The agony in my ass was furious and all consuming, so my first tearful stop was the pharmacy. The pebble that screamed between my butt cheeks was now a dull constant ache that reached my finger tips. Why after all these years of evolution, would man, who can fly to the moon, have to suffer this? I was in a horrifying state, the pain absorbed all of my thoughts and just as I was close to crying out for help, for the second time on my holiday the Angels sung for me.
That little green and blue cross is the same in every language and hallelujah to the motherfucker who invented it. There she was, amnesty, pharmacy whatever you wanna’ call it. At that point, soothing ass relieving cream that’s what I called it. I went in there, all confidence chewed up like cows cud, and with a held back tear said, ‘Haemorrhoid cream please.’ She knew the word, I wasn’t the only man to ever ask for haemorrhoid cream. But fuck it’s embarrassing man, like asking for condoms and some KY jelly.
Like a crab with the winning lottery ticket, I edged outta’ that place before making my way up two flights of stairs to the public toilets. Some people I know don’t like to sit on public loos in case they catch something. I always wonder if I’m the guy they’re worried about. I smeared that creamy cooling goo in and around my tender throbbing ring hole, the soothing effect working its magic almost straight away. The heavens had opened and for the first time in two weeks the most prominent thought in my mind was not this grizzly shard of hell buried between my ass cheeks. I swallowed a couple of pain killers, courtesy of the pharmacy and went to check out MBK.
MBK is massive, too big to take in all at once it’s filled with stuff the same price as London, and really, after a few minutes I packed it in and went out onto the street for a fag. I didn’t wanna’ do too much walking in case all the rubbing set my ass off again. There was still an hour to go and I was contemplating lunch, when straight across the road from where I was smoking, I saw a fancy Thai massage place was open for business. Oh, what better way is there to kill an hour than have some little Thai lady walk all over you? I was on it like the flash.
Inside, the place was plush with ornate carved wood lining the walls, and a small pond with Carp nestled in one corner. The sound of trickling water added to the effect of calming you. A thin middle aged gentleman was manning the reception. The smell of tiger balm and incense wafted all around.
‘We do many type massage,’ he said, as he handed me a leather bound menu, ‘Thai, Swedish, oil, three hundred baht thirty minute, five hundred for ‘our.’
‘An hour please.’ Lush as!
‘Sit here please,’ he said, pointing towards a leather arm chair. With the tinkle of a bell a woman who seemed not much older than me came down the staircase off to my right. First she removed my shoes and put my feet in an empty brass dish. She disappeared for a second and came back with a copper kettle then poured the warm soapy water, first on her hand to check the temperature and then down into the bowl. With a sponge she gently rubbed my feet, and between my toes. After the chaos of the last week in Laos and the shit splashed on those feet in Vietnam, and the adventure that was Cambodia, I could feel every tension and knot ease. The water was perfumed and smelt like bubble gum, the forgiving softness of the lounge chair I was in, meant I could breathe freely without that soreness from the diamond stuck up my ass. Oh man, the seat on the bus from Laos to Bangkok had felt like I was sitting on a plank of wood, only somehow I was perched on top of an invisible nail half through the plank.
I was woken with a light tap on the knee and Geisha’s giggle. The bowl was gone now and my feet were being dried with a thick downy towel. ‘Come upstairs with me please,’ she said. She guided me up through a door and into a room with a series of curtained partitions. My Geisha girl handed me a pair of pyjamas and asked me to change. It was good to peel my shorts off, and put on something crisp and clean. I’d been wearing the fuckers for the whole week in Laos pretty much. Ever mindful that all my life possessions were in the pockets, I folded them up and put them beside my pillow. A few minutes later my petite masseuse shuffled back in and asked me to lie down on my front. Through the material of my shirt she kneaded the knots imbedded in my shoulders that were wrought there through lugging my backpack around. Slowly and painfully she made her way down to my legs. Thai massages are seldom relaxing when it comes time for the calf muscles, the masseurs dig their thumbs right between the muscles and it can feel like they’re separating the meat from the bones. My Geisha girl was an exception though, and through the firm probing of her nubile digits and the soft repetitiveness of her breath I was soon dozing once more. Only semiconscious of my surroundings she snapped her fingers off each one of my toes, then gently started to work her magic down each of my arms. She caressed the palms of my hands and rubbed the little webbing bit between each finger before making that quick snapping sound again as she clicked each one of my knuckles.
