I hurt my back and went to the chiropractor—Dr. Snap-Crackle-Pop. He asked questions and then had me lay on the table face down.
“So what exactly is wrong back there?” I said.
“You twisted your sacrum.”
“Sacrum. Your tailbone. The ligaments have been stretched and that’s why it hurts,” he said. Snap-crackle-pop.
I groaned and gasped.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, thinking maybe by tomorrow and after four Aleve it would feel better.
Then he suggested massage therapy.
“Your insurance covers it and I think it will help.”
“More than the snap-crackle-pop?” I asked.
“In addition to your adjustment,” he corrected me.
He introduced me to his massage therapist. Her name was Kidole, which I learned later meant “fingers” in Swahili. She was soft spoken and had a laid back New Age style.
I entered the candle-lit room. There was soft music playing and it smelled like sandalwood. She told me to take my clothes off.
“I’m married,” I said.
“That’s nice. You can leave your panties on but not your bra.”
“How about my socks?”
“If that makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Lay under the sheet and take deep breaths, letting your body relax.” She left the room.
I decided to live large and removed my socks. I got under the sheet and took deep breaths.
She knocked and came in which was a good thing as I was on the verge of hyperventilating from all the deep breathing.
“Now, relax like a limp doll.” She started by rubbing my feet with oil. I instantly regretted not checking to see if I had any sock fuzzies between my toes. Were my heels in good shape or were they all dry and sand paper like?
“Are you relaxed?”
Now she was kneading my calves and running her forearm along my hamstrings.
Oh, God, I had shaved my legs the night before but by now I had five o’clock shadow. How was I supposed to relax with all these hygiene issues floating around my head?
Then she went for my sacrum. “I call this body work rather than massage. I’m going to do pressure points.”
“Okay,” I said.
She pressed on my sacrum hard and I thought for sure I was going to fart. At least there was the sandalwood incense.
“You’re really tight back here.”
“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t tell her I was flexing my butt muscles because I was afraid I was going to fart. Fortunately it passed. She rubbed and pressed and gradually I felt better and now that she’d seen me at my worst – sock fuzzies, five o’clock shadow and potential flatulence – I was all right with this massage thing.
When it was over she said, “I think you should come back in two weeks and we’ll do more work.”
I nodded and made a mental note to shave in the morning, put lotion on my feet, and take a Gas-X before I came, then maybe I would relax and enjoy my next treatment. As I left I recalled people saying having a massage is wonderful. Did I miss something?
When I got home, Layce sniffed the air around me. “You smell like perfume. Why are you smiling? Your T-shirt is on wrong side out and where are your socks? I could have sworn you were wearing socks when you left the house. Have you been cheating on me?”
“No! I just got some body work done by a massage therapist.”
“Was there a happy ending involved?” Layce asked.
“No!” I said a little too loudly. “She just gave me a massage.”
Layce sniffed me up and down. “Really? With body oils? And you took off your clothes? And you took off your socks?!”
Layce knew that taking off the socks could only mean one thing. I never take my socks off, unless…
“You’re not going back,” Layce said.
“But my insurance covers it,” I whined. “And the chiropractor ordered it.”
“I don’t care if God himself ordered it, you are not going back to her. She’s nothing but a whore,” Layce said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a licensed therapist.”
“You’re never going back,” Layce said and meant it. “Nobody massages your buttocks but me.”
“I was thinking of you the whole time.” I pulled her into my arms and kneaded her lower back. “I learned things. Want me to show you?”
“Only if you take your socks off.”
I didn’t remind her that I wasn’t wearing any.
More Than a Kiss
A new romantic comedy
by Saxon Bennett & Layce Gardner
Available now in ebook and print at Amazon!
“An awesomely beautiful, funny, quirky, riot of a book!” ~SB