Tissues would be offered helpfully when the inevitable happened. Soon, she would massage the “good one” with oil for about 10 minutes. “You have a good one,” she would smile and say, “You want me to massage this?” At this point, no customer would turn down the offer. A few touches here and there, and a few flirtatious exchanges later, the men would be ready. She would not touch their private parts, but made sure that her hand brushed against them, as if by accident. After massaging the back with cheap and heavily scented oils that smelt like attar, she would ask them to lie on their backs. She would tell them to lie face down on the bed. She would begin by flirting with them, complimenting them on their looks, and then asking them to undress. She giggled a lot with all kinds of men who came in: truck drivers, cops, small-time businessmen, and even students. I noticed carefully how she went about her work. I listen quite keenly I’ve always been a good listener.įor two weeks, I worked as an assistant to my friend. A few start telling me about their life and career problems. Some men break down completely when they feel hands on their body. I was not too scared as my friend was there. The reception was tidy, and it led in to five rooms, each of which had a narrow bed and a washbasin in the corner. The parlour, called Mausam’s Beauty and Massage, was located in a crowded bazaar. I told my parents that I had got a job as a trainee at a beauty parlour. She would receive me at the New Jalpaiguri station.
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It was 2002 and I was all of 20.Ī month later, my friend called me from Siliguri and asked me to take a train from Guwahati.