A Massage to Remember...or report to the police?

I have to share a true story, as I have been asking myself over and over, "What would someone else do in this situation?"... I am also attempting to win a monthly price by entering this past post under the theme: "DON'T YOU HATE IT WHEN...". I was too late last week, so here we go again...apologies for anyone who's already read this!

If I make you laugh, or you simply just feel sorry for my experience (which oh my god, you absolutely should as I am still recuperating)...go vote at http://blokthoughtsnmore.blogspot.com!

Don't you hate it when you go to a 5 Star Spa only to be molested by a 350 pound porn addict?

Yesterday, my husband and I treated ourselves to a few spa treatments at a new resort spa that recently opened up. Very chi chi (um not like [chi] as in "chia pet", but like [shee shee] as in "wow, only snobs would go here"...). We actually made our reservations over a week ago, and while scheduling over the phone, lovely Dawn the receptionist began to lay out our agenda to me explaining that first, your husband will start with "Mike" for his reflexology at 9:00am."

OK, hold on Sally. Er, I mean Dawn. Mark plus Mike will just not work.

Me: "Um, excuse me but could I possibly request that my husband be scheduled with a female for his services? I don't really have a preference, however for some reason he is just more comfortable with a woman."

Them: ".......well, Okay.....let me see......".

Bottom line, we figured it out. My lovely husband could breathe a sigh of relief as he'd be having both Anna and Meghan working over his entire naked body. And I would have "Mike".

Let's just break here for a moment. I need to create a vision for you. If you could close your eyes, and just listen to me for a few moments, and create this character in your mind, as it really has everything to do with the point of my story.

Description:

• Male, Caucasian, approximately 5 feet, 3 inches.
• Weight approximately 358 lbs.
• Facial hair - untrimmed, too much to account for, all over the place - even out of nose and ears.
• Glasses - 80's style, very thick. So thick that I wondered if he could even see through them without tripping.
• Goes by the name of "Mike".

Personal Habitation and Concerns:

• Most likely lives with his elderly mother. Aside from new massage job he is anxious to start, spends most of his time at home amidst a house that is excessively filled with clutter, old open food containers, magazines and newspapers. Owner of 17 cats and spends most hours of the day and night on the computer. Suspect has been reported to police various times for congregating near local elementary schools for hours at a time during afternoon student dismissals.

Have I created a picture in your mind??? Hold that vision, very closely my dear friends.

So, back to our story. Mark and I enter the spa, go to our respective locker rooms, undress, put fancy robe and sandals on and then meet in the "relaxation room" where we wait to be called for our first treatment. We were gorging ourselves on dried apricots and coconut slices, sipping water entrenched with healthy green tea and antioxidant additives...(PS...acai berry!!! Remember, from Oprah??!!).

The door opens and a cute yet empowering looking female slowly walks into the room and in a seductive yet slow spoken voice we hear the word "Mark?"... I smiled at him and said "Enjoy baby." They walked out together. I continued to sip my health water, and put my feet up as I slowly slipped down into my glorious leather recliner. Aaaahhhhh. What peace.

And then the door opened.

[Flashback to vision created above, as character "Mike" enters the relaxation room.]

"Susan?"

I looked at him with probably a look of sheer panic and then turned around to look at the wall behind me, as if there was a room of 75 other souls in this tiny little cubicle of what they should now NEVER call a relaxation room where I had thought just moments earlier lost myself in a total peaceful bliss. Is there another Susan in the room that I hadn't noticed? Please? Anyone?

Me: "Hi."

Character Created: "Hi, I'm Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiichael."

Me: [unspoken thought]: "Oh God No."

I walked along with him, and somehow gained enough control of myself not to cry. As we walked into the therapy room, candles were lit, soft music was playing, and as he asked me to "disrobe" letting me know he would return in a just a few moments, I decided I would get through this. Shit, I was paying $90 for Mike, and I was going to manage. I ripped off my robe and jumped under the sheet and blanket so fast, pulling it up past my ears to make sure I was totally covered before Mike's "quick" return.

