Maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Todd. I’ve been doing body work for over 20 years. I use an amalgamation of Swedish, Neuromuscular, Thai, Chiropractic, and basic instinct in my work. For me the body is a canvas and I paint well-being all over it. The rush of being able to touch someone with my hands and have them feel better for it transcends everything for me. What a gift.
The table is set up, freshly laundered sheet over a mattress pad, a nice bolster for the lower legs. The scents of vanilla, sandalwood, and cinnamon waft in the air from the incense brazier. Differently colored soy candles are lit all around the room, creating a mellow, sensual ambiance with the incense.
Hearing a car pull up, I start my special massage music. The wonderful sounds of Peter Kater on the piano accompanied by R. Carlos Nakai on the bone flute fills the room with gentleness and serenity.
Then I hear the knock on the door, hesitant, unsure. I open the door and see Joni. I struggle to control my face. She is exquisite. Long ringleted red hair hanging loosely to her waist, striking green eyes over a pert nose, slightly upturned. She is dressed simply, running shorts and a t-shirt. Her braless breasts appear firm, upright, her nipples easily visible poking out from her t-shirt.
“Hello,” I greeted her, holding out my hand to take hers. “I’m Todd. You must be Joni.”
“Hello,” she said, her eyes big, unblinking as she took me in. “Yes, I’m Joni.”
“Please come in,” I said to her, stepping aside and letting her enter.
I watched her eyes as she quickly appraised the room, taking in everything at once. I saw her shoulders slightly relax; a good sign. She, too, was nervous, but the room’s ambiance relaxed her.
“May I get you something to drink?” I offered.
“Um, sure, okay,” she said, looking a bit unsure of herself.
“Please, have a seat,” I said, indicating a sofa. “What would you like?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a laugh. “What are my choices?”
“Well, I’ve got everything from tap water to bottled water to fruit juice to a full bar. I specialize in rum drinks and Margueritas. There’s also beer.”
“Well, you sure are prepared,” she laughed, sitting back into the sofa. “So, you make a good Marguerita?” she asked, a twinkle in her eyes.
“So I’m told,” I replied, smiling. “Care to try one?”
“Sure, why not,” Joni said, tossing her incredible hair.
“It’ll take me a couple of minutes,” I told her, opening cabinets and finding my ingredients. “Maybe you’d like to take this opportunity to change into this,” I said, handing her a big towel. “No clothes or jewelry, please.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, taking the towel from me. “Should I just change right here?” she asked, a bit uncertain.
“If you’d like,” I replied with a laugh as I filled the shaker with ice. “But you’re also very welcome to use the bathroom,” I said, indicating a door at the back of the room.
“Thanks,” Joni said, a smile splitting her freckled face. “I’ll be right back.”
I added some Cuervo Gold Tequila, some Grand Marnier, a nice splash of Rose’s Lime Juice, then topped it off with some homemade sour mix that I always keep ready. Dipping the top of the glass in a small plate of water to wet the rim, I then twisted it into a container of Kosher sea salt, creating a nice salt rim on the glass. Then shaking the shaker as hard as I could, I shook the drink until my arms hurt, then removed the cap and carefully poured it into the glass, every drop just fitting with a nice head of foam at the top.
I head the door open from the bathroom and turned, the drink in my hand, to see Joni return to the room, the towel wrapped around her body, tucked into her generous cleavage. I noticed her feet, small delicate feet with very straight toes, her big toe and the next two almost the same length. The shape of a woman’s feet always tells me something about their body.
I handed her the drink, a smile on my face as her eyes lit up when she saw it.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” she said, putting the glass to her mouth.
I could see her tongue slide out to taste the salt rim, nice and pointed, then she was taking a big swallow from the glass.
“Oh, my god,” she said, swallowing, a film of the drink’s head on her upper lip. “That is one of the best Margheritas I’ve ever had,” she said, taking another gulp. “This is so good!”
“Why, thank you,” I said with a smile. “I’m glad you like it. Would you care for a smoke?” I asked, holding up a joint, having been apprised of her indulgence by Denise.
“Oh, god, that would be great,” she said. “It’s been a while.”
“Well, you want to be careful then,” I warned. “It’s really good stuff and that’s a strong drink you’ve got there.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I am out of contact for the afternoon to pamper myself,” she informed me. “Denise says you’re absolutely trustworthy, that I can safely put myself in your hands.”
