Chapter 5

Back to the sex. Due to the fact I was sexualized early, due to the fact I was raised in an environment where the only touch was physical abuse or sexual abuse, due to the fact that my culture, both society at large and the circles I ran in, discouraged any sort of physical touch, my biggest barrier to being a good therapist was separating my conditioned response of touch being an act of intimacy. And maybe, all touch should be consider affection and intimacy. And, I could be professional enough to be massaging a female and not vocalizing my lust for her, but every rub would be me worshiping her body. There can be kindness in there. There could be genuine love and affection and promoting health in there, but it was flavored with sex. Also, and again mostly likely because of my history, I would not be able to have a male client. That, again, reveals just how sexualized physical touch is in general for me. No, I am not afraid of ‘cuties’ or that in massaging a male means that I will be gay, though my mom’s voice is in my brain saying just that. I don’t want to massage a hairy back or legs. There would be no way for me to turn off my revulsion to seeing an overweight, beer belly male. I would even decline a body builder, fire fighter male from a calendar, because somehow oiling him up just sends me places I don’t want to travel. And the fireman most likely deserves a genuine massage, given the hard work low pay and lack of real praise of service, except after a crisis, but then is quickly forgotten. There are also some women I wouldn’t want to massage. So, in short, I am not a good masseuse.

But at Safe Haven, where the culture was more permissive, and a whole hell of a lot less judgmental, I could engage in an act of massage even while channeling sexual thoughts. It certainly helped that Colleen had really attractive feet. Her feet and calves were so perfect, I imagined she would likely be called in by Hollywood producers to be the lower half body double for the celebrities who are only attractive from the waist up. Take Meg Ryan for example. I love Meg, so this is not disparaging her in the least, but she has a really quirky walk in person, which is evidence that she is more cerebral, hence her great acting ability, and so sometimes, you think you’re looking at her feet walking, but really, those aren’t her legs. Now, she still has great legs, but just saying, when you’re worshiping stars, you might want to prepare yourself that what you see at the theatres isn’t necessarily truth.

There is a way to massage the feet where pushing into the soles can light up every organ in the human body. The feet are probably also the most abused and ignored body part, until they are in such bad shape that they’re almost unrecoverable, which is strange when you consider just how important feet are. We were meant to be barefoot, walking the Earth, connected with all there is, but we cover them with soles that are usually insulators, disconnecting us from the magnetic pulse of our Great Mother. (Fortunately, Mother’s heart light still encompasses us, even if it doesn’t always get channeled up through us.) Stand barefoot next to a tree, put a hand on the tree, and say your prayer out loud, and the tree will broadcast your prayer better than any radio station, and every tree in proximity will pass it on, and send it into the earth and sky.

Colleen moaned, bringing my attention back to her feet. I revisited the spot that had got a result with my thumb. She rolled her head, popping a disk, and melted into her chair, her feet drawing closer to me, little puppies wanting to be loved. And you can’t ignored the toes in a foot massage. There is the gentle toe pull, and moving between each toe, and gently massaging each, separating them and bringing them back together. I was aroused before I even got to Colleen’s toes, and seeing her response to my touch only made it harder for me. Each foot in turn had both my hands enveloping it, rolling through the arch and over the heel and up the leg and back down. Long and slow sweeps that was broad and ranging, and then back down, narrowing the focus with thumb on the sole, and specific finger placement on the top of the foot, as if she were an instrument to be played. I brought my mouth into play, which would not be allowed in any professional massage, but again, this was Safe Haven and the rules were different. My proclivities were not only desired, they were encouraged. She gasped as I sucked on her left big toe, sending signals into the right hemisphere of her brain, unlocking gates that sent lightening towards the corpus callosum that sent mirror image through the other hemisphere. Changing the finger points, drawing my thumb down the soles, I pushed my tongue between each toe, pulling my lips from foot, up the length of the toe, and popping them out. I nibbled on the inside of her foot, edging up to the ankle, and on the return to the toes, did broad sweep with the breadth of my tongue, that swept under the foot. Massaging the ankle with fingers, and bit at the bottom of her foot. Of course, this was done for each foot, so they were each equally cherished. I sucked on her heels. I edged up her ankle and licked and sucked the bottom of her calves. By now, Colleen was completely relaxed, her arms hanging over the armrests. Her bosom seemed larger, but probably because there was a slight arch in her back as if she were building up to orgasm. I wanted desperately to pull on her legs and draw her pelvis to my face and burry my mouth in her and push my tongue in as far as I could before licking it out like trying to scoop out ice cream from deep inside a cone, but she had been very clear, she had only wanted her feet done. Her skirt had risen as she had slid closer to me, and there was indication that her panties were wet. I wanted to taste her, smell her. I wanted to see on the other side of that thin cloth.

I held both feet, each thumb in the sweet spot discovered earlier, the upper fingers making small circles, while I put both big toes in my mouth, running my tongue under both. She gasped, straightened, her whole body becoming rigid, her feet pushing harder into my feet, and then she relaxed, as if she had been hit by a tranquilizer. She forced herself to breathe.

“Okay, stop, stop,” she sang. She shivered. “OMG, Jon. Oh, wow. Give me a moment.”

Colleen crossed her arms over her chest, still shivering, then rolled back and forth, laughing, sighed, and then sat up. She smiled.

“Thank you,” Colleen said. “Previous debt has been paid in full. Now, let me see that letter.”

I withdrew the item and handed it to her. She put it away.

“I will review it sometimes today and get back to you. I am going to take a cat nap and enjoy the chemical release you gave me,” Colleen said. “Maybe I will see you at the pep rally. Take care.”

“Um,” I began, but the floor fell out from under me and I was looking down through a column of air, accompanied with a sinking feeling. I fell through her bubble, like a drop forming off another drop, and fell. It was a vertical fall, but it felt controlled, like going down a slide. It was exhilarating and terrifying simultaneously. As I thought about it, it felt more like a tunnel slide, as I felt cradled on all sides, and as I thought about it further, I was sure it felt warm and wet as if sliding out of the birth canal, and there was sucking feel to it, as if my whole body was being slowed by lips and opposing tongues.

I landed in the center of the park, where I made my first bubble shield. Colleen’s bubble burst with a popping noise and a “muah” kiss slash sigh sound. I was shaking. I was standing on the ground, hearing the lyrics of an REM song, “Stand” and I started to laugh, looking up at the sky and just genuinely joyful. There was no hint of Colleen’s cloud bubble, but obviously it was up there somewhere. I sat down, my hands and fingers pushing through the grass. I lay back, admiring the sky the way I did as a kid when I managed to get away to myself. I remembered laying on a merry go round just looking at the sky as the world turned one way and the merry go round the other, and wondered how none of us ever got truly dizzy.

Loxy was suddenly standing over me, looking down at me.

“Jon?”

“Loxy or LT?” I asked.

“Loxy. I felt compelled to come to the park, and… Are you alright?” Loxy asked.

“I feel good,” I said.

“You just took ecstasy good, or?” she said, teasingly.

I began to cry. She sat down, I sat up, and she embraced me, my head falling to her shoulder.