The Story Slice by Brian Hughes

The Massage 

by 

Brian Hughes

Arlen waited with a smile until the homely, Chinese masseuse ducked behind the curtain, giving him privacy to disrobe. Arlen was smiling because he didn’t care whether the woman stayed or not, he was quite comfortable will his all-together swaying in the pristine spa air. Climbing onto the massage table, he slid his naked, tightly built body underneath a white sheet and stretched his legs out as far as he could – feeling the strain of his muscles. 

The masseuse ducked her head back in and smiled:
“Okay … yes?”
“Yes, come in. I’m ready,” Arlen said, then exhaled, watching the masseuse’s feet moving to and fro from the face cutout in the bench. She placed a full-length towel over the backside of his body and began loosening his muscles by rubbing him from his feet to his calves to his ribs, on up to his shoulders and neck. After mustering up the proper chi, the masseuse unfurled the towel to just above his ass. Arlen closed his eyes as tranquil new age music emanated softly from two speakers sitting high above the room on shelves. The masseuse squeezed out massage oil into her hands then hovered her palms just below Arlen’s face in the cutout so that he might catch some aromatherapy. He liked it – a musky, tropical banana smell. Arlen liked bananas. He also liked the heat that existed between her hands and his body as she rubbed the back of his neck and shoulders. And with every tissue pressed and knot untied, he liked to imagine all the metaphoric cancers and muscle diseases and tumors being squeezed out of him. That with every session a force field of peace and goodness was taking reign over his body, a realm where no diseases could ever penetrate. It was the power of positive reinforcement and healing. Arlen couldn’t prove that it worked, but to his way of thinking, the mind was capable of so many powers as yet unknown to humans, that this was as good a technique as any in fighting the failures and frailties of the body. In his mind’s eye, he could see cancer cells wafting to the ceiling and popping like a child’s bubbles.

He groaned as the masseuse kneed a shoulder joint with her elbow. She giggled just then. Arlen thought that was cute. He wasn’t familiar with this particular gal. Her name was Mary. Yeah, right … if her name is Mary, then mine is Ming, he thought. “Ugggghhhh,” went Arlen as she giggled again. “Why are you giggling?” Mary just laughed again and said something under her breath in broken English that he couldn’t quite understand. She was a small woman, but the deep tissue massage she was dishing out, the strength and glorious force, made Arlen think that perhaps she was a goddess – the goddess “Masseuse” or something. Leaving him was the kidney failure, the arthritis, the Lou Gherig’s disease, the pancreatic cancer.

“You have nice, strong body,” Mary said.
“Thank you. I work out.”
“Yes, I can tell.” Mary laughed again as she began rubbing Arlen’s legs, moving up the thigh and skimming his ball sack. Arlen’s cock woke up. He didn’t like to get a hardon during a massage, though he was perfectly fine with it; but he liked to avoid it, so he began thinking about the company wide layoffs due in the spring, about his life insurance, about who would catch for the Yankees now that Posada was on the DL. Arlen kept the little guy at bay until she began working the other leg, continuing to giggle as she was moving up and down it. Why was she giggling so much? Can she see that I’m getting a woody? Maybe I didn’t wipe my ass well enough, he thought in a panic. No, that wasn’t it he thought – he had showered before he arrived.

“You’re so good! I’m really enjoying this.”
“Ummm, yeah … I can tell,” Mary said with a laugh.
Okay, she definitely knows I’m hard, Arlen thought. No doubt. All her giggling reminded him of one of those blooper shows where they show outtakes of an actress who keeps cracking up during a scene. It’s not very professional, he thought, but it’s making me more and more hard. She began working Arlen’s fingers.
“You married?”
“Yes I am.”
“Hum.”
“Are you married?”
“Oh no! I would love to be married, but you taken.”
“Now, now … I know you must have lots of boyfriends with those magical hands of yours.”
“No … no… I wish, but no…” Mary continued to giggle.
As she lifted his leg up and stretched it, his penis began to swish against the table, causing it to stiffen slightly. Arlen tried to continue to stay focused on the massage, not that he was getting excited - concentrating further on his body, on his immune system, on his survival.
“You have nice build. Yes.”
“You have an attractive body as well. Why haven’t you found a nice man yet?”
She let out a guffaw, slapping her hands down on Arlen’s ass in exasperation.
“I not been lucky to find white collar man like yourself.”
“You don’t want a white collar man like myself. Oh, no … I’m no good.”
“Oh, yes … like you… yes…” she giggled again as she switched legs – his hardening cock pressing against his abdomen. Arlen would moan now and again – especially as she worked his thighs and calves, the last set of squats at the gym having really tore them up pretty good.
“You’re so good my Chinese flower … so good.”
“Ummm … yes, I can tell…” said Mary with a grin.

