Massage and happy endings

A few nights ago, while waiting for my lover to come home, I decided to get a massage to pass the time. There were plenty of massage parlors in the neighborhood, and I'd spent a long day pounding the pavement. What could be better than lying down for a while and letting someone massage my tired shoulders and aching feet?

I chose a salon at random and rang the bell. A pretty young Asian woman opened the door and asked me what I wanted.

"Oh, just a 30-minute massage to relax me a bit," I replied.

"Come in. Would you like a cup of tea?" she offered.

"Thank you, that would be great."

She asked me to follow her and went down a narrow staircase. The place was a bit old-fashioned and needed a good coat of paint, but it was clean. I saw on a counter in the hall a bottle of the same disinfectant I used in my studio, a pile of freshly cleaned towels, sheets a little worn but ironed in a basket.

She led me into a small room with a mattress on the floor and asked me to undress and drink my tea, which I did.

As I settled in, I examined my surroundings: a small statue of Buddha stood in one corner, a cup of cold tea forming an offering at its feet. I've always appreciated this tradition in certain cultures, where a daily ritual consists of offering a gift of some kind to the god or goddess.

There was also a bottle of hydro-alcoholic gel and a box of masks on a coffee table, indispensable accessories in these times when we have to take precautions against a strange virus that has taken the whole world by surprise. There was also a large bottle of massage oil and an essential oil diffuser that emitted puffs of lightly scented steam. On a low shelf were a few folded hand towels and a box of disposable gloves.

I finished my tea and began to undress. The walls were covered with darkly patterned wallpaper and there was a painting of Buddha. I folded my clothes, put them in a corner and lay down on the mattress on my stomach.


The young woman knocked gently on the door, entered, checked that I was sufficiently warm, then began to massage my feet. Foot fetishists know how much I appreciate this, and this woman did it perfectly. She worked her way up to my calves, thighs and back, alternating deep, intense strokes with more delicate caresses. From time to time, I let out a soft sigh of pleasure as I drifted into a state of semi-sleep.

After a few minutes, she asked me to turn around and repeated the process on the other side, starting with my feet and slowly working her way up my body. As I reached the point where my legs met my torso, I felt her expert hands exploring around my sex. I opened my eyes and she asked if I wanted her to continue concentrating on that area.

"Of course," I said. What better way to relax than with a quick orgasm?I thought.. The last time I had a massage with a happy ending was on a trip to Asia a few years ago. 

"There's an extra €20," she says.

"OK, no worries."

She took a glove from the box, expertly slipped it on and began to focus all her attention on this area, the source of so much pleasure. I soon had an orgasm, aroused as much by the situation as by the physical stimulation. She removed her glove and continued massaging my torso, breasts, chest and finally my head.

Afterwards, we chatted a bit and she asked me what I did for a living. I told her I was also a sex worker, but she couldn't quite grasp what a dominatrix did. Between the language barrier (she had minimal knowledge of French and English, and I don't speak a word of Thai) and the fact that it's generally hard to understand for someone from outside the BDSM milieu, it wasn't easy to explain. In spite of this, she giggled when she grasped the idea that I, too, saw many naked men looking to escape their daily lives to find a few minutes of pleasure.

She left the room and I got dressed, leaving a 50€ bill on the table. I imagined that the extra 30€ would be appreciated. I know I always appreciate it when my customers do the same for me.

I climbed the stairs, wished her a good evening and thanked her for the massage.

"It was a pleasure to massage a colleague," she says, "please come back soon."

Two happy endings to this story: my orgasm and the bond created with a colleague, even if only for a few minutes.

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