Alighting from a taxi, I breezed through the revolving doors and strode past the Assistant Manager's desk to the elevators. When the doors opened, the dim lighting against the off-white wall led to a reception desk and a giant Chinese landscape painting to my right.
"I'd like a massage," I said to the attractive girl behind the desk, who silently motioned me to a door on my left. I followed a young man into the changing rooms.
I was quietly shown a paper with massages ranging from a foot-massage to a masseuse for the night. I pointed to something between the Korean massage and "special service". The paper was taken away and replaced with a pair of shorts and light shirt. The attendant opened a locker for me and waited while I changed.
After donning my clothes, my guide led me up a back staircase to a softly lit hall where white walls led to numerous red doors. A pretty woman in a tight black top, carrying a small basket of massage oils, glided past us. Her shiny black hair and rather large breasts bounced gently. Her skin glowed softly in the dim light of the hall. I turned around to follow her shapely form as it swayed beneath her black skirt.
I was ushered into my own red door and entered a room larger than my own apartment. After trying to turn on the TV, I fell back onto the largest bed I had ever been on and waited; my heart aflutter.
A knock on the door made me sit up, "
Qing jin
" (Please, come in) I croaked. A pretty young woman, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, came in. She said hello and asked me my name. When I answered back in Chinese her face lit up like Catharine-Zeta Jones. She walked to the phone as I scooted along on the bed following her. She spoke for a short while to the person on the other end.
The pleasantries over, she plopped down next to me on the bed kissing me on the cheek, grinning at me as if nothing in the world could please her more than to be here with me.
She crossed one luscious leg over the other, leaning in close to me to talk. She was so close that I almost had to put a hand on her bare thigh; exposed almost to her panties by the short black skirt she was wearing. Like the girl in the hall, she had breasts larger than most Chinese girls. Every so often she would giggle at my mispronunciation as we talked and would gently pinch my cheeks with adoration. I was growing smitten with every giggle and I calmed down slightly.
