With finances feeling tight, my weekly massage sessions had become a therapeutic escape for my body, mind, and spirit. Every dollar spent on those massages felt justified. I cherished the liberating experience of shedding my clothes and enjoying a full-body rubdown.
However, as life unfolded—culminating in the sale of our family home—I became increasingly busy. Navigating family court issues took precedence, and my writing transitioned from a mere pastime to a fulfilling career that helped pay the bills. Naturally, during this transformational phase, my “me time” took a hit. Movie outings dwindled, and my weekly massages dwindled to monthly visits, eventually tapering off to just a quarterly treat.
Despite the reduced frequency, I always looked forward to my trips to the spa. These outings were often spontaneous, but I always felt glad I made the decision to go.
Recently, while driving home, I stumbled upon a spa I had never noticed before—just ten minutes from my house. It looked inviting and peaceful, so I thought, why not? I turned my car around at the next intersection, parked, and approached the entrance. A neon sign flickered in the window, which usually isn’t a great sign—pun intended. It’s hard to take neon seriously, especially for a spa. Still, I was already there, so I figured, what could go wrong?
As I opened the door, a cheerful ding-dong announced my arrival, and suddenly, a woman appeared behind the counter, almost like a life-sized jack-in-the-box. She was an Asian lady in her 50s with a warm smile. She whisked my coat away and led me down a dimly lit hallway lined with curtain-covered rooms. When we reached the end, she opened a curtain, gesturing for me to enter.
“How much for an hour?” I inquired.
“Sixty dollars,” she replied.
I handed her $100, as I prefer tipping upfront for better service. She smiled and thanked me, instructing me to undress and lie face down on the table. The room was softly lit by candles, and calming music filled the air.
Once she left, I followed her instructions. By the time another person entered, I was naked and face down on the table. I attempted to catch a glimpse of my masseuse but could only make out that she was a bit older and Asian.
The massage commenced like so many others I’d experienced. She asked if I preferred a firm or gentle touch and started working on my upper back with oil. My body surrendered to the table. As she moved down, I noticed she was quite bold, spending an extended time focusing on my glutes and inner thighs. I couldn’t deny it felt good, so I allowed myself to enjoy the moment.
When it was time to flip over, I sensed she was even less hesitant about my nudity. I wasn’t entirely sure if the towel was placed correctly, but I thought, whatever… I’ll just roll with it and see where this goes. As the minutes ticked away, it became clear this was indeed a legitimate establishment, and my masseuse was simply dedicated to her craft, giving me a thorough massage.
Eventually, the timer buzzed, signaling our session was over. She finished with some rhythmic hand chops across my body. “Would you like some water?” she asked on her way out. I nodded, grateful. After getting dressed, I put on my shirt just as she returned with a Styrofoam cup. I thanked her for the massage, and she stood close, beaming back at me.
Then, in an unexpected turn, she leaned in to kiss me. My mind raced. What was happening? I didn’t want to be rude, but I certainly wasn’t looking to kiss my older masseuse. With little time to think, I closed my eyes and leaned in, trying to angle for a light peck. To my surprise, our lips connected—right at the corner of her mouth, a somewhat awkward yet gentle compromise.
But that’s when I noticed her hands adjusting my shirt collar at the back of my neck. Oh my! She wasn’t attempting to kiss me; she was merely helping me get dressed. She pulled back, and I was left in a state of confusion. I didn’t know how to react, so I hurriedly made my exit, darting past the curtain and out the door to my car.
I haven’t returned since.
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In summary, while my massage experience took an unexpected twist, it serves as a reminder of how unpredictable life can be. Whether you’re indulging in self-care or navigating the complexities of personal relationships, always expect the unexpected.
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