January 10, 2013

Happy Ending? Lonely Ending. {Adult} ~ Renee Baribeau

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Woman Seeks Massage with a Happy Ending. {Adult, duh}

Adult: a Craigslist Casual Encounter fulfills, and empties. Happy Ending, Lonely Ending. Reality’s better than Fantasy, in the end.

Some days begin with a lonely heart.

This one began like most others in the early spring of Southern Colorado. The ochre and sienna grasses stood at attention on the frost covered brown earth. They waited patiently for the arrival of the warm sun to put them at ease. As I stepped out onto the balcony, a bone-chilling wind whipped through me, yet the clear blue skies showed promise of beautiful day.

The Sunday palette was a mixture of loneliness, heartbreak, curiosity and boredom. I had been away from home for over two years, and little did I know that these feelings would become a lasting marker of time spent alone. As I stood there looking out over the glassy scene, the wind blew in a tantalizing, novel idea.

The next few hours flowed like warm honey. The deed was well into action before I ever thought twice about consequences. The howling winds laughed at my antics. I created a new AOL account called “Fun Fantasy 8“ to field the emails for my ad on Craigslist, which I placed under “Casual Encounters.”

Within the hour my new mailbox overflowed with responses to my ad titled, “Lesbian seeks Male Masseuse for a Massage with a Happy Ending.”

What a thrill it was to sift through the responses. More than 125 men sent pictures of themselves. Some were naked, in every position imaginable, others fully clothed and looking respectable with their dogs at their side. Many included letters about themselves, their personal fantasies and some provided detailed descriptions on how they would cater to my desires.

Perhaps the title of my ad was misleading; I never was a true card-carrying member of the lesbian community. Most random acts of sex in my life were with the opposite sex, but intimate love was always reserved for women. Maybe I am bisexual.

Several weeks prior, I had placed a similar ad seeking only a friend, describing my interests and passions. Only one woman and a few men replied. This morning was different. I purposely chose to seek out a man. I was seeking raw and unabashed sex, leaving no room to fall in love with the other party.

By 11 a.m. I terminated the ad. The number of replies was simply overwhelming. Without due consideration for my safety, I began to filter their responses.

This was an opportunity to find my Adonis; perfectly built, meticulously manicured and appealing to my wildest imaginations. After ruling out those who were either overweight, endowed with small appendages or possessing distasteful features, I narrowed down the playing field to 12 prime candidates.

The next step was to rule out potential psychos using my pendulum, which made me laugh aloud. As “Fun Fantasy 8,” I responded to their letters by asking each for further clarification regarding their proposals. Within the hour, each of these candidates provided me with detailed elucidations on how they would give me the perfect “massage with a happy ending.”

Without much foreplay of thought, I set out to select the ideal match to fulfill my fantasy. The idea of a zipless f*ck had preoccupied my mind from time to time. Today, the stars seemed to be aligned with the cold day, and if I took a few more steps, my dream would come true.

I was like a kid in the candy store with a pocket full of money as I began narrowing down the field.

I wanted a handsome, well-endowed man under the age of 40. No Viagra, thank you. Generally I gravitate toward Mediterranean type men, who are physically fit. Sometimes I like carpenters and other rough, working class men. For this adventure however, I had the pick of the litter. I short-listed the field, using common sense by reading their descriptions and choosing pictures that aroused and enticed. I requested explicit pictures from several who seemed appealing, but had not been forthcoming with photographic revelations.

I wanted to appear sexy and provocative, but not too revealing. I viewed myself in a full-length mirror: zip down short sleeve sweatshirt revealing plenty of cleavage, and tight jeans. I was feeling very sultry. After all, what full-blooded woman wouldn’t feel this way? More they 100 men stood in line wanting me to fulfill their fantasy, while I had the power to decide who would satisfy my deep cravings.

After much vacillation I chose a 32-year-old Spaniard. He was a yogi, the perfect order in every fashion. Our dialogue went back and forth as we discussed the logistics of where and when. I decided to trust him and gave him the room number of the hotel I booked for this encounter. I had already prepared a massage area. Part of my fantasy was to be well-serviced and then left to my bed, completely satisfied, and alone.

At the appointed time, a beautiful young man appeared at my door. He was exquisite. To this day I do not know his name nor do I care, and he never knew mine. He brought heavenly massage oils and fresh sheets. He was a nudist who was into Tantric sex, and politely asked if he could disrobe before he began the massage. As he dropped his clothes and exposed his perfectly sleek, hairless body, his erection extended towards the massage table.

The massage began with all the usual expectations, and as I lay there, my hand began to explore his body. As he went about his business, I cupped his tight smooth butt, eventually working my hungry hand towards his strikingly beautiful, erect member. The massage was cut short by a growing desire. I invited this young god to take me on the well-oiled table as I listened to the wind howl with delight.

Reflecting on that experience I realize that I hadn’t given any consideration to my safety. Imagine picking a lover by pictures, written letters and then casting my faith into the rotation of my sacred pendulum. In hindsight I would surely reconsider and be more concerned, but this is probably a reaction to the judgments and bantering of my dear friends who thought my actions were insane.

Most of the women with whom I have shared this story admit to having has a similar fantasy, and secretly want to know where they can get theirs.

Perhaps the end of this story is already written or not. Since he was a Tantric yogi, he remained hard and insatiable. This delicious adventure lasted for 90 continuous minutes. The massage was adequate, and the sex thoroughly satisfying. The end was like any good massage. He left me alone to regroup and re-robe, so I immersed myself into a relaxing, luxurious bath where I savored the events of the evening. As for the fantasy fulfilled it was done so with finesse, fun, and pure joy.

However, I could not help but note that there was a vital element missing: one of deep, inner connection. As the thrill wore off, I became sad as I lounged in the tub, and felt lonelier than I was on the wind-chilled patio. My “drive by” encounter revealed that my fantasy was flawed. It was just “another-other.” The “another-other” is a term that I created to explain the idea that if I only had x, new car,  lover, right job, then I could be okay.  This time I had convinced myself that if I could separate sex from my feelings, my heartbreak would end, and all would be well. Once again, this sidestep into sex didn’t mend my broken heart.

Adonis left without a word. I immediately erased the “Fun Fantasy 8″ screen name from my computer, obliterating any record of our mutual indulgence. I was reminded that women tend to internalize their desires, and perhaps, that is where those fantasies should remain. To experience a random encounter like mine would leave many feeling empty, as it did me. Perhaps this explains that in city so diverse as San Francisco, there are scant numbers of male escorts compared to the thousands of women readily available for men.

Still, many years later, I smile whenever I recall the antics of the day. Smart, perhaps not. However, since then, I have remained true in my search for that special someone who may not give me a happy ending, but will not leave me with a lonely one.



Editor: Waylon Lewis

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