Spa day. Wife’s idea. Ugh, panpipes, whale music and a trickling fountain that makes me want to wee. I lay on my stomach and inhale the scent of patchouli oil.
A woman approaches the massage table, unfolds the soft, fluffy towel covering my nakedness and splashes something warm onto my back. Must be oil. I relax. And oh? Where’s she putting it now? Really? I didn’t think it was that kind of place.
“It’ll sting a bit when I rip it off.”
“Rip what off?”
“What wax? I thought I was having a massage?”
“No, your wife booked you in for a back, sack and…”
A tearing sound, the aurora borealis flash through my head, her words drowned out by something between a banshee wail and wolf howl emitting from me. I leap from the table, run naked to the swimming pool and plunge into its soothing waters.
The wife’s poolside, reclining on a sun lounger. From her smug expression, I’m guessing she’s found out that I’ve been having an affair…
This story is written for Christopher Fielden’s Sensory overload challenge, and will be published in a charity anthology in due course.