Back in the 90's, I had a massage from a male masseuse in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Big, burly black guy named Robert. In a prior career he was a trainer for light-heavyweight boxers, which is where he learned the massage craft.
It wasn't just the massage, it was the regime that preceded it. First, they immerse you for 20-30 minutes in a hot mineral-water bath piped straight from an underground spring at 102 degrees. It loosens you up a lot. Then you spend 5 minutes in what's called a "needle shower," which is a jet of cool water at high pressure. It cools you down from the hot mineral bath.
From there you go to a steam box for 5 minutes. Loosens you up even more after the needle shower. After the steam, you drape a sheet around yourself and lay down for 10-15 minutes on a cool-down table. Once you've cooled, the masseuse comes in and does his magic for about 45 minutes.
After the massage, you take a normal shower and dress. By then, you don't feel like you're walking anymore, it's like you're floating 6 inches off the ground. So you head to the adjoining bar for a cold beer. Best beer you'll ever taste. You're so loose, the beer-buzz hits immediately from your throat to the soles of your feet. Wonderful.
I don't know about now, but in the 90's about half the male masseuses in Hot Springs were gay. My masseuse, Robert, was a straight guy, about 45 years old. My buddy Danny, who was on the table next to me, got a young 20-something gay masseuse named Dusty. Dusty had sculpted, brush-dried red hair, an immaculately trimmed red mustache, and a diamond stud in his left earlobe.
Apparently Dusty knew his craft as well as Robert, because Danny came into the bar right after me just as loose as a goose. We sat there and kind of melted on the barstools while sipping ice-cold amber. I'd do it again in a heartbeat -- don't care whether the masseuse is gay, straight, or a switch-hitter.
I am so glad that Deep shared this story, because it reminds me of a visit to the gyno I had back in the 90's. I had an exam from a female Ob-Gyn in Austin, Texas. A sweet, rounded woman named Dr. Ellison. In a prior career she was a bikini waxer, which is where she first learned her way around a vagina.
It wasn't just the exam, it was the regime that preceded it. First, they ask you a lot of personal questions like what age you were when you first started doing it. It loosens you up a lot. Then you spend 5 minutes getting into a paper gown and putting your feet in the "stirrups," which is so the doc can more easily access your vagina. The KY Jelly cools you down and helps you get ready for the real action to come.
From there you the doctor inserts the speculum and swabs your cervix. Loosens you up even more! After the exam, you get to cool down for a minute. Once you've cooled, the nurse comes and escorts you to the mammography room. There another woman flattens your breasts on a table, squashes them, and takes pictures.
After the mammogram, you go behind the curtain and dress. By then, you don't feel like you're walking anymore, because you've been violated and squished (but by very pleasant women). So you head to the waiting room and fish an advil out of your purse. Best advil you'll ever taste. You're so sore, the advil hits immediately from your beat up boobs to your tired hoo ha. Wonderful.
I don't know about now, but in the 90's about half the female Ob-Gyns in Austin were gay. My doctor, Jane, was a straight woman, about 45 years old. My buddy Dana, who weirdly had a gyno visit at the same time as me, got a young 20-something gay doctor named Brittany. Brittany had sculpted, brush-dried red hair, immaculately trimmed fingernails, and diamond studs in her earlobes. You would think that it would be weird that I would remember those details from a buddy gyno visit fifteen years ago, but apparently not.
Apparently Brittany knew her craft as well as Jane, because Dana came into the waiting room right after me just as loose as a goose. We sat there and kind of melted on the institutional chairs while downing advil. I'd do it again in a heartbeat -- don't care whether the gyno is gay, straight, or a switch-hitter.
Thank you all for reading my cool story.
- RSF, $mooth, pcf and 8 others like this