Massage without a happy ending
How do you react when a massage goes the wrong way?
I like a good massage - I get tension in my shoulders and hamstrings that I find a deep muscle massage really helps with. One time I was on holiday with my wife in Fiji, and she wanted to go to the spa and have her hair done, and recommended that I get a massage - seeing as I like them so much. I was a little put off by the 'menu' of services, where they were focussed on "organic" oils and on the "experience" with pretty Asian women holding bowls of exotic fruit and flower petals, so I had a suspicion that this was not going to be like the remedial muscle massages I have had in the past. Besides, I was not feeling that well - I thought that a cold was coming on, and I find that a massage when not feeling too good will make me feel worse.
I entered through a corridor planted with bamboo and paved with loose pebbles, into a dressing area where I was handed a robe by a petite Japanese woman, who was smiling very broadly but did not speak English very well. From her hand movements and nodding/bowing, I realised that she was directing me to one of the cubicles in which to disrobe and then en-robe. The cubicles were small, and I nearly fell over whilst I was trying to remove my trousers - probably from feeling unwell too. I made a thud as I hit the cubicle wall, and I heard the Japanese woman giggle (for the first time that day). I then put on the thick gown, and she handed me some slippers to wear. I removed my socks and put on the slippers, whilst trying to balance in front of her.
I followed what seemed like a very long walk around more indoor bamboo and trickling ponds, with loose pebbles and paving stones, until we entered a Bure. It could have been just a timber and straw lining/decoration inside an ordinary room, as there was no view or daylight… The woman motioned at me to remove my robe and lie on the massage table, and once I opened my robe, she giggled again. It was because I was still wearing my jocks. She turned around and went to a shelf, and pulled out a tiny thong, which she held up in her fingertips. It was elasticated string with what looked like a bit of tissue paper, about the size and shape of a business envelope. Very tiny, un-shaped and obviously unisex. Or probably more appropriately not shaped appropriately for either gender. So, I took it from her, turned around, dropped my jocks and then tried to put the tissue thong on - but I could not work out where it was meant to sit - as no matter how I put it on, it was uncomfortable and not at all "containing". I noticed a hook in front of me, took off the robe, and then lay on the massage bed face-down. There is a little hole to put your face into, and as I looked down at the floor, I could see a bowl filled with exotic fruit and flower petals.
Then there was a little clattering behind me, as the masseuse arranged bowls and oils and whatnot, and she put a towel over my butt, and tucked it in to the string waistband, pulling it down a bit to expose the top of my cheeks, and then she started to rub my lower back. She asked "like this, is ok?" and I told her that I like it a little harder. She replied "little hard?" and then was being very gentle. I said "no, hard", and then she answered "no hard" and then was barely touching me. I then had to say "rub hard", and she giggled and poured on more oil, which I felt trickling in all the wrong places. Eventually she understood and started being more firm.
But then my nose started to run. It must have been because I was lying face down, but I lifted my head up to wipe my nose - which my masseuse urgently replied to with "you ok? Too hard?", so I had to say it was fine. Then my nose was filling again - so again I raised my head to wipe, and my masseuse again stopped to ask if I was OK. By the third time, I thought I should not bother lifting my head - just let the snot run. I was enjoying the massage, but I was more focused on the long sliver of snot that was dangling from my nose and dripping into the bowl in front of me.
As she finished my back, she asked me to turn over. I was aware of the string of mucus from my nose, so I tried to break it off on the towels that were around the opening of the face-hole in the massage table, leaving a wet mess. I know it was a wet mess, because instead of lying on my back, she asked me to lie on my side, so I had to put my face straight into the snot.
Anyway, as she continued to massage, she re-arranged my legs and then started to massage me quite closely - on my inner thigh area. No preparation, no warning, not even buying me a drink - but I then started to get worried. What if this was a massage with benefits? What if there is meant to be a happy ending? I was worried because I had never had one before, and I didn't know the protocol. Should I rise to the occasion? What if it was not a 'special' massage, and I did stand tall? I was concerned - my face was in snot, my thighs were being caressed and it was then that I realised that the tissue thong was obviously not large enough. I had popped out and her hands were getting frighteningly close. As she asked me to turn over again (and I peeled the towel off my face), and I was then on my other side, and the movement had very obviously released me. This time, there was no way that she could massage my thigh without having to move me. She steadily rose closer, and - I can only imagine - used the back of her hand to SLAP me out of her way. That definitely informed me that I was not in for a happy ending.
That Sunday morning feeling, when you don't need to get up and do the dishes, everything is warm and cosy. You just want to stay there and do nothing, no troubles in the world. That is the utopia that we all seek. Blog at www.v-wiki.net