After she walked on his back, pressing her toes deep into his spine, after she had elbowed everything into pure bliss, it was time for Mary to work the front of his torso. Arlen happily turned over – hardly shy to expose his large erection. Mary snuck a look and placed the towel over his center region. She started scrubbing his head, digging her fingernails into his scalp – it was his least liked part of the session, but there was a glutton for punishment deep inside Arleb that prevented him from telling her to stop: He just squeezed his teeth together and imagined brain cancer being rubbed out like a Brillo pad working out the grease on a stove. After a thorough massage of his feet, arms and legs, she ran her hands across his hairless, muscular chest, and moved down his torso just far enough to knick the head of his penis. Arlen was tenser now that the session was near completion than when he had entered the room.
“You know Mary, it’s tough … and, you know, I’m sorry that I’m, you know,” Arlen said gesturing to his erect shaft. She giggled once more, throwing her hands in front of her eyes in a playful motion. “And you know,” Arlen continued, “it’s a muscle and all, and it is left to just … to just be there, ya know.” He shook his head and sighed. The massage was over and Mary handed Arlen his robe. Arlen slowly put it on, making sure to give Mary one last look before she exited the room. She did look again, and smiled.

Arlen and his wife, Doris, sat on large comfy chairs in the rest area, eating fruit and enjoying the ambiance of lit candles and small, manmade waterfalls. Arlen needed terribly to go home and fuck Doris – he was frustrated, chewing up pineapple – brooding on his massage.
“I’m more tense now that the massage is over than when I went in.”
“Why?”
Doris was a former Houston, Texas beauty pageant runner up. Her body was still firm, but her face was collapsing under a canopy of large blonde hair.
“Because she was touching me near my penis and she was giggling.”
“I bet you enjoyed it. There is such a double standard in this world.”
“Actually … I didn’t enjoy it.”
“If a guy had done something like that to me, you would have gotten angry at the guy and probably at me!”
“I didn’t like it, I said.”
“You should say something, that’s very unprofessional AND I think illegal.”
“Yeah, well …”
Mary the massager brought a tray of juices over to Arlen and Doris, smiling.” They gave her a dirty look. “I’m not thirsty,” Arlen said.
“Say something,” Doris said. Arlen remained mum. Mary walked away – confused.
“I knew you wouldn’t say something – just like you. You probably loved it, that’s why you won’t say anything.”
“I tell you, that is not true. It made me very uncomfortable.”
“So uncomfortable that you won’t say anything.”

After Arlen and Doris had dressed, they walked up to the front to pay for their massages. Doris began putting her shoes on. Arlen looked frustrated as he handed his credit card to the squeaky clean Asian boy manning the front desk.
“Will you be paying for both, sir?”
“Yes – and … let me tell you, I find this establishment to be very unprofessional and highly distasteful. My massager, ‘Mary’ I believe her name was, kept massaging near my private area, making me very uncomfortable. I don’t know what she was expecting, but I asked her repeatedly to stop and she wouldn’t hear it. I don’t know if she could understand English or something, but I was very put off.”
“That is terrible Sir. I can assure you, we are not one of those establishments.”
“Well, I think you had better have a talk with ‘Mary’ – or can her ass, because she can get arrested for stuff like that? If she thinks I’m a ‘John’ – she has another thing coming.”
“Please fell free to write our Manager, she is not working today, and I’m sure she will take care of the situation. I am very sorry sir; we will not charge you for your session. I am very, very sorry.”
Arlen continued on like that for another minute or two as he put on his three hundred dollar pair of shoes.
“I’m very proud of you,” Doris said, hugging Arlen around as they left.