Near the little-pizza shop previously mentioned there’s a Thai massage place.  Small.  Clean.  Looks nice.  I decided to give it a try today and popped in around 2:00 in the afternoon.  Sal did not accompany me.  She is not keen on being felt up at the best of times and Thai strangers are not the best of times for her.  Strangely, I find the whole idea kind of appealing.  Different strokes for different folks, eh?

Anyway, I was walking in as one of the ladies was walking out.  “You want massage?”

“Thinking about it. You open?”

“We open.  I booked. I call other.  She come quick, quick.  Five minutes?  OK?”

“Sure.  That’s fine.  You want I should come back another time?”

“No problem.  She come quick, quick.  Please come with me.”

I’m still a bit of a sexist pig even at 70 and some of the Thai women are so beautiful I have to ‘check ’em out’ even if I forget why.  I didn’t have my glasses with me but this one seemed a bit off but still dressed beautifully.  And she moved with that Geisha girl shuffle that I have tried to get Sally to adopt (no luck).  I liked watching her walk ahead of me.

Still, there was something off.  Her behind seemed a bit less than I expected.  A bit narrower, to be precise.  And her shoulders were just a smidge wide.  Still, her hair was lovely and, when she turned to hand me my massage outfit, I noticed how perfectly she was made up.  Eyes.  Teeth.  Smile.  Lips were large and juicily red.  Hands waving in the air.  Quite appealing……until….I saw that my hostess was missing the ‘ess’.  Her hands were big.  She was a he.  She was a lady-boy.

Still, he/she was pleasant enough and his English good enough so far.  I was not overly deterred by his larger hands and now noticeable five-o’clock shadow.  But, really, shouldn’t a Thai ladyboy be able to avoid a five o’clock shadow?  Especially at mid-afternoon? What kind of hairy Asian is this guy?

Anyway, I was directed to a small cubicle and handed a pink silk t-shirt that was skin tight on me.  And then I tried putting on the very generous-sized half-pants that came with two ties sewn at the front.  The idea was that I wrap the ties around the pants and roll the top over so as to form a belt.

But mine wouldn’t work.

I was standing in the cubicle puzzling out my pants when my ‘guy’ came back to check on me.  I was standing there with the two ties held out in front and wondering how they were supposed to wrap all the way around me and back to the front.

“No.  Backwards.  You backwards.”

I thought about turning around but he was quicker than me.  He reached over, grabbed the waistband and pulled my pants down.  To be fair, that has happened to me more than once but it was the first time by a lady-boy (the other was by a female pant-seller in a Chinese street market in Stanley wanting me to try on a pair of her personal favourite gweilo outdoor hiking pants.  Yes. She helped me get them on, too.  I bought them.  Had to.  By then we were getting kinda close).

So, naked from the waist down and dressed only in a silk t-shirt that was way too tight, I stepped daintily out of the fall-away, Thai massage trousers.  L-boy scooped them up, turned them around and held them open for my re-entry.  I complied.  He then wrapped his arms around me with his face buried in my stomach and secured the ties in front.  I was deemed ready and escorted out to await my ‘real’ massage-person.

I was gonna miss my l-boy.  I just knew it.   

Anyway, Juanita came.  Promptly.  My massage person was literally less than five minutes away.  I lay down and she drew the curtains.  Next to me was the properly scheduled farang that had booked lady-boy for 2:00 pm.  We were just a few feet apart separated only by a curtain.  Juanita started with my feet and, after awhile, I became putty in her strong hands.  She was pretty good.  I was getting a bit of a workout but it was all good.  Except…

….next curtain-door all hell was breaking loose.  The farang was groaning and ‘oofing’ and ohhhing’ and it sounded just a bit too close to torture for me to feel good about it.  I tend to be a bit stoic at such times and keep my groans to myself (if I can) but, to be fair, Juanita was barely 85 pounds.  And she was not in the least sadistic.

Lady-boy?  I dunno but I am guessing he/she had some issues to work out.  Jus sayin’.

Juanita was under five feet tall and she climbed over and around me like a monkey.  That was kinda fun (‘where will she end up next?‘).  If there was any pain, it was of short duration and most of the time it was just really relaxing.

But the bloody farang cried out horribly a few times. Yikes!

At one point, Juanita wanted me to turn over.  But I didn’t understand what she was saying.  Ladyboy shouted over, “Turn over.  Juanita wants you front!”

Then the farang gave more details.  “Turn over mate.  You are halfway done.  Now she does the front.  These women are small but they sure are strong, don’t you think?”

I was wondering if I should tell him that his particular therapist had an edge in the strength department?  But I kept it to myself.

At 3:00 pm I was done.  I paid and was ready to leave when I decided to ask to see Juanita’s hands.  They were the size of an 8 year old’s.  We kinda shook hands and hers were soft. Way softer than mine.  This little woman worked me over pretty good with what felt like hands-of-steel and looked like she could have done five more clients and yet, when not working, she and her hands were soft.  It was a pretty impressive trick.

Juanita and I have another date for Friday.  We’ll see how that goes.