Ah yes, today's the day. I'm leaving shortly, very shortly, for a one hour massage from Christine. I sought out the toughest masseuse in town. I like it hard, baby.
Deep tissue.
My best massage ever was in Guatalahara,at the fabulous spa called 'Rio Caliente'.
His name was Jorge.
I was ovulating.
He was so damn handsome and so incredibly talented with his hands that I wanted...I wanted more...but if he actually gave me more that would mean he gave everyone more...which would make him a Mexican man-whore. But dear God I wanted more.
When it was over he asked, 'Are you alright?' and I actually said, 'I will be in about five minutes.'
Sigh...
There was only one woman at Rio Caliente that Jorge touched intimately. He massaged her breasts. She asked the rest of us if he did that for us, to which we sadly chorused, 'Noooo.'
Turns out she'd had breast cancer, but hadn't told anyone, least of all him.
Oh Jorge.
But never mind! I'm off to get a proper pummeling from Christine. Yay!
Do you have a massage story you'd like to share?
