Massages can be a problem for men

A Turkish Bath isn't really a massage. It's well... a bath... with mud!

Yes, I'm serious. Mud Wrap its called. The mud's apparently from the dead sea, smells like menthol, and it cools the skin to such an extent that you feel the need for a blanket in the steam room.

Sidney, his name is. The Filipino guy who was giving me the bath. Damn cute looking. Small-eyed, about 5'8 tall, athletic, clean shaven, spikey hair.

"Sir, you may lie down here," he said pointing towards the stone platform inside the spa's steam room. It was kinda... arousing.

I took off my robe (was still wearing my adidas shorts) and lay down on my stomach.

"Turn around, Sir," he said.

Sidney started to rub salt all over my body. God this is really sounding like some erotic story, when it's really not.

"Is it hurting?" he asked.

I told him it wasn't.

I was scared, a little. I was hoping the problem doesn't come up! Get my point. When he was rubbing salt on my chest, 'Johny' started to react a little. It would have been so embarrassing if Johny woke up in the middle of the massage.

It's quite a problem - massages - I realised, for men. At least with women, their arousal isn't visible.

I started thinking of dirty feet. Dirty feet, dirty feet, dirty feet... just to keep Johny from springing up, with Sidney's soft hands occassionally inching inside my shorts during the salt-rub.

Dirty feet, dirty feet, dirty feet... unclean, hairy toes.

It helped...

'Johny boy' stayed down. But the risk element was always there because Sidney was working wonders on my body.

Ok, don't know what you guys are thinking... Let's clear one thing out: I ain't gay. No way. Bisexual, yes. I've been with my share of men, and like Joey (in Friends) keeps saying, a lot of other people's share as well, I guess.

But even for a perfectly straight guy, a touch is a touch is a touch, right? When your eyes are closed, how could it matter if it's a guy's touch or a woman's, especially when the hands are as soft as Sidney's and they're all over your body - your chest, your shoulders, your arms, stomach, legs, inner thighs, back - that too moving gently ...mmm... professionally.

I don't know, also the 'Sir' thing was turning me on too.

Dirty feet, dirty feet, unclean hairy toes...

He washed the salt off me, and applied the Mud on me. He asked me if I would prefer honey instead...

Dirty feet, dirty feet... damn

"Uh no, Mud's good," I almost stammered.

"It'll be a little cold, Sir... Cool, rather."

Sidney wrapped me up in the Dead Sea mud mixed with menthol and some other ingredients which help in the effect of "mineralizing your skin".

After the wrap, he started working on my scalp.

Dirty feet, dirty feet, hairy unclean toes...

"You got nice hair, Sir," he said, while slowly pressing my scalp, with his thumbs on my temples.

"Thanks. But they're falling. The water here is bad," I replied.

He smiled.

I was about to fall asleep but forced myself out of it. What's the point sleeping through such awesome treatment. It would obviously go to waste, if you really didn't feel the work being done on you.

He washed off the mud after a while. Dried me up.

God I wish I could hire someone personally to do this for me every single day.

"Now what," I asked, my eyes droopy, dazed.

"Stretching, Sir. Some Stretching." That's exactly the way Sidney said it, stressing on 'some'. He meant a little stretching.

He started on my arms, pulling them over my head, gently though. I Didn't even realise when I dozed off.

When my eyes opened, Sidney was trying to wake me up. "That's all, Sir."

Damn, I thought. An hour and 15 minutes already?!

"You could take a shower, Sir. Or use the jacuzzi. Don't worry about the time sir, you could use it as long as you want."

I climbed inside it. Sidney switched it on. The water was revolving around the circular jacuzzi.

"How did you like the bath, Sir?"

"Very nice Sidney."

"Do come again, Sir."

He walked out of the spa room. My eyes followed him till he disappeared with the shutting of the door.

Cute.

Carrying my black Adidas handbag across my shoulders, I walked past the blue-eyed Filipina receptionist, smiling at her.

"Money sir. That'll be 290."

Damn.

Didn't have the heart to remind her that the massage was supposed to be on the house.

It didn't pinch though, taking out my wallet.

Next on the list: Reflexology.

Masseur: Sidney.

No, I ain't gay. Chill.