There's the Rub

I prefer to have my work polished by an editor prior to publishing it, but I had no luck finding one this time around. I burnished it as best I could, but mine is not an objective eye. I hope you enjoy it despite any flaws. Thanks for reading.

**********

"Geoff!"

I was standing on the corner, waiting for the 'Walk' sign to change in my favor, when I heard a familiar voice call my name.

I turned to see Eileen nearly half a block away, waving her hand as she jogged to catch up to me. When she drew close, her wide smile illuminated her face. "I thought that was you." A familiar voice indeed; one that possessed a faintly husky quality that always smote me to my core.

She drew me into an embrace and I quipped, "Don't you have the decency to huff and puff at least a little after that sprint?" Her response was to smile and stick out her tongue like a bratty kid. The next instant, she was holding me at arm's length and giving me the once-over. "It's so good to see you. It's been, what... eight, nine months? I wondered what happened to you. Paul wasn't exactly generous with details. He simply told me you decided to devote yourself to full-time study."

"Yeah," I mused to myself, "I bet Paul was less-than-forthcoming."

We were at a busy intersection, so I suggested we retreat a few yards from the street in order that we could be heard more easily over the traffic noise. The early May sun wasn't near its zenith yet, but it was already shedding promising warmth. Eileen was dressed in comfortable, form-fitting attire, which revealed the athletic figure I'd so often admired.

I asked, "May I confide something that I'd rather didn't get around?"

She nodded her assent.

"I left the store without warning because of a tantrum Paul threw over something petty. It wasn't the first, but his rages had been increasing in frequency and volatility. I felt I couldn't continue there and keep my self-respect. I've never quit any job without notice and I hated that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to my customers, some of whom I considered friends. You were definitely in that latter group"

Eileen leaned forward and placed her hand upon my shoulder. It had been far too long since I'd enjoyed a woman's touch in any capacity, so I was keenly aware of even that slight intimacy. "Pardon my French," she said, "but Paul must be a fucking idiot. You were what kept so many of us coming into the shop. I can get my books cheaper on Amazon, but I patronized Paul's place as much to chat you up as to find out what hidden gem I should be reading. The store's just a shell of itself without you."

"That's kind of you to say, Eileen. I certainly miss our conversations too."

She glanced at her watch and said, "I have today's first appointment soon and I need to get into the office to prep. Let me have your number and we'll arrange a catch-up in the near future." I gave her the requested info, which she typed into her phone. She surprised me by kissing me on the cheek. "It really was a delight to see you, Geoff. Probably the highlight of my day." As she turned to go, I asked, "Are you still a massage therapist?"

She pivoted to face me again. "Yes." Her lips curved in that face-lighting smile once more. "You always did know your customers well. Why do you ask?"

"I was hoping you could recommend a physical therapist. I've been putting it off because I don't currently have insurance, but I'm thinking that might've been a mistake."

Eileen pursed her lips into a little moue of concern. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"I'm not exactly sure," I replied, as I lifted and rotated my left arm with a grimace. "I seem to have done something to this shoulder, though I'm not sure when or even how. Maybe I overextended myself in the gym."

"May I?" she asked as she reached for me.

"Sure."

Placing one hand on my bicep and the other on my shoulder, she manipulated my arm into different positions. Once again, the feeling of her hands upon me, even in such an innocuous context, was a reminder that too much time had passed since I'd taken care of certain basic needs. I also noticed that our odd little tableau was attracting sidelong glances from passersby.

When she was finished conducting her brief exam, Eileen reached into her purse and extracted one of her business cards, which she handed to me. "Give me a call and we'll set up an appointment. It may be something I can help you with and if not, I'll steer you to someone who can, alright?"

"Oof. A massage would be a godsend, but I'm afraid that's just not in my budget right now. I've only been working part-time while I finish up this last semester." I shook my head absently. "I'm not sure what possessed me to go back to school at my age."

She peeped at her watch again, not impatiently, but as if ascertaining that she was still on a decent footing with the time. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before she returned her gaze to me. "You free for lunch this Thursday?"

After I considered the question, I answered, "Um, yeah. I have the day off work and I suppose I can shift my study around to fit in good food and an even better gab-fest. I haven't had much chance to socialize since I left the shop, so that would be wonderful."