I hear a knock on the door. I can't say anything because I think I'm in shock. I was face down, totally naked under the sheet and blanket, of course a habit I have gotten into but wished I had never become comfortable with, as today I wished I had the biggest pair of skin covering granny panties ever created on earth. A camisole tank top (or winter ski coat) would have been even better. My shield of cover however only lasted for a minute or two, as I begin to realize that Mike is the LEAST HUMBLE OR RESERVED masseuse I have ever had...in one split second with a major whipping sound my sheet was pulled all the way off my body down to my legs, so two-thirds of my entire body and full ass was showing.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I can now after the fact say in full confidence, my man Mike is an ASS man.

Not only was my ass showing, my "betty" as I will now refer to it as, was pretty much exposed as well, not to mention the specific positioning of my legs that he helped assume, arching and spreading them just perfectly prior to the start of our interaction.

And then, it was silent. Except for Mike's breathing. Have you ever known anyone with COPD, or someone that might be in the very least a loud breather (with interrupted snorts) while sleeping? That's my man Mike. So that is what I listened to for the next 50 minutes, in addition to the exaggerated oil squirts into Mike's hands, as he began to fondle my entire body.

Then, I only had my thoughts to get me through the remainder of the time:

"Ok, is he breathing that way because he is just a bigger person, or am I imagining that it started as soon as he removed the blanket off of me and my ass and betty are so exposed that Mike has never seen such nakedness at one time and he is in awe of this woman in front of him that I think he is inappropriately fondling or in the very least inappropriately exposing too much of skin and body parts at any one given time?

"Or maybe Mike is very happily married and does NOT live with his mother which I am totally convinced he does, and maybe he does not sit at his computer and look at porn all day while eating chips and hot pockets since he now has this cushion job to stare and feel up naked women five days a week?"

"And as he moves around the table, always with one hand on, or under, or above my entire ass region I wonder if it is just his belly rubbing my finger tips as they lay limp (from total shock) or is it other mid-regional male body parts that he in some way manipulates to touch or rub over my fingers repeatedly to enhance the entire situation for his own self-pleasure?"

"Wait Sue, don't you remember the last couples massage Mark and you got (both by female masseuses I might add) where you both commented how nice it was to have people who weren't so conservative and actually had the sheet pulled down enough to expose part ass, while they also massaged a good portion of our upper buttocks which was actually somewhat pleasurable however, why in god's name at this very moment do I feel the sheet down along my upper thighs and Mike is not only ensuring a FULL buttock massage but hip, sides, upper thighs and butt crack squeezes and pinches no less all during my "upper body" portion of this session, which also I might like to add lasted almost the entire time of the this 50 minute (felt like 749 minute) treatment?"

"And come to think of it, during my lower leg section I never remember being so carefully arched and positioned to the point that my legs were propped, split and angled to such perfection you would think I was about to start labor and delivery in stirrups, and in addition I do not remember ever getting such inner thigh attention as my legs were lifted and spread again with sheet falling and shifting everywhere to ensure expose of my trimmed betty just as if I was on display for the entire world to see."

And then, we were done. As Mike slowly pulled the entire sheet up to my neck, he did his one last total body/ass feel down moving his entire arm from the top of my covered body down to the bottom. I heard shuffling, and then felt my robe being strategically placed along my abdomen, and felt the presence of someones face too close to my own. I slowly opened my one eye to peek, and Mike was staring at me about an inch from my face, with a smile resembling a little boy who had just learned how to masturbate for the first time, and spoke slowly:

"Our time has come to an end, Susan."

Buddy, this was not "our" time.

But Mike, maybe if I can get past all of this in the next few days, I'll call Dawn for another appointment next month. Now, I'm off to the shower.

I hate when that crap happens.