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