New Love, True Love . . .

I tried not to cry about the last one. It was time for Charlie to move on. I was staying here. Each at different places in our lives.

I would miss his hands.

I still had Tom. But he's not as consistent. Just cheap.

I needed a replacement.

RT. I scoffed at his name. Well, his initials. What's up with a guy who goes by initials? My experience with guys with initials is kind of hit or miss. Love 'em or leave 'em.

But I was in a bad way. I needed someone. So I said yes. Sight unseen.

He walked in promptly at 8:30. A strapping, compact wall of black muscle and shaved head. Two gold earrings, like a pirate. Reached out to shake my hand as he introduced himself.

"RT." Squeezed my hand firmly. I gave in and followed him.

An hour later, I was in love.

He punished the bad muscles. Smoothed away the aches and pains. Made me sigh. And almost cry.

When it was all over, he told me I was a delight, and had a beautiful body.

As if I needed any more convincing to be in love . . .

See you in a couple weeks, RT.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

PS: For the record, MHG is still my favorite free masseur . . .