05 - Heun

I was in a quiet suburb of the city, but one which had its own subset of shops and takeaways. It was a nice day, all in all, with a clear sky and a sun that tried its very best to shine for early spring.

I looked up at the netted windows above the shuttered Chinese takeway. This, apparently, was my location. I double checked the text message I had been sent. Yep. This was it, but the Chinese restaurant was hidden behind rolls of metal and there were no other visible points of entry.

I gave in, and text Heun. I tried to seem as causal as possible as I loitered in the square of shops, feeling naked without my car for protection.

Beep beep: “door at back”

Well, then. That explained a lot.

I wasn’t entirely sure how to get around the back so I just made off in one direction hoping to find a break in the buildings; an alley or gulley that I could slip down. I did not want to be late to my appointment and waste any time with Heun.

The woman, who accordingly to her profile was 24 years old just like me, was an expert in the so-called art of Nuru massage. Some of my favourite porn - when I first got my hands on broadband internet - was Asa Akira’s scenes where she did Nuru massage, so when I saw a local escort offering this service I simply had to save up a little bit of money and give it a try.

I trundled down an alleyway, watching not to trip on the broken and crumbling tarmac. A bin lay on its side, all shit spilled out everywhere, and a frightened cat shot out from behind it as I approached.

I turned left into a wider lane, this one parallel with the shop fronts, and I made my way down, counting the buildings as I went. I realised of course, that I had zero fucking clue which one was the Chinese restaurant. They all looked the same to me from the back. Fortunately, there were more bins here, dotted outside most of the buildings, and I finally reached one that had a stack of cardboard boxes next to it, all decorated with text that I had no way of deciphering. However, it was my only clue, so I pushed past the gate nearest this bin and entered the back yard of the building.

There was a plan white door. It had privacy glass and through it I could see metal bars. Next to it was a plain grey buzzer. I pressed it.

Click. Beep. “Yes?”

It was a woman’s voice.

“Hi, I’m here to see Heun?” I said, pronouncing the name as Hoo-When. I had no fucking idea if that was right or not. I’d Googled the name and it meant orange flower, or something similar. I should have just Googled how to fucking say it instead.

The door buzzed and I heard a latch loosen. I tested the door and it gave way, so I opened it fully and walked inside.

I found myself in a cramped hallway with peeling wallpaper. Giant barrels of vegetable oil sat next to a radiator, which for some reason just felt wrong to me. The whole place stank of food; onion, curry spices, coriander and what have you. There was a lot going on from an olfactory perspective, but it was not why I was here!

I walked up the stairs, each step creaking loudly as I went. At the top was a thinner, more flimsy door than at the bottom. I pulled it open, and the narrow corridor opened into a wide expanse of a room. There was an apartment up here, with the main room taking up the majority of the entire top floor of the building. Two skylights in the ceiling illuminated the room with the sunny daylight that flooded in from outside.

Heun sat on a small chair by the entrance.

“Hi there,” she said softly, “I am Heun, welcome.”

She was a tiny little thing, barely up to my chest, with jet black hair in a pony tail and pale, milky skin. She wore one of those uniform tops that nurses and masseurs wear. It was a deep red and an orange trim cut around its edges. Her trousers were black, pressed and smart. Her shoes were black, old flats.

It was not what I was expecting at all; the girls I frequented often wore suspenders or lingerie. In fact, Heun’s picture online had her in sheer underwear, facing a mirror in which you could just about see her perky little tits through the fabric in the reflection.

“You come for full massage service?” she asked me, beaming up at me with a gorgeous, friendly smile.

“Yes, that’s right,” I confirmed, taking the opportunity to hand her the money for the session, which I’d concealed as always in a small brown envelope.

She had very thick lashes and her eyes seemed almost black, but as unusual as this sounds she was very beautiful. It didn’t seem like she was wearing any makeup at all, but I could have just been fooled.

“Please, take off your clothes, and lie down, relax,” she gestered to the middle of the room, in which a faux-leather massage bed was positioned.

I had already showered before making my way to her place, so I did just as she asked. She busiest herself as I stripped down. There was an unfolded screen made of a light wood, but I didn’t bother going behind it. I just put all of my clothes out of the way in the corner of the room, and walked naked to the table, where I awkwardly climbed on top of it, fearing it would collapse. It didn’t, of course, and I stuck my head through the hole.