Hans, it seemed, was working off the books. Had I done something to inspire this offer, or was it simply part of the normal package given to all male clients like some perverse form of free underbody rust-coating? I chose not to say anything. As a straight male, I somehow assumed-or maybe just hoped-that the receptionist would give me a female masseuse. But even so, I was not prepared to move to this level.
The massage went on for another 10 minutes. I still belong to the gym, and I still see Hans, hovering in the doorway of the massage room. Never discuss your recent layoff, unless you actually want career advice from a man rubbing warm Juniper oil into your midsection. He then announced that he would move on to my head and neck. Hans, however, was unnaturally talkative for a man whose livelihood involved rubbing naked flesh. After a mumbled response from Hans and a moment of uncomfortable silence, things seemed back on track, and he moved down to my quads. I did my best to ignore him, but the questions kept coming. I discovered this as I walked into the small, dimly lit massage room, where I met Hans, a tall, well-built fortysomething who looked as if he owned a pair of leather chaps for weekend use. My sexual preference, it turns out, was a moot point: But then Hans might be fired or disgraced professionally. The flip-over is always tricky, particularly when all that separates you from full exposure is a rag the size of a postcard. Fine, I thought, closing my eyes. Had he broken the law? I was put more at ease when he moved to my shoulders, safely away from the more vulnerable territories to the south. Had I done something to inspire this offer, or was it simply part of the normal package given to all male clients like some perverse form of free underbody rust-coating? A bit of unwanted male attention is the price we pay for being just gay enough. And was I now obligated to give him a bigger tip? As a straight male, I somehow assumed-or maybe just hoped-that the receptionist would give me a female masseuse. But even so, I was not prepared to move to this level. My gym only offers male masseurs. Now Hans was working on my front side, so he was able to speak directly to me. That seemed too harsh. No problem, I thought, trying to keep positive. Hans seemed nice enough, and when he lit the candles and started the Enya CD does the massage guild require all members to use the same music? I chose not to say anything.
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