“No, no. This looks like heaven. Thank you so much. I have everything I need.”
After dinner she’d walked down to the open-air massage table unfolded right at the water’s edge, feeling a bit uncomfortable about dropping her robe to stand completely naked underneath the moonlight. As promised Maizee had arranged the massage with Scott. Janey didn’t know what to expect. She wanted to enjoy his magic hands on her back and her neck and her thighs and her calves, but not anywhere else.
She’d assumed he must be a local, but Scott was a run-of-the-mill white guy with nice teeth and shaggy brown hair that just brushed the collar of his white linen shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a taut tummy and a thin line of hair running from his navel down to the button of his jeans. “Relax into the table. Breathe for me,” he said to her once she lay down on her belly. “In for ten. Out for ten. Let everything go.”
As he began to knead at her knotty calves, she audibly sighed with pleasure, but when he moved his magical hands higher up her legs she stiffened and pushed her thighs closer together.
“Your glutes must be killing you,” he said in a kind voice. “I think I saw you ladies do more than a hundred squats today. Let me work them out.”
Just her glutes. That was all.
“Okay. Thank you,” Janey said, wondering where his hands would go after her bottom.
The answer was onto her lower back. He was incredibly professional as he moved his hands away from her buttocks.
“Your psoas is really tight too,” he said and wound his entire hand around the side of her body, squeezing gently at first and then more firmly. “They work you hard here.”
Janey was never one for a chatty masseur, but she felt guilty when she didn’t make small talk. “They really do. Is this your first time working the retreat?”
“Nope. I was here last time. They ship me in from New York for the whole week. I’m a medical student at Einstein actually.”
A med student, and a traveling masseur who made middle-aged women feel “really good” on the side.
“And you do this part-time?”
“I learned massage a few years ago, and it’s a good way to make money. I’ve been a broke student for so long, my fiancée may finally come to her senses one day and marry someone without two hundred and fifty thousand in student debt. This helps a lot. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about money.”
“Don’t worry about it. I asked. I’m curious. I really am. I’ve never met such a well-educated massage therapist.”
He laughed a nice laugh.
“There are plenty of us. It’s not easy to make a living in New York City. Do you want to roll over? I’ll turn around while you do. Not that anyone can see much of anything out here anyway.”
So polite!
“Sure.” Janey pulled the soft white sheet up to her chest, rolled onto her side, and then all the way to her back, breathing in the briny smell of the ocean.
“I’ll bet the tips can be really good,” she said. Was that inappropriate?
“They can be. These women sure know what they want, and they know how to ask for it,” Scott said matter-of-factly. He worked his hands down to her belly, careful to avoid her breasts. She tensed again when he reached the tops of her aching thighs.
“Don’t worry, Janey,” he whispered. “I know what you’ve probably heard. I promise you, the women here know how to ask for what they want.”
She opened her eyes without meaning to.
“And you do it?”
“You said it yourself. They tip well. I shouldn’t be telling you this. But you seem nice. Different from the rest of them. You’re not in there doing mescal shots and hitting on men half your age. They’ll tip a couple grand for the whole week. I’m not doing anything I’d consider cheating. It’s a fairly mechanical thing, really. Just massage of a different kind. But they seem like they need it. They don’t get any attention from their husbands. They come here to let loose. It started with one woman last year and then word got around. I paid this semester’s tuition and bought an engagement ring with what I made last time.” He shrugged. “We do what we have to do.”
Janey nodded and tried to keep her facial expression from veering into judgmental territory. “We do what we have to do,” she repeated.
He had moved to the base of the table and was kneading her feet between both hands. She could only imagine the things those hands could do. She kept her sadness about the situation to herself.
“You’re incredibly talented with your hands, Scott,” she said instead. “I’m sure you’ll be a great doctor. You’ve got your bedside manner down.”
His voice brightened with the subject change and the compliment.
“I hope so, Janey. It was great meeting you. I’m almost done. I want you to drink plenty of fluids and maybe take a soak in a bath. Your muscles were tight as rocks. I know you’re all here to lose weight, but be careful. Don’t strain yourself too hard.”
He left her alone on the beach to get dressed and was nowhere to be found as she walked back to the main property. Janey was about to take his advice, get some water, and head straight into the bath, when she was intercepted by Suzy outside their yurt.
The imposing woman swayed as she talked and threw her arm around Janey’s shoulders. “Hey babe! How was the massage? Did you get your special treat at the end?”
“He gave me an incredible foot rub,” Janey said.
Suzy was clearly put out by Janey’s answer. “You’ve gotta come in and play with us tonight. We’ve got the dance going and the mescal and we’ll go swimmin’ in a little. Come on.”
“Nah. Suzy, I’m so sleepy. Maybe tomorrow night.”
But her roommate was strangely aggressive. “Just one drink. Whatchoo don’t like us or somethin’?”
She didn’t want to come off as a snot. That would make the rest of the retreat unbearable.
“One drink won’t hurt me.”
“Yayyyyyyyy!” Suzy threw her arms over her head and then grabbed Janey’s hand, dragging her to the main house.
The main house was a whirl of debauchery that rivaled a frat party. Where had this group of handsome young men come from? All of the women were clearly intoxicated.
“Can I get you a margarita?” It was Maizee. Janey nodded. She’d politely accept the margarita, sit down for a few minutes, and then quietly slip back to her bathtub.
Maizee snapped her fingers at a waiter carrying an empty silver tray.
“Margs over here, puh-leeze and thank yoooo!” she commanded, emphasizing too many of the vowels.
Janey found her way to a fluffy chaise longue in the corner, eager to rest. When the young man brought her the drink, she ran her finger along the rim and put it in her mouth to suck the salt. The salt, Janey had always believed, was the best part of the margarita anyway. She hated a tequila hangover.