by Angie Pepper
What kind of a woman would Luca Lowell date? Probably a hot blonde. With curves in all the right places. All Tina needed was a wig and some padding. And that scooter she’d been meaning to buy.
Tina helped several teens with their prom flower orders, on both Thursday and Friday, and she didn’t break down in tears either of those days. She also didn’t notice. It was hard for a person to notice the absence of something, even if that something was a bottomless pit of sorrow.
On Saturday morning, Tina’s alarm clock went off early. She didn’t have to work at the flower shop that day, but she did have to hit the road. It was the beginning of her weekend getaway at a hot springs resort with her best friend.
Rory had won the getaway package—not cheap!—through a local radio contest. The girls had talked about Rory selling it for cash, but Rory wanted to go and see how the rich and fabulous spent their time.
Tina drove, picking Rory up in her car, and then Tina insisted on paying for all the gas plus the snacks they’d eat on the road.
They were both excited about the getaway. It was such an adult thing to do, going somewhere and paying for a place to sleep when you already had a perfectly good bed at home.
Tina only thought about Luca Lowell about a hundred times on the drive.
They checked in at the resort before noon.
The place was called Dragonfly Resort, and it was owned by the famous action movie star, Jocko Ranger. The handsome, dark-haired actor had filmed a movie there seventeen years earlier. The official story was that Jocko had loved the place so much that he bought it from the owners, who were wanting to retire, as an investment.
The unofficial story, according to the gossipy woman at the check-in counter, was that Jocko had thrown some very wild parties toward the end of production. The ensuing damage had been so extensive that he’d been advised by his lawyers to purchase the place mainly to keep from being sued.
Then, since the place was already damaged, Jocko had used it as his personal party spot for the next year, hosting parties for anyone and everyone famous in the surrounding area. Jade, the famous pop singer, was there frequently during that era, among others. Lana Langtree, the internationally renowned country music legend, had even showed up. There had been a spectacular fight between Lana and Jade, who was the country singer’s daughter-in-law.
After a year of nonstop parties, Jocko lost interest and moved on to something new. He footed the bill for an extensive renovation, took on a business partner to run the place as an actual business, and now Dragonfly Resort was a popular and busy wellness spa.
Tina and Rory thanked the checkout clerk for the colorful backstory, and went straight for lunch.
Rory said she’d go with Tina into the hot springs after they ate, but that she wouldn’t use the spa treatments that had come with the package.
Rory wasn’t just squeamish about people talking about bodily functions or sex. Another issue was she couldn’t stand people touching her. Rory had to cut her own hair, and she always took a Valium before dentist appointments, if she went at all.
Since Rory wouldn’t partake in the treatments, that meant double the massages and pedicures for Tina, which she didn’t mind.
For Tina, the rest of Saturday passed in a fog of well-oiled bliss. Those spa people worked her over like taffy on a hot day, and she loved it.
That night, on her rented bed, she slept like a log—a log who dreamed about a certain wavy-haired bike garage owner. She dreamed about all the things he might have done to annoy another woman, but that she wouldn’t mind at all.
At brunch on Sunday, Tina had no choice but to keep her vivid dreams to herself. If Rory knew even half of what she’d been thinking about, Rory would have imploded.
After brunch, the girls returned to the double room, and Tina got ready for her daily massage treatment—she could get used to this!—while Rory got ready for the steam room. Rory was actually opening up a little. She was willing to be in a swimsuit, near other women in their swimsuits.
Tina told Rory, “I’m so proud of you. And that swimsuit is cute.”
“Don’t you dare take a picture,” Rory said.
“I wasn’t going to.” That wasn’t true. She’d been planning to. “I’m not even touching my phone.” A likely story.
Rory checked out the view of her back in the room’s full-length mirror. “I hope the steam room is as relaxing as people say it is. You were making weird noises in your sleep, and you woke me up.”
“Sorry,” Tina said.
“What were you dreaming about?”
“Waffles,” Tina lied.
They went off to their separate treatments.
When Tina got to the treatment room, she was greeted by a perky young woman whose name she immediately forgot. Tina was given her choice of massage therapists.
“Denise is off today so you can’t have her,” said the perky young woman. “That’s who you had yesterday. Denise is just terrific! I love her! Don’t you love her? Of course you do! So, for today, I can get you in with almost anyone, since it’s pretty quiet this afternoon.” She looked over the screen of a tablet. “What sort of energy would you like to be around?”
Slightly less perky than you, Tina thought. And then, perhaps because she was still thinking about the previous night's dreams, she made a joke, saying, “I’ll take the one with the biggest hands.”
Perky Spa Chick tapped at her tablet. “Terrific! He will be with you in a moment.”
“He will be?” Emphasis on the word he. All her massages and treatments up until that point had been given by females.
Perky Spa Chick said, “Please make yourself comfortable on the table. Relax.” Then she gave Tina a funny little smile, as though Perky Spa Chick knew what Tina had been thinking about and dreaming about. It hadn’t been waffles.
