![]() ![]() It was in the act of my saying, “no” that I could open up to the innocence and safety of the moment and relax. For many, he may ignite a hungry inner-tiger, but for me, he sensed my hesitancy and need for boundaries. Tomaso, the gift of the Upper East Side has the true healer’s touch. A couple of weeks later I landed a job as a waitress in a seafood restaurant. Looking up at him, “I don’t think I’m in the mood for, you know, the sexy part.” I assume I probably wasn’t the first to do that because Jenny didn’t bother to call to see where I was. Tomaso places one hand on my stomach, the other on my heart over the towel. Funny how fantasies change because now when I think of him with his oily, black mustache, I picture myself punching him in the face. This fantasy was entirely controlled by me, directed by me, and owned by me until I threw it out because I didn’t need it anymore. And it’s in the way he looks at me as he fucks me, like he’s going to spit me out, that pushes me over the edge. He tells me to touch myself and that he’s going to heal me and not to tell anyone. I’m in that same room and I’m 15 and I don’t know any better. What haunted me most, though, is for many years I often masturbated to that scenario. Blurry and old it sits in me, like a coiled snake. There’s a rumbling in my chest and throat, a directionless, nagging feeling without shape. My eyes are wide open and I hear Mandy’s muffled laughter in the other room. I hold my breath as his fingers approach the small of my back. “Try to relax.” Tomaso looked like a Greek god. “You’re very tense.” He stops my nervous onslaught. And yes, he’s been to Capri, but because it gets so touristy in summer … She shows up, gives a poor 20 minute massage, tells me to turn around and gives me the rates of a HJ for an extra 100 or a BJ for an extra 150 not including tips. So I get into the room and await my massage. I said only if the massage is that great. Within the span of five minutes, I find out he’s from Milan, a Kundalini practitioner, lives in Williamsburg, has a golden retriever named Michelangelo (of course), Skypes regularly with Mama, has a younger sister in London and visits his family yearly in Palermo where his father keeps a boat. Then she said there was a mandatory tip of 60 dollars. When I feel his warm hands on my back, I naturally decide this is the moment to bombard him with questions. The ocean’s gentle waves lap from his iPhone 6. She was doing my back, my lower back and moved down over my bum to. This is what everyone’s been raving about, I thought. Tomaso has prepared the room with the scent of Palo Santo wood, which I recognize from yoga class. A few minutes later she came back in and began the massage. ![]() I’m soon half nude on my stomach under a towel. Maybe I should allow myself more sexual liberation? Is my need to always feel “safe” and “take it slow” puritanical, patriarchal nonsense? I catch his brown eyes and avert my gaze. He’s straight from porno casting: Italian god in his mid-30s with a big folding table under his muscular arm. “We should patent the pitching fork as a sex toy,” Ellie laughs. A sweet, balding, pot-bellied man placed a vibrating tuning fork on each of her chakras to balance her energy post-abortion, and when it firmly landed on her root chakra, a tremendous orgasm erupted. ![]() She blurts about her very own, unintentional climax, which occurred last month after a relaxing acupuncture session. She sees him as a “healer.”Įven Mandy, a walking orgasm, seems nervous. And no, it’s not weird sharing Tomaso, because she doesn’t feel “that way” about him. To my horror, he just happens to be finishing an appointment on 71st and Park and will be over in 45 minutes. She insists Mandy and I try Tomaso tonight. I wondered how Barb was doing with all of this.The memory of the massage palpably excited Ellie. With a touch of disdain, he fetched me a towel from the hot tub. The thought of being naked on this naked table had me quickly following him out the door to inquire about cover-ups. The therapist excused himself to give me a few minutes alone to disrobe. I furtively glanced around the room looking for the sheets, blankets and pillows. It was bare except for a table covered with a strip of disposable paper. I ended up with a handsome, fit young man. Although there was a little bit of a language barrier when we went to the spa to book our appointments, Barb and I ended up choosing a full-body massage.īarb drew a young woman as her therapist. At the end of the second day, my friend Barb and I decided to treat ourselves to a massage in our hotel, a five-star beauty in the small coastal village of Postira on the island of Brac.
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