Reminder of Violence; or I was violated

I was checking out Jason's wife's-
blog and she was talking about a magical spa treatment that made her want to go Divinyls all over herself. This got me thinking about my first ever massage. (Well, my first "Professional" massage anyways. The "friends with benefits" kind back in college don't count. Well those counted, don't get me wrong. . . ah, I'll shut up now!)

My first massage experience wasn't such a luxurious thing, although it WAS at what I thought is a very nice spa- Mandalay Bay in Vegas. Wifey wanted to get a couples massage, but those were all booked so we got separate ones. The only thing left I could get was a 'deep tissue' massage.

My masseur was Bam-Bam hisself, no joke! He stood about 5'6", and probably needed a size 56 jacket or something obscene like that. After applying liberal amounts of oil to my back (I thought this was a safe area for a 'deep tissue' massage) he started kneading my tenderloins. I was finding it hard to breathe, but Bam-Bam was only warming up at this point. His next trick was to jab his elbow just to one side of the spine way up by the shoulder blade and then drag it all the way to the associated butt-tock. Now I understood two things: THIS is what all the damn oil was for, and without a doubt I was no longer capable of breathing.

Bam-Bam must've been a caring soul, for he felt it necessary to inquire about my well-being. "M-fffine!" I grunted, trying to sound masculine and unaffected by his brute strength. The only problem was my back was literally quivering, and this was in no way an erotic kind of thing. I should have never tried to feign indifference, because Bam-Bam decided the other back strap needed immediate attention. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse- after all, Bam-Bam had made mincemeat out of both sides so what else was there- Bam-Bam dove in with both guns this time. I think the arch in my back was a dead give-away because he stopped and starting talking some mumbo-jumbo about "toxins releasing" and "drinking plenty of water to flush them out" and how that would be better for me. As it turns out, my time was up. Geez, I'd been assaulted and violated and damn water was going to save me?

The saving grace was that as a paid guest of the spa, we now had the run of the place. So, I immediately set to assuaging my new aches and pains by visiting the steam room and then a nice long soak in their lavish Greco-Roman bath; a lagoon-sized jacuzzi with multiple cascades, it was surrounded by huge cushy lounge chairs. And many large men were asleep in them.

"This is where husbands go to die" I thought to myself as I settled into a lounger, ready to start slugging the water and "detoxify" myself. Paradise indeed.