My name is Frank and I'm one of the more successful real estate brokers in the Tri-State area. I'm good-looking and work out twice a week. I was recently engaged to this blonde chick named Trina, until I caught her sleeping with some hippie rock climber when I came home early one day, and I dumped her ass. The bitch. I'd been feeling pretty shitty about that lately, and then my friend Jerry told me about this Asian Massage Parlor he goes to sometimes to relax. $100 for a massage from a hot Asian girl, and for an extra $50 you can get yourself a "happy ending," he told me with a nudge. I thought it sounded pretty interesting, and the place was right off the interstate on the way back to the condo, so I figured What the Hey, I might as well check it out.
The place looked clean enough. An older Asian woman greeted me at the door, and for a second I was worried that she was going to be the one to do the job until she told me to sit down while she brings the girls out. I sat down in this flimsy wicker chair and waited for a few minutes, then out came five girls, all done up pretty nice and wearing silk dresses. It was tough to choose because honestly Asian people all look the same to me, but I settled on the one in the blue dress because she seemed to have the biggest rack. (There was also something about her eyes, and the way they looked at me with this intense curiousity.) She had a great set of jugs.
I followed her down a short hallway plainly decorated with pictures of trees and birds, and entered a small room that looked like it was made in the 70s, with faux-wood paneling and a green padded table in the center. The room was warm and sterile, almost like a doctor's office, and massage oils sat on a counter to the side. She shut the door and introduced herself as Lo Wan, and timidly asked me to remove my clothes while she slipped out of that blue silk dress. Didn't have to ask me twice.
I was relieved when she asked me to lie face-down on the massage table because I was already beginning to get a little bit of wood just seeing her in those sky-blue underthings of hers. Didn't look like she was planning on taking any more off, though. But what a set she had, though, I couldn't help staring as she walked over to the counter to get some oils, and I could feel her knockers brushing against my back sometimes as she started to work my back with her hands. She looked delicate, but damn those hands were strong. I stopped thinking about Trina or that asshole dad of mine or the pile of work I had or anything really...I just lay there feeling relaxed, but also excited if you know what I mean.
After a while I started wondering how to approach the whole "happy ending" deal. Jerry hadn't really been specific about how to bring it up. But I figured it was kind of a standard thing in these massage places, so I decided to be direct. I flipped myself over, exposing my big boner to her, and said in the most casual way possible, "Hey there, how about I give you an extra fifty for a happy ending?"
It was strange how she looked at me then, with those wide-open probing eyes. She didn't look insulted as I had feared or enthused as I had hoped, but more like confused. "Happy...ending? You want?"
"Yeah, a happy ending. You know what that is, right?" She hesitated, and then nodded her head and came closer. I closed my eyes and folded my hands beneath my head, getting ready for it.
I felt her hands gently touching my temples, and her thumbs pressed lightly against my forehead. "You're on the wrong end, honey," I told her, opening my eyes to see her leaning over me, her eyes closed and seemingly deeply focused on something. Then she whispered a few words, too quietly for me to hear, and everything went white...
When my vision returned, I saw lying before me a grizzled old man, muscles hanging limply off his bones, wheezing on a sagging, worn-out bed. By his bedside was a wooden end table with a picture of an old hag on top of it, smiling a wrinkled toothy smile. Who was this ancient fart, I wondered, he looks familiar. Of course he does, because he is me, I heard Lo Wan say though I don't know from where or how...and suddenly I was that guy, lying there with pain shooting up my spine despite the medication and wondering idly how much longer I had to live. Then I looked over at the photo and smiled. My Maggie, whom I had met almost fifty years ago and never looked back since. She had died a few months ago, but we had known it was coming for a while, what with her diabetes and all. We shared wonderful times together, and had three children besides, two girls and a boy. They were all grown up now. One girl had gone to medical school, dropped out and bummed around Seattle for a while, then had gone back to school and finished her degree and was now a family physician living with her longtime girlfriend. The other had become an actress and had a successful stint on Broadway, then had married a co-star and had settled down in Virginia where she did some organic farming. Our boy, the youngest, was now working in mission control for NASA and had married the singer from Second From The Left. All of our kids had children now, some of them adopted, and those wonderful grandchildren were in high school and college and seemed to have bright futures ahead of them. I smiled and looked back at the photo of my dear wife -- what a wonderful life I have had, and what lives I have left behind. I closed my eyes and peacefully slipped away...
When I came to, I was back in my own chiseled body. What a relief. Feeling in a bit of a daze, I managed to pay Lo Wan, who bowed low to me, and got dressed. I was still feeling a little lightheaded when I got into my car to drive home. Then it finally hit me -- that Chinese girl had no idea what a happy ending was supposed to be! Didn't she ever talk to the other massage girls? Did she pick up on my body language at all? Didn't she see my...thing?! I almost had a mind to go right in there and ask for my money back, but after thinking about it a while, decided to let it slide. She was a nice girl and had meant well. And besides, that dream was pretty nice, in a fucked up old-person type of way. Who knows, maybe I can give marriage a shot again, down the road. If I met the right woman it might be pretty nice.
I sure could have used a handjob though.