‘Ok, turn over,’ she said. Still not altogether with it I rolled over, only to be left humiliated from a raging, just woken up from sleep hard on that made my pyjamas stand up like the mainsail of a yacht. ‘Oh you naughty boy,’ she purred and with an innocent giggle gave my knob a tap on the end. She glanced back out through the curtain, and satisfied we were alone, ‘You like I massage here too?’ She reached down through the top of my pants and took my cock in her hand. Well, like a hopeless fat kid to an upsizing at McDonalds I certainly wasn’t about to say no. With foresight though, I did say, ‘How much?’
‘One thousand baht.’
‘Done’ and with one of her hands wrapped around my member and another rubbing the inside of my thigh, I reached for my wallet as quick as possible and counted over the cash. My Geisha positioned herself closer to me so I could caress her body through the silken night gown she wore, and swirled my hand over the smoothness of her in the same practised way her hands swept over me. It felt like a life time since my last embrace with a woman and I thought it would end quickly. So did she I think, but the more turned on I became the more I wanted to be inside her, not just getting a hand job, but actually getting laid. I offered another thousand baht but she said no. Two thousand, but still the answer was no. No blow job, no love making, just a warm rub in the corner of an empty room sheltered behind thin cotton sheets. I was going mad with endorphins, so close to the edge, but not able to just relax for that final moment to let myself tip over. I started to rub her breasts, she didn’t seem to mind, in fact her body responded with heat. She glanced out through the curtains once more then whispered with a gulp, ‘Five hundred baht and you can kiss my breasts.’ Like the flash the wallet was out and the cash counted. She tucked it in the waistband of her pants with the rest, and with one more final look through the curtain, began to undo the buttons on her top. Her breasts were amazing, she wore no bra and they still held firm shape, she had the womanly nipples of a mother, large, protruding and firm. I cupped her left breast in one hand, supporting it while I kissed then licked the other. Her breath stayed at the same slow pace, but the inhales and exhales deepened. The whole time she kept the same rhythmical motion of her hand around my cock, and with a final sigh and a quick warning on my part I blew my load onto the hand towel offered.
With the look of a guilty school girl she tucked me away and buttoned her blouse. Then she commanded me to lean forward so she could shuffle behind me and massage my scalp, before using her elbows to force the last of the tired knots from my upper back and shoulders. ‘You wan’ take me with you on holiday,’ she said, ‘I clean and cook for you. Give you massage and we make love.’
I was tempted as a motherfucker, but the words of my brother rang through to me. ‘What if ya’ walkin’ hand in hand with some hooker and a group of girls you know from back home stumble across ya’. How the fuck are ya’ gonna’ explain that one?’ Stupid brother!
‘No sorry, I have to meet friends. But thank you.’ I’ll always remember my happy ending massage. My hour was up and I tipped her another five hundred baht and received a deep kiss as a reward before she left the room so I could change back into my normal rancid clothes again. Like nothing had happened, I thanked the Ol’ boy down at reception and nodded to a Thai looking businessman with his shoes off and feet in the bowl on my way out the door. He was about to have the massage of his life too.
Author’s note: The twisted travel tales are the series of novellas and short stories that I have self published over the years. Here you will find segments from the actual stories that I have written. You may find these novellas all available for free @ … http://twistedtraveltales.com/ … My stories are all based around the themes of, drugs, dancing and travel. I hope you enjoy, and please PM me and provide feedback. I am self publishing my third book on line, £700 and a one way ticket to Amsterdam very soon. My other titles include, South East Asia, a tale of drugs and debauchery, and In Brazil you would say, ‘Universo Paralello’