April's Massage and Aromatherapy
A little white picket fence surrounded the tiny yard, mostly flower beds and a bit of neatly trimmed grass. A post stood at the gate with a hand-routered sign: "April's Massage and Aromatherapy" surrounded by a painted crocus and tulip border.
The cottage was near campus, and the older residents knew it as the groundskeepers residence. That function had long been contracted to a yard maintenance company, so the cottage had been made private.
April owned it outright. She'd bought it from an estate sale when the old groundskeeper's husband had finally died, following his wife after 20 years of living alone. It had been a mess inside, but the yard pristine as befitted a family in the groundskeeping business for three generations.
A young woman, maybe 19 or 20, was trudging down the sidewalk looking at each yard gate as she passed. She stopped at April's, read the sign without much interest. Apparently it was the right place, as she opened the gate, turned in and went to the door.
Standing on the step, she lifted her hand to knock but put it down. After a moment she lifted it again, this time knocking twice.
All was quiet for a moment. Only some birds singing and maybe a little traffic noise from the highway north of campus.
Just as she resolved to turn and leave, there was a sound inside. The door opened on a remarkable woman - Round face with a pleasant expression, shorter than average by a half foot. Hair down in a bob, wearing a sari patterned with bird-of-paradise flowers. Barefoot.
Without a word the woman smiled and stepped aside to allow her in. Was this April?
Hesitating, the visitor finally stepped over the threshold.
The entryway was mundane - brochures on an endtable, a bench for waiting (now unoccupied), curious stained glass ornaments hanging in a frill-curtained window. They were various ovals, pink glass with silver strips joining them. She realized with a start, they were female symbols and abstract genitalia.
April observed her client silently. A college girl at the height of her reproductive fitness. Fit, nicely round, a little baby fat, terrific complexion, eyes like a doe.
Shoulders bowed, features blank. Birkenstocks. Sweatpants with untied waist-cord dangling, college athletic shirt. No makeup, no bra.
She was alarmingly appealing in a young-fertile-college-girl way. A 'fuck-bubble' her boyfriend Kevin would say, without malice.
"I'm Brit. I don't believe in this crystal shit, but my roommate said you could help me."
April nodded, smiled again. Brit was looking at her feet, at the door, like she might bolt any second.
April took her hand, and Brit looked up for the first time, surprised. April didn't speak, just held her hand clasped between her own. She waited until Brit relaxed her arm.
A doorway with beaded curtain had a wood-burned slice of pine tree sign - "Therapy".
April led her in, the strings of beads making a pleasant hollow wooden noise as they fell back into place.
It was dim in there. Brit could make out a massage table, an empty laundry basket, shelves with colored ointments, fluids in glass jars.
A burning stick in a plastic 'log' lay on wooden tray - smells like blueberries!
April sat her down on a raw-hide stool, let her hand go. She circled her slowly, just looking.
Brit could smell April - clean, musky, strawberry! She smiled despite herself.
After one full circle April stopped, facing her, reached to hold her shoulders and bent to look her in the eyes.
"I want to help. I think there is much we can do here. To succeed, I need you to engage in the process."
Brit blinked. She hadn't been prepared for this; she hadn't looked this far ahead.
"You don't have to believe in anything. In fact, it's better if you leave that analytical part of your mind in neutral.
Our goal is to reintegrate your body and mind. I know; that doesn't make sense to you right now. And it doesn't matter.
What I'll do first is use massage to relax your body. I want you to attend to everything you feel, without judgement."
April waited until Brit nodded.
"Once your body is relaxed and your mind is in tune, we'll work on rejoining them. It won't be physically difficult. But it may be emotionally draining.
Everything I do is for you. So be as selfish as you wish. Enjoy what you feel; stay silent or make noise as the moment moves you.
To succeed, you'll have to give me these next minutes. Let me do what I do without expectations or resistance or fear."
"Do you trust me, to keep you safe and help you?"
A pause this time, then Brit nodded again. She could not imagine this tiny person could do her any harm; she seemed genuine and kind. It was already a relief to be here with her.
For the first time Brit held out hope that April might help her.
