Not Like Before...

Written by: jwdoney

*REWRITTEN* A business woman who regularly get massages, finds out a neighbor gives them and makes an appointment, but it's not like any other massage she has ever gotten. *REWRITTEN and REFORMATTED* Please send feedback.

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I have gotten massages fairly often over the last 3 or 4 years,
sometimes as often as once a week, but usually once or twice a month 
because of my workload. I have a great job which allows me to get 
massages and visit health spas and charge it all to the company, but 
the downside is that same job requires as much as 80 hours a week 
including most Saturdays. It's killer on my love life, or I should say 
lack of one, and the worst part is that I am not even 30 yet and I 
think (and I am told) that I am still quite good looking. I am 5', 9" 
tall with long black hair that is so straight I usually wear a headband 
or put it up in a ponytail. I have long trim legs, a thin waist, curvy 
hips and a very noticeable 34D chest. Straight white teeth and crisp 
blue eyes highlight my face, but most men aren't necessarily looking 
there, are they? 

While I have mostly visited the same massage therapist for the better
part of the last 2 years, on occasion I have visited other therapists 
or clinics, sometimes while away on a business trip. On the rare 
occasion that I am actually at home, I have a nice two bedroom 
apartment in a luxury apartment complex that I live alone in. (sigh) I 
don't mean to seem like I am complaining or whining, so please bear 
with me as I set the scenario for you. Ok, so as rare as it is for me 
to be home during the daylight, yesterday I actually took the afternoon 
off since we did not have any meetings, projects due or deadlines 
looming. I was beginning to get bored watching TV so I went out to 
check my mail and saw a sign posted by the bank of mailboxes. It was a 
computer printed ad for a massage therapist who lived in the building, 
and he or she wanted to give free full body massages to neighbors in 
return for referrals. Money is the least of my worries, so the free 
part is probably why I blew it off and grabbed my mail and went back 
inside. I fixed and ate a small dinner, the first one at home in a 
while, and was watching the news when I heard a slight scratching noise 
at my front door. 

When I opened my door there was no one around, but the two other doors I
could see had a sheet of colored paper taped to the door just below the 
eyehole, and I noticed one on my door as well. It was another note for 
the free massage, and this one was worded differently, more to the 
effect that in order to work for a spa, he had to present a listing of 
satisfied clients. I have a cousin who is a hairdresser, and in order 
to rent a booth in any shop, she had to have cut or styled a certain 
number of people before even being considered. Well, I'm not trying to 
bore you, so I will just say I understood the reasoning, but I was 
still not interested. I finished the news, watched some other shows, 
and then curled up in bed alone with my Suzanne Chazin novel, 
"FIREPLAY", determined to finish it. That advertisement was determined 
to haunt me I think, because I saw it on the way to my car the next 
morning, then again at the main road on a small sign similar to those 
used to announce open houses or weddings. 

My day went as usual, very fast paced and busy, and it was between two
sales meetings that I was looking for a contract and came across the 
colored flyer from the night before, not even sure how it had gotten 
into my briefcase. I assumed it must have gotten mixed up with some of 
my paperwork on my table the night before, but it felt like a sign of 
sorts. I felt like I was being brainwashed by the pop music radio 
station, you know how they play the same songs every three hours while 
the dj points out how much you like the songs. Next thing you know you 
are watching American Idol and buying cd's of artists you never heard 
of last week and... oh, sorry about that, back to the point. I stared 
at the flyer and finally decided just to call the number and see when 
he could make me an appointment. A man answered and I had to adjust my 
usually abrupt phone etiquette, or lack of I should say, as he was very 
polite and cheery. The next thing I knew I had an appointment for 7:00 
that very evening, and I was very surprised to find out his apartment 


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