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Nice massage table.
Brenda found it in a closet in her landlord's house, after same pointed her in that direction.   She brought it back to her side.   "This good enough?"
"More than enough."
The TV's on.   Rochelle's parked on the couch, watching Animal Planet, with Aspen parked next to her on the floor.   "You need help with it?"
"Nah."   I unfold the table, and place it in the middle of the floor.   As Brenda's garage apartment's fitted out as a studio, there's no room where we could retreat to, really.   "By the way, if you look, you'll see our friend the waitress is asleep."
Rochelle's snoring.   "So, she is."
"Kill the TV."
"Figuratively, or literally?"
Seeing someone's cocker spaniel on the screen, trying to play 'Amazing Grace' on a xylophone, pretty much influences my answer.   "Both."
"Soft music?"
"Yes."
"Sarah McLachlan."
"Fine."
This Brenda does.   The lights are already low, I turn them off, and light candles.   The natural light coming in through the windows on this sunny Sunday morning make for a nice atmosphere.
"Okay, now, go inside, and strip down to a level where you feel comfortable.   Wrap the big single sheet around you, and then come back out and get up on the table face down."
"A level where I'm..."
"Comfortable.   Yes."
Several minutes pass.   Brenda comes out of the bathroom, wrapped up in the bedsheet.   She looks so...vulnerable.
"I'm wearing shorts underneath, is that okay?"
"Yes.   It's fine."
I prompt Brenda to get on the table, face, down, which she does. I set up the sheets right, and adjust the head rest.   After some doing, I reset the height of the table, since Brenda's not small and I'm not very tall, either.   Finally, I'm ready.
Brenda's back's exposed.   It's a beauty.   She's got the tattoo of a majestic bald eagle, in three quarter angle descent, with a streamer in its beak reading 'The Stars and Stripes Forever'.   It is about ten inches in diameter, and pretty much covers the northwest side, from her shoulder blade to near the spinal column.
"Wow," I whisper.   "God bless America."
"Yes."
"Any more tats I should know about?"
"Not in any places you'll be visiting."
"Oh, you're the Queen of Hospitality this morning, aren't you?"
"Shut up and massage."
"Aw, alright."   My hands are now well lubricated from the cream I'm using.   I begin with a butterfly effleurage on her back, which comes around the shoulders and ends at the neck.   "Oh, that's nice."
"That it is."
I slowly perform this full body Swedish massage, using all the techniques I already know, and despite the very short time I've been in school, it seems my knowledge is quite considerable.   I'm using fists and palms, I'm going deep in places and I'm quite gentle in others.   "This is incredible!" Her breathing has become somewhat shallow.   "I can't believe how good this is!"
"Thanks."
After I'm finished with her back and arms, both medium as well as deep touch, I move down to the legs.   As Brenda's got a solid upper torso (a very masculine build), she's really got strong legs.   She's got linebacker legs.   It's almost scary.   "You're a man in a woman's body."
"No shit, Sherlock.   You figured it out, didn't you?"
"You see, I told you I was quick on the uptake."
After doing good, drawn out deep compression on her legs, I give her some well needed stretches.   Brenda's moans and creaks momentarily awaken Rochelle, dozing on the couch, however, she soon drifts back to her four hundred acre estate in Snore Nation.   "That was great, I really needed that."
I come over to the side, lean against the table, and lift the sheet a bit on the opposite end.   "Turn over."
"You mean, like a hamburger?"
"Yes."
I go back to her upper chest, and do the butterfly, around her shoulders, and behind her neck. After that, I do these fist drives underneath the area between her neck and shoulder blades, and some deep compressions into the area just further forward.   Then, some good arm stretches, and hand massage.   "Man, you've got a great touch."
"Thanks."
I go down, and give her legs a good stretch out, after some more of the gliding effleurage, and the kneading of muscles, known as petrossage.   Hey, if this is supposed to be Swedish, then why the hell are the terms French?
Finally, the feet.   The home stretch (no pun intended).   I hold the right ankle, pull it taut, and, with my right hand, cup it around the top of the foot and hold it down.   Brenda moans, and lets out a gust of air.   I then take my palm, push it firmly into the ball on the sole, and bend the toes back with my fingers.   More moaning, more gusts of air.   "Jesus," she whispers.
Rubbing a bit more cream into my fingers, I then do circular motions with my thumbs.   The foot jerks up, and Brenda's trying to stifle a giggle.   "Stop tickling me."
"I'm not tickling you.   This is standard."   I try it again, applying firmer pressure with my thumbs, but the toes wriggle sharply, and Brenda's stifling more giggles.   "Will you stop tickling me?"
"I'm not tickling you!   Look, this-" I grab her foot, hold on for dear life, and let my fingers spider on her soles, "is tickling!"   Brenda fights the hold, and guffaws with peals of gusty laughter, sprinkled with intermittent cries of "stop!   Stop!"   "I'm not doing that, I'm trying to massage you.   Now, hold still!"
"Bastard."
"Before I start again, I want you to take a deep breath, and hold it a few seconds."
This she does.
"Okay, I'm gonna start again."   I apply the thumbs again.   She jerks a bit, but soon, we're doing fine.   There were some seismic jumps when I worked on the other foot, but overall, she grew more and more accepting of the touch.   Finally, I stand straight.   "Finito.   Get up slowly!   Sit on the edge for a minute before you do anything else."
Brenda does this.   She now seems very relaxed.   She breathes very slowly.   "I'm gonna take a good hot shower right now."
"How you feeling?"
"Outrageous."
Rochelle has awakened on the couch.   She stretches and yawns.   "You two got pretty loud there."
"No, she got loud.   I'm kind of...quiet."
Brenda clears her throat.   "George?"
"Yes?"
"So help me God, you better not be ticklish..."