You’re better than that! Chiding myself, I descended the narrow staircase behind the 4′ 9″ masseuse, thinking it would be a perfect place for Sid Vicious to shoot up.
Also, isn’t it racist to suspect an Asian masseuse is a sex worker? You’re not a grunt on leave in Hanoi, Shannon. No one’s going to offer me a happy ending. “Yes, yes,” she nodded, her smile strangely off, “follow Shimura below.”įor a fleeting moment, the words HAPPY ENDING MASSAGE, flashed across my brain pan as neon-red as the sign outside.
A bit startled and confused I glanced at Red. She stomped right past me and down a flight of stairs. The first clinical and imperious, the second purring and kittenish. Her demeanor and her voice were completely at odds. Without looking me in the eye she said, “Come with me for massage, darlink.” She marched in, shooting Red a curt nod, then turned to me. I thought it was a little rude that she’d make a personal call with a customer present, but it became apparent Red had called an outside contractor when, a few seconds later, the front door burst open to reveal - A 4′ 10″ Asian woman in a black duffle coat and black knee-high boots bearing the brisk, efficient manner of a drill sergeant. Red said yes, then picked up her cell phone and called someone. I asked the receptionist, who I’ll call Red, if it would be possible to get a 45-minute massage right then. The place reminded me a little of the no-frills acupuncture school I sometimes visit in Venice at home in California. Inside, there appeared to be rows of Chinese herbs in boxes behind the front desk where a slightly spacey, matronly redhead in a white doctor’s smock presided. Let’s take care of these throbbing feet and knotted calves.įinishing off my 300th hot-cross bun, washed down with Guinness, I entered a sort of nondescript parlor beneath a sign with the words MASSAGE illuminated in neon red lights. Look at that! Ten massage parlors all within a four-block radius. So one afternoon, with a few hours on my own, I thought: “I wonder if there are massage parlors in London? Specifically in Chinatown?” where I happened to find myself. I’d walked hundreds of miles through subway undergrounds, and climbed thousands of steps in these pursuits and my feet and back were killing me. The one out of only two Boden clothing stores in existence.(Since they won’t let me be an affiliate, due to my inappropriate site.) But there would be a price to pay. A trip I wanted her to take so I could go to London and see five West End shows and make the trek to the Mothership. I was chaperoning my daughter Bridget on a theater/drama trip in London last week. Mo seems to have lost herself in her work, and by doing so, has become an island of her own.(I can massage my own breasts, thank you!) It began with sore feet. In the worst of times, people try to distract themselves with drugs or other habits. Some of them will want to sit down for tea, but they know that her work is always her priority. On almost every island you visit, you will meet one of her estranged family members. She considers the fungus to be an occupational hazard. While she is aware of the toxins in the air, she refuses to wear a mask. What makes the story fascinating is how it portrays our protagonist throughout her quest. As soon as I saw what the fungus was capable of, it became clear how important Mo’s role was and how harrowing it might be. As she walks towards her boat, she passes blood-covered seagulls and decaying beached whales. The game doesn’t take long to show the player how much the fungus has affected the surface. Mo’s journey to save the world is a melancholic one. Safan, the giant, has inhaled too many spores and can’t operate the ventilators.
0 kommentar(er)