“Well, that’s sure nice of her, and it’s also true. This is your time and everything will be tailored to your wants and needs,” I told her. “You set the limits.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she said, taking the joint from me and drawing a long hit into her lungs. “Oh, god, that tastes so good,” she said after slowly exhaling a huge amount of smoke. “I can feel my head spin already.”
“Would you like to get started?” I asked, taking a hit from the joint.
“Mmmm, sure,” Joni replied, taking another big swallow from her drink. “This is so good, I just can’t stop,” she said with a laugh.
“Could you please tie your hair up on top of your head?” I asked, handing her a hair tie. “It will be in the way otherwise.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, taking the hair tie and putting her drink down.
Reaching up and gathering her hair, Joni began to tie it on top of her head. As she twisted the hair tie around her hair, the towel loosened just enough to slip from her body, revealing her beautiful breasts, freckled, hard pointed nipples sticking out dark cherry-red from the ends. She finished with her hair and caught the towel where it had become trapped between her thighs and the massage table. I could see just a glimpse of bright red hair before she once again covered herself.
“I guess you think that’s silly,” she said, “covering myself. I mean, you see bodies all the time, don’t you?”
“That’s true, my work is bodies,” I agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a sense of privacy about yours, does it?”
“No, I guess not,” she agreed as I passed her the joint once again and she took another deep hit.
“Why don’t you get on the table, your face here in this face cradle,” I suggested.
“Yes, let’s get started,” she said, taking one more big swallow from her drink and climbing up onto the table, laying on her stomach.
I tried to rearrange the towel but Joni had lain on it, trapping it beneath her body. Gently pulling on it, she lifted up to allow me to pull it free of her body, turning it to cover her length-wise.
“Do you have any particular problems or limitations you’d like me to be aware of?” I asked, sliding the towel down to the crack of her ass, exposing her back, also lightly freckled, completely clear of any blemishes.
“I’m just really tense,” Joni replied. “I need to relax, really relax.”
“Okay, that should be no problem,” I told her. “Anything you’d like me to avoid?” I asked.
“I’d prefer not to have any unnecessary pain,” she replied.
“Well, I have very strong hands,” I informed her as I took some Biotone creme into my hands and began warming it by rubbing my hands together briskly. “So you tell me if the pressure is not to your liking or if anything I do is not to your liking,” I said, slowly and gently letting my hands come to rest on her back, feeling the heat from her skin on my hands as I slowly slid my hands up to her neck, then back down, spreading the creme all over her back.
“Oh, that feels so nice,” Joni sighed, relaxing into the table as I began to work her back.
“Have you had massages before?” I inquired as I began a series of long, firm effleurage strokes from the illiac crest up to her neck.
“Once,” she replied, sighing. “But it was more like an oil bath, nothing like this at all.”
“Well, I’m just starting,” I laughed, “and I don’t use oil.”
“Your hands feel marvelous,” Joni murmured as I continued to effleurage, letting my hands move to the sides of her back, not changing the pressure as I let my hands slide over the swell of her breasts bulging from the sides, noticing with satisfaction that the only reaction was Joni sighing and settling even more deeply — as if that were possible — into the table.
I then began to petrissage her lower back, kneading the muscles, concentrating on the quadratus lumborum, the muscle that connects the lower rib to the illiac crest, the origin of nearly all lower-back problems. I could just see the beginning of the crease splitting her ass, the gentle but seemingly perfect swell of her ass under the towel. I looked forward to that part of the massage.
“Denise never told me exactly what a Total Massage was,” Joni said, “other than it was the best experience she’d ever had.”
“Well, that’s certainly nice to hear,” I replied, once again effleuraging up her back, smoothing things out, and deliberately ignoring the rest of her statement.
“What exactly is a Total Massage?” she finally asked after a long pause, during which I had noticed the slight increase in tension in her back.
“Well, I guess it’s different for every person,” I hedged, enjoying this part as I ran my thumbs up along her spinal ridge, pressing as deeply as I dared, stopping the pressure when I felt that it would be counterproductive to press any deeper.
“Basically, it means that your whole body gets treated, within limits that only you can set,” I explained, once more running my thumbs up her spine, slightly more deeply this time. “All tradition, rules, laws, whatever, are gone; the only thing that matters is you and your body’s needs. The whole purpose of massage is to relax, to release, and with Total Massage it is possible to get to the whole body, not hampered by anything but whatever limits you yourself choose to set.”