April held her gaze a moment longer, looking for something in her eyes. Apparently, she found it.
Standing straight, "Take a towel from the shelf behind you. Remove all your clothing and lay face-down on table with your towel under you. I'll return when you're ready."
April turned and exited through a side door. Brit heard her making noises back there. April did this intentionally, so Brit would feel she was not being monitored.
Standing, Brit slipped off her sweatshirt, bare underneath. She had strong shoulders, pert bubble breasts and a comfy fold of baby fat over her taut stomach.
The shirt she dumped on the shelf. Kicked off the sandals, she skidded them under the shelf with a bare toe.
Slipping the sweatpants over her hips, shaking them off each leg, they lay in a puddle at her feet. She stepped out, picked them up and put them on the shelf with the shirt.
There were no mirrors in the room. Had there been, Brit would have seen a well-built young woman with nice round hips, strong legs, tiny feet. Looking sad and nervous, some recent bruising bloomed here and there, small and dark. Emotional bruising giving her face a brooding look.
She poked through towels on the shelf, choosing a grey one with no pattern. Spread it on the massage table, careful to get the corners flat.
Hesitating before climbing up, she dithered and then slipped her panties over her hips, let them drift to the floor. Picked them up with one foot and snagged them in her hand. She folded them, too carefully, set them neatly on the shelf with her other clothes.
Clambering up on the table, totally naked now, she laid down on her back. Remembering April's instructions, she flipped over. It took a moment of wriggling up and down to figure out how to put her face in the padded opening.
Rolling back over she sat up, fiddled with the towel which had gotten wrinkled, then lay down again.
Her arms she didn't know what to do with. She tried them over her head, then holding the sides of the table by her shoulders. Finally, she settled on extending them down her sides.
She began wondering how long she had to wait before April would come back.
About then a little bell chimed, and April reentered the room. From the sound and smell, she was swinging a small incense pot on a cord.
The smell was not strong; it was some kind of resinous incense, very nice. April set it carefully on a cast-iron stand that Brit hadn't noticed.
Gathering from the shelf a little basket with a hooked handle, April hung it on the side of the table near the head.
Speaking in quiet soothing tones, "I'll start with essential oils infused with herbs. You have good skin with fine pores. It will be no trouble to open your third chakra."
Brit didn't know what to say to that. It didn't matter; April had been rubbing her hands together and gently placed them in the center of her back. Warm! Brit made a little "Mmmm" sound as April made circular motions, pressing her palms lightly.
Returning to the basket April spilled a generous amount of oil into one hand and worked it into her own arms, covering them up to the elbow in a light coat.
"This is a safe place. There are only friends and lovers here. "
Brit flinched at that. April noticed, as she'd noticed everything so far. Tension in Brit's face, how she favored one leg, the bruising on her inner thigh. An old bruise on one arm. A scratch on her left breast. How she used negativity to cover for her damaged self-image. Well, that one could be addressed right now.
Placing her forearms on each side of Brit's spine, she leaned her slight weight into the back muscles and spread her arms apart. The pressure and motion at first caused Brit to tense, then relax.
"You have a beautiful body type, well-proportioned. A natural physicality. Each part moving in concert with the next."
Brit had never been told that before. Unused to personal remarks about her body, she didn't know how to take it.
Soon she stopped thinking about it as April continued up her back to her shoulder blades. Using first forearms to warm and lubricate the skin, she would follow with the heel of her hand on thick muscles. If necessary, an elbow could be brought to bear on stubborn spots.
Being so slight, April could do no real damage no matter how hard she bore down. She had to work hard, holding one forearm with her other hand and leaning into that elbow, to loosen long-tense shoulders and back.
Brit began to breath slower and deeper. The smell of the oil, incense and April combined to confuse her senses. She felt her mind begin to drift, just feeling her body being manipulated.
As muscles relaxed April turned to sensation-massage. Cupping her hand, moving it in circles, always out from Brit's spine and then upward. Brit felt she was being supported, felt something in her lift, felt herself getting lighter.
"Harm to body brings harm to mind. Healing begins in the body, flows to mind. They are connected, they are one. Mind heals as body heals. "
