My friend Carrie moved here with me, and while we no longer share an apartment, we still meet every Thursday evening at a wine bar to catch up on all that's going on with our lives. Lately, I have less and less to report, as I'm at work late and on the weekends while she's playing in soccer rec leagues, taking pottery classes, and trying out new restaurants and clubs every week. Every week, she grows more and more concerned about me, because she can sense that I'm withdrawing under the demands of my job. She's always trying to either set me up with a friend or relative of a friend, or inviting me out with her ever-growing nightlife entourage.
"Eva, I've got it," Carrie said as she excitedly slapped the bar surface with her palm. "What you need is a massage, and not just any massage....a GOOD one!"
Yes my back hurts more than any 24-year-old's back has a right to, and I'm constantly tense, but as my co-worker Allison can attest, put your body in the wrong hands, and you'll walk out of there worse than you came in, possibly creeped out, and at least $100 poorer for the trouble.
Seeing my eyes roll slightly at the suggestion, Carrie continued the hard sell. "I know, I know, you never know how good they'll be, and some of them are kind of creepy, but I've been seeing this guy for severaI months now....and I know I've told you how much more relaxed I am from those massages. Come on, girl, I've got to get you out of this funk somehow; feeling better physically will certainly help!"
Without a good comeback or a compelling reason to disagree, I reluctantly agreed to give it a try. Only after that did she tell me how wierd this guy and his techniques really were. "Don't be freaked out by the place, 'cause it's a little strange," said Carrie in a careful tone. "His space is in downtown Santa Monica, and he works alone, so he'll have to buzz you in. I can't really describe the place to you, besides to say that it feels really....tribal. And the music he plays is like that too; it's all part of the therapy, though. It sounds kooky, but as a satisfied customer, I can't laugh it off."
"What do you mean tribal? Are there headdresses and spears all around?"
"No," she said, "it's more of a vibe than the decorations. He was raised in Australia by Aboriginies, which is where he learned his techniques. I don't want to say too much. Just go in with an open mind, and I can't imagine that you'll be disappointed."
The next day, I called the number she gave me, and a man in a faint Australian accent, identifying himself as Daniel, was happy to make an appointment with me for Monday evening. He was excited that Carrie had referred him, and said I should be looking forward to feeling better soon. He sounded young, and didn't sound too wierd, and for the first time I was genuinely looking forward to getting my massage.
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Before leaving work on Monday, I went into the bathroom and changed out of my workclothes, putting on a lycra workout top, cotton athletic shorts, and flip flops. It had been far too long since I'd gotten a pedicure, and my feet were showing it, but what the hell, I'd only have to remove my shoes anyway once I got there. Luckily, his address was several blocks from the Promenade, so I was easily able to find street parking. His door was blank and unmarked, his space apparently devoid of windows. The door unlocked once I identified myself, and before I was able take a good look around, I was greeted by Daniel.
There are some people that make you comfortable as soon as you meet them, and Daniel was certainly an example of that. He stood at least 8 inches taller than me, had dark hair that ran halfway down his back, and was shirtless, but his smile was warm and for some reason I wasn't the least bit nervous or threatened. His skin was very tan, and he was muscular without looking like one of those roided-out weightlifter-types. Judging by the lines on his face, I'm guessing he was in his late thirties.
In the warm, dark lighting, it was almost five minutes before I realized that the only clothing Daniel had on was what looked like a loincloth. As I contemplated this against Carrie's 'tribal' description, he explained that his methods of relaxation are different from anyone else's I could possibly see. He said that a combination of the cushioning, music, lighting, and smoldering herbs provided the ideal environment of relaxation so that the massage would have the proper effect on the body.
"Smoldering herbs?"
"Yeah, there are certain herbs that have a relaxing, almost sedative, effect when burned and allowed to emanate. Don't worry, it's not marijuana or anything," he said with a slight laugh. "They're imported from the Australian bush, where I grew up. You wouldn't believe all the things that are wonderful for humans that just grow in the wild. Speaking of: let me get you some tea. It's the first step toward taking you from the stressful world of work and traffic and money, and trasporting you to a place of comfort."
We sat on the floor, atop a cushioned velour rug, sharing the tea as music played in the background, rhythmic drums that were barely audible. The tea was like nothing I have ever tasted before: slightly sweet and spicy, but very smooth. The temperature in the room was a little warm, just enough to make me slightly sleepy, but not enough to really sweat.
Daniel told me once we had finished our tea, that it would be time to move on to the next step, and for that I would need to change clothes. He said that he would give me a loincloth to wear just like the one he had on. I didn't ask what kind of top I would be wearing, because I knew there wouldn't be one. This didn't really make me nervous, because no one gets a massage with a shirt on, but walking around topless didn't usually happen without the aid of a robe. But hey, Carrie did say to keep an open mind, and I'm sure this is nothing she didn't do every time she came to get a massage.
