Barber DoDo

Shinbashi was in my head when I visited Seoul in October 2003. My hotel in Seoul, the Coatel, advertised "female massage" in a barbershop in the basement. That sounded similar to what I'd had before. I wasn't exactly sure that's what I wanted, because the Shinbashi back massage had been so weak and the penile experience was somewhat alienating. But the thought of another set of hands touching my flesh after weeks of only mine was appealing. Either way, I would get a massage out of the deal.

I did get a fabulous massage out of the deal. In a private room with a curtain, in a large chair, low lights. Two ladies took turns oiling up my legs and chest and back and climbing on me and turning me around and bending me up and slapping me and cracking me and it was fabulous. There was one point when one woman was leaning her polyester-clad bosom over my face, rubbing my oiled chest past my navel, and the other woman was sitting with her bare legs touching my bare legs, kneading my upper thighs. She pushed her hands in my boxers, past my penis. And I wondered to myself, maybe this woman is as curious as I am about sex. Maybe sex is not so defined as "handjob - 30000 won" maybe it's more like "I wonder what this guy's penis looks like?" or "I wonder if this turns him on?"

So many thoughts were going through my head. I wanted to have an erection, like to perform for these ladies. To show them my American man wood. To invite them to touch it, to lose track of their work and ministrate together, curiously poking and stroking and marvelling and then licking maybe and sucking in giggles and surprises and fun. But I wasn't naturally erecting myself and I didn't see how I could, or would want to push it. Just having two pairs of oiled hands working on me was bliss enough.

There was one older lady, must have worked there, she came in and oogled my body, made some comments, pointed at my nipples and admired my eyelashes. I was splayed out on the table as a masseuse was rubbing my shoulders. It felt good to have two women looking me over like meat. Cute meat? Handsome meat? Young meat.

Sex only sorta came up once directly. I was woozy and excited and relaxed and just a happy mess. The woman who had worked on me the entire time was helping me get dressed. I pulled on my underwear (delaying in case she wanted to look). She came over and helped me button my shirt. I halfway pulled up my pants. She was standing close to me. She looked down at my pants, and looked up at me. I smiled. She laughed and pointed down at my slightly bulging underwear and must have said in Korean, "that's funny" or "what is that" or "you naughty" or "put that away." She smiled and moved away. I smiled and felt a little embarassed, like I'd gotten carried away. I paused with her at the door - having so much touch for an hour left me feeling almost intimate. But this was not the context - after a few not uncomfortable pauses looking at each other and smiling, we bowed and I left. She pointedly asked me for a tip at the front desk; I gave her about 10%. I should have given her more! I was dazed and watched by a half-dozen Korean barbershop employees. I wondered if next time I might have a different interaction with her?

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