My mom wanted to treat us both to massages at her friendly massage therapist. She goes every two weeks for a massage. After all the driving we had been doing, she thought we could use some serious relaxing.
The place was at the masseuse’s house, right on the main road on the other side of the freeway, next door to Jack-In-The-Box. Good thing the directions were that clear, because the sign would have been easy to miss. I certainly did feel relaxed after being worked over. We convinced Arlene that she wanted to go for a massage, too.