Daniel helped me to my feet and let me toward the dressing area. He also gave me a necklace adorned with at least a dozen polished stones and crystals held together with a leather band. Each stone had it's own healing aura, he explained as he handed it to me. The world I live in only refers to the 'aura' of something with cynicism and irony, so to hear him speak this way was disarming and kind of endearing.
Behind a vividly-patterned curtain, I slipped out of my flip-flops, shorts, and panties, then pulled the loincloth around my waist and tied it together at the hip. It covered only the top half of my upper legs, and was of course open all the way up. If not for the warmth of the room, I would've felt quite a draft.
I lifted the lycra top up and over my head, exposing my belly and breasts to the air. One of the few parts of my body that I'm truly happy with is my breasts. I'm a full b-cup, which for an asian woman is on the well-endowed side, but they're not so big that they really sag, especially since I'm still in my mid-twenties and haven't had children yet. So when I wear a sports top, I don't worry too much about wearing a separate sports bra underneath, and can enjoy a little harmless attention as a side benefit.
My belly is a different story, having grown subtly but steadily ever since I graduated high school. Granted, I've only gained one size in those six years, but the little extra that's there threatens to hang over the side of my pants, and I seem to be inching ever closer to a size 6. In order to keep it secured to her waist, the loincloth was going to have to appear to fit a little small under my tummy. Oh well, I'm not here to model loincloths. But still.....
Before I walked out, I put the necklace on, feeling the cold stones against my warm skin, the lowest of them resting against the inner swells of my breasts and hanging down between them. My nipples were slighly hard from nervousness. I hadn't been topless in front of a man in almost a year. Even when I had sex with Brett from the office, I was still in my bra.
As I emerged, Daniel was waiting for me, necklace on, holding a small container from which he was applying reddish cream to his face. The only light was an assortment of candles, casting his body in a warm, dim glow, and the strange music was slightly more audible now.
To break the ice, and take my mind off my nakedness, I joked, "is this some sort of tribal, warpaint thing?"
He smiled and said, "of sorts, yes. it's a cream from a ground-up root. It releases endorphins....makes you feel good, basically. Come here, I'll put yours on."
I could feel my boobs jiggle slightly as I walked barefoot across the floor, feet cushioned by a rug of some furry animal. Funny how when you're all alone, you never notice those things, but when you're in a new place with new people, you notice every little thing and every little movement.
His bronze body towered over me as I stood less than a foot in front of him. My eyes lined up with his neck, adorned with his own necklace of polished stones.
"Have you ever had a full body massage before?", he asked while holding my face in his hands, using his two thumbs to first rub the cream in and then to massage the tissue of my cheeks.
"No, not a full-body. I've had a few backrubs, but nothing serious."
"Well, this is no backrub, that's for sure. You'll be amazed." And I was.
Daniel led me to what looked like a table, with a large teri-cloth cover. Once I climbed atop it, I realized it was some sort of tall mattress, more than six or seven feet in diameter. He gave me a pillow filled with the scent of some wonderful but unfamiliar flower.
"Now," he said. "Lay on your stomach, rest your head on the pillow, close your eyes, and clear your head of everything besides the needs of your body. If you can put your mind in sync with your body, you'll be able to tell me where you need my attention. Until then, of course, I have a massage routine just for you."
I breathed deeply, relaxing every muscle in my body as the music suddenly became much clearer: deep, thunderous drums, beating to rhythms I'd never heard before. The bass beats were vibrating the surface I was laying on, sending small vibrations through my body.
I could also for the first time smell what must be the herbs he spoke about. A sweet, musky aroma filled the room as it burned, warming my lungs as I breathed it in. The sounds, the smells, and the soft surface I was laying on conspired to send my body into complete limpness for the first time in what must have been years.
Before I could think about when the actual massage might start, I felt a warm, oily liquid hit my calf, followed by Daniel's large hands thoroughly and gently rubbing in into my lower leg, bending it up at the knee to rub it up and down, front and back, vertically. This was followed by the same treatment on the other leg, then more oil was poured on the upturned soles of both feet.
I've had a couple of guys attempt to give me foot massages before, and it's not like they felt bad, but feet, especially mine, are very sensitive, and handling of them can be very intimate if done right. I've always wondered what a really good, sensual foot massage would be like; on this evening, I found out.
He worked one foot and then the other, dousing his hands in oil, then massaging each toe completely, before digging his fingers into the thick pads of tissue at the ball and heel, then closing in all his attention on the instep and then the top. Waves of pleasure radiated through my body as he kneaded and caressed my feet; it was probably the most erotic touch I've ever experienced that didn't involve my breasts or sex organs.
I was breathing very deeply, entranced by my surroundings, and mentally transported to a different place by the time he massaged both ankles and moved his attention away from my feet. Similarly sensual feelings again pulsed through me as he kneaded the skin in the crease behind the knee and then halfway up my thigh before climbing up on the mattress where I laid to start working on my back. Low, middle, and high, Daniel seemed to reverse, relax, and otherwise correct every problem I've ever felt in my back over what must have been less than a half an hour. The pulsing drums of the music echoed through my body and mind, and I felt him straddle his legs to each side of mine so he could work downward on my back, shoulders, and neck. After rubbing down my back, neck, arms, hands, and even the top of my skull, I felt his hair rest on my back as he leaned his head down to whisper in my ear:
"Eva, I hope you're getting out of this all that you want. I can feel that you're relaxed. Is there anything else that needs more work before you flip over onto your back?"
