In light of it being Pride week I thought I would write about a not-so-proud moment in my career as a travelling masseur.
It happened on my second excursion to Boston. I had spent the better part of my week there doing four to six massages a day, most of which were ninety-minute therapeutic sessions. Such a concentration of appointments had a tendency to give me something not unlike tennis elbow, but in the wrist. So, to reward myself for such a hard work week I decided to meet my friend John in Provincetown for a Sunday of leisure. John was an older, cultured friend of mine who, despite his mellow nature, was always up for a bit of adventure.
Earlier in the week I had been asked on a date by one of my clients for Saturday night. Will was a handsome attorney from New York City with wavy brown hair, green eyes, a rugby player's build and great sense of humor. Rugby body was one of my favorite flavors so I accepted easily. When Saturday came we went to Legal Seafood for lobster then back to his room at The Mandarin Oriental for anal. I bottomed twice that night then once in the morning. During the morning session a charley horse in my left thigh forced me to hop off. Mid hop I saw the clock and realized how late I was. There was no time to shower so I gave myself an old-fashioned whore bath with a wet towel then caught a cab to the harbor to hop the ferry to Provincetown and meet John at the designated time.
We met on Macmillan Pier then headed straight to Commercial Boulevard for people watching and a quick lunch of lobster rolls. We then hit the tea dance at the Boatslip where we drank cocktail after cocktail, chatted with strangers, took photos with our Blackberries, and danced in our seats to Robyn and Scissor Sisters. Once we'd had nearly too much to drink we headed back to the main strip and spent the next two hours visiting book stores and shops that specialize in tiny glass dolphins, mermaids and every other animal that didn't need a seat on the arc.
When evening hit we made our way to Mews, a fine, slightly pricey yet well worth it restaurant on the water. We had more cocktails, drank fine wine and remembered the day between bites of lobster risotto and oysters mignonette.
Around nine o'clock that night we hopped a ferry back to Boston and fell asleep in spite of the choppy ride. We arrived back at our hotel around eleven and retired to our own rooms where I headed straight to the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. I turned the heat up as hot as I could take it, enjoying the water massage while running a bar of quick-to-lather hotel soap over the top half of my body. I then worked my way down to the crack of my ass where I felt something rubbery. I immediately dropped the soap and investigated further. I pulled at the rubbery thing and it snapped back. It was the entire, unbroken condom from the morning's last plow. I had hopped off in such a hurry that between being late and the charley horse I hadn't realized a condom was trapped in my ass. I stepped out of the shower, tossed the condom in the trash then hopped back in the shower in an attempt to wash off the whore feeling I was experiencing.
After I felt clean again I called John to tell him that while I was knocking back the drinks, flirting with strangers, fondling tiny glass sculpture meant for cat people and eating fine seafood there was a condom dangling out of my backside. When I had finished my embarrassing tale John let out a giggle then paused for a second before saying,
"You must be proud. You'd have to be pretty tight to pull off a stunt like that."