Punishing (1)

It's the first time I have been under a woman in years - and I enjoyed it. After weeks of enduring crippling repetitive-strain pain in my right arm, I took myself to a small shop for a traditional Thai massage, where a small middle-aged woman bore down on my body with all her weight.

By the end of it, we were both huffing and puffing. I was no easy customer, as my body was just too large.

'Why are your arms and legs so long?' asked my masseur, who referred to herself as a mor sen prasat,  or nerve doctor. Auntie, as she is also known, likes to speak bluntly.

This was my first visit to the shop, which opened about six months ago in the market where I live. I had walked past the place many times, but before now was not game enough to enter. Inside, I found a group of six women seated on a white tile floor, eating.

This was no surprise, as whenever I walk past they seem to be having a meal. 'Who is game enough to give this farang a massage,' I asked. Sitting myself in front of the group, I offered my brightest smile.

In truth, with my right arm almost numb with pain I felt far from bright, but I did not want to scare these gentle souls. No other foreigners live in the market, so I might have been their first farang customer.

Auntie was the first to speak up. 'I do not come here regularly, so this your lucky day,' she said frankly.

The two regular masseuses were younger, aged in their 30s, and earnestly thumbing through massage manuals when I entered.

One was a biggish girl, with a round face and a beautiful smile. The other was a large-boned kathoey, who looked me over from head to toe and quickly asked me where I lived.

For the first five minutes, our group talked about nothing in particular, while getting acquainted. Auntie was held in high regard by the younger ones, who asked for her views about massage positions in the book.

'I had one man last week, and he just refused to breathe properly,' one said excitedly.

'I tried this position, here,' the other one said, pointing to an illustration in her manual.

This was a fun, lively place, and I felt sorry I had not plucked up the courage to visit before. The walk-through tiled area connects to the soi (small street) opposite. In that doorway, a woman was seated in front of a pot on a gas stove, cooking. She joined in the conversation, as did a couple of other women from shops nearby, who had called in for a chat.

'Where do you come from?'

'Where have you been?'

'Have you eaten?'

'Are you married?'

This last question came from the kathoey.

'Thai woman are beautiful. Do you like them?' she asked.

'I do, but I have not found anyone yet,' I said carefully. I decided against saying too much, as these women, while young, could still be conservative types.

'Do you have a kik [someone on the side]? asked the kathoey. Maybe she was not as old-fashioned as I thought.

Auntie, who is a little older than these two and not up with the latest slang, asked what that word meant.

'Closer than a friend but not as close as a girlfriend,' Bright Smile replied cleverly.

Auntie asked if it meant the same as a couple going out together (ควงคู่กัน).

'No, it's more than that,' said Bright Smile. 'It's someone on the side.'

'Thai men are unfaithful and drink too much,' sniffed auntie.

Auntie motioned me to stand up, and asked me where I was in pain. 'My right arm, shoulders, and the middle of my back,' I said.

'Lift up your shirt. I need to see where to go to work,' she said.

She did not wait, but whipped up my shirt herself. 'Oh ho, you back is covered in red blotches!' she exclaimed.

This was a new medical complaint to walk in the door that day, and must have sounded dramatic.

'Five hundred baht for the massage, and B150 for the room,' she said airily, as she led me to a bed in an adjoining curtained ante-room.

Outside I had seen a sign saying a full-body massage cost just B200, so at first I thought she was joking.

'Take off your clothes,' she said. The two younger ones followed auntie in to the curtained room, and switched on the air-conditioning. At one end, two beds were positioned side by side, with two or three couches at the other.

I took off my shirt and belt, but was allowed to keep my shorts. The kathoey watched my every movement as I disrobed. On one wall someone had put up a bunch of postcards, mainly from neighbouring countries.

'I lived in Switzerland for three years, but I like Thailand more,' she volunteered. Kathoey are a well travelled lot, I thought. It must be because farang like them so much.

I didn't ask for details, as I thought that would too direct. Instead, I tried to make it to the message bed before I lost my shorts, which are too big for my waist.

The beds are not curtained off, so anyone who walks in, including customers, can see everything. On my first day, auntie massaged my body - arms, chest and upper back - while her young proteges watched.

now, see part 2