The lights were low. The music was at a soft, mellow level. I was wrapped in warmth and his strong hands were soothing.
"Ummm, you're tight," he said.
"Uhnnmlnnn," I moaned.
"You ready for her?" He asked his partner. "Yeah," was his reply, and I felt another set of hands move my hair out of the way. "How does this feel?"
"Oh, baby..." I thought. I was melting. "Grnflhgh" I answered.
..............
Rewind. Play it all back.
The job. My boss. My failure to enter retirement before 55 candles on my birthday cake burn the house down (April 29, 2006 - presto).
Spinster. Senior Citizen. AARP.
Cats.
..............
Friday afternoon.
"I'm going to call and see if they can get you in right away, you need attention right now." Having, unfortunately, a moderately high tolerance for pain, I'd waited nearly three months to do something about the problem. While I waited for Dr. Lisa to return, I thought, "A pain in the neck. A big fat pain in the neck..."
For several months, each little problem, little frustration, little disappointment, little insecurity, had conspired to weave the muscles of my neck into a gordian knot so complex that not even Alexander the Great would've been able to unravel it.
But Scott the PT can. And is. With the advantage of modern technology and electricity at his command, he has worked his magic with the tools at hand and then put the whipped cream and cherry on it with skilled massage and manipulation.
And a prescription for a muscle relaxant is waiting in the wings should Scott the PT's performance need support.
And a trip to Vegas is a step away. Who knows what may be found there, or what may occur that could rid me of the ills and travails, the fears and tensions of life on the cusp of geezerhood.
..............
Oh, baby.
T-minus now.
