The massage parlour

Have found the most wonderful masseuse!
On the way to the Gurney hotel, I got off the bus and walked a bit and passed this little beauty parlour. It looked quite spruce though in a pretty broken down row. Massage, 29 RM for an hour!!!, (That's 4 pounds, Torgo). Well! too too tempting ,don't you think!. So I nipped in and made an appointment at the Japanese restaurant for a "posey" lunch at the Gurney ,which I love. (With respect, Mr Smacks you are so so wrong about raw fish. Right about everything else darling, but seriously wrong about raw fish) Anyway, after I had legged it over there to find the restaurant was closed (closed!! Amazing !Nothing ever closes here except for religious festivals (every week) But there's nothing coming up. What is it? Is it cholera! . What? What? Ah well) made my way hungrily down the road to another of my favourite places, The Song River Cafe where I had fresh Pomfret fish, green beans in delicious sauce, rice and a large water melon juice served to me by an old Chinese friend of mine who runs the place. (Two pounds fifty, Torgo.) It was her husband who drove me last time to the Chinese Meds doctor in Georgetown out of the kindness of his heart. She was pleased to see back and made a nice fuss of me making sure I had all the right sauces and not too spicy la la la. I am just about to wend my way back to the massage parlour when the phone rings. I JUST managed to make out that I wasn't to come because all the electricity had failed. Well! I thought that was what she said anyway, so difficult sometimes on the little mobe in the street, so I made my way there anyway. BUT on the way I suddenly thought Oh good grief! Maybe it is one of those massage parlours, which is why she asked me how many people and why she is cancelling me, in case Miss Jean Brodie turns up, to be spectre at the feast of Onan. Maybe there are drugs involved and hollowed eyed ex pats gathered about singing 'When the snow lay round about on the feast of Onan" Or some such..It is Christmas after all, even though it is in the eighties. Oh dear. And they DID have to unlock the door like you do at the Ann Summers shop and the Eros Massage parlour under the bridge at Camden Town. Anyway, when I arrived it did appear that they were genuinely out of electricity and were not expecting to whack off my husband in a nearby cubicle. Oh the relief, (well you know, not
hand relief, just good old fashioned relief). One can never be too careful with massage parlours can one? In my experience. Which is limited. So I am led upstairs, (slightly anxious about that )and am shown into an OK'ish little room with two beds, and then the rather worryingly named TITI got to work on my body. SHE WAS SO GOOD!! The best massage I have ever had. A young Malay , very very strong, built like a door stop. And the most wonderful thing, when she came upon the two foot scar on my stomach, (she would insist on tugging at my drawers and doing as much of me as she could get at - though I kept my bra on and just loosened it when she did my back, (the hot cross bun not ready for public view YET!) So, she sees the scar and just coolly says , "operation?' and gets on with the job - Didn't faint, cry out or anything. Brilliant. In fact she suggested she massage oil into the .scar for me to soften it To top it all all asked me if it was a baby I just had!! Well you can imagine I left that salon with my head held high! I don't care if it's the local knocking shop , I'm going back on Saturday.