A love of many western travellers is to head off to a tropical location and soak up the humidity, sandy beaches, cocktails and all round Zen-ness.
Sometimes beers beside the pool. Or sand between the toes.
Sometimes pampering.
Sometimes more than just pampering, like a massage with a little bit extra.
So this is what happened to a friend of a friend of mine. Or me. Actually it was me. This happened to me.
After leaving a job that I really loved, I decided to head off to Cambodia and stop feeling sorry for myself. I arrived in Phnom Penh and joined a house building group in a rural village.
Our little group built 40 amazing little houses in one week! It was hard work in searing heat, and for someone who had never held a hammer before, physically exhausting. I had blisters on blisters and in places I don't care to mention.
After a week of banging out a few houses, I decided to head into a local massage parlour and get me some pampering. Manicure, pedicure and a full body massage for $12. Bargain.
Only, I got more than I bargained for.
Feet and hands done, I was ushered into a quiet cool dark room with a water feature and statue of Buddha. Some kind of water music was playing.
Naked, lying on my tummy on the bed, I didn't see my masseur enter and my only visual of him was through the little face-hole in my bed. He had six toes on each foot. Possibly he had six fingers on each hand as well.
He was good. Strong hands needling out all those builders knots. My back turned to jelly, so he moved down to my legs. Starting off gently at my ankles, he worked his way up the backs of my thighs - quite "up" and he wasn't slowing down. I wasn't quite sure where he intended to stop and it was bordering on awkward so I shifted a little on the table and he moved to the next leg. Moving pretty close to my lady parts I shifted again and he returned to my neck and back.
When he got to the knots in my lower back I felt something on my arm as he pressed against me. He worked his way pressing against my arm and the "something" got harder and harder.
A sole female, completely naked on the table in a massage place where English was limited, I was pretty vulnerable.
A polite "No thank you" worked it's magic and he retreated to the door only to have the Madame of the parlour come in and ask me to leave.
Thankfully I live to tell the tale that my happy ending wasn't a "happy ending"
Sometimes beers beside the pool. Or sand between the toes.
Sometimes pampering.
Sometimes more than just pampering, like a massage with a little bit extra.
So this is what happened to a friend of a friend of mine. Or me. Actually it was me. This happened to me.
After leaving a job that I really loved, I decided to head off to Cambodia and stop feeling sorry for myself. I arrived in Phnom Penh and joined a house building group in a rural village.
Our little group built 40 amazing little houses in one week! It was hard work in searing heat, and for someone who had never held a hammer before, physically exhausting. I had blisters on blisters and in places I don't care to mention.
After a week of banging out a few houses, I decided to head into a local massage parlour and get me some pampering. Manicure, pedicure and a full body massage for $12. Bargain.
Only, I got more than I bargained for.
Feet and hands done, I was ushered into a quiet cool dark room with a water feature and statue of Buddha. Some kind of water music was playing.
Naked, lying on my tummy on the bed, I didn't see my masseur enter and my only visual of him was through the little face-hole in my bed. He had six toes on each foot. Possibly he had six fingers on each hand as well.
He was good. Strong hands needling out all those builders knots. My back turned to jelly, so he moved down to my legs. Starting off gently at my ankles, he worked his way up the backs of my thighs - quite "up" and he wasn't slowing down. I wasn't quite sure where he intended to stop and it was bordering on awkward so I shifted a little on the table and he moved to the next leg. Moving pretty close to my lady parts I shifted again and he returned to my neck and back.
When he got to the knots in my lower back I felt something on my arm as he pressed against me. He worked his way pressing against my arm and the "something" got harder and harder.
A sole female, completely naked on the table in a massage place where English was limited, I was pretty vulnerable.
A polite "No thank you" worked it's magic and he retreated to the door only to have the Madame of the parlour come in and ask me to leave.
Thankfully I live to tell the tale that my happy ending wasn't a "happy ending"
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