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Volume 3, Issue 11
BUFFED AND FLUFFEDSiren OnlineSteph's Place W hen the mood strikes to take an adventure, I usually head south to Mexico. But, this time I needed something different from of one of my usual crazy, drunken, boychasing beach stays. This time I wanted to truly get away from it all and had visions of being fed grapes while four amazingly hot men rubbed each of my limbs. Unfortunately, I couldn't find such a place so I settled for a relaxing spa vacation. After hours of researching for a place that resembled heaven on earth, I decided to go to Miraval in Arizona. Taylor and I hit the road Sunday afternoon and planned to drive until we reached Tucson or delirium. We made it to Las Cruces, where finding an open hotel was almost as difficult as finding a health club in rural Kansas. When we finally came upon our oasis, the Super 8 Motel, we were ready to pass out. I could tell that Taylor was really out of it because she barely noticed the hotel clerk, with all his bulging muscles, barely visible neck and stiff posture. I still think the men she's attracted to think steroids are aphrodisiacs. By 11 the next morning, we were pulling into the breath-taking landscapes of Miraval Resort. Nothing I imagined could have prepared me for this experience. It really was like its own little piece of heaven. The moment we stepped out of the car, it became apparent why the place is so popular; the staff will not let you lift a finger. There was someone opening our doors, grabbing our bags and handing us bottled water. Then a guy with a thick New York accent took us on a tour of the entire place. It was so entertaining to hear him talk about their peace, tranquility and mindfulness philosophy at a million words per minute. We started our program with a nature walk through the base of the Santa Catalina Mountains. There were about 15 of us, mostly older couples and a few women whose rich husbands were out golfing. It was the first time I saw someone leaning sideways from the weight of her tennis bracelet. You'd think that cheap bastard husband of hers would have bought her another one to balance her out. She, however, seemed more appalled at Taylor's tattoo. I heard her whisper to her friend, "If my kids ever dared to come home with one of those, I think I would die!" Next was our consultation with the nutritionist who weighed us, gave us a fat pinch test and then assisted us with our three-day meal plan. I was shocked to learn that chocolate, coffee and ice cream are not considered major food groups. Then we had our appointment with the personal trainer. Taylor was thrilled that his width nearly equaled his height and, once again, the neck was missing in action. He asked her about her muscles and where she felt she needed the most work. I practically had to cover her mouth to stop her from saying something like, "That would be my Kegel muscles, you hunka hunka burning love!" After a very strenuous workout, we headed to the locker room, which was filled with women whose bushes have never heard of waxing or shaving. One in particular stretched so far from east to west, I was thinking of buying her hedge clippers. Another great feature of the spa was the pampering. Each day we got the choice of hot stone massage, facials, hydrotherapy, reflexology and much more. I was worried no one would measure up to the amazing Leo from Izba Spa, so I requested I only have treatments with men. I've never found a woman who can give it to me as hard as I like. (Not massage, anyway.) Plus it takes away from my fantasy of being seduced by a gorgeous massage therapist in a seemingly innocent way. We did yoga twice a day. I was pleased at my increased limberness and ability to put my legs behind my head, giving me wild ideas for my next sexual encounter. By the third day we were both so relaxed and detoxed, I couldn't wait to get back to the city for a little retox. The night before we left, I had one more massage planned and was amazed when John, the masseur, walked into the room. It was about as close to my massage fantasy as it could come. He was tall and lanky, dark hair, beautiful green eyes and nice, big hands. The first thing he asked me is which areas I would like him to focus on. This is where my ability to hide my true feelings really comes in handy. I told him where I was stiff, and hoped he would tell me the same. He was so gifted in his stroking that I had chills almost immediately. He was doing things that no other therapists have ever done like playing with my hair and holding my hands. My mind was racing with the question, "Does he do this to all of his clients?" Halfway during the massage, he held up the sheet and asked me to turn over. Thank God I am a woman, and do not have the tell tale signs of sexual arousal a man would at the same moment. I did, however, almost fall off the table when I turned, due to being so flustered. I was disappointed he didn't try to sneak a peek, but thrilled when he asked me if I would like him to work on my stomach. The fact that there was a one-piece sheet completely covering me left me wondering which part he would expose to get to my stomach. Much to my dismay, he slipped a towel under the sheet to cover my breasts and then lowered the sheet. He finished up on my neck and face, and there were at least three times that he gently let his fingers glide over my lips. I knew that wasn't common procedure! I was so sex starved after that full hour of teasing, I had to go back to the room and take care of business. Luckily, Taylor was off with the land barge of a personal trainer and I had a few moments of alone time with my battery-operated buddy. In my post orgasmic glow, I wondered if it would have been any better if anything happened. Somehow the fantasy and forbidden fruit are much more alluring to me. The drive home was uneventful, with the exception of our daydreaming. My head was filled with visions of John and his wondrous hands and Taylor seemed to be having her own brand of dwelling on the beef cake. It's funny, because we thought it would be a vacation without romance, and yet we both had a fantasy fulfilled.
Win a dinner with Stephanie! See page 4
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