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Middle Aged Beach Porn or Just a May-sodge?

Six Midwest women on the Cayman Islands. One Argentinian man named Sebastian who's got a thing for feet. Curious? Read more.

Venus on the half-shell. Ursula Andress in a bikini and holster. Daniel Craig in those iconic blue trunks. Colin Firth as Darcy, dripping pond scum from his linen shirt.

It really doesn’t matter.

The concept that a fantasy can rise from the sea and enter our collective consciousness is as old as mythology and as new as the latest Bond film. Show me a shore and I’ll show you a show. 

Before I get to the good stuff, of course, I need to set the stage. In life as in porn, you have to have the backstory. After all, no one will ring the bell if you haven’t ordered the pizza. 

Let’s start by my admission that I’m jealous of myself. I say that as I type from the Cayman Islands. No, I am not visiting Mitt’s bank accounts. That’s last week’s news, and it would not be sporting of me to bring it up. The country is moving forward, after all, and even if John McCain didn’t get that memo, I did.

No, I’m here on the island with a gaggle of gals because my mother is from Tulsa. Over 50 years ago she married a guy from Chicago, and she’s been cold in the marrow of her bones ever since. Sometime between the nuptials and now, my parents figured out that, like others in their lucky flock, they needed to migrate to make it through the winters. For a gal from Oklahoma, the hanging-chad state wasn’t warm enough. She needed to make landfall south of Cuba. 

The point is, I’m here at their condo in Grand Cayman with my sister and some friends. Yada, yada, yada, yes: Life is, in truth, a beach.

But I promised pornography, so let me continue. Imagine this: six vixens, supine and oiled, lying on their chaise lounges and soaking up the warmth of the Caribbean sun.

Now veer to the left, and that’s where we were, six Midwestern women, shielded from the sun thanks to the combined effects of 55 SPF sunscreen, Miracle Suits that were falling just short of their promise, and a grass-roofed hut. Our collective dermatologists would have been proud. 

I’m getting to the porn part, I promise.

Imagine: the sun hadn’t set, but hung low in the sky, creating a shimmering haze of iridescent gold that glinted and sparkled across the serene horizon, hanging like a golden orb about to dip into a pool of ink.  It was the time of day when the warmth of the sun still lingered on the skin, and the breeze of the coming evening hadn’t yet asserted its dominion over the heat-laden sky.

In other words, it was about 4-ish. There we were, chatting and laughing and actively not reading, when up from the shoreline walked a tall, dark stranger, approaching us with purpose. It was impossible not to take note of his burnished shoulders and dark, tossled hair. Up, up from the beach he came, walking with purpose, approaching our cluster with a ready smile and a suggestive air.

“Beach may-sodge?” he inquired.

We glanced at each other, not altogether sure what was being asked of us. His accent was intoxicating.

“Beach may-sodge?” he repeated, this time kneeling at the foot of my chaise and slowly reaching for the sole of my foot.

“Is he offering me a foot massage?” I asked aloud, shocked that this stranger from the shore was offering to touch my size elevens.

“Yes. Beach fute may-sodge.  Twenty minutes, $20.” The smile he offered was so dazzling it almost cancelled out the image of his shoulder tattoos.

“Yes please,” I said before any sound thinking friend could talk me out of it.

“I am Sebastian. From Argentina. Lie back and relax.”

Here I must pause for a frank interruption of sanity. If you are reading, dear daughters and nieces, do as I say, not as I did. Do not recline when a man with a foreign accent urges you to. Do not offer your feet in surrender. Beware the powers of strong pressure applied to the arch of a foot, the round of a heel, or the curve of a toe.

Keep in the fore of your brain the classic dialogue between Jules and Vincent as they banter back and forth in Pulp Fiction and ask each other, “Would you give a guy a foot massage?”  Put another way, sometimes a cigar is not a cigar.

But this was the Caribbean. And this was the haunting hour. And this was, he promised, just a may-sodge. 

So I let Sebastion have his way with my feet. On the beach. In front of my sister and our friends. Not to get all James Joyce about it, but if you ask me was it good, I’d have to answer, “yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.”

When it was over, and I opened my eyes, there was Sebastian, smiling. He was waiting for his money and I confess, it made me feel a little bit dirty, and not in a good way. 

Handing him the cash, the remorse set in. I decided to take a swim, knowing the salt water would make me feel cleaner. As I headed to the water I looked over my shoulder and noted that Sebastian was negotiating with my sister and our friend Sue, determining who would be next. 

And so I say, beware the seduction of one arising from the foamy brine of the sea. Temptation, in the end, will always win.

Luckily, this time the may-sodge was just a may-sodge.

Malta November 17, 2012 at 01:00 PM
After reading this "non story ". Her feet massaged on the beach....and she felt involved in "pornography". !? Puritanism carried to the extreme....somehow after reading this I too felt somehow "violated". I think I will take a shower ........to "cleanse" myself
Richard Hertz November 17, 2012 at 01:21 PM
Ami reading something from PatchLake Forest.com or am I reading something from Forum (Penthouse)?
Judith Hayes Oppegard November 17, 2012 at 02:14 PM
Thanks Sally, I needed a chuckle to start my day. A foot massage would of been better but I even avoid touching my feet!
Jill Goldstein November 17, 2012 at 02:50 PM
More humor than erotica...the story of my life. Very funny Sally! Your writing is so vivid, I feel like I am there. No happy ending?
Linda Crispell November 17, 2012 at 02:52 PM
"Now veer to the left, and that’s where we were, six Midwestern women, shielded from the sun thanks to the combined effects of 55 SPF sunscreen, Miracle Suits that were falling just short of their promise" Brilliant and hilarious! Thanks for the laughs.
Jim Romenesko November 17, 2012 at 05:09 PM
Patch begging for page views with a terrible story.
Jim Romenesko November 17, 2012 at 05:10 PM
....and tell me again, where's the Evanston angle here?
Michael Ioffe November 17, 2012 at 05:21 PM
Thank you Sally for improving my poor English. “Beach may-sodge?”...“Beach may-sodge?”...“Beach may-sodge?”... "Is he offering me a foot massage?” I don't know. "...but if you ask me was it good, I’d have to answer, “yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.” "Beach may-sodge?”...“ Thank yoy, Sally. I will check wisdom of men from Cayman Island,
John Brinkmann November 17, 2012 at 07:08 PM
no Sally, I don't believe you need think your 20.00 “Beach may-sodge" as any form of pornography or reason to "feel dirty"---you got a foot massage no different from any of the untold thousands of nail salons offer, and perhaps helped Sebastian put food on his family's table....I immediately laughed thinking here what Jules & Vincent would have to say about this before even seeing your reference to Pulp Fiction---highly amusing story and good smile
Colene November 17, 2012 at 08:49 PM
I'm lost. What's the newsworthiness of this item that is better left on someone's blog...
Jennifer Fisher (Editor) November 18, 2012 at 07:58 PM
Jim, thanks for reading. Betsy and Sal are sisters from Highland Park. We publish their opinion column on multiple sites because they tend to write about topics that aren't specific to one town.
Steve Handwerker November 19, 2012 at 05:21 PM
I can go with a feature story written in first person, especially a travelogue. That being said, readers, please don't look at this particular one as hard news, vis a vis, scandal in the mayor's office or a new store opening. Sally's story was definitely entertaining and well written! My sincere concern about the article are the two photos clearly not taken by the author or Jacob Nelson (Highland Park's editor). Did you steal them? Yes, I said "steal." It is illegal to take photos from elsewhere and publish them without permission.
Joannie B December 07, 2012 at 12:59 AM
This one got me too. Very funny!

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