It had been that type of a day. I forgot my cell phone. The train was packed. I was jostled by a careless elbow in a spot reserved for those nearest and dearest. I ran into a café for coffee, then spilled it on my white shirt. It rained. Then it rained more. The boss’s mood was fouler than the weather. My assistant was out. A client presentation was moved up. This was 10 A.M. Things went downhill from there.
Skirting puddles on the way home, I decided to treat myself to a massage. Finding a casual sex London institution was easy. I was welcomed with tea, a kind word, and relaxing music. Massage choices ranged from hot stone to Swedish.
As I lay back on the table, knowledgeable hands worked the kinks out of my body and psyche. Calmed and centered, I was truly rubbed the right way.Comments Off