Thanks for cursing me, Boss!

This should be a post about the incredibly awesome weekend Silver and I just had, visiting my brother and his family in North Carolina and going to Wrightsville Beach, but it'll have to wait.

I HAVE to tell you about something that happened today.

So, yesterday I had an evaluation, which basically means I massaged my boss, and he has to fill out a three-page form about it. During the massage, he casually asked me whether I had massaged any weirdos lately, and I was happy I could honestly answer, "No."

So guess what happened today?

Yup, snagged a weirdo!

Yes, it's YOU, Mr. A.A. of Alexandria, Virginia, formerly of Afghanistan!

Over the past year or so of doing massage almost daily, I've developed a finely honed Weirdo Early Warning System™, and the client I massaged this afternoon sent all the alarms buzzing stridently.

Here are some of the signs:

1) He grabbed his left ass-cheek and upper hamstring while telling me "I have really bad lower-back pain from sitting at a desk all day." Sorry, your ass and leg are NOT your back.

2) While I was massaging his back, he mentioned that he gets weekly massages at the "Chinese place" back home in Virginia. So, does the "Chinese place" have "Parlor" in its name?

3) During the hamstrings and glute massage, his hands disappeared under his body. Okay, the massage table IS narrow, and it can be uncomfortable for many people (including myself) to keep one's arms by one's side, but it's usually only necessary to tuck the fingertips under the hips or thighs, not the entire hand!

4) He was REALLY enjoying the glute massage, and while it's quite common for clients to moan and "Oh, yes!", all the previous indicators made me suspicious of HIS moaning and "Oh, yes!"-ing!

I was already on my guard when it came time to turn him over, and sure enough, he was pitching a pretty steep tent. I ignored it, as it happens frequently, and I'm a little like the proverbial ostrich about this whole issue, which usually works just fine with normal clients.

Mr. A.A., however, was having none of that!

As I was rubbing a super-moisturizing lotion into his feet, to prepare them for the hot-paraffin-wax treatment he was adding on to his massage, he ran both hands, outside the sheet, up his inner thighs and onto his abdomen, basically framing his package, while saying, "I have some serious pain here, do you think you could do something about it?"

*Motherfucker!!!*

Me *flatly*: "I'm not touching you there!"

Him: "Oh, I don't mean there, I mean here." *while rubbing the creases of his groin/inner thigh*

Me: "Sir, I'll massage your inner thigh, just above your knee, but that's as far as I'll go."

Him *pouting a little*: "Okay."

Paraffin applied, I began massaging his right quadriceps, when I noticed him stealthily sliding his left hand under the sheet to start rubbing his junk.

*Oh, HELL no!*

I don't like confrontation at all, but by this time I was close to either punching him in the face, or jumping up on the table and flamenco-ing my heels into his crotch!

This is what I said, instead:

"Okay, if you want this massage to continue, take your hand out from under the sheet, RIGHT NOW."

So he did, pouting even more, like a spoiled brat denied a third helping of ice cream.

The rest of the massage proceeded routinely, with no perverse interruptions.

Of course he didn't tip me.

In hindsight, I probably should have broken off the massage the instant he drew attention to his erection, but I felt like I should soldier on. Sleazebags like Mr. A. here know exactly what they're doing. He never came right out and asked me for a happy ending, or touched me, or anything, so it's a fine line I had to walk. I believe, since this really made me sick, that in the future I'll be a wee bit more assertive!

What do you think?