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Shaving Grace
This weekend, I left everything behind. My computer stuck in a drawer somewhere, I camped off in Port Alberni for three days. The clouds tenderly caressed the mountains, and all around, the trees and ocean whispered sweet nothings. I took time to think. Coming back on the ferry, I knew what I wanted. I had already made a phone call to a downtown massage parlor, all female run and operated according to the website. "All female run and operated as far as I know." said the girl who answered the door. Stepped in, started filling in an application form. She filled me in on a few other details, including the fact that there was a dress code. Sexy dresses, and heavy make up on the eyes or lips - but not both. Heels were to be worn at all times, even when no one else was around, she insisted, her lilac acrylic nails dancing on her clipboard. I hesitated. Looked down at my Birkenstock sandals. My carefully pedicured feet, the same feet that carried me acr...
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