The Honeymoon in Quebec spa debacle. Final Part

Hanz's Hands

Wife and I were led down a long hallway towards out room. Along the way I noticed happy smiling women being massaged by young grad students. I thought to myself: "you old bags". I was a little concerned and uncomfortable, but luckily my boys were no longer flapping in the wind.

We arrived in our room where in the center of the room were two massage tables about five feet apart in a bright room, with large windows overlooking the Rideau Canal. It was pretty nice. This would have been a pretty romantic thing. Or maybe it still would be.

Hanz instructed us to remove our robes and lie on the tables face down into these little holes in the table. and to cover ourselves up with the towels that were there.

***Silly Jim Thought #1: "Whew, I thought they were gonna massage the skin! Oh well this might be ok".

Hanz left and wife and I got started. She looked at me
Wife - "You OK?
Jim - This is not good.
W - Do you want me to go and ask for a woman for you?
J - No, this is fine. (Trying to smile)
W - Don't worry it's just a back massage.
J - I know.
W - Sorry!
J - Hm.

Once we were rested the pair walked back in, turned on some wave sound effects and started oiling their hands up. Jim was tense.

I was face down and uneasy. The blanket was pulled down from my neck, and I got ready. This was not an over the towel back rub. And to make things a little more tense, Hanz tucked the blanket into my gotch strap. I was not impressed. I grasped the handles with white knuckles and held my breath. Hanz oiled my back.

***Jim thought #2: " I hate lotion on me, I really don't like the greasy feeling... this is far, far worse."

The baby oil was slathered all over my back and Hanz started to rub. He must have said "just relax" about five times and though I tried, I could not. If you have ever had a massage, you know that tense muscles make particularly uncomfortable massages. When you have a 200 pound ape, twanging your muscles, it is much, much worse.

***Jim thought #3: "Holy shit, I'm gonna punch this bugger."

After 15 minutes he let off, I prayed it was over. He placed the blanket over my back and for a moment I felt relief. Then, up came the blanket covering my legs. He tucked once again, but this time it was slightly more intimate as I was sporting somewhat of a wedgie. And away we went with the leg massage. It wasn't as painful as the back massage, but it was still sore.

Finally he was done. I felt relief and was ready to shower.
"Turn over please."

WTF?!

It was a full massage, and despite my best estimation the hour was far from over. A quick tuck and lube up, and we were on the legs, now I could see my wife, and I mouthed the words: "get me outa here.” Wife of course (a seasoned veteran of massage and the like) could barely open her eyes as she was having a much better time than I was. I firmly placed my hands over my midsection and reassumed my position of cat like readiness. Tense as a tennis racquet. Ouch, the rub felt more like a constant Charlie horse.

After this portion, Hanz made his way over my face and greased my neck up. He massaged my arms and neck that was all. Thank god there was no nipple contact, or I might have been inclined to leave. Finally when it was over they quietly left the room, and said let yourselves out when you're ready. The door closed and I was already in my robe and slippers glaring at my wife who looked pleased.

Wife “so?"
Jim (in a Cartman like voice, but with less pep) "I have just been violated."
Wife” I thought you were gonna freak out, you handled that really well."
Jim "pfff"
Wife (laughing now) "seriously if you turned any more red, and if your knuckles were any more white, you would have torn out of your skin."

Apparently my attempts to "grin and bear it" were feeble at best. The wife from her stoop in glorious massage bliss could see the red glow from my altar of shame. Suddenly I felt bad for Hanz who probably enjoyed touching me as much as I enjoyed being "handled".

So I left (wife still had some other stuff to get done) and went to the gym and steam room where I worked out my embarrassment and tension. Let me tell ya, nothing relieves the tension of a massage like a good workout.

So that is the story of Hans, I pray that for future "special occasions, my wife gives me a gift certificate at Hooters or Montana's. Who am I kidding, with my luck I would get the waitress referred to by the other waitresses as Beulla.