WORDS BY SIMON E. SMITH
The half-naked Asian masseuse tripped over my Goodwin Smiths and flung a giant tray of boiled eggs across the room. She screamed and in the confusion I laughed through the duct tape over my mouth.
Lying on the bed in the darkness, all I could hear was the young girl on her hands and knees scrambling around.
Wait. Let’s go back…
I’m in China. South China. I’m on business and I’m bored.
You fucking would, wouldn’t you? Walk into a place that said, “MASSAGE” above the door.
I did, at the stroke of midnight.
Suited and booted after a busy day of meetings I looked every inch a buyer.
A middle-aged Chinese man saw me from the reception counter and grinned like a drunk Cheshire Cat. He knew what the deal was. Lad.
Without saying a word he put one arm round my shoulder and led me to a back room. There was a stage with several men sat in the seats smoking.
Twelve girls would walk on stage, each wearing number tags, parade around for a while then disappear and be replaced by another twelve.
I spied, with my little eye, number “88”, who looked like a mix of Zhang Ziyi and Lucy Liu. My new friend patted me on the back and said, “Yes. Very good. You have good eyes.”
Fortunately “88” spied me too and broke rank by jumping off the stage and running over.
She told the manager something in Mandarin while pointing at my feet. Roughly translated what she said was: “big daddy money cracking shoes business man”.
I was her Jerry Maguire, she was my Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon.
Girl chosen, the next step was getting ready. The receptionist, still smiling, led me to the changing rooms.
Inside were three Jacuzzis, at least fifteen towel boys and more pictures of naked Asian girls than Jackie Chan’s bedroom
An unnecessary three towels boys stripped me and pulled on yellow pyjamas then for some reason handed back my Goodwin Smiths. I was left looking like fucking Charlie Brown.
An older woman in her 40s collected me on the other side and took me down a long corridor to my room. Inside the room was a floor bed, a phone and a small notepad - the same items given to each victim at the start of every single Saw film.
Within five minutes, “88” had launched through the door giggling and carrying what looked like a toolbox with her.
First she undressed and then pulled out from her toolbox a huge bottle of Baby Oil, rope, duct tape, four towels and a roll of bin bags. I’d rather not talk about what happened over those 90 minutes but needless to say I’ve called my therapist and told him we have a whole new bag of issues.
But what about the eggs you ask.
According to Traditional Chinese Medicine, eggs have tons of the same protein that’s lost after a “session”. They’re often handed out at the end in massage parlours in China.
This is why at 1:30am in a Shanghai suburb I found myself being showered in them by a half naked masseuse.
The moral of this story: your shoes, can determine what sort of night you’re going to have. Make sure you put on the right pair. #buckinggoodnight