I had a thought: weren't you usually supposed to have your buttocks massaged in a full-body massage? And what about my upper legs?
"I don't think you finished my legs," I mumbled. "My...buttocks. Do you do that?"
"Not always, but I certainly can if you'd like," he said softly. "The loincloths we're wearing are handmade in the village where I was raised, and so they are part of my culture and part of the experience. But, they also are there to set limits. Ladies come here, and they are already topless in a strange place alone with me. To make them lay naked is not a situation I want to force them into. Besides, the tension that causes problems is rarely in the buttocks or groin. My methods can be very intimate if we go there, and it will make you feel fantastic if you're open to it; I just need to know that it's your choice and you're comfortable with it."
The truth was, I was far from feeling threatened, and mostly just wanted to make sure my entire body got the royal treatment. I was feeling a euphoria that was new to me, and I didn't want it to end anytime soon. The fact that he said his methods were 'intimate' excited me more than I'd like to admit.
"I want it all, just let me know what to do," was all I could say. Daniel told me that he was going to untie the loincloth so my backside would be exposed. I took a deep breath and relaxed again, only flinching slightly as he gripped my upper thighs with a hand each, kneading gently before moving both hands to one leg, slowly working their way up my legs to the crease at the base of my ass. I have to admit to getting slightly aroused each time his hands gripped the top of my thighs, at times less than a couple of inches from my vulva. As his hands moved away, a part of me wished they had stayed and come closer yet.
I got even more aroused as he began to work my buttocks, starting down low, thumbs pressing inward near both my anus and vagina, then kneading firmly all the way up their length and then on the sides to where they meet my hips around front. Again, my body wanted those hands down low, and I felt myself getting wet just thinking about them.
Before my mind whisked the thought away, I considered just how good those hands would be to me in a sexual way, as good as they were in a massage. It had been so long since I'd been touched in a way that excited me, and here I was in the middle of a massage wishing the massage therapist would touch me sexually, or at least my body did, since that was what Daniel was encouraging me to listen to.
"Okay, I think that about covers your backside. It's front time, turn around and lay on your back," he whispered into my ear. I laid flat on my back, legs together and straight. I could feel the tribal beat of the drums vibrating through my buttocks and then through my body. He reached behind my shoulder and pulled the necklace over, recentering it between my bare breasts. "I'm going to climb up here and kneel over you," he told me as he swung one of his legs over mine, leaning his body over me.
He rubbed my neck, his long hair draping over my breasts, tickling my nipples. He moved his hands to my shoulders, then down to the very top of the swells of my breasts, then over to the side, and then down to my belly, and finally up between my breasts to my shoulders again. Over and over, his hands took this path, each time coming closer to my erect nipples. My breathing became heavier and I could feel myself getting wetter as his hands glided along the outside of my breasts.
"Are you still comfortable, Eva?"
All I could manage was a mumble and a nod before I felt the skin of his palm graze over my nipples. He was now kneading and massaging my breasts, rubbing the muscles buried underneath. He didn't go out of his way to stimulate my nipples, but then he didn't try to avoid them either.
He moved his hands all the way down my belly, stopping his thumbs at the edge of my pubic hair before running them back up to the bottom of my breasts. He massaged my stomach muscles and all the ones surrounding them before lifting his body up and kneeling again beside me. His hands gripped the outside of my leg as it met my hip, then massaged the top of my leg before coming down the other side.
Without thinking about it, I parted my legs slightly as his hands went down the inside of my thigh. I could feel his fingers brush up against my labia, sending a wave of pleasure through my body. I gasped softly. He repeated the movements on the other side, then warned me that he was bringing his fingers between my legs. I had no response, other than the soft moan as I felt three of his fingers rest atop my hot, damp opening, massaging the area between my anus and vagina, as well as the areas to each side of my vagina. Again, with his hand cupping my mound, he didn't try to avoid my vagina, nor did he go out of his way to stimulate it, at least at first.
With one hand massaging all skin around my vaginal opening and anus, the other hand reached for more oil, pouring it onto both breasts. He then began to rub it in, this time concentrating on the nipples, rubbing them between his fingers while his other hand was making me more and more excited, yet completely relaxed at the same time. I almost felt out of body, as if I was watching myself get this massage, yet could feel his touch at the same time.
Any other time that I would be this, well...horny, and had a man's hands touching me this way, I'd be moving my body to the rhythm of his touch, guiding his hands to where it feels best, and finding a way to reciprocate, but I did none of those things. His touch was perfect, and I was so comfortably limp that I almost felt unable to move. The truth was that I was perfectly content, and although he was touching me in my most intimate areas, it was still a massage, at least for now...