Getting a Free Massage

As I stare out the window of the van, I ponder how tinted windows work.  Suddenly, we pull into the round, lighted driveway of the Hampton Inn.  We are visiting Boston and this is our hotel for 5 days.  The building is tall and very wide.  It is late at night, about ten thirty.  We roll our luggage through the automatic doors into the lobby.  The first thing I see is a man, probably Mexican or Spanish, leaning on a bed that is separated into few parts.  In front of him is a sign that reads Free Massages.

          My mom walks over to the front desk to check in.  I follow her.  The woman behind the desk is on a computer.  I turn back and advance to where my dad is standing.  He watches me stare at the massage man.

          “Do you want to get a massage?” he asks.  I debate it in my head and say yes- it will be fun, and it’s free.

          We walk over to the bed.  The man, in a foreign accent, tells me to lie down face down on the massage bed.  The green fabric sticks into my face.  I am also uncomfortable because of a gap in the bed in the middle of my chest.  He touches my back, just a touch, and I burst out laughing and sit up.  He had just touched me, through my shirt, and it had tickled so much.  I decide to try again and lie back down.  This time when he touches me, I resist the ticklish feeling for a second but I can’t resist the second time he touches me.  I burst out laughing, nearly falling off the bed.

          By now it is time to go.  My dad thanks the man and hands him a one dollar tip.

          “Thank you,” he says.  We walk over to the elevator.  When it arrives, I look back at the massager.  He smiles at me.  We step into the elevator and my dad presses the 7^th floor button.  As the doors close, I get my last look at the massage man.  He is still smiling happily at me.