Sometimes I worry that I'm going to prematurely use my genetically allotted sum of boners before I turn 30. This is not really a surprise because I'm the kind of person who gets boners if you look at me the right way. I glance down at my torso to see what's happening.and what's happening is that she's rolling a condom onto my penis. The masseuse gently removes the towel, which makes me open my eyes again. She starts with my legs, which feels pretty groovy, and I close my eyes again. I pull my head from the table's donut and groggily digest that she is motioning for me to turn over onto my back. "Just relax," she says, and so I do, actually dozing off. Thinking of Faye, I take a stab at conversation, asking the woman how long she's been giving massages. (I don't know why, but having another person wash your hair is the greatest feeling in the world, next to an orgasm or, I am told, love.)īefore this experience, I have only ever had massages from my mom's go-to practitioner, a woman named Faye who only speaks English-and a lot of it-while she's working on you. Let me be clear here: I did not expect any sort of funny business at this point. She begins by standing above my head and kneading at it, which feels fantastic. When she returns, I am facedown with my head in the table’s donut hole and a towel secured around my waist. She leaves the room so I can strip down to my privates in private. She tells me in broken English and hand gestures that I should disrobe, don a towel, and lie down on the table. I follow her through a beaded curtain to a hall with a bunch of doors, one of which she points me through. Shortly thereafter, a slightly older woman emerges and summons me back. A few minutes later, a woman who appears to be about our age (mid-20s) leads Nathan to the back of the building. A woman at the front desk tells us we don't need an appointment and that our respective masseuses will retrieve us momentarily. Nathan chooses the first not-so-shady-looking establishment we encounter. We stroll around the neighborhood, the stench of fish markets overtaking everything. Related: A Prostitute Tells All: Inside the Bedrooms of a U.S. We decide there is no time like the present-especially since we're in Chinatown. "Yeah, but you're kind of an uptight dude." He'd been positioned awkwardly and was now nursing a kink in the neck. He's excited-they've just had their first sleepover on Wednesday, which is always nice. Nathan G-Chats me on Friday afternoon to suggest we start our weekend inhaling dumplings in Chinatown.ĭuring dinner, he tells me more about a girl he's just begun seeing.
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