“I’ve known him since college and, yeah, I like him. He’s one of my best guy friends. He’s funny and outrageous, but he’s also honest and kind and thoughtful. So, I’m not sure why you’re brushing him off.”
Oh boy, this was a sticky situation to navigate. I wanted to be honest with Kimi, but I didn’t want to offend her by insulting her guy bestie.
“Jack is…” I trailed off, thinking of the best way to describe him. “Obviously, he’s very good looking. And talented. And funny. And hot. But he wants…I don’t know, something more casual than I want.”
As I talked, her smirk widened. “You think he’s hot.”
My cheeks would have flushed at that, if I wasn’t already beet red from the sauna.
“Of course I do. Just because I don’t want to sleep with him doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the view. I can say, as a dispassionate observer that he is very good looking and sexy. But I could say the same thing about Henry Cavill and that doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with him, either.”
“Mmmmm, Henry Cavill…. But a girl can dream, right?” She winked.
I smacked her with a towel. “Kimi, you have a boyfriend!”
“True, but Morgan is no Henry Cavill.”
“Are you saying that if Henry Cavill walked in here right now, wearing a towel, slung low over his hips, you’d be all over him?”
Kimi made fanning motions with her towel. “Stop! Stop! I’m going to combust if you keep talking like that!”
We were both doubled over with laughter when the timer buzzed, and Shanice came to guide us to our next stop. Which turned out to be Antarctica. Not literally. Just Antarctic-adjacent.
Shanice explained that she was taking us to the Refresh Room, where “precision dosed thermo-hydrodynamic treatment would restore appropriate core temperature, enhance metabolic function, stimulate mitochondrial activity, tighten pores and remove toxins that the sauna had brought to the surface”. She brought us into a grey and white tiled room that had several shower areas, divided into stalls by shoulder height, frosted glass. We went into our cubicles, took off our robes and handed them to Shanice, who hung them on hooks on the wall beside the door.
Standing well out of the splash zone, she pushed a button, and the shower heads produced a tepid mist that floated down gently on us. It felt OK, but not amazing. The water intensity revved up as the temperature dropped, turning our gentle mist into icicles! It was so cold that every square inch of my skin tried to retreat to a nearby orifice for shelter from the onslaught.
I shrieked, but Kimi shrieked louder, hitting a note that threatened the structural integrity of the frosted glass. And then it was over. Shanice, impassive, handed us each a fluffy towel to dry off with, then gave us our robes to put back on. Strangely, as soon as we were out of the polar bear shower, my skin tingled and it felt surprisingly good.
“Girl, you got some pipes!” laughed Kimi.
“Not as impressive as yours, Kimi. I felt like I was in there with Mariah Carey!”
Next, we were shepherded to the couple’s massage suite (so said the plaque on the door). There were two massage tables, parallel, but separated by about 3 feet, draped in soft grey sheets and woven blankets. Flickering candles lined the room, and I smiled to myself, remembering Scott Ballanger’s story about his client setting his massage room on fire. On closer inspection, I saw that the candles were all electric. Good call, Scott.
There was soothing flute music playing and I smelled a subtle wildflower scent. We were told to disrobe and climb under the sheets face up and our massage therapists would be with us shortly. I took off my robe, hung it on the hook, and slid beneath the sheets just as they entered.
We were asked to roll onto our stomachs and they pulled the sheets down so they just covered our butt cheeks. Then they started piling large, flat, heavy, very warm stones on our backs and shoulders. Once we were loaded up, they pulled up the covers, told us to just relax, and they’d be back.
The heat of the sauna to the icy cold, now back to warm was really working for me. My limbs were turning to jello, melting into the table’s padding.
When they returned, they removed the stones, placing them back into a stainless steel, electric roasting pan (I lifted my head to peek). Then my masseuse took a smaller stone and doused it with oil, then gently stroked my back with it, slowly increasing the pressure. It was smooth and warm; I didn’t feel any pinching or pain, like sometimes happened with overly aggressive kneading in massage. Everything in me just went liquid, like her magic touch had transformed my tissue into molasses and I was seeping into the cracks of the table, soon to drip onto the floor.
I heard some soft moaning from Kimi and knew she was having the same experience. We didn’t talk at all as the skilled hands of the therapists rubbed, manipulated, stretched, and soothed our whole bodies. Feeling like a puddle of goo made talking seem like too much effort.
Chapter 22
After an hour of blissful sensation, our therapists brought us another tray of lemon water and cups and said we could take as long as we liked to just lie there. Seriously? I was thinking of overnight camping here, I was so relaxed.
After 10 minutes or so, Shanice knocked and opened the door a crack and peeked in.
“Are you ladies ready for your mud wraps?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Just so long as I don’t have to move,” Kimi answered. “I don’t think my legs work anymore.”
“Same here,” I chimed in.
“No, no, you just stay and relax, and your mud technicians will be in shortly.” She closed the door gently behind her.
