The stress has been overwhelming,

As the burdens of daily life have been crushing down upon me,

I sometimes want to scream, “Stop the insanity!”

But I’ve survived another week by keeping my eyes fixed on the calendar,

Focusing only on the appointment written boldly in black with a red ink cloud circling it,

So that it is visible from across the room.

The moment my eyes glance across the page I take a deep breath, the tension instantly eases and I’m briefly transported to another time and another place.

As I step into the room candlelight flickers.

I begin to remove my clothes, folding them onto a nearby chair,

removing my watch, glasses and jewelry, and placing them in a basket.

Easing between the sheets a feeling of warmth infuses my body as I close my eyes and breathe deeply, anticipating what is to come.

He steps quietly into the room, speaking softly so as not to disturb me.

I don’t even bother to open my eyes.

We’ve done t his before, he knows exactly what I need and where.

He slowly warms creamy lotion in the palms of his hands before gliding them from my shoulders, past the curve of my back to the swell of my buttocks and gradually returning to my shoulders, only to be repeated again with a gentle increase of pressure.

I feel my breath slowly exhaling as my muscles loosen beneath the pressure of his fingertips.

He subtly changes positions, concentrating his attention on my shoulders.

I stifle a sigh as he nimbly works the knots from the base of my scapula, upwards, melting away with each centimeter, knowing that once the discomfort is over a soothing stroke will follow.

Thus he works his way over my body: back shoulders, neck, arms, and legs, pausing occasionally to ask if there is too much pressure or if it hurts.

I try to reply intelligibly, instead of in moans and sighs.

He holds the sheet loosely as I turn onto my back.

His hands continue their knowing journey, across my collarbone, the upper portion of my sternum, gliding upwards gently towards my neck and face, smoothing the worry lines away, easing the tension from my jaw, behind my ears, stimulating my scalp, gently pulling my hair, returning to my shoulders, down my arms and to my hands.

I lie still with eyes closed, the subtle aroma of the lotion drifting through the air, relaxing me even further as he uncovers one leg, kneading the muscles, tired from hours of standing; gently flexing the knee, stretching muscles slowly and gradually and then relaxing and soothing them before repeating the motions again and then with the other leg.

Finally he warms my feet, loosening the tight soreness. If I were capable of conscious thought I might be disappointed to realize that our time together will soon be over.

He slowly recovers my feet and leaves the room as quietly as he entered.

“Just rest for a few minutes”

I don’t think it is possible to be any more rested. In approximately an hour he has erased the tension from my muscles, relieved the stress and transported me away from the thoughts and worries of every day life into another level of consciousness.

01/15/2003

Author's Note: I know it's not poetry, and perhaps not exactly good, but I needed to write about something that made me feel good.

Posted on 01/17/2003
Copyright © 2024 Cathlyn Cartier