After T3 Spin class, Shawn and I had both scheduled 8:30pm massages. While Shawn wandered off into his Swedish experience with Kate, I was whisked away by Jorge, the Latin Masseuse Sensation.
Almost immediately, I was transported into the world of Jorge.
"Carrie," (he pronounced it like "caddy" in that Antonio Banderas kinda way). "How can I help you today?""Well, I run and do triathlons so please focus on my lower body like my quads, calves and hamstrings."
"What about your glutes, Caddy?""Ummm...sure. It can't hurt."
"Oh...It won't hurt Caddy...I promise. I won't hurt you." (slightly creepy vibe) I thought it was a little humorous that he kept repeating my name and staring at me with those Latin almond eyes, but in normal fashion, I stripped down to my bottoms, hopped on the bed face down, covered myself and waited for Mr. Jorge to re-enter the room.
He returned.
"Miss Caddy...Do you mind if I turn on some of my music?""I don't mind at all. Anything is better than listening to Enya, or birds chirping in the background."
"
Excellent. This is going to be great. You like?"(insert boom-chick, boom-chick music). Turns out it was "Everything But the Girl." Most known for that song, "And I Miss You...Like the Deserts Miss the Rain." They have a lesser known Sade-inspired album called "Walking Wounded" that I'm sure is playing at any every club in South Beach as we speak. As he dimmed the lights and stood over me, he elevated his hands above me in what appeared to be a religious ritual and asked, "
Caddy, do I have permission to touch your body?" What I was thinking: "Dude, I'm laying on a table half-naked and I've already pre-paid for this massage. Get to touchin'!"
What I said: "I'm all yours..." (in an almost submissive way)
And with that, the experience commenced and I was under a spell while Jorge went to work. Within minutes, my muscles were stretching and relaxing. I felt like a piece of marble that Jorge was sculpting. Soon, he started to sing along with the music. Then he started moaning and grunting as he "dug deep" into some of my trouble areas. I was just a prop in the fantasy world he was creating in his own mind.
Several minutes passed and he was still verbally enraptured with his work. It was one of those"laugh out loud" awkward moments because I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be responding in the same way.
"Dear God. My husband is in the next room. What must HE be thinking!?!"I thought. I just continued to breathe deeply and silently as he worked my back and elongated every part of my spine.
After several minutes, he covered me as he turned me over to work on my front. Anything I said seemed inappropriate at this point.
"Caddy, are you enjoying yourself tonight?"
"Oh yeah..." (ewww. did that sound porno-ish?!) "I feel like I just grew three inches." (doh!! I did it again...please, please, please don't respond with a "me too.") He didn't.
The second half was more of the same. Jorge told me he worked on pro tennis players and I was getting "world class" treatment. The discretion of the covers became an afterthought for him as he massaged my hip flexors and quads into butter.
Finally, we ended with a head and face massage. It's a good thing I didn't care because he was running his fingers through my hair savagely and worked my neck with fervor.
"Relax your head Caddy...Relax your jaw...Let me take care of you..."
We came back to earth with another ritual similar to the beginning. He elevated his hands above my head.
" Caddy...Let's end our time with a positive affirmation...Live every day to be your best. Wake up and know that you are better and better each day."
I woke up from my massage-induced coma. As Shawn and I left the building, he said it was the best massage he's ever had.
"You have no idea..." I said.
I don't know what happened last night, but I need a cigarette.
I think we both got a Happy Ending.
After T3 Spin class, Shawn and I had both scheduled 8:30pm massages. While Shawn wandered off into his Swedish experience with Kate, I was whisked away by Jorge, the Latin Masseuse Sensation.
Almost immediately, I was transported into the world of Jorge.
"Carrie," (he pronounced it like "caddy" in that Antonio Banderas kinda way). "How can I help you today?"
"Well, I run and do triathlons so please focus on my lower body like my quads, calves and hamstrings."
"What about your glutes, Caddy?"
"Ummm...sure. It can't hurt."
"Oh...It won't hurt Caddy...I promise. I won't hurt you." (slightly creepy vibe)
I thought it was a little humorous that he kept repeating my name and staring at me with those Latin almond eyes, but in normal fashion, I stripped down to my bottoms, hopped on the bed face down, covered myself and waited for Mr. Jorge to re-enter the room.
He returned.
"Miss Caddy...Do you mind if I turn on some of my music?"
"I don't mind at all. Anything is better than listening to Enya, or birds chirping in the background."
" Excellent. This is going to be great. You like?"
(insert boom-chick, boom-chick music). Turns out it was "Everything But the Girl." Most known for that song, "And I Miss You...Like the Deserts Miss the Rain." They have a lesser known Sade-inspired album called "Walking Wounded" that I'm sure is playing at any every club in South Beach as we speak.
As he dimmed the lights and stood over me, he elevated his hands above me in what appeared to be a religious ritual and asked, " Caddy, do I have permission to touch your body?"
What I was thinking: "Dude, I'm laying on a table half-naked and I've already pre-paid for this massage. Get to touchin'!"
What I said: "I'm all yours..." (in an almost submissive way)
And with that, the experience commenced and I was under a spell while Jorge went to work. Within minutes, my muscles were stretching and relaxing. I felt like a piece of marble that Jorge was sculpting. Soon, he started to sing along with the music. Then he started moaning and grunting as he "dug deep" into some of my trouble areas. I was just a prop in the fantasy world he was creating in his own mind.
Several minutes passed and he was still verbally enraptured with his work. It was one of those"laugh out loud" awkward moments because I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be responding in the same way.
After several minutes, he covered me as he turned me over to work on my front. Anything I said seemed inappropriate at this point.
"Caddy, are you enjoying yourself tonight?"
"Oh yeah..." (ewww. did that sound porno-ish?!) "I feel like I just grew three inches." (doh!! I did it again...please, please, please don't respond with a "me too.") He didn't.
The second half was more of the same. Jorge told me he worked on pro tennis players and I was getting "world class" treatment. The discretion of the covers became an afterthought for him as he massaged my hip flexors and quads into butter.
Finally, we ended with a head and face massage. It's a good thing I didn't care because he was running his fingers through my hair savagely and worked my neck with fervor.
"Relax your head Caddy...Relax your jaw...Let me take care of you..."
We came back to earth with another ritual similar to the beginning. He elevated his hands above my head.
" Caddy...Let's end our time with a positive affirmation...Live every day to be your best. Wake up and know that you are better and better each day."
I woke up from my massage-induced coma. As Shawn and I left the building, he said it was the best massage he's ever had.
"You have no idea..." I said.
I don't know what happened last night, but I need a cigarette.
I think we both got a Happy Ending.