When I left my old job 2 years ago I was presented with a nice farewell present, namely a fat gift voucher for a well-known Japanese spa place just outside Stockholm. So this Saturday, one week before the gift voucher expired, I took my arse to Hasseludden Yasuragi to kick back for the day.
I’ll skip past the part where, even armed with a map and compass, I did my usual thing and got lost in the forest on the way there, and eventually stumbled from the undergrowth swearing a blue streak an hour later.
The spa itself was excellent, cool and big and calming with lots of stone and wood and subdued lights and tinkly Japanese music. I lounged about in various hot pools for two hours and then set out for the day’s highlight – a luxurious 80-minute massage.
So I presented myself outside the massage room at 17:00. A group of massagers (yeah, whatever) came out and announced who they were to squeeze. There were seven females and one male and, although I figured my chances were good, naturally I stood there feverishly thinking “not the guy not the guy not the guy…”
I got the guy. Lawrence, a very tall, attractive, half-black gentleman led me into the back room and indicated that I was to remove my trousers. Whereupon he slathered his hands with oil and approached me with a determined look about him.
Now I am a very liberal guy in almost all ways, but I freely admit that I would vastly prefer a female masseuse. Is that so wrong? I mean, sure, a guy has stronger hands, and is just as skilled, but it’s just so… so… gay…
Anyway the massage was acceptable and went by quickly. I avoided catching Lawrence’s eye when it was over and stumbled from the room, clutching my faux-Japanese bathrobe around my naked body while the guys with busty female masseuses stared out from behind the curtains of their cubicles and grinned. Oh goodness me how they grinned.
Anyway now it’s in the past. It’s over and done with. And if any of you ever mention it again – and I mean EVER – I’ll have to come round put you straight. With a good shoulder rub and an episode or two of SATS or maybe a nice quiche…
Ah dammit, see?
/ paddy (4 days without a homosexual experience and counting)