My stomach tenses, I’m going to be sick, steady now, just hold it together for a few minutes and then you can escape without causing offence, this is so gross.
I haven’t even noticed the heat on account of the nauseating stench of sweat invading my nostrils, the heat just intensifies it that much more. I must think about something else, looking around for something to take my mind off the god awful smell and I see it, fat guy 1 leering at me, licking his lips, oh god I should have bought my towel in with me, sick, sick, sick, sick!
I’m just about to raise my hand to show my wedding ring and tell him where to go, when I realise I don’t even have that, Caz persuaded me to take it off and leave it at home, ‘this holiday is for you, not him’ she had said, bloody Caz!
I’ve got to get out, as much as the smell of my vomit would actually improve this stench, I can’t take Fat guy 1’s roaming eyes on me a second longer.
The cool fresh, lightly perfumed air hits me with welcome relief as soon as I open the door, shutting it hurriedly behind me to keep the smell of tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum inside, I head straight for the ‘cold experience’ shower.
It does exactly what it says on the tin; Ice cold strong jets of water assault you, I stand under as long as I can hack it, ferociously rubbing at my skin, please don’t let that smell stick to me, please, please I say to myself as I go. Jumping out when the jets start to feel like they’re turning into icicles stabbing at my skin, I return to my lounger and shrug on my robe. On second thoughts maybe I won’t spend all my time here!
While I’m laying out on the lounger I subtly lift one side of my robe and take a sniff, I can’t detect a trace of the stench, good now I can relax; I feel a presence at my side, I look up and the immaculately groomed woman who delivered my platter is standing next to me, smiling warmly “you are ready, yes?” she asks sweetly. Blushing from being caught smelling myself, I quickly try and regain my composure “yes, yes I’m ready” I say, standing to attention.
She leads me out of the pool room, down a beige coloured hall, lit softly with upwards pointing wall lamps and into one of the side rooms. The lighting in here is even lower and there is a quiet, gentle classical piece of music playing on hidden speakers. A painting hangs on the left wall, a large yellow flower on a black background, simple, but beautiful.
Helping me out of my robe I’m guessing she is going to do my treatment, “you take off this” she instructs marking out my bikini top on her own front, “and lie here, Juan will come soon” she explains in broken English, with a nod she politely exits.
Juan!? So my masseur is a man, I have never been massaged by a man, not even Jake, he was never into ‘all that lovey dovey stuff’. This will be an experience to say the least.
Obediently I remove my top and drape it onto the back of the chair in the corner where my robe now lies and lay down on the bed and wait.
Presently there is a light tap on the door “um….hello?” I reply to it.
“Are you ready” purrs a deep male voice.
“Yes” I squeak back, suddenly feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.
The door eases open and he steps in, his arms a golden brown, contrasting perfectly with the white short sleeves of his tunic, which are incidentally straining at the seems to contain his biceps.
I don’t even bother looking at his face, with hands and arms like that, who really cares about the face!
“OK, my name ays Juan” his accent deliciously playing with his words.
His pause makes me answer “Hi, I’m Kate”.
“So Kate” he says as if he is exploring the sensation of my name on his tongue, “Today we domassage of full body, you tell me with they pressure, yes?” I vaguely get what he’s on about, but he could really say anything to me in that accent, in that deep velvet voice and my reaction will be the same – “Hmmm”.
He folds the towel carefully down covering my behind, but exposing my upper body, his fingers