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?”
“The wax.”
“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…
Published in Sensorially Challenged Vol 2 by Christopher Fielden
Bridget Scrannage 