Entrepreneur in a back room

I was on business in the big city and as usual I had a couple of hours to kill before my train left for home. Of course I had done my homework online and in the local free paper that has all the sex ads and I was interested in a couple of massage places in Chinatown. Both had pretty good and plentiful reviews as the usual forum group was looking for a replacement for the locally famous 2-pop S who apparently retired and left the country. So I narrowed my decision down to the two and their phone numbers burned a hole in my pocket all morning.

I made the calls while walking to the train. One number was busy and a woman with a thick Chinese accent answered the second. She gave me the address as said she was in the back of a hair and nail salon, so typical in this area. I estimated my time of arrival and made an appointment. I discreetly pulled out my pocket map of the city, trying not to look too much like a tourist and saw it was a side street in an area I was sort of familiar with. But not so familiar that I wouldn't get lost. I ran late and I rushed through the neighborhood in the general direction passing by restaurants, open sidewalk markets, clothing stores, and plenty of nail salons, all with gaudy neon signs in Chinese characters. I wondered how many offered back room massages.

I went up the stairs and into the salon. I intuitively knew the massage room was in the back so I walked by the hair dryers, manicure tables and cubicles with everyone too busy to notice me, and I saw my masseuse waiting by the door to her room. She introduced herself as A. She's probably in her forties and was wearing a red pullover with brown corduroy pants - not very sexy, but very friendly in her greeting. Her room was dimly lit and very small, with enough space for the table and a chair, and a small alcove in a corner to keep her supplies. She took my money and left me to get undressed. Soft Chinese plucked string music came from a small CD player and my eyes finally adjusted to the soft, warm light as I piled my clothes on the chair.

A came back and asked me to lie face down. It was a real massage table with a hole to put my face in. She began a friendly conversation that ran through most of my visit. Of course she asked if I had had massages before and I told her I had seen S several times and luckily she knew her (S is apparently famous and well-respected). I knew I had passed the 'Are you a cop' test. As she dribbled a little oil on my back she exclaimed that I was so skinny - she even thought I might be a little cold and spread a towel over my ass.

I learned a lot about A and about China, She said she has been in the country about four years and loves being here and loves working on her own. According to her, in China people are forced to retire at age 50 to make way for younger workers. She asked about my job and my retirement and I said in spite of my age, I don't see retirement in my near future.

The conversation got a little more personal as A moved down to my legs and feet. We talked about local restaurants and whether I liked Chinese food. (Duh...) Picking up on the skinny theme she worried that I get enough to eat. "Who cooks for you, your wife?" came out of nowhere and I answered Yes without thinking. She showed no reaction and talked some more about food and health. I guess women in this business don't talk about any moral dilemma they may have about providing sexual relief for married men.

By now I realized that I was relaxing more and more under her expert hands - I was getting a great massage. Unlike the massage parlors that promote their sensual services, there was only the briefest tease, if you could call it that, as she brushed my private parts incidentally when she worked my upper thighs. No hot breath, no light fingertips on my ass, no reach under for a cock-raising massage.

A did not talk as much when I flipped over and her massage of my chest was a little more like caresses than kneading. I took the opportunity to test the waters by gently and politely copping a feel or two on her legs and ass, and up along her waist toward her tits. The corduroy pants were kind of a turn off but I knew that they and her shirt would not come off. She reacted to my exploring by loading up her hand with oil and bringing my half cocked cock up to full attention. My moan apparently told her it was alright with me and she began a steady slow stroking. I grew a little bolder and really caressed her tits, albeit through her shirt and bra. Some of her earlier massage may have been done in vain as I arched my back when she began to pump a little faster.

The release was wonderful. I wanted to ask her if hand job training was included in whatever courses she took in Shiatsu massage. Her technique was pretty straight forward, but some masseuses know how to bring a man to the brink and down again a few times before the final blow. Maybe that's part of the advanced course.

A cleaned me up and finished with a gentle head massage (my big head). She continued her polite client/masseuse conversation as she helped me get dressed. I gave her a generous tip and we hugged goodbye. As I was walking back through the salon I got a 'look' from a blonde Anglo hairdresser who I suspected did not approve too much of the back room. Maybe she felt her tips were not as big as they could be.

I tried one of the nearby Chinese restaurants recommended by A and headed back to reality aboard the 3:45.