and, before the cocktail even arrived, I could feel two pairs of eyes fixed on my cleavage.

I went in asking for a wax. I left with trembling legs and my body marked by hands that knew every inch of my skin better than I did.

The fireplace burned, rain hammered the windows, and the two of them looked at me with that mix of curiosity and vertigo that comes just before crossing a line.

My best friend arrived soaked that night, her eyes red from crying so much. What happened after the third bottle of wine was not in my plans.

When she asked me to undress and climb onto the examination table, I knew something between us was going to break that could never be put back together.

When she turned in those heels, the dress lifted just enough to reveal the exact line where the stocking ended and the skin began. And then she asked me for a massage.

I put on the already worn sneakers and thick socks, ready for a full day of sightseeing. He had no idea every step was a gift prepared for him.

The first time I was fifteen. I got home early and found the two of them in the bedroom. Sandra face down on the bed, Mom massaging her back. They were both laughing softly.

I arrived at that estate newly separated, with no real expectations. I left with memories that took months to stop coming back on their own.