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Yes, this encounter includes a massage, just like my story of the same name, but this one ends differently. It begins differently too.
On a Sunday night, I, minding my business, checked my phone and saw 3 new text messages from George*.They'd been sent almost 2 hours prior. I was in another room yucking it up with friends and hadn't heard my phone ring.
I turned down George's invite to go over to his place. It was late and I had settled in to do some writing for the night. He revealed he was alone and figured he'd ask anyway. No harm, no foul. I teased him that he was gonna guilt me into saying yes but I really had to do my writing. If things were different on my end I would've just invited him over.
Text from George: No problem. just come here :)
I told him I wouldn't get much writing done at his place. For one of the few times in my life I didn't mean that with any adult or sexual undertone. I figured it would be like the first night George and I met and I went over to his place -- we'd sit and talk, he'd play his instruments, we'd sip on orange juice, he'd light up, we'd discuss art and the artist's life...
That's not what he had in mind this time.
