"Lisa Bodywork" - Midtown West

[Jarisa]

Good stuff! I dig the story. LOL! NY can be a heartless bitch but still I love her.

 

[cyanne2ak]

"Lisa Bodywork" - Midtown West

There are nights when New York shines like the brightest diamond, when it sparkles like champagne, when it begs you to stand up and LIVE, to drink it all in without stopping for even a single moment without even using punctuation or catching your breath.

There are days when New York kicks your teeth in, when it stabs you in the heart for fun and leaves you bleeding on the curb. My city is a merciless bitch but I can't stop loving her, and even as she casts me aside for a younger, thinner, happier man, she reaches out and takes my hand and gives me some reason to stand and walk again.

Fifth Avenue was filled with German tourists and I was at some lousy theme bar where the drinks had names and the names all sounded like strippers. Pink Bellied Berta. Tina Tiny Bubbles. Fuck. The shitty places a man goes in the pathetic pursuit of powerful pussy. Three young women ask you to go somewhere with them and you don't ask questions, you just go.

At the end of a day of genuflecting and accepting horse-whippings from clients whose asses needed kissing, I was tired of puckering up. There are some indignities that a man should never endure, not even for the sake of entertaining a lady. Putting fruit, alcohol and tiny paper umbrellas together demeans and degrades all three. Fruit belongs in the lunchboxes of schoolchildren. Tiny paper umbrellas should be used to keep the rain off tiny paper men or to cover the tiny paper tits of tiny paper burlesque entertainers in tiny paper vaudeville houses. Alcohol is far better off alone than anywhere near the other two.

I slapped a bunch of cash on the bar, bid my companions adieu and beat a hasty retreat. The evening air was heavy with mist and the anticipation of my own stupid self-indulgence. Cash on hand...85 bucks. In Manila or Angeles City that'll buy you the girl of your choice for the night. In Chinatown it'll buy you an hour on the table and a handjob with 10 bucks left over for dumplings. In Midtown...what? I needed a momentary oasis of calm and quiet.

I called Lisa - an independent massage provider near Herald Square - 45 bucks an hour - and headed south and west on foot. She came well-recommended by my rub junkie brothers and she did not disappoint.

She opened the door and looked me up and down as I did the same. She turned out to be a pleasant woman somewhere in her 40's. She has a pretty, soft face and lovely eyes, doesn't wear a lot of makeup. She doesn't dress "sexy" but she has a nice lean figure with the usual fabulous Chinese ass and nice little breasts that still seemed somehow perky to me. I had been told she wasn't a "looker" and I suppose if you hold her next to a 22 year old KMP girl the KMP girl would emerge victorious, but I can assure you, she's far nicer to look at than 75% of what you'll find at this price point.

Having each passed the eyeball test, she welcomed me in and I followed. Her digs are perfectly adequate for a provider of her scale and simplicity. A single, small, clean, room within a maze of medical / herbal / nontraditional practitioners on the 10th floor of a nondescript office building, it's perfectly safe, secure and discreet. Neither drab nor depressing like some rundown Chinatown dumps, her spot has no shower but the floors are new and clean and the paint's not peeling.

This was her first exposure to King Otis and mine to her, so I didn't expect a miracle and I didn't get one but what I got instead was enough to chase the pallor off a shitty day and polish the night like a pretty little gem.

She stepped out of the room while I got ready and when she returned she dimmed the lights a little, put the Chinese muzak on the box asked me how I like it. "Hard." I said, like I always do. "Don't be afraid. You're not going to hurt me."

She went ahead and gave me a good-to-great hard massage. She oiled her hands a little and went to work on my neck and shoulders, working her way down symetrically and systematically with good hard pressure. Finishing down at the feet, she asked me to turn over.

She rubbed my head and then my chest and then she kept moving down until her hands were between my legs rubbing my cock and balls. I reached over and felt her ass, then her nice, firm, real breasts. She started stroking my hard cock as I reached under her shirt and continued to feel her. Harder and faster…yes, it does take a long time…she was persistent in her dogged pursuit of my satisfaction and…finally I came.

This was the quiet oasis I needed. She cleaned up and said “next time, massage only?” Confused, I asked her why. She pointed to my crotch, “you no like very much. Take a long time.” Heh heh. Yeah.

I smiled sheepishly. “I’m just slow,” I said. “I get a lot of massages. I liked it very very much.” She smiled.

She waited out in the hall while I dressed. I gave her 40 on top of the 45. 30 would have been OK…but she was nice and kind and it was exactly what I needed.

I went down the elevator to 35th Street where the sidewalks were empty now. I started walking slowly, the tiny shards of glass in the sidewalks and streets that strengthen the floor of this asphalt jungle glimmered and shined with the reflection of the streetlights and neon. As I reached the corner I looked up and through the mist I saw neon glowing in a third floor window. “Bodywork.” A number I have never called. There are thousands of windows like this that beckon and call on every block in this city. I made a mental note. For another night, another reason to get through a day when New York beats you back, another way to get back on your feet when you think you’re down for the count. Another place to go whenever I get around to having another tomorrow.

718-503-1898