Eshin Direct

Met up with Hilary for dinner tonight and we went for Japanese at Nutsford Terrace. It was great ’cause I got to have Tuna Belly rice again for dinner as well as at lunch time with James. Actually, both times the wasabi they dolloped onto the tuna was extra strong so both were quite painful affairs. I’m not sure what that says about my pleasure/pain fetish.

Neither of us really wanted to go for any of the action filled evenings that our friends had planned. So we decided to try and go for a massage. We tried two places in TST. One I had been to before with people who shall remain nameless. It was one of those dodgy places where they actually asked me twice whether I really really wanted a normal “health” massage.

“You know if you want a proper massage, then the girl will be older?” says the charming, gentrified pimp.

“Yes, normal, no extra trimmings, please.” says I to aforementioned suited pimp. I think he thought I wasn’t right…apparently no-one who went to that place went just for the massage.

Well, needless to say Hilary and I didn’t go that place. We tried another one that was recommended by the hotel she parked her car in. They said it was one of the famous ones and had valet parking. Only thing is that when we pulled up on the street, two lovely choir boys approached the car to “valet” it. It also turned out that it was men only.

The thing is that Hong Kong is full of massage parlours and I, as a guy, can easily go in there and request just a regular massage. The problem was that for women, it would seem, it’s a little bit harder to rub the tensions away.

We eventually found a place recommended by Hilary’s friend that was 24 hours. Now I’ve never been to a massage place in any other country (except Thailand but that was more of spa), so I wouldn’t be able to judge on how similar it is to Hong Kong.

But what happens is that they usher you into a changing room, you strip naked and then you go and either enjoy the pool or hot tub, or the sauna or steam room or just go and shower. Once there, you go to this waiting room where there are these comfy arm chairs where you can either sit and read the newspaper, watch TV, smoke the free cigarettes, drink the free drink, eat the free food (which they order out), or read the free porno mags they provide (depending on the type of establishment). They keep you there while they arrange your room and the masseuse.

Of course, this time the pimp daddy didn’t offer me a whole menu of sexual services that were on offer but just provided me with two simple options – soft or hard. Now I’m used to hard from my previous massage experiences, so I’m thinking hard is the way to go. It’s actually the only way to do a massage in my book. I’ll soon learn to regret my decision.

I eventually go up and there’s this sour looking old woman who’s going to be massaging me tender body for the next hour or so. Anyway, she asks me whether I want her to walk on my back…which I normally don’t mind but in this case, my acceptance meant she jumped straight into massaging my back with her feet. No foreplay, no warm-up, nothing. I mean, I’m here to relax and she just starts with the back-walking trick from the get go. I really do need that foreplay to get into accepting another human being using me as their door mattress.

It’s sort of dangerous if you aren’t relaxed and they’re walking on top of you. But I mean, she just went at it like I was her estranged husband or something. Her big toes were just used to prod around my spine and to try and attempt to seperate the individual sections of it. Now, I know I should be relaxing, and she even says that to me. But you tell me how relaxed you are when she’s about to break your precious backbone and almost suffocating you in the process.

She then has the audacity to ask whether I want one or two hours. Normally, I’d say yeah, but in this case, I don’t think I could take two hours of pure pain. I settle for one hours. She spent most of that one hour sliding around my back with her feet, and I suspect the heels of her feet were used at times.

I mean, it wasn’t all bad. There were points were I was falling asleep. Or was that passing out in pain? I think I was falling asleep as a response to a stress situation like a possum does. Maybe if I pass out, she might have taken some sympathy on me? Well, just as I was sleeping, she decided to flip me over.

Now started the part where she uses her vice like grip to crush whatever little resistance I have left in me to “relax” me. It was a mixture of tickling and pressurized pain that was applied when she did me arms and legs. Good points were that she did a head massage. Bad points were that the head massage was too short and there was no foot massage either.

Almost as abruptly as she started, she finished and I’m sure if she had the chance she would have kicked me out. This place was a far cry from the places I’ve been to in Bangkok and Taipei. Hell, she didn’t even smile or acknowledge me when I left the room and said thank you.

After the massage, I think you can still use the facilities like the pool and sauna. I used the sauna for five minutes before I showered. I have to remember to take off my jewellry before I go into a sauna. Actually, it not something I can do since they have spiritual meaning for me, so I spent a good five minutes having my various silverwear being branded into me.

It turned out Hilary had gone for the two hour massage so in the mean time I helped myself to the free cigarettes and hair gel. Her’s was just as painful as mine and we were both a little fragile after that ordeal.

Assaf and James were down at 1/5 and we ended up going there to meet up with them. Except we just joined up with James and we missed Assaf by about 2 minutes who was on his way to Kee club. I think Hilary and I need a drink after the stress that we’d just been through.