Chapter 17 – Technicolor
by Backseat Devil
When about to massage a man, take your time… let him wait for it. Look at each muscle group separately before you even touch him. Get a sense of how you’re going to work around the body. Start with neck and work your way through the shoulder, and down the arm. Finish one side before going to the other. Later you can do the center section to pull everything together. Pay attention to the direction you rub the muscles… try to massage inward in order to move the sensual energy to the core. If this was a stress release massage, you would work the muscles outward to get the stress out of the body. In this case, he wants to fuck, so we want to move the sexual energy toward the penis.
Brit’s strong hands start working on the right side of Derrick’s muscular back using the inside knuckle of the thumbs and the ball of the palm to apply pressure and making sure to keep her nails safely above the skin except at special moments when she would scratch him on purpose, causing his fair skin to redden and his body to react with a slight tensing and a moan. James would imitate on the left side.
I find it helps to save the base of the scull until you’re ready to travel down the back…
Both of you better be naked by the time I flip over.
He can barely remember any of his training as Aaron’s back is so different than anyone else he had massaged. Besides the small factor of actually knowing and liking this person, Aaron had less mass than Derrick, he is leaner, porcelain, each curve of the muscles are perfect in proportion. Most men he had massaged had some measure of fat or bulk with muscle… something to cushion the imperfections in performance or instability in pressure. The skinny guys were easy as well… one would barely rub them and get a positive reaction… which had a delightful effort/returns ratio. He only massaged one woman, and that lead to a marriage proposal. Aaron’s lean muscles means an execution of a real massage with little margin for error…
…and he had to do this right if this is ever going to be a repeated scenario.
What are you waiting for?
Just relax, god dammit.
Aaron giggles. James is nervous as hell, but he likes this dynamic… two people with a comfortable sexual history poised about each other, but neither taking it too seriously. It is tremendously gratifying to work with an equal, now it’s time for James to take it up a notch and show this shirtless hippie a thing or two about how the cosmopolitan city boys do it.
They were in Aaron’s room as his roommates were gone for the evening, but they were not sure for how long. He managed to grab the Delirium ENCHANTED CD before leaving the crowd of guys visiting his roommate in A314 and followed Aaron to room A103 for an impromptu massage session after there had been hinting for one for over a week. Aaron ripped off his shirt and laid down instinctively. James repositions him so the pillow is under the chest and shoulders giving the neck the ability to lay straight. He turns off the radiator and opens the window to allow the January air to slide in and cool the room. There is no massage oil, but there is a water based body lotion from Bath and Bodyworks. Impressive. He zaps the sample bottle in the microwave for a few seconds, all the while smiling at the ritual he thought he would never repeat once leaving Feathers.
Goosebumps from the cold started to appear among the freckles on the back and sides of the pale skinned man on the bed. He’s ready. James started the music and let the first song take his course and started attacking the neck with the warm lotion, to a low moan reception. He becomes very serious about the venture, taking care to rub each muscle separately, feeling for knots and rubbing them out before moving on, careful to release the energy outward as this is a STRESS-RELEASE MASSAGE ONLY… and nothing more.
Nothing more. Stop looking at his ass.
James works one side if the upper back and shoulder, shoulder blades progressing down one arm slowly and methodically, then continues to the other side, making sure everything is professional and therapeutic as possible while enjoying the soft touch of the skin and the low humming warmth pulsating from the inner core.
Before he knows it, over thirty minutes passes, and this needs to wrap up quickly.
Not too quickly, maybe. This poor guy has to work at the subscription mailing packing end of the the factory. He is on his feet all day and lifting and twisting postal crates for endless hours. His lower back must be… I should concentrate on the lower back.
Oh my god… right there.
Not helping. But the man is in real pain so let me just lower these pants and underwear just a little to get into that lower back curve… right… above the… um… James’s mind shut down as he became dazed at the gentle way the back tapered into the twenty-nine inch waist before rising perfectly to the Pacific Northwest tanless curve of the ass. Baseball. Women. Grandma. Dammit. Brother Bechman!
