massage

“Sex Definitely Happens There”

Spoiler – this has no photos. You’ll see why.

We had no plans on one day, and after an early brunch, Gem and I were driving around, trying to figure out something to do before the Cardboard Regatta at noon, when Gem suddenly said she could go for a massage.

“You know, one of those Asian nail places that give you a shoulder massage while you’re getting your nails done. Let’s find one.”

A little Google Mapping and a few minutes later, we found several places that either didn’t offer massages or have any openings for hours. We resolved to finding an actual massage place, and we identified a business close to my parents’ house that seemed to be exactly what we were looking for.

It’s at this point that you will have to use your imagination, because we could not take photos. We also could not get out of there fast enough.

We parked and walked into the massage parlor. Eyebrow-raise #1 was not such a big deal.  The windows were tinted at maybe 10%, but then again, this isn’t a huge shock because it’s Florida, and they are trying to keep things cool, right?  Eyebrow-raise #2 came when we took a look around the lobby. It looked a lot “nicer” than the $15, 30-minute massage place we’d expected. The walls were a darker purple, the curtains were heavy dark velvet, and there was fake marble. Then, we saw that there was a menu of services and prices on the counter. They were asking for $80 for a 60-minute massage…something is off here?

Then, the true nature of this massage parlor revealed itself.  (If you haven’t guessed by now, you are as naïve as we were.)

Two women came out from a side room where they’d been chattering in an unidentifiable Southeast Asian language (Thai?), and a third relaxed on the couch in the side room, trying to hear what we were saying. Gem and I had saucers for eyes. We weren’t exactly what to make of it.

One woman was an Asian-50s, – still looking good, but definitely older. She was wearing an electric blue romper, with her biddies pushed up till they were coming out of her neck, and her entire cleavage was visible. She had full makeup, big earrings, her hair was done, and her nails were long. The other girl was younger, about 5’11”, in giant heels, and had on lace boyshorts and a bright orange tank top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

The older woman (we’ll call her Blue) wanted to know if we wanted a massage, and started quoting us prices that were $10 off the advertised price. The younger one looked us up and down. Gem and I are both under 5’2”, and we were not dressed for the occasion – we were not wearing makeup, we were just looking for a diversion before heading to the beach where we would inevitably get rained on, and we were tired.
Blue kept trying to sell us on their services, and I was trying to make excuses that it was getting late, and we needed to get back to the other side of town for the Cardboard Regatta. Gem stood there, frozen. The woman on the couch got up, and Gem noticed a hula hoop in the other room where she was sitting.

After a bit more of polite, then earnest declining, Gem and I went for the door, and Gem couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As we power-walked to the car, Gem said, “Sex definitely happens there.”

Editor’s note: After some research, the owner of the massage parlor was indeed arrested for prostitution in 2010. Then we found a rave review from a month prior, where a single dad took his two girls and they all got massages. Take that for what you will.

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