Note: this post is potentially NSFW, as it’s a tad erotic.
A friend of mine a few years ago gave me an autobiography box, which has a bunch of questions in them to spur writing. My new goal is to do one a day until the end of NaNoWriMo. No word count goal, only that I finish it. Today’s prompt is as follows: “Describe an event in your life when you experienced a very particular and intense assault on your sense of touch.”
When I was in Turkey, I had a Turkish bath wherein I was scrubbed raw by a very attractive Turkish gentleman. When I stepped out of the change room, naked but for a towel and a bikini bottom, I felt a slight breeze from the air conditioner fighting against the heat of Turkey in July. I padded past the humid, tiled pool, and into a small room adjoining.
The room was softly lit, tiled from roof to floor with deep emerald green and gentle, and more humid than Costa Rica during the rainy season. I felt sweat coat my body, and I jumped as my masseur followed in behind me and told me to remove my towel. Having never been naked in front of a strange man, I felt my heart begin to pound. I slowly unwrapped myself from the soft terry and felt my breasts drop heavily without the support the towel had provided. I handed it to him, and lay down on my front on the pedestal in the centre of the room. The marble was warm and on my body; the steam kept the stone blood temperature.
Dipping a towel into a fountain in one of the corners of the room, he placed it so it covered from the top my back and the top of my legs and left me for a time to breathe in the steam. The heat resonated through my body until I felt my very bones become saturated with warmth and in the silence, I heard the fountain trickling. When I heard the door open, my eyes felt too heavy to open. I heard him pad quietly across the floor and sit next to me. He peeled the towel off of me and I felt a chill as the air hit me. I heard him shift and dip a towel into water, and the felt droplets of foam drop onto my back. He covered me with fine suds which tickled my skin as they popped. Once my body was completely insulated, I felt the pressure of his hand on my back as he began to press into my muscles. He began with a soft towel, gently scrubbing me. The towel slid across my skin, coating me with oil. As I sweated out the impurities in my skin, the oil and the heat and the cloth cleansed me. It was not only the heat that began to radiate through to my bones; the feeling of purity began to reach my very essence. Surrounded by silence except for the trickle of water, my mind blanked and my heart felt as if it had stopped beating. My body was separate from my mind as he touched me, massaging the knots along my spine and at the base of my neck. I came undone completely and melted into the hot stone.
After he had massaged all parts of my back, he lifted me gently onto my front. Exposed, I attempted to cover myself while he repeated the process, dribbling foam across my torso. He scrubbed my shoulders, my arms, my legs, my feet. The roughness of the cloth took layers off of my skin; I was naked. Strong hands massaged my own, and my muscles turned to jelly. Hands touched me intimately, but did not invade my private space. He made me forget he was there, even as his hands slid close to the apex of my thighs. It was only me in the silence.
The magic broke for a time when he sat me up so I might rub an abrasive mud on my breasts before he could finish coating the rest of me. I stood blushing until I was allowed to wrap myself in a towel, taken to a sauna and left to meditate. The air was sweet with the taste of some sort of wood, and in the quiet I heard my heart beat slowly. Any aches that once resided in my body were a distant memory; my body and mind were completely quiet, and completely at peace.