Romance:From Fat To Fatale(13)
And it wasn't going to be easy. Those ever-hungry, fast-breeding ninja bacteria in my gut just loved sugar and they were adept at triggering cravings for sweet things to keep their larders well stocked. Damn things actually blocked wholesome nutrients from passing into my bloodstream. That's why my super-heavy body was technically suffering from a debilitating form of starvation! But the cravings could be seriously overwhelming. So we needed three days. That was three days under strict supervision. Yeah. I can tell you're concerned for me. The only bright note on the darkening horizon was a suggestion from the lady nutritionist that I might benefit from a little massage and she had a special deal going with the Thai massage parlour a few doors down. It was going to be my next port of call. She called them and asked them to give me the super-discount special and that I'd be round in a few minutes.
Chapter 9:
Tied in
knots
This must be a great moment to check if you've ever had any kind of massage. I was talking about a strictly regular massage, here, my over-imaginative friend. You're so easily distracted! Massages can become kind of addictive - if you get the right kind of masseur. Gals my size usually aren't too enthusiastic about getting undressed in daylight and never in public. You can probably work out why, can't you? Of course you can. So I did have a massage once before, OK?
It was pretty intense and it happened whilst I was on vacation with the family.
It was one of those all-you-can-eat, everything included in the price, package deals. So Mama and Papa meticulously sharpened their knives and forks and signed up with the sole intent of testing the limits of the all-you-can-eat policy that was promised in the glossy brochure. The hotel should've had a special
Bulgari clause in that brochure because I can tell you that they'd never had a family on their premises that could eat like my family.
A swarm of famished locusts would've been far less intimidating and far less demanding on the hotel's kitchens. But part of the deal included a massage in the tiny fitness area - not too many guests in an all-you-can-eat joint were ready and willing to find out what might be hiding in the gym area. You can imagine. So, at mama's insistence that we get absolute value for money for every buck spent on the package, I went along for my free massage. And the therapist turned out to be a young, extremely polite, Colombian guy, improving his non-existent English and ready to practise his skills as a trained therapist on my blossoming teenage balloon body. The fact is that I'd never really been a huge fan of touching.
No, that's right. And certainly not by strangers. He left me to disrobe and climb face down onto the groaning massage table, still wearing my straining swimsuit, a large towel struggling to hide as much of me as possible and then he came quietly back into the room and turned down the lights. He was speaking Spanish but my school-grade language skills left me completely oblivious to what he was trying to say. I just shrugged and nodded and pretended I could understand, punctuating his commentary with a totally fluent - Si, and hoping I wasn't agreeing to anything I might regret. He started with my hands and that felt pretty good.
He massaged the muscles in my arms and I could feel them relaxing.
He worked my shoulders and that felt really good. But when he worked on my neck, the knots and tense spots just seemed to melt away and I found myself drifting into a light doze. I was aware of his strong hands on my back, working along my spine and heading further south. I wasn't really awake at this point. It just felt so good. He had his fingertips on the inside of my thighs, working the rolls of tissue with smooth, oiled, circular movements and, as he gently moved my legs a little further apart, he strayed into the forbidden zone and I swear it wasn't his fault. What with the swimsuit, the oil and the size of my body, it really was all too easy for an innocent massage to move across the danger line and into a world of unexpected pleasure.
It was the edge of his hand, the edge of his fingers, moving with a constant, rotating pressure that had me wide awake and biting the towel to stop me moaning. I fought to keep my hips from bucking. I wanted to push down on his hands. It was so intense, so unexpected, so irresistible and I was approaching that point of no return when he would absolutely know what was happening when he suddenly stopped, moved my legs gently back together and moved his attention down to my slightly trembling calf muscles. The massage was over way too soon, the masseur politely nodded, bowed formerly and stepped outside and I found myself staggering, weak-limbed, back to my room, intent on administering some much-needed close, personal attention to my over-stimulated libido. The shower-head came pretty close to melting.
So you can imagine my curiosity about the super-discount Thai massage that was awaiting me a few doors down from the lady nutritionist. I knocked once and the door was opened by a squat little oriental lady who appraised with a professional eye and told me to lie down exactly as I was on a thick mattress on the floor. The word 'erotic'
completely failed to enter my mind from the moment this diminutive contortionist bent my legs over my head right up until the final experience of having my arms almost wrenched from their sockets at the end of the session. You need lotta work, young lady - said the masseuse with a knowing nod of her ancient head. And she hadn't even broken out into a sweat. I felt like I needed about a month in traction to get over it.
Chapter 10:
Getting away for a few days