Readers lurking in strange places
The massage therapist I've been going to is beyond adorable.
When I first decided to get a massage everyone at the gym said "Oh, get Stephen. He's the BEST." Usually accompanied by some kind of orgasmic noise. I presumed that this was due to the efficacy of his massages, not any kind of off-the-books services that one wouldn't normally find on offer from a massage therapist at a non-red-light-district facility like, oh, my gym.
(note: my gym has a full-service spa in it where you can get pedicures and haircuts and oh yeah, massages. have I mentioned that my gym is awesome?)
After my trainer, Jen, seconded (or thirded or fourthed or whatever) this glowing recommendation for Stephen's massages, I made an appointment. It was great. I thought, you know, getting a massage from time to time would be a good addition to my fitness program, wouldn't it? I thought I was just rationalizing, because massages are teh awesome, but it turns out I'm right. Jen said "Yeah, totally! It'll help you prevent muscle strain and improve your posture and blah blah blah" and she thought that was a great idea. Note to self: check on trainers getting kickbacks from the spa.
Now, Jen is, as we say, a talker. The subject of my book, the gay romantic thriller, had come up before. After I told her how great my massage was, she said that she'd told Stephen all about my book because he likes to read that genre. She said he might not have mentioned he was gay. I said, well, he didn't really have to mention it, if you know what I mean. So on my way out that day I left Stephen a note with Jane Seville's card (and yes, I carry them around in my messenger bag, what of it?) in case he wanted to check it out. Any chance to chalk up another reader, right?
Anyhow I had another massage yesterday. Stephen is so cute. Curly blond hair, baby face, strapping young man with MAGIC HANDS. He was all excited about the book. We talked a little bit during the massage but mostly I just laid there while he somehow found muscles I wasn't aware I had. Afterwards after I'd gotten dressed he was all "I'm totally going to go get that book right away, I can't wait to tell my boyfriend he loves that stuff. It's just so cool that I get to work on you and you're an AUTHOR and stuff!"
I was ded from cute. I wonder if he's in the market for a hag. I'm well qualified.
When I first decided to get a massage everyone at the gym said "Oh, get Stephen. He's the BEST." Usually accompanied by some kind of orgasmic noise. I presumed that this was due to the efficacy of his massages, not any kind of off-the-books services that one wouldn't normally find on offer from a massage therapist at a non-red-light-district facility like, oh, my gym.
(note: my gym has a full-service spa in it where you can get pedicures and haircuts and oh yeah, massages. have I mentioned that my gym is awesome?)
After my trainer, Jen, seconded (or thirded or fourthed or whatever) this glowing recommendation for Stephen's massages, I made an appointment. It was great. I thought, you know, getting a massage from time to time would be a good addition to my fitness program, wouldn't it? I thought I was just rationalizing, because massages are teh awesome, but it turns out I'm right. Jen said "Yeah, totally! It'll help you prevent muscle strain and improve your posture and blah blah blah" and she thought that was a great idea. Note to self: check on trainers getting kickbacks from the spa.
Now, Jen is, as we say, a talker. The subject of my book, the gay romantic thriller, had come up before. After I told her how great my massage was, she said that she'd told Stephen all about my book because he likes to read that genre. She said he might not have mentioned he was gay. I said, well, he didn't really have to mention it, if you know what I mean. So on my way out that day I left Stephen a note with Jane Seville's card (and yes, I carry them around in my messenger bag, what of it?) in case he wanted to check it out. Any chance to chalk up another reader, right?
Anyhow I had another massage yesterday. Stephen is so cute. Curly blond hair, baby face, strapping young man with MAGIC HANDS. He was all excited about the book. We talked a little bit during the massage but mostly I just laid there while he somehow found muscles I wasn't aware I had. Afterwards after I'd gotten dressed he was all "I'm totally going to go get that book right away, I can't wait to tell my boyfriend he loves that stuff. It's just so cool that I get to work on you and you're an AUTHOR and stuff!"
I was ded from cute. I wonder if he's in the market for a hag. I'm well qualified.