In the bustling heart of the city, my girlfriend, Lina, and I found ourselves pushing through the teeming streets, our fingers interlaced in the sea of humanity. The stress from work had been wringing us dry, and we decided that a massage was the perfect respite to rejuvenate our tired bodies and frazzled minds.
We made our way to a massage parlor tucked away in a quieter part of the city. Its soft ambient lighting, mingled with the scent of lavender and sandalwood, and the soothing melody of a hidden bamboo flute, lent the place an air of tranquility. As soon as we stepped in, the tension began to seep from our bodies.
We were ushered into a couple’s room, the place dimly lit with flickering candlelight, the scent of the room lulling us into a state of relaxation. Two masseuses stepped into the room, their silhouettes barely visible in the dark. The one assigned to me had an undeniably seductive aura, her physical charm accentuated by the discreet light.
As the massage commenced, I felt my stress fading away under her skilled touch. However, things took an unexpected turn when her hands started to venture towards my upper thighs. The action, though part of the massage, was imbued with a sensuality that took me aback. Despite the peaceful atmosphere, my conscience started ringing alarms.
Afraid to give in to the temptation, I quickly excused myself under the pretense of needing the restroom, aiming to give myself a chance to regain my composure. As I returned, I noticed the soft rhythmic snoring coming from Lina’s direction. She had succumbed to the relaxing ambiance and was peacefully asleep.
My masseuse resumed her job, this time, her touch professional and therapeutic. Suddenly, she leaned in, her voice a whisper in the darkness, “Would you be interested in any extra services?”
My heart pounded at her words. I hesitated, fearing that Lina might wake up or the other masseuse might overhear. Finally, with a small shake of my head, I whispered back, “No, thank you.” It felt like I had dodged a bullet.
But then she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I need some extra money to buy medicines for my child who’s in the hospital,” she confided. Her voice was barely audible, yet it carried the weight of a mother’s desperation.
Moved by her plight, I felt a tug at my heart. I reached out to my wallet, pulling out some extra money. Handing it over, I said softly, “No need for any extra service. Take this for your child’s medicine.” The money seemed insignificant in the face of her struggle, but her gratitude was immense.
The remainder of the massage was quiet, and a serene calm washed over me. As I walked out of the parlor later that evening, hand-in-hand with a rejuvenated Lina, I felt a warmth spreading in my chest. I hadn’t just relieved my own stress that evening but had been able to lighten someone else’s burden. It felt good, almost therapeutic.
I remembered an old saying that my grandmother often recited: “When you do good things unconditionally, blessings come back to you a hundredfold.” As I looked up at the night sky, the stars seemed to twinkle a little brighter, reaffirming my faith in those words.
Mike m. luster 