Horn OK Please

This is where I get my massages from No.9.

It was China's National Day last Saturday where everyone is so delighted to be living in a repressive regime that they take the week off and go on holiday. This has left me at a bit of a loose end. While most of the population leave the city, leaving only 2% of the population here (8,000,030,000,070 there or thereabouts) I'm here all by myself and a few other white people.
So far I have been doing these things: Running down by the mighty Huangpu River, waking up late, eating pizza, attracted the attentions of a homosexual man (still got it), drinking dark beer (new discovery - it is more expensive than normal Chinese beer so it has the distinct advantage of actually tasting nice), sitting in the office all by myself, sitting in the office with two other people, sitting in a cafe with all the other tables occupied by other solitary white people. And been for two massages.

I went to the place above and asked for a Chinese massage. It's about £7. This is definitely NOT a relaxing massage. A tiny little Chinese girl came into the room and gave me my massage outfit. A big pair of baggy shorts and baggy top. She insisted I put on a pair of slippers so I did. Then roughly 2 seconds later she gestured to the bench for me to lie down which I did. She then emitted a squeak and took the slippers off again. Eh?
Anyhow. Then she got going.

The massage ratios went something like this:

50% Excrutiating agony.
26% Pain.
3% What in the UK would be termed Grevious Bodily Harm.
17% Quite nice.
2% arousing (listen there's a twenty year old, Chinese version of Angelina Jolie wobbling your bum cheeks around. I defy Pope John Paul John Ringo to stay unmoved).
9% wobbling.
2% faintly ridiculous (she grabbed my hand and made my arm make like a skipping rope).

The most painful bits were
1. When she grabbed the two bits of biological string (tendons I think is the  medical term) that go from the lower 'sides' (another medical term) of your neck and attach onto your shoulders. I think they're for stopping your head from toppling off. Anyway she grabbed both of these and started pulling them AWAY from my rest of my body. I'm not ashamed to say, my one reader, that I yelped. You know, like dogs do when you step on their paws. She laughed.
2. She counted down the vertebrae in my back, one by one, until she identified one she plainly took a dislike to, popped one thumb onto it, then balanced her entire body weight on it. Jesus. I don't know what it had done to her but she really took offence.

I think I can truthfully say that it was a "happy ending" in that I was bloody happy when she made little squeaking noises that indicated I was free to go. She pointed to her badge and said "No.9!" I really wanted her to add "me love you long time." Not 'cos it's rude. Because it would have flowed so seamlessly.

I wasn't going to fall for that one again so the next time I went I had an "Oil massage." And...OK... I admit it....I also asked for No.9. It felt sleazy. A number.

In this massage you wear a pair of disposable blue shorts and that's it. No.9 squeaked a lot again but there was no slipper fiasco. I had taken the precaution of hiding them when she left the room for me to don the blue pant. I lay down on the bench. This massage wasn't anywhere near as painful but there were occasions, mostly when I fell asleep, relaxed as a badger, that she would remind me of her presence by rubbing me really vigorously and getting a good bit of heat going and making my head bounce up and down. She had another go at the vertebrae she doesn't like, though her heart wasn't in it this time.

There was plenty of wobbling and arse cheek....what's the word... ahh yes...kneading. Le mot juste. And surprisingly but not unpleasantly, stomach patting. I know. Sounds weird. Is weird. But really very nice. She does take the precaution of draping a towel over your manservant...ahhh....area and jolly good job too.

I shall be going back to No.9 (or Niney as I have nicknamed her)  for one more massage before getting smashed watching the rugby on Saturday. What a treat for her.