Remember what I told you Kenny," Larry had said, "about the different parts of the canoe?" He knew Kenny liked to be tested on his knowledge. I’m worried about you,” Mom said sharply one morning after she’d placed Hope in a bouncy chair festooned with teddy bears. Since then he had met Larry's wife and even had a tour of their big old house which used to be a church manse. Imagine, the place was over 140 years old. It was just the other day he reminded her, dad had left three years ago. He often thought of mom getting married again, but to James?

I am in the mind there must be some women who get propositioned for beyond professional services within or outside work hours for more money. And I would think most would not appreciate the offer. I tend to agree nothing sexual happens with an actual massage clinic. There can be exceptions but I have been to a few places before and nothing ever happened other than the professional massage. I can’t say exactly why things were so different that last month before she died. I think at the end of her life and knowing I no longer needed to care for Teri, Mom was able to relinquish her role as “strong mother” and just be herself, a dying woman who wanted her daughter’s help. And I was able to respond, in part because Teri’s love had finally quieted that little part of me that always wondered whether I was enough. So I was able to simply love Mom instead of demanding more than she could give. I learned from this experience that one of the most important aspects to building an intimate relationship with someone is creating a safe space; physically and emotionally. It’s not OK to be in a relationship where you’re not getting those needs met. But it takes communication and trust to get there. If your partner isn’t willing to have those conversations, that’s a problem. Now that I feel comfortable talking to my friends about my experience, I realize I’m not alone. “Happy ending massage” seems to be one of the most popular porn searches for women. Apparently, a large majority of women fantasize about a slow, sensual touch that ends in an orgasmic experience. Do you think that says something about what we’re missing in our sex lives?

Kenny sat up and placed his feet on the cool floor, then walked slowly to the window. He knew he had the best view in Sheldon, a village of 200 people near Truro, Nova Scotia. His house sat on a hill overlooking the highway. He felt like an owl settled on a branch watching the world move along. We met for coffee a few days later. He brought his dog to the café. We talked for an hour and he answered my dozen questions. At this point, I was in full-on research mode and my fantasy had receded. I learned that most of his customers were either in sexless marriages, divorced, or widowed. Some were single and career-focused. Some had suffered sexual trauma. But all were looking for affection and intimacy; not orgasms. I think about being in the hospital,” I whispered to the ceiling. “I think how great it would be to break both my legs because then someone else would have to care for Hope and no one would blame me.” I held my breath, waiting for the earth to engulf me for exposing this terrible secret.

Mom had steadfastly cared for my dad, my brother, and me since her early twenties. She rarely complained, but I thought I detected the toll this sacrifice took in the way she seemed happiest not with us, but at church or petting the dog or watching PBS. I tried to make things easier by hiding my troubles from her and sometimes even myself, but this time I was too weak to pretend. Maybe you shouldn’t have had kids,” Mom said on another one of those endless mornings after Hope was born, standing at my sink in her red capri pants and white Talbots short-sleeve button-down. She was mixing oatmeal for me, the spoon clinking accusingly against the ceramic bowl, her short dark hair falling just so.The massage took a gradual turn from a typical massage to a slow and sensual one without me noticing. I was relaxed and the nervousness gave way to physical pleasure. For an hour and a half, his hands were completely focused on my body. They responded to my breathing. I had multiple orgasms. My body felt things I had never felt before. And I couldn’t touch him. That was the hardest part. I had to focus only on myself and the new things I was feeling. It was at that point that I made a great decision. I told my wife that I had just remembered a meeting I needed to go to and would have to leave. I asked what his fee was and gave him the money, plus another twenty, and told him to "do whatever she needs".

Kenny stretched, then turned on his side. His memories were like a movie reel. The best part was yet to come. Teri opened her eyes, her thin hair strewn across the pillow, and smiled sleepily. “Well, hi, honey.” That was my favourite part of my visits and I always paid attention to the way she touched in case she had a slip, gave an opening if she happened to enjoy.I was depressed once,” she went on. “Before I decided to leave Rich’s dad. I would drive sometimes and think it would be a good idea to drive my car off Huntington Beach Pier.” Marry James?" Kenny's look was nasty. He waited for an answer as he noticed his mother's nervousness. She always looked around the room when she was stumbling for words. As his mom crossed the creaking floor, he carefully controlled his breathing. He felt her eyes travel from his toes, lanky legs, and thinly stretched frame to his blond head. It's tough growing up," he said aloud. He knew he was acting silly but things seemed much simpler when he was younger. Just one time I thought there could have been “something” was the way her hands wandered on my chest in a non massage way for a brief moment.

He kept his eyes steady, a little sad at his mother's discomfort. Maybe this wasn't the right time to ask. But he had to know.

Mom’s comment stung, but more than anything it told me two things: She was very worried, and she wasn’t going to be able to help me. Rich was concerned, but with him, as everyone, I didn’t know what was wrong or what to ask for. And I knew he needed to work, so I tried not to let on to him how bad I was feeling. I held out a glimmer of hope though that his mother, Teri, might somehow help return me to myself. I’m a writer. I like searching out intriguing stories and following the rabbit hole of discovery. I am also a woman with a strong sex drive, and I had always had a particular fantasy about a massage turning into something more. Kenny jerked awake in his room as he heard his squeaky doorknob. Through half-closed eyelids he watched his mom step in.