That 100-watt smile again. "Good. Meet me at Karma Chameleon in Brightwater. Say, about one o'clock?"

I agreed readily, then watched her hotfoot it down the street to make up for the time she'd spent with me.

**********

Even before my divorce, I'd always had a bit of a thing for Eileen. I never acted on it, not only because I was married, but so was she. I seem to recall that her hubby is an accountant, or an economist or some such thing. Even so, her intelligence, wit, athleticism and unaffected beauty pushed all my buttons. If the truth be told, she may have played a part in more than one of my masturbatory fantasies, especially after my wife and I split up.

I had no illusions about this lunch though. We shared some mutual tastes, interests and a similar sense of humor, which made our conversations lively and fun. Eileen had always displayed an unusual degree of empathy and kindness, so it was no surprise she wanted to lend me a hand if she could. I'm sure there was nothing more to it than that.

Even so, When Thursday arrived, I took the opportunity to rub one out in the shower prior to heading out for the Indian place. I considered it insurance that I was less likely to embarrass myself by saying or doing anything stupidly flirty. Did Eileen have the starring role in my steamy flight of fancy? I figure that what goes on in the privacy of my own head doesn't hurt anybody.

**********

Nearing the restaurant entrance, I spied Eileen, standing off to the side, scanning the street. She hadn't spotted me yet, so as I approached, I enjoyed a more lingering observation of her figure than chance usually afforded. She had sculpted a fit physique that looked spectacular even in the simple t-shirt and jeans she was wearing.

"Have you been waiting for long?," I asked as I drew alongside her.

"Not at all. I arrived a few minutes early and I've had fun people-watching in the meantime." She shifted toward me, put her hand on my arm and kissed me on the cheek again.

"Hey," I said, "you never used to greet me that way at the shop. I'm not complaining, mind you. I could easily get used to that."

"I'm just so pleased that I ran into you the other day. I was worried that maybe you'd moved out of the area and I might never see you again. I've missed your company." She took my hand and turned to go inside. "Let's continue this conversation while we're enjoying something delectable, hmm?"

We passed through a wrought iron gate followed by an impressive entry with hand-carved wooden panels. There was so much shimmering gold in the foyer, it was like stepping into a jewelry box. A host in traditional Indian garb led us to a button-tufted banquette in a spacious, high-ceilinged room that featured booths and well-spaced tables.

The decor was ornate without seeming cluttered. Bright jewel tones mixed with saffron walls and paprika red valances to create a rich palette. Moroccan pendant lights and small candle lanterns conspired with a few Hindu sculptures and batik paintings to create an evocative ambiance. As did the scents of curry and coriander lingering in the air.

I guess my scan of the place must've been a bit wide-eyed, because when I brought my attention back to our table, Eileen said, "Nice, huh? But don't worry, it's not as expensive as it appears. Besides, I invited you, so this is my treat."

"Since my finances are tight until I finish school, I'm not really in a position to argue."

"Good. You always seemed too secure to tie yourself into a knot over nonsense like that."

"Oh, I have my fair share of insecurities, trust me."

"Of course; we all do. I just meant that you strike me as generally self-assured. Since we're on the topic though, what sort of things make you doubt yourself?"

"Well, for starters, there's the immediate concern of final exams. I've written some papers that I'm proud of, but test-taking is another thing altogether. I'm also unsure if I'll be a good teacher when I'm finally done with school." After I gave it another moment's thought, I added, "I'm terrified at the prospect of eventually dating as well... especially at my age."

The Moroccan candle lantern in the middle of the table cast a gentle light on Eileen's features. Her giggle was gentle too. "At your age? You sound as if you're about to dodder off into the sunset. How old are you, Geoff?"

"Fifty-two."

I was gratified to see her eyes widen. "Huh," she replied, "I wouldn't have guessed it to look at you. Even so, fifty-two is hardly the end of the road, mister. Your divorce has simply put a few dents in your morale."

"True, the way my marriage ended didn't exactly leave me brimming with confidence. Neither do my vague recollections of the dating scene. God, I dread wading through an endless parade of nonstarters. Or a parade of women who clearly view me as a nonstarter." I raised my index finger to the side of my head and pantomimed shooting myself, including a softly mouthed sound effect.