Tina waited, alone and nearly naked on a treatment table. She did anything but relax. Her brain badgered her with worries, and she began berating herself. Tina, now you’ve done it! Perky Spa Chick thinks you want a happy ending. Why’d you have to ask for someone with big hands? Aren’t the dreams enough for you? What if the spa puts you on some sort of registered pervert list?
She watched the treatment room door with dread while coming up with excuses to get out of there. She could tell them her stomach was upset from eating bad fish last night. But then the rumor about food poisoning might get back to the kitchen, who’d report that they didn’t serve any fish last night, let alone to Tina. Then Perky Spa Chick would know Tina was both a pervert and a compulsive liar.
So she stayed, waiting on the table. Still nearly naked.
Tina began to get curious about this massage therapist with big hands. What would that even feel like? The guys she’d dated usually had hands not much bigger than hers. She was tall, at five foot nine, and her boyfriends had never been particularly tall. Half of them had been shorter than her.
There were sounds on the other side of the treatment room door.
Tina imagined a mystery guy getting ready, washing his big hands and complaining to his coworkers about having to give yet another happy ending to a horny spa guest. “These rich old ladies think everyone is on the menu,” he’d say, rolling his eyes at his coworker and part-time lover, Perky Spa Chick.
The door to the treatment room squeaked open, and someone slipped in quietly. Tina heard very soft footsteps. Was the massage therapist wearing slippers, or was the issue that she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her pulse in her ears? She lifted her head to take a peek.
It was a he, all right. Big hands and all. The man looked like an Olympic skier from Norway. His square jaw and blue eyes reminded her of Luca.
She put her face down into the table’s padded supports and tried to calmly breathe her way out of a heart attack. Could people have heart attacks at twenty-nine? She’d hate to make the news for something like that.
Tina, you’re going to survive this, she told herself. Now, I know you’ve had some weird ide
as on your brain, but I have a simple request. Whatever happens next, please promise you will not moan. This man is a professional, and he’s going to give you a professional massage. Keep your mouth shut and keep your happy sounds to yourself. Do you hear me, Tina’s body? No wiggling around under his touch.
The Norwegian Olympian said, “My name is Daniel, by the way. The ladies call me Big Danny the Manny, or just Big Danny.”
“I’ll bet they do.” Tina kept her face down, her eyes safely on the tiled floor beneath them.
Big Danny the Manny asked, “Are you enjoying your stay?”
“Yes,” she squeaked out. “Very much. I’m here with my girlfriend.”
He chuckled. “Girlfriend, hmm?” He sounded very interested. That gave her an idea.
She pulled her face up from the pads and turned to face Daniel. “Yes, my girlfriend,” she said, with a heavy emphasis on the word girlfriend. “Her name is Rory, and she’s very jealous. She doesn’t like that I’ve been getting so many massages from other girls. That’s the only reason I requested a guy today.”
“Oh.” He sounded crestfallen. “I was told you asked for me by name. I thought you heard about me by reputation. I thought you wanted Big Danny the Manny.”
“Uh, no. Uh, what reputation?”
“You’ll see.” He gathered up some bottles of oil and set them on a rolling tray next to the massage table. “Head down and relax.”
She tried. Her head wouldn’t even go down, let alone relax. She stared at him, wide eyed, as he rubbed the oil on his hands.
“You can tell your girlfriend all about your special relaxation time with Big Danny,” he said, with a heavy emphasis on the word girlfriend. Did he say it that way to let her know he thought she was fibbing? And what did he mean by special relaxation time? And why did the ladies call him Big Danny the Manny?
She finally returned her face to the oval-shaped hole in the padding and tried to relax. Tina, do not sigh, and do not think about Luca Lowell. When Big Danny touches you, do not imagine those are Luca’s paint-speckled hands on your lower back.
Big Danny got to work, explaining each part of the massage as he went.
“You have some areas of tension,” he said.
“Oh?” Her voice sounded awkward, with her cheeks squeezed by the pads.
“You’re going to put me through my paces. Hang on, you’re going for a ride.”
Hang on? Hang on to what? What ride?
Something whirred, and the table lowered, moving a foot closer to the ground.
“Much better,” he said. “Now I can really get in there.”
She could only see the floor, but she scrunched her eyes shut anyway. What was happening? There was no way Big Danny had been through formal training as a massage therapist. She’d been to a few RMTs. None of them said things like get in there, or hang on, or you’re going for a ride.
“You’re so tense,” he murmured.
His hands were on her shoulders. She understood what he meant. Her shoulders did carry a lot of tension. And yet, by some miracle, the muscles began to ease under his skilled pressure. She felt some of the stress she perpetually carried falling away. That was a change.
“Feel free to vocalize,” he said.
“Hmm?”
“You can vocalize if you’d like,” he said. “Some women find it helps them relax.”
“Very good work,” she said quickly, thinking he was asking for compliments. “Yes. Thank you. I am enjoying this massage exactly how it’s going, thank you.”
“That’s not what I meant, but you’re welcome.” Big Danny chuckled and kept working.
His fingers worked the muscles between her shoulders. Just when the pressure started to become too much, and she feared she might be bruising like a ripe peach, he moved down an inch. It got better by the minute. The thing was, the massage she’d gotten from Denise the day before had been perfectly good. Fine. A four-star massage. But Big Danny’s hands on her spine were a revelation.
