TRUTH OR DARE: Parlor Tricks
It’s Wednesday. The day Zoom lets you play Truth or Dare with Drew. Think of him as your very own lab monkey. One with a very sordid past and very little shame. Got a question or dare? Send ‘em in and make him, er, doggle for your delight…
TRUTH: Do ALL Asian massage parlors “go the distance” to satisfy their clients? There’s one on my block that doesn’t look up to code, but it doesn’t look entirely sketchy either; think they’re choking chickens in there? —sentinbyfriendofdoggle@wherevertheygotouremail.com
Ah, a good question and a hard one to answer. There’s no way to say what happens at ALL such establishments. Assuming that the “sketchy ones” are murdering man-poultry as you say, the only reasonable test would be to check in on a few who don’t appear to be in the batter-bleeding business. But as none would confirm by phone that they engaged in such practices, we decided to move in for a closer look. The following is my account of a visit to a beauty salon around the corner from the Zoom office in Soho/Nolita. Consider it Zoom’s first attempt at investigative reporting. Lets see what we can’t learn…
ZOOM NOTE: In the interest of not blowing up anyone’s spot, we’ve decided to run just this one picture.
From the outside the place looked like anything BUT a happy-ending hideaway. A full plate glass facade gave passersby a view of three barber-chairs facing a mirrored wall. Two older Asian ladies sat with tinfoil in their hair and the signage was all haircuts and nails. By my naive standards, this should be the last place on earth to get jerked and therefore, the perfect test. At the end of the price list in the window was mention of a foot and neck massage for $20. I wondered how many—if any—nods, winks, and smiles it would take to get them to service the in-between.
Upon entering, the hairstylist, or beauty technician if you prefer, looked up with what was either disgust, confusion or irritation.
“Hi, I’d like a FULL-body massage,” I said. She put up a finger, and, without saying a word, marched through a curtain to the back of the place. A few moments later she returned with another woman, mid-40s but rocking higher heels than I’ve ever seen my mom in, who smiled as she motioned me to the back. The tug-zone?
She sent me into a room with a single massage table. Alone and unsure I went balls out and, well, took my balls out… along with everything else and laid facedown on the table. Read the rest of this entry »
Recent comments