Musings in the Dark: The Rebirth of Slick


The Rebirth of Slick

This may or may not be the beginning of a series.

I'm actually ruminating on how best to present this post.  Ankh suggested I go full on in-your-face, but I don't think that would be the best method.  Rather, I think I'll approach this from the stance of a woman experiencing a re-awakening and coming to terms with exactly what this means and its implications.

The title means exactly what you think it does.

I put my sexuality on hold for a very long time while I took care of my family and worked out my issues.  There was also graduate school to consider, and with those three enormous elephants, a part of me had to go uncared for, and my womanhood was it.  When your mind is always distracted and you're operating at a level of stress so tough that you don't realize it even as it's tearing down your body, sex can either be a well-deserved outlet or a serious unwelcome distraction.  I couldn't keep a boyfriend longer than six or seven months because of those three elephants, and even then I couldn't get them to give me what I wanted.  So I just let that part of my life wither.

Part of the reason it was so easy to do is because I wasn't entirely sure what it was I needed.  You think you know yourself in your 20s, find that you're maybe mistaken in your 30s, and then realize you were completely wrong as you near the end of that decade.  I had an innate sense of which way I slanted, but never had the opportunity to explore it.  Outside of the realm of the three elephants, that would be because I dated guys who didn't move the thermostat; guys who couldn't even find it.

(I was confused about this for a long time)

Fast forward to now, after a year in Asia.  I visit a massage parlor regularly because they're so cheap and my job offers its employees wellness benefits.  I worked my way through several massage therapists until I found one I liked, whom I'll call Trey. While there was nothing wrong with any of the other therapists, there was something about the way Trey worked on me that I liked.  Wasn't sure exactly what it was or why, but it didn't matter.  I took to visiting him regularly, about twice a month.

Side note:  When you get a massage over here, you should be warned that the therapists have a tendency to give deep tissue rubs; none of that lightweight Swedish shit.  You have to tell them to do it soft or you may roll up outta there with bruises.  Speaking from experience.

Second side note:  This summer, Trey up and went home for vacation and I was not happy about it at all. Rather than get with another therapist, I just waited for him to come back. Then I found myself questioning the why of this, when I'd had good experiences with previous therapists.

Third side note:  Trey doesn't speak a lick of English.

When Trey returned, I let him know that he couldn't just up and leave me without warning. Then I stopped fucking around and began booking him for a foot & body combo every single week. Just recently I became aware of the fact that my body was responding to Trey's ministrations in ways I thought it could no longer do.  I also realized that the techniques he used had changed dramatically in the ensuing months and since I never uttered any sound other than ones of bliss, he felt free to experiment.

The human body is capable of withstanding extreme amounts of stress.  It burrows deep into the muscles and bones like a chigger and sits there for years, toxifying the blood if it isn't released. Trey, an expertly trained therapist, first began servicing me with what I'd describe as intense surface massages and I'd always have to instruct him to do it softer and still be sore as hell for the next couple of days. But over time, his techniques changed and his massages got deeper and stronger. He was working all those years of stress out of me bit by bit and it began to show in my overall health.

Long story short, when he returned last month and I got wise enough to lock his talented ass down every week, I realized that he understood something about me that I'd forgotten about: I like things hard. I stopped closing my eyes during the foot rubs and started paying attention to what he was doing and how I was responding to it.  He massages every centimeter of my feet and legs, and if I don't so much as twitch, he will either do one of two things: (1) move on, or (2) increase the pressure until I respond, usually with a gasp or a soft moan.

It's almost always #2.  And he smiles at me while he's doing it.

And I realized I'd long since ceased telling him to stop or to do it softer (and was smiling back).

If my natural verbosive tendencies have gotten in the way of what I'm describing, here's the quick and dirty: Trey and I have a bit of a D/s connection with just a touch of S&M.  And the foot massages are foreplay...with the body massage being the main course.


  1. "When your mind is always distracted and you're operating at a level of stress so tough that you don't even realize it even as it's tearing down your body, sex can either be a well-deserved outlet or a serious distraction."

    Preaching to the choir. Been under stress for so long that I'm dead below the neck. No worthy relievers also helps - or hurts, depending on your view.

    May things work with Trey for a very long time.

    1. I wouldn't say I'm dead below the neck, but I understand what Amaya means about men who aren't moving the thermostat, you know?

    2. Yea, that too. I suppose it's two-fold for me. The stress over the years, and the sheer lack of real candidates aka thermostat movers.

  2. It's always nice to have a "ha" moment and be awoken to things about ourselves.

  3. The thing about him going on vacation! Get his number or email in case he ever moves shop!


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