My treatment today was called “Head in the Clouds” and with a name like that I would be very surprised if the masseuse managed to get her hands anywhere near my penis… unless it was a different kind of “head” that they were talking about. I decided not to look up what the treatment involved just so I could keep entertaining the possibility that I would be led to a room full of dry ice where a woman would perform fellatio on me. But what if the dry ice cleared a bit and I saw that the person waiting for me was the middle-aged hot/cold stone guy? Ah well, a mouth’s a mouth. And who am I trying to kid? Subconsciously I have obviously returned to the scene of the crime in the hope of meeting him again. I am sure we share the same spirit guide.
I have never been much of a one for massages in the past – never really understanding what was the point of them and mainly feeling a bit uncomfortable about a person I don’t know touching my body. It usually makes me a bit tense, which is kind of the opposite of the point as is my understanding. Also as you know I am 100% masculine and the idea of being pampered like this is against my every instinct. You’ll have noticed from the last three years worth of entries that I would rather be watching football or talking about cars or fighting other men, than do something as gay as having a woman running her unguent covered hands all over my body.
But I have decided to overcome my embarrassment and confusion while I am here and take part at least in all the activities that came with the four night package that I have paid for (though I did eschew the “Skincare Workshop” that was down on my treatment schedule for this morning – taking care of my skin would be one step too far for someone as not gay and macho as me. I hate my skin and will do everything in my power to destroy it).
As it turned out the “Head in the Clouds” treatment was in actual fact a scalp and shoulder massage and everything remained tragically above board and above the chest. There weren’t even any clouds involved (I’d kind of been hoping we might be shot into the sky in a Willy Wonka style glass elevator, and that maybe then be sucked off by an Oompa Loompa, but again my imagination was running away with me). It was all very pleasant and I did eventually relax, but it still felt strange to be touched like this by someone who I had met only moments before who wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t paying her. I thought my job was weird, but spending all day massaging the scalps of a succession of strangers is pretty unusual as well. I felt a bit sorry for her to be honest. I mean at least for the moment she was getting to massage a physically perfect example of masculinity, but she had no choice usually and might have to pamper all kinds of physically hideous human beings. . (
As I have already observed most human beings are not a pretty sight once stripped to the waist)
Eventually I relaxed and then the treatment was over. I felt a bit tired. Is that the point of it? Because I can feel a bit tired on my own at home for free.