That did the trick.
Okay, I’m stopping there because… we don’t know when your roommates will be back.
Good idea because… he rolls over to reveal a rather sizable erection.
At this point, it seemed things were going to be cool no matter what happened. James reaches down an grabs it through the jeans and holds on for a second. Aaron doesn’t even so much as flinch or react.
Maybe next time, he says with a slightly upturned straight face.
Aaron’s response is blank with intrigue. James gets up and turns off the CD player while closing the window… turning the radiator back on, and ends at the kitchenette rinsing lotion off his hands right as there is an attempt to enter the door, and then an actual entrance to the room.
The door isn’t locked.
Aaron is already getting his shirt on, and somehow uses his guitar to cover his hard on before the two brothers entering the dorm notices.
Hey guys! What’s up?
Nothing. Welcome back. How was your evening?
Great. Just great.
Good gravy. Why is it so cold in here?
What mischievousness have you two been up to?
You haven’t been wrestling in your underwear, have you?
Both James and Aaron are still in a state of shock with each of them looking at the other from opposite sides of the room in a slight ‘deer-in-headlights’/’oh my god’ exchange until the last question… then the true nature of the insanity of where they were located sets in. James started to get comically defensive, mockingly.
It says no wrestling in your underwear… with your roommate. We’re not roommates. So, ha!
We’re not roommates… yet, Aaron chimed in.
Aaron, if we become roommates, no more wrestling in our underwear. Rules are rules.
You two are too crazy.
I’m almost afraid of both of you, but I have no clue why.
During the conversation, Aaron is slowly buttoning up his shirt behind his guitar and smiling in relief the joke worked.
There is a massive exhale on the part of James. In his head he was already in front of the elders lying about how Aaron came onto him… throwing this innocent guy under the bus just to maintain his golden reputation. And for what? There was nothing he did that was wrong… it was James that is making this more than it is. Plus, Aaron not only kept calm and cool in composure, he is able to keep up with the cover, and knows exactly when to shut-up so the joke doesn’t reveal too much. Also the massive weight that the entire time the door being unlocked is not a sand pit James could easily remove himself from, but Aaron seemed to just glide along it in stride. Partially out of respect, but mostly out of guilt, he knew from that moment that there was Aaron could ever do in his life to cause James to betray him. He had a reason to be a loyal person again.
In the following days, there is no weirdness between the massage mates. In fact, it almost seems to draw them closer, calmer, more relaxed with each other, other brothers and sisters, and with the work assignments they had been given… and it all started with Aaron’s initial ice breaker after the massage of, James, we can never do that again.
Okay, I agree.
We have to double check the door and make sure it’s locked.
Uhh… that’s not what I was reading from… Are you sure? I don’t want any weirdness.
Weirdness? Dude, that massage was awesome.
Really? Um… Thanks.
You can go harder next time.
(Pause.) I intended to.
Aaron shakes his head, smiling and bounces off to work.
James is left with a frozen half dumbfounded smile on his face and starry glossed eyes with the “Tonight, Tonight” strumming somewhere in his head.
Oh my god. That song suddenly makes sense. Dammit Aaron and your “Smashing Pumpkins describe everything in life perfectly” bullshit! He wanted to clinch his fist toward heaven but he thought that would look a little weird in the hallway of the dining corridor. Plus, he didn’t need the situation to get any gayer than it already is.
There were no more incidents for a while. James cannot get his head around almost getting caught… had timing progressed the way he wanted to, they would have been in mid-something sexual when the brothers entered the room. It was his own minute version of self-control is what prevented anything from being seen. Meanwhile Aaron is trying to make a good impression with his work overseers as he gets the distinct feeling there is this “who is this punk kid with his long hair and sunny disposition” hurricane forming, and he is in the eye. Outside the computer department, it is rare that anyone enjoys their work as much as Aaron does. His part of the subscription mail packing process is directly on the tour next to the freight elevator that leads up to the computer department, which is the next stop on the tour. Aside from the occasional interruptions by someone who may know the worker, a volunteer is not to break from the ‘grunt worker working at his work all workday’ machina.