Her whole body felt like it might be glowing.
He moved back up to her shoulders then her upper arms. When his long fingers wrapped around her biceps, his hands felt bigger than ever. She had strong arms from working at the flower shop—there was a surprising amount of heavy lifting—but he made her muscles feel tiny and delicate.
Images of Luca came to mind, then a daydream formed. In the scenario, he was fixing a bike, and there was dark oil on his hands. He looked up when Tina walked in. She wasn’t wearing tattered shorts and an enormous sweatshirt. She was dressed in a tight black sweater and sexy black leather pants. She was dressed as the former good girl Sandy at the end of the classic movie musical Grease.
Keep in mind this was all happening inside Tina’s imagination, where she didn’t look at all ridiculous in leather pants.
In the daydream, Luca stood and crossed to the sink to wash his hands. Tina told him not to bother washing up. She couldn’t wait to be held by him, and she didn’t mind that his hands were dirty.
“Tina, you really know how to fill out those leather pants,” he growled.
She said, in classic Sandy-from-Grease style, “Tell me about it, stud.”
With his upper lip curling up Travolta style, he grabbed a loose rag and gave his palms a quick wipe as he walked toward her. No. Swaggered. His hands were now magically clean. He reached around and planted both hands on her butt. In her leather pants, her butt looked and felt like a million bucks.
He whispered near her ear, “Your butt feels like a million bucks, Tina Gardenia.”
“I know.”
And then…
“Are you asleep?” a male voice asked.
Tina’s eyes flew open, taking in a limited view of the slate tile floor. She could see Big Danny’s feet. He was wearing socks with sandals. She had never, ever, ever been more thrilled to see a pair of socks and sandals. It was, thankfully, a complete and immediate turn-off.
He asked again, “Are you asleep?”
“Not anymore,” she said groggily. “Maybe I did drift off.”
“You sounded like you were having a good dream. You made some interesting sounds.”
She lifted her head up to give him a stern look, taking care not to flash him. “I dreamed I was eating waffles.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “I won’t tell your girlfriend.”
“She was in the dream, too.”
Grinning, he walked over to the sink and washed the massage oil off his hands. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he said.
She shooed him away with one hand. “You’ve done more than enough,” she said. “Sorry I fell asleep. I guess some people find massages boring.”
Big Danny bent over, pulled up the socks he was wearing with his sandals, and then left.
Once he was gone, she sat up and waited for her sinuses to clear. Humans weren’t made to lie face-down.
She grabbed her robe and headed to the changing room.
Thanks to Big Danny, she did receive the best massage she’d ever had in her life, but now she was miserable.
She was miserable because, while she earned a reasonable wage at the family flower shop, she couldn’t afford the cash to regularly visit the fancy spa for a massage.
As she got dressed, she ran some mental math. Technically, she could afford a session with Big Danny about once a month, if she cut back on shopping.
* * *
Tina met Rory in the resort’s cafe, where Rory was already seated for high tea.
“Your face looks weird.” Rory poured her some cinnamon-scented tea.
Tina rubbed her forehead. “These massage-table lines will disappear after I drink some water. I’m probably dehydrated.”
“No. I mean you’ve got a goofy look on your face. It’s a look I haven’t seen in a long, long time.”
Tina used the silver tongs to transfer a tiny cucumber sandwich from the tray to her plate. “Okay,” she said, barely paying attention. The food looked
good, and she was starving. Tina could have eaten a hundred of the tiny sandwiches. She could have grabbed them by the fistful and stuffed the whole tray’s contents into her mouth, Godzilla style. Why were the rooms so big and the food so small? Rich people had different priorities. They liked palatial suites and miniature food.
Rory leaned in and whispered, “Did something happen at your massage?”
“Not exactly, but there was a bit of a surprise. It was a guy this time. Denise is off today.”
“A guy?” Rory’s eyes widened in terror. “Did he… touch you?”
“Yes, Rory. That’s pretty much the definition of a massage. They have to touch you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, he didn’t touch my bathing suit area.”
Rory made a gagging face, then immediately dropped the subject.
The girls finished their tea, then packed up their suitcases and checked out again.
The weekend had gone by too quickly, they both agreed.
The sun was setting as they started the drive back home.
Tina felt tired but also rejuvenated. Rory’s skin looked great from her time in the hot springs and the sauna.
“Thanks for bringing me with you,” Tina said once they were on the highway. “I know you could have sold the prize for cash, but I really appreciate you bringing me instead.”
Rory was quiet. Tina pulled her eyes off the road to look at her friend.
Rory was crying silently, tears glistening on her cheeks.
Tina’s throat tightened. Rory never cried.
“What’s wrong?” Tina returned to facing the road, giving her friend some privacy. It was humiliating to be seen crying. Tina knew that from experience.
Rory sniffed. “I didn’t win the getaway.”
“You what?”
“There was no radio contest,” she said.
It sank in for Tina, but not all the way. “What?”
“I bought it myself to cheer you up,” Rory said. “Because you always get so sad this time of year.”
Tina’s eyes burned. Her throat felt tight, and also blocked.