"For better or worse, I'm not the standard model, so finding someone compatible can be a tricky business."

"It's for the better, my friend; definitely for the better," she responded.

"Sadly, for me at least," I said, "you're not exactly representative of your gender either. To the best of my understanding, women are not beating the bushes for poetry-loving, atheist, vegetarian, underpaid teachers. But perhaps I misunderstood the grapevine. It wouldn't be the first time."

She grinned in reply, "Maybe you just need to hire me as your press agent. I'll get the Good Word out to the four corners of the Earth. Ladies, ladies, ladies... come one and come all. Don't miss this coveted opportunity to experience the wicked wiles and tantric tongue of the man known only as... Geoff!" Her spiel----delivered in a theatrical voice----was accompanied by a series of florid gestures. The combination had me convulsed with laughter.

As we perused our menus, I glanced across the table at Eileen. Her lustrous brunette hair was cut stylishly short, which revealed a trace of silver at her temples. I'm terrible at gauging age, but I'd hazard a guess that the gray was premature. The only other clue that she wasn't a youngster were faint crinkles at the corners of her toffee-coloured eyes. I loved that she never tried to disguise whatever years she had with dye or makeup. That suited her candor and easy personality.

After the waiter had taken our orders, I said, "I know this is the sort of question that's likely to get me in hot water, but what's your age?"

Her evident amusement reassured me. "Same as you. Six months older, if I recall correctly that your birthday is in June."

She laughed aloud at the disbelief she read in my face. "That expression," she said, "is the highest compliment you could've paid me. I infer from it that you don't deem me ready to be put out to pasture."

"Ha! You must be joking. I think----"

She raised an eyebrow and leaned ever-so-slightly closer. "Yes?"

I wondered if she could see my complexion deepen in the candlelight. "Um, what I think is I'd better withdraw what would've been an inappropriate remark to a married lady."

The candlelight definitely twinkled in her eye.

Hadn't the whole point in wanking beforehand been so I wouldn't put my foot in my mouth? Just. Like. This. Luckily, the arrival of our food briefly rescued me from further embarrassment.

Eileen wasn't so easily distracted however. Just prior to placing a forkful of food in her mouth, she mimicked the clucking of a chicken.

Before I could reply, her face became quite animated, her eyes rolled up and her lashes fluttered. The low murmur she made was the sound of pure satisfaction. The next instant, she scooped up another sample from her plate and offered it to me. "You have GOT to taste this."

There was something touchingly intimate in the way one of her hands brought the food to my mouth while the other trailed underneath to catch any potential spill. Once it was on my tongue, I understood why she made a stir. I closed my eyes to savor it.

Some kind of egg was the main event, but rice and onion were front and center too. There was also the distinct tang of tomatoes and yogurt, contrasting with the crunch of cashews, I think. Some kind of masala as well, maybe? Other spices and such that I couldn't identify. All put together in a heavenly combination.

When I opened my eyes again, I noted how closely Eileen had attended to my reaction. She'd already loaded up her fork again and put it forward. "More?"

"Okay, but this better be the last one or you won't have any left for yourself." Once again, I got a little charge out of her feeding me. And once again, the flavors and textures were divine. "What is that?"

"I was trying something new. The menu called it, 'Hyderabadi egg biryani', I think. God knows how badly I'm mangling the pronunciation of that first word, but whatever it is, I will definitely be ordering this again."

When she gave the next portion to herself, the thought flashed through my mind that her utensil had just been in my mouth. That led to other thoughts, none of which my disobedient brain should have been entertaining.

Even so, good manners demanded that I reciprocate. "It's only fair that you try mine."

"I've had their palak paneer before, but it's so good, I certainly won't turn down a bite." As you might've guessed, I got another illicit thrill in guiding the food to her lips and watching her accept it eagerly. Is it weird to get such a charge out of feeding and being fed? Or worse, was she my kink? That would be sad, considering she's married. I've never been partial to the idea of unrequited love; not even in verse or prose. It's just too ineffably sad.

