"Wow!"   Dawn exhales.   "This is unbelievable!"
Well, she finally got me.    She pestered me long enough.   I stopped by Brenda's earlier, and borrowed her landlord's massage table.   I then brought it over to my house, where Dawn met me, and now we're down in my basement.   She's face up on the table.   I'm forty-five minutes into an hour massage, and I'm doing leg stretches.   "Feeling good?"
"Oh, God yes!"
"Nice."   Carolyn went to a scrapbooking crop, so down here, there are candles lit.   Each give off a very lightly salted, seaside smell.   I have the classical station from Mercer County College on my radio, playing very softly.   Sibelius.
"This is so nice."   Dawn's almost giddy.   Her kids are over at her sister Deanna's house.   Rob's with Debbie and Elmo, of course, because, as we all know, Misery Loves Company.   I'm finishing up her legs with a slow effleurage.
"Think you'll sleep better tonight?"
"Oh yeah.   No doubt."   Her ordinarily deep voice is cracking a bit.   Fatigue.   Strain.  
"Good.   I'm glad I could help."
"So am I!"
I pull up a chair to the table, and plant myself.   I put my right hand under the right heel, and push the ball of her very small, sized five foot as far back as I could go before resistance.   "Actually, I can't believe I'm still awake.   Usually, I'd be falling asleep right now.   School's rough."
"I'm sure it is.   It was for me.   Nice stretch."
Still holding the heel, I now take my hand, put it on top of her right foot, and slowly press down.   "Stretches are good for you.   You obviously don't get enough of them."
"No.   I haven't had any decent stretches since I delivered the twins."
After doing this stretch routine with her left foot as well, I put a liberal amount of cream in my hands.   "Look.   Right now, I'm gonna do your feet.   You aren't gonna kick me in the face, are you?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Well, everyone else I know's got sensitivity issues..."
"Oh, no," she laughs.   "I'm not ticklish!   They do appreciate TLC, though."
My hands are now all creamy.   I take them, and slowly apply them to her soles.   I rub the cream in, using firm, circular strokes.
"That's very nice, George."
My thumbs begin working up, and out, while not working too hard.   There's a soft moan, or two.   Dawn's feet have a slight dryness problem, but not one that can't be overcome with a little attention.   Finally, I begin the toe pull.   With my fingers, I firmly begin pulling up on her toes, now well lubricated by the cream.   I do this very, very slowly.
"Where did you learn this?"
"Where do you think I learned it?"
"No, they didn't teach you this."
"Actually, they did."
"George, it's almost like you're trying to simulate a tongue down there!"
Well.   I refuse to answer that with a riposte of any kind.   But then, isn't what she described a potential form of mutual gratification?   I enjoy administering massage, after all, and it's what I'm doing.   Making a person feel good.   "Do you enjoy that?"
"Well-..." a pause.   "Yes, but..."
"So, just relax.   If you like, just pretend that my loving hands are a tongue.   Carpe diem."
"You're a nut."
So I am.  My thumbs go back to circular motions, all the way down to the heel, where my knuckle softly travels back up.   "Actually, I'm not a nut.   I'm a knuckle."
Dawn laughs.   "God, if I can only package this.   Take it home."
"Dawn, once I get my own table, I can give you a massage, or two.   You're one of my best friends in the world.   For you, it's always on the house."
She sighs.   "Thank you."   Sibelius ends; a monotone, unintelligible voice replaces it.  "I always thank God when good people step into my path.   You know, Abbie thinks the world of you."
"He's a nice kid.   I'm hoping he makes it through all this okay.   I know I didn't when it happened to me."
"He's not doing well with it at all.   Neither are the twins."   Abbie's six.   The twins, Zack and Zeke, are four.   "They need their father.   He's not there, figuratively or literally anymore."
I continue to massage Dawn's feet, until the cream's well rubbed in.   Finally, when I'm done, I put the sheet over them, and rub them until the sheet's absorbed the excess.   the airwaves are now filled with Bartok.   I recognize the music, it's his Five Hungarian Sketches.   "These procedings are now closed," I say.
"It was wonderful."
"Thank you."
Meanwhile, Tyler, my orange and white tabby, has jumped on the massage table.   It startles Dawn, who begins laughing after she realizes what's happened.
"Hers is on the house, Tyler," I say.   "Unfortunately, you have to pay."