Therefore, Aaron’s smiling and waving to the tours, stops to proffer personal information about the subscription mailing process, and dressing in bright colors… so different than those around him… causes people, strangers, tourists, girls and their fathers to be attracted to this individual in an unusual way. Bethel was no longer a place for hard working brothers to do hard work… it is a place where good brothers do good work and have good fun doing it.
The other new bethelites in the South Saugertiese group are as diverse and infected by the thrill of life and the appreciation of where they are in a non-drudge way, and for such there is always smiles and encouragement to be found in the crowd. Not a single one of them naturally took to the ‘pinion and gear’ opinionless toiling that is expected all newcomers to eventually be shaped into. We all come from different backgrounds, but from the same school of free thought, he would say to himself, and we are all having fun living while serving Jehovah.
It is light at the end of the tunnel.
Most impressive is Jake, a 19-year-old from Waco, Texas who entered the same time James did and sports a talent as an amazing illustrator and cartoonist. James calls him “Tigger” because of his likeliness to the Winnie the Pooh character to leap into the room and tackle James to the ground without warning. The three guys developed their own sense of relaxation and excitement as none of them are inherently the type of young men Bethel is looking for. James was groomed to work at the world headquarters, but in no way wanted to be there. Aaron was not made to thrive in such an environment, but he desperately wanted to live there. Jake is his own artistic free spirit, and Bethel was something he thought he’s ‘just try to keep from getting into trouble’. The one that had the most dedication was the one that Bethel didn’t want. The one that couldn’t stand the situation was the one Bethel wanted the most. Jake was in the middle, so he was made a waiter on the kitchen staff.
There is a special level of appreciation that is given to words and phrases that go beyond the limited mindset of those stuck in the machine. Each of the three brothers refused to use the worlds “bro” and “chief” saturating volunteer jargon because of the cheesy comradeship it instantly implies without the effort it takes to get to know someone to the point of assigning nicknames. “Awesome” is acceptable, but used sparingly and with emphasis. People, all people were looked at as individuals… not entities that were either “inside” or “outside”, nor was anybody positioned in attractiveness by what they could provide materially or excursions on the weekends. Jehovah’s Witnesses do not believe in an eternal hell fire, this is a given especially in the location where they were currently housed and working. Still, they would use “going to hell” in a manner to represent anything displeasing to Jehovah… or any god in any religion regardless of location or culture. No, they weren’t going to literal hell, they were just going to be in hell… with their god.
They would sometimes shrug off meeting or gathering with the other brothers to go hiking in the Minnewaska State Park and sit by the lake at Castle Point or watch the sun set over New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut at Hamilton Point. They wold take off to Manhattan on the weekend to absorb culture and space, people and life, music and food. There is nothing that isn’t appreciated and all within the confines of what a ‘good Christian’ should be… with very few exceptions.
Whether it is quiet nights sitting watching television diving into combination fried rice or training into the city to sit and listen to hours of new music at the Times Square Tower Records, it was all beautiful again. They would walk down the main street of Saugertiese and get hot tea at a local shop or walk through the college town of New Paltz checking out the local artwork and crafts, bookstores and coffee shops with open mike night. There is a life that came back to the flesh of James and a color that reignited in his soul. He doesn’t have to fuck people to connect to the world around him, but the deeper the layers, the more he could see on the outside of his world and the beauty in the earth around him. He was no longer driving a psychotic vehicle with the devil in the backseat. He was a person who is enjoying is geographic location in order to create the best worker he could offer to the Watchtower Farms in Wallkill, New York.
As a person who was once destined for work in the theater, he could not be this close to the city and absorb the grandeur that is Broadway.
Enter Neil Bradley.
James P. Perez © 2013