She spoke like how I imagine an angel would speak, “Hello, you wish for outcall massage? I am Lisa. You are?”
“Um, Jerome.” I said, unable to hide my nervousness.
“Okay Yer, Yerum, I set up now. You take off clothes.” She confidently said as she prepared the massage table. She placed a folded towel on the dresser behind her.
As she looked down at her bag, she said “Lie on belly on table.”
I hesitantly approached in my boxers.
As she looked up, her eyes widened, “No no! All off, dummy,” she playfully said.
“Oh, all right,” I said, doing as I was told, and soon I was on the table, naked. She draped a sheet over me and peeled the upper part over, folding it to expose my back, leaving the lower half of me covered.
“Okay?” She sweetly said. “Okay,” I said.
“I begin with oil. Don’t worry, it feel good.” And she was not wrong. It felt warm as she rubbed it on my skin, and this made me relax even more. She asked me if I felt okay, and I said I felt good.
She began to use firmer pressure on my back muscles, commenting how tense they were. I had sports massages after a game in college, and they would take away some tension, but not like this. In those massage sessions, the masseuse, an old man, would basically beat the crap out of my muscles until he felt them loosen.
Lisa was as strong as that old man, but she used her strength in such a delicate way. My back felt flexible like spaghetti and warm as a summer’s day. She pulled off the sheet and made her way to my legs, rubbing the back of my thighs. Her fingertips rubbed my inner thighs as she worked, and this got me a little aroused. She massaged my calves and feet until I could barely feel my legs. She saved my butt for last, using very firm pressure with occasional light strokes that felt like electric shocks to my pelvic area.
Lisa spoke again with confidence “Okay, now you turn. Lie on back.”
I did as she instructed, my frontal nudity on display, but she again kept me at ease, looking in my eyes and smiling. She massaged my arms until it felt like I could touch the ceiling. She massaged my chest and belly, making me feel vulnerable, but still very relaxed. Lisa rubbed the entire front of my legs, working upward. By the time she reached my pelvic area, I couldn’t hide my arousal. I felt like I should apologize, so I did. She smiled and reassured me that everything was fine. She began massaging, and I felt the vibrations in my throat, quietly, involuntarily, to which she smiled so beautifully, as though my sounds were a compliment to her skill.
“Okay, hour is ended. Pay for more time? Hour, half hour?” She said, abruptly pausing.
I was dumbstruck, thinking that there is no way that was an hour. I looked at the clock on the nightstand, and sure enough, exactly one hour had passed since Lisa began the massage.
I was perplexed, “Damn, I don’t know. Um, I don’t have any more local currency.”
“I take foreign currencies too,” Lisa said as she pulled out her smartphone with a currencies exchange calculator. “No worry, I will show you he exact exchange rate.”
I knew I could get in trouble. But on the other hand, how many of my colleagues probably do the same thing while on business trips, especially while in Hong Kong?
“Lisa, Could you hand me my pants so I can get my wallet?” I shyly asked.
Well, I found out why she had a towel on the dresser, which is now obvious. I apologized, but again she seemed complimented and so sweet in her reassurance.
I will never forget Lisa, that night, that experience, and I look forward to the day I can take another business trip to Hong Kong. Who volunteers to take the Red Eye and negotiate with our Chinese business partners? Me, I do.