All this imagery of ladies dancing through my head disturbed “Jim and the Twins” which arose from their slumber. Jim shot up like he missed the bus for a court date; I had to beat him down, he was acting aggressively… That was until I heard the entry alarm sound at the front of the shop. “What the fuck? I thought I locked that bitch!” I quickly turned off the water and made it as fast as I could on tiptoes, trying precariously not to slip on the way by the towel rack, so I can dry off and make it to the door to prevent any embarrassing situations.
As I was in mid-stride, reaching for a nice fluffy beach towel that had been laying on the warming rack, the sudden stopping of momentum didn’t go so well for me and I found myself WWE Smackdown on my booty having the wind knocked out of me. I was in quite a daze for who knows how long, but obviously long enough for that fuck Murphy to stick his dick in because you heard the commotion coming from the shower room next to the entryway. I watched in frozen, slow-motion panic as I saw the door open as you came running in to check on whomever slipped.
Because Murphy (dik) is always there waiting for me to bend over for opportunity before he comes up behind me and performs surprise bhut-sechs: naturally, I never made it to the towel rack because now I was in a fetal position on the floor… just not quite close enough to reach out and grab a towel. I must have looked like some albino ape laying on the floor questioning his poor life decisions. Thankfully, the pleasant sound of your laughter was comforting. Finally, we can catch some humor with this situation.
You cautiously made your way over through the locker room until the point where you saw that I was naked. You let out the cutest little gasp along with the sweetest girly giggle, and for whatever reason this caused “Jim” to stand up and look around to see what was going on. Luckily, he had time to bulk-up a little because “I’m a grower, not a shower.” “Jim’s not the tallest gentleman in the locker room” is an average 6 – 1/2in tall and as round as a toilet-paper roll. When the ladies stare into his one deep-eye, they become enchanted, wanting to become an Indian Snake Charmer playing the flute to tame the majestic King Cobra.
You were quick acting and kind enough to recognize the situation. Immediately, you found and took action on a pile of towels over on top of the used garment section and you threw it over to me – hitting me right in the face. One could wonder whether or not that was done on purpose, was it calculated and taking some time to distract by throwing it at the larger-head rather than taking careful conservative aim and leveling at the smaller-head, which would have conveniently solved my embarrassment quickly.
You demurely backed your way out of the room recognizing that I needed some private time to get my shit together (all my shit, get it together, put it in a bag together). By the time that I dressed myself, you were already outside in the foyer waiting for me. However, because I dressed so hastily, I didn’t take the time to put on deodorant, even brush my teeth all minty-fresh, grab my socks or even my chonies.
That’s right, I was free-balling in my scrubs with “them good ol’ boys” chubbed up and swinging in the wind. Even though the light was down low, I still noticed that your eyes betrayed you and dropped down to see what was rummaging around in the front of my pants – It must’ve looked like that King Cobra from earlier who got caught in a sack and is trying to get out.
Luckily, I took the time previously to ensure everything was set up, so it was just more simple pleasantries as I directed you back to your customized suite, as your appointment time was coming quickly. I briefly showed you around the room, providing guidance on how to use “all the things” making it a truly personalized experience. As I left the room, an expression of my gratitude for your earlier support (and because it was slow AF), I mentioned that you would get an extra half-hour on the house for your support and lovely smile. I told you that just seeing your face light up the room caused all of the pain to melt away. I set the timer for 10 minutes and walked out the door for “you to do you, boo.”
As I was making my way back into the room, I couldn’t help but notice that you had quite the environment setup. It was a killer, custom-tailored experience built using all the options. Everything was laid out just right and it all combined beautifully, including the 2010’s trance-dance / alt-indie music selected – “Is that Gotye?” You must have had massages before, because you’re already in position with the towel laid over your backside while your beautiful skin is glowing in the dim light.
Admittedly, It was better than I imagined: smooth, sculpted, curvy, wonderfully soft. You looked so comfortable laying there, as if you had melted into the mattress. The thing that was bothering me about your reservation was that you had chosen the “Silence Infidel” option. I really don’t care for that option, but my “marketing specialist” person said “All the Zoomers today don’t like hearing what Boomers/GenXYZ-ABC gotta say. They don’t want to talk about millennial problems, geriactric politics, or the stupid weather – they got an App for that. They just want to be taken from A to B of their journey in comfort… and silence.” They probably booked Uber from the shitter, lol.
I intend to respect your wishes to keep it a quiet situation, happy with not having to make small-talk or ask exhaustive questions requiring detailed responses. I’ll just go as the situation dictates, so you’re able to relax. This is for you, not for me. “Let’s Do This!” I really enjoy giving massages because it allows me to practice simple yet rewarding skills of touch, designed for helping people out with problems with their muscles; or as it often happens, provides the benefactor with an attitude adjustment that supports refocused life in general.