Page 48 of Forever Flustered

“E-Everything?” he croaked nervously. “I’ve never… hang on, Maureen, because…”

“Because I’m going to give you a massage,” she stressed softly, chuckling. “You can leave your underwear on, if it makes you feel better. I’m not going to see anything, and trust me – you’re safe.”

“What if I didn’t want to be ‘safe’?”

“That’s for another time, a much different conversation,” she replied openly, her voice low and hushed as she smiled at him. “And I’m pretty sure that neither of us is ready to talk about what that would look like.”

“Maybe I am…”

“Maybe you’re rushing things because you’re scared about leaving.”

“I am scared,” Eli admitted, looking at her. “We’ve just started and…”

“Eli?” Maureen interrupted him once more, smiling. “Change - and we can talk while I work on your neck and shoulders… please.”

He nodded – and she placed the sheet on the table before exiting the room and closing the door behind her. Disappearing into the kitchen to give him a few moments, she started the kettle so that the water was warm when he was finished. They could have hot tea, talk, and relax together once more, just existing in this little cocoon of happiness for a while longer. At that thought, she set an alarm on her phone for six in the morning – and would be here much too soon.

Leaving the kitchen, Maureen knocked lightly on the door and cracked it open an inch. “Eli, are you on the table and covered?”

“Yes, but I feel weird,” he mumbled – and she smiled, walking into the dimly lit room and picking up her lighter. “Whoaaaa, whoa. No fire. No burning me or…”

“Eli,” she chastised, laughing softly as she stared at his panicked face in disbelief. He was leaning on his forearms on the table, chest and shoulders exposed, as his eyes stared at her in horror. “I’m lighting a scented candle – and I would never hurt you.”

“I know, but…”

“But you heard the sound of the lighter and assumed the worst because you don’t know what to expect – and I never explained anything to you,” she offered, not wanting to discuss anything painful or bring up memories ever again. “Today is a new day, a new you, a new level of relaxation… and I need you to trust me with your body, just like you trusted me enough to tell me about you.”

“I’m trying,” he uttered, watching her – and her heart broke for him.

“I know you are, but it’s just me,” she said softly. “Face down, please.”

“We don’t have to do this…”

“Eli,” she interrupted once more, fighting back another smile at her stubborn yet nervous man. “I’m going to put some warm oil on your back and…”

“Sandalwood?” he chimed in. They both had a bad habit of talking over the other one, interrupting. It was sweet and endearing, because they both wanted to be heard. It’s not that anything was dire or important, but rather a strong urge to reach out or communicate with the other person.

“Perfect,” she replied softly, putting the lavender mixture away and picking up the sandalwood one he’d sent her. “Now, I’m serious… just relax.”

“I’m trying,” he repeated, but his words were muffled from where he was facing downward on the table, his face cradled in the cushioned attachment that would allow him to breathe easily while lying prone.

Before oiling her hands, she began by rubbing lightly along his scalp, trying to get him used to her touching him. Her fingers rubbed gently, making little circles as she got to the nape of his neck… and heard him sigh – loudly.

“Isn’t that nice?”

“Are we done already?” he started, tensing under her fingertips immediately. Maureen sighed, pressing his head back down into the circle because he was already lifting up, trying to take control of his environment – once again.

“No,” she chuckled tenderly. “I’m just getting started, and you need to relax everything – your mind, your body…”

“My soul?”

“If you can manage it – yes,” she answered, fighting the urge to laugh once again. “I’m here to help you and get the tension out of your body, but you are apparently going to fight me every step of the way.”

“I’m not trying,” he began and lifted slightly – only to have her press his head back down into the cushioned ring… and he laughed – an honest laugh. It rumbled through his chest, echoed in the room, and filled her heart with wonder.

“You don’t laugh enough,” she chided softly and pulled back the sheet down to his waist, starting in surprise. “But you are full of surprises… tattoos?”

There, before her eyes, were two strong tattoos on each shoulder blade, mimicking where wings would be located if they had been clipped. My glorious Archangel, she thought emotionally. On his left shoulder blade it said ‘Broken’ – and on his right, it proclaimed ‘Survivor’.