I cleared my throat and emphatically veered away from those ruminations. "So, how's your hubby? Bernie, isn't it?"

"Mm-hmm. Bernie's a bit down in the dumps at the moment. In fact, he's the reason why I was defensive about you thinking your age limits your possibilities. Bernie's harboring some of those same ideas. He retired earlier this year when he turned sixty-five. He's not as energetic as he used to be and he's also kind of adrift. He hasn't figured out what to do with himself now that his job no longer dictates the structure and tenor of his day. I think he sometimes feels as if he's passed his expiration date."

(See? That, right there. How many people do you know who would've used the word 'tenor' in that context in casual conversation? Just one of so many reasons I enjoy spending time with her). That's what flitted through my head. What I said aloud was, "I'm sorry to hear that. It's gotta be a tough situation for you both."

"I've tried getting him to exercise with me, but that's never been Bernie's thing. He just needs to get his mojo back; to find something that'll make him feel useful again." Even when tinged with melancholy, Eileen's voice possessed that throaty quality I mentioned before. It never failed to give me a buzz. I hope her husband appreciated what a lucky guy he was to hear that every day.

"Anyway," Eileen interrupted my musings, "why don't I reveal my ulterior motive for inviting you to lunch today? I mean, aside from the pleasure of your company, of course."

"I'm all ears."

"Have you ever had any experience----and I do mean any----as a masseur?"

That question certainly came from left field. More like from outside the fucking stadium, if we're being blunt. When I recovered from my surprise, I answered with a chortle, "The extent of my education in your field is a few careful readings of "The Art of Sensual Massage."

"Well, that's more than the average person has done. What prompted you to read it?" Eileen scraped her plate clean as she awaited my response. She was still clearly relishing every bite.

"I love pleasing my partner. When Julia's libido started to go south, a lingering full-body massage was often a great way to rev her engines. Nothing turned me on like seeing her aroused, so it served a dual purpose. Even when it didn't lead to sex, I derived intense gratification from making her feel good, setting her at ease; especially when she'd had a shitty day."

Eileen spoke as I polished off my delicious grilled cheese cubes in curried spinach sauce. "Barring the sexual aspect, you've just described in a nutshell why I became a masseuse. This hard old world can really run roughshod over us. I feel gratified whenever I can, in some small way, make someone's day better or more manageable. When I see people leave my office looking renewed or better yet, happy, it still delights me, even after all these years."

She continued, "When I saw you on the street earlier this week, you mentioned taking pride in the papers you've written for school. I always noted and admired how mindfully you did your job in Paul's shop too. That makes me think it would be a cinch to teach you what I want you to know."

"Teach me----? Um, you can't be thinking of hiring me as a masseur, can you? I've no training or certification whatsoever. Besides, I'm hoping to become a teacher, if all goes well this semester."

Eileen chuckled at the misunderstanding. "No, no. Sorry. I'm doing a wretched job of explaining myself. Do you recall last year when I injured myself in that skiing accident?"

I nodded.

"I've been bedeviled by hip and hamstring pain on my left side ever since. I made a reciprocal arrangement with another practitioner. We gave each other therapeutic massages whenever we could fit it into our schedules. She was always inconveniently far away and now she's left the area altogether. It occurs to me I could show you what I need done and in return, I could help you with your shoulder issues."

Of all the things I thought we might talk about at lunch today, this wasn't among them.

Eileen went on, with an impish grin, "I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on tv, but I've had enough experience to recognize a torn rotator cuff when I see one. Severe cases require surgery, but yours doesn't strike me as severe. I can give you some therapeutic exercises to increase your range of motion, but massage therapy also works wonders with relatively mild cases like yours. It helps to decrease inflammation and pain, release scar tissue and loosen tight muscles in the shoulder girdle."

She was clearly amused by the surprise that must've been evident in my expression. She rescued me from my inarticulate state with a simple question: "Does that sound like a good deal to you?"

"Yes. Hell, yes."

Oh, how her laugh of delight shot through me. As if I needed more incentive, she added, "Instead of me coming to your place of business to chat you up, you'll be coming to mine. The important thing is, we'll have an opportunity for regular conversations again. I really have felt that absence more keenly than I can express."