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SEX IN THE JOB
“You have lots of free sex, you, Simon?” This was more of an emphatic statement from a male acquaintance.
“Tja-a-aaa… being a closed single man I do have the sex I get when I get it. I wouldn’t say it is lots and free though. I could enjoy more sex actually,” I replied.
“But, ehhh, what about those beautiful women you massage everyday at your clinic?,” he pressed on.
“Ahhh, I see! No, as a rule I don’t fuck with my patients. I take my job very seriously,” I said. Discussion closed. Nice weather today, no?
“You know that my son here, Simon, is like a doctor? He treats people with massage!” my mother proudly tells an old family friend who last saw me as a teenager.
“Awww? But I thought this was an educated man with a university degree. Can’t he use his education?” the lady was incredulous.
My mother explains, “Oh, yes, my son is educated alright. But you see, he is a business man now.”
“I have to be frank with you, Simon, massage is a low status job; that’s just the way it is. You will never be rich with this, and people will never respect you. But the thing with you is that you are so good with Chi massasje you take the whole thing to a very high level!” a former patient put it blank to me; taking me down, only to lift me again. I chose to remain high where he left me.
At a law firm in South Africa, a fascinated lawyer (White; need to be specific when talking about Mzansi fo sho) asked, “YOU, businessman in Europe! Wow, that’s very, very much nice! You do massage, you said? Men or women? NAKED? You mean these White women show you their breasts? Incredible! You have a good life, Mr Chilembo. Stay in Europe, Sir. Forget about the gravy train they talk about in this country, man!”
We both laughed heartily for what seemed like forever, causing consternation in the wider office.
Professionally the man did one hell of a good job for me, I paid him well; we both lived happily ever after. I wonder if women’s breasts of all colours, all shapes, and all sizes haunted him much as they did me the rest of the day afterwards. But then again I had “Show me the money!” him. I guess it is the money I look more at when I’m at work. A body is just a body for money, yes or no, yes?
I liked Frodine’s entry not long ago. Lying prone on the massage table like she has done more like a thousand times before since she first got her massage treatment from me about 8 years ago, she says, “You, Simon, I’ve been wanting to ask you this for along time: don’t you ever get uncomfortable touching people all the time here? I mean, when you work you touch people almost all over the body, including sensitive areas; don’t you ever, um, get turned on?”
My hands are creamy, and I’ve switched on to a professional mode already gently and deeply gliding down her fine curvaceous back. In that state, I hear what she’s saying and take it for what it sounds like to me, an innocent question. So I quietly but gutturally respond, “No!” and continue with my work. When she moves like uncomfortably and says, “Oh!?”, I realize that I have to switch off a bit and explain a little more:
- Ok, it does happen that I am aroused occasionally, of course; I am only human like everyone else. And, besides, my good health and robustness make me most virile indeed. But you see, the moment I step in to my clinic, ENERVITAL, my persona changes to become strictly professional and impersonal. That way I can focus on what the essence of my job and mission are about. It’s a matter of both professional and personal integrity.
- Furthermore, given my hypersensitivity to racism and racial stereotypes (remember I was born and raised in the former apartheid South Africa), I am ever conscious about how non-Black people respond to my
being, my presence, my thoughts, and my actions. For example, I (speaking for myself only) don’t go around carrying a penis the size of a horse’s between my legs (but then again I do not go round flashing the organ about in public like a horse does when the heat is on); and my cognitive capacity and work take place in the only brain I have in my head, the one above my shoulders. As far as I know my penis contains no part or parts of my brains, and neither do my testicles. I get a kick out of being an anti-thesis of racial stereotyping vis-à-vis Black people (men) and sexual behaviour, amongst other things.
- Above all, I get an extra awesome kick every time I with honour and dignity manage to resist, and overcome, temptation. For me, every day at work is a day of continual emotional, philosophical, and spiritual growth. I thrive with my physical growth in either the bedroom or the gym, or the other way round, ehmmm… depending!
Today weather nice or not nice, yes?
July 24, 2012