My Thai masseuse

02-01-2008 07:11

I'm 99 percent straight and one percent lesbian. By that I mean I've had sex with at least 99 men and only one woman, did I have sex with that woman!

I was on a twelve month secondment with the UK Government's trade mission in Bangkok, Thailand. I was 27, unattached, and taking men home with me when I could find them. In Bangkok that wasn't as easy as it sounds. The eligible men like Thai girls who are cheap, willing, and attractive. A round-eye woman like me often gets left out.

I pulled the girl down on top of me and locked my arms around her in an embrace, her long black hair falling on my chest

On the recommendation of friends I hired a Thai masseuse to come to my house after my Sunday morning tennis game. I had never had a Thai massage and I didn't know what to expect although I knew that when men went to a Thai massage parlor the culmination of their purchased hour was a hand job. More than that was an extra cost option. But my massages were innocent -- although sensual as the nearly naked little Thai girl crawled all over me and came very close to making me purr.

I say girl because my masseuse was named Lina, was small, about five feet tall, less than 100 pounds, and with a bra size about 32 AA. Compared to her I was a moose at 5 feet eight and 150 pounds. She was 25 years old, but looked a teenager.

Lina worked during the week at a large and well-known massage parlor, located in a five story building and employing 50 girls. She told me to telephone her at the massage parlor if I wanted a massage during the week. One slow afternoon in the Embassy, man-less and horny, I did just that. Lina was available and she told me to come to the side door of the massage parlor where I would be met and escorted to her room. I didn't want to go in the front door of the massage parlor to be seen by a dozen or more male tourists picking out their female masseuse -- and sex partner -- by examining them through a fishbowl window. In Thai massage parlors, the girls awaiting a customer all sit in a brightly lit room on a stairstep platform. They wear short, white dresses and have a red number pinned on her chest. You stand outside the fishbowl in a darkened room and select one by telling the attendant the number. "I'll never forget number 23" is a standard joke among men in Thailand.

I took a taxi to the massage parlor and nervously found my way to the side door. Waiting for me was an older woman with a small flashlight. I slipped in through the door and the woman led me down pitch black corridors and up a freight elevator to Lina's room. The corridors were dark to ensure that surreptitious customers like me would not run into their boss or spouse or priest there.

Lina's room was partially lit. It contained a bathtub and a massage table covered with a mattress. Lina was dressed in a nurse-like uniform although the dress was too short and the zipper down the front open enough to reveal what little cleavage she had. She had the number 42 pinned to her chest.