“God, don’t remind me.”
Bode quirks one eye open at me. “It was cute.”
“Cute? Really?”
I hit play on the soft, ambient music and smack his shoulder.
“What? You are.”
“I don’t think I want to be described as cute.”
“Well, I have to keep it professional or otherwise I would say all the ways you’re not cute.”
“Better. Now, eyes closed soIcan be professional and give you what you’re paying way too much for.”
Pumping the face wash into my hand, I wet it and start to massage it into Bode’s skin. Bode relaxes into the table, letting the cushioned material of the heated table hold him.
I could do this process in my sleep. It’s different for each client, based on their needs, but it doesn’t vary too much.
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“You know,”—I grab another generous amount of cleanser and it squelches between my fingers—“most of my clients don’t talk this much.”
“You know what I do. I want to know your process.”
Grabbing a hot towel, I place it on his neck before covering his face—a shame, really—and gently massaging his face.
“Next I’ll do a warm honey cleanser. It’ll kill any bacteria on your face. If you’re only washing your face at the locker room, you need it.”
“Are you going to give me a fancy routine I need to do?”
Pulling the towel off his face, warm brown eyes stare up at me. “I know better than to tell you what to do. Even if I know better than you, I’ll make it easy for you.”
Taking the thick, sweet-smelling cream into my hands, I massage it into Bode’s face. He sighs as my fingers work their magic.
“It’s going to start to feel warm, and I’m going to give it a bit of steam to work its way in.”
“This feels incredible. How come I’ve never done this before?”
“Maybe because you never thought you needed one and only came to rescue me.”
“I’d do anything for you, Stevie.”
He doesn’t open his eyes, so it’s easy to let my emotions play out on my face. It’s different working on someone you’re intimate with. On someone who knows all your dark parts and doesn’t flinch in the face of them.
Who is fighting the cruelty I’m continuing to face.
“Let me know if you can feel this.” I turn the steamer on and tilt him in that direction.
“Feels good.” I massage his shoulders as I let the cleanser work itself into his skin. “Mmm. Doubly good.”
“I’m glad.”
Kneading his shoulders helps to work out my own tension. I dig my knuckles into the muscles. I know he works hard and I want this to feel good for him.
I work through the rest of my routine, explaining each step to the curious man on my table. By the time I finish up, I feel more calm than I have in weeks.
“Look how good you look.” I smile down at him, resting my elbows on the table.
