by Gina LaManna
“Handy, ain’t it?” Meg smiled at me. As both my best friend and an ex-cop (the ex part was not by choice), she often had unconventional ways of solving certain sticky situations.
“Seriously, why do you have a handicapped mirror hanger? Having large breasts is still not a handicap, last time I checked.”
“I adopted it.” Meg didn’t look me in the eye.
“You stole it?” I gasped. “Meg – tell me you didn’t steal that thing from a handicapped man.”
“I didn’t steal from a handicapped man,” she grumbled at the ground.
“Meg,” I said, my tone like a mother scolding her child. “Tell me you didn’t steal from a handicapped woman. Or child.”
“Where’d you say you moved that Smarties stash to?” She sniffed as if she’d be able to pick up the scent.
“Oh, Meg…” I trailed off. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
Meg crossed her arms. “Fine. You don’t like it? Here.”
I held my breath and closed my eyes, not sure if I wanted to see her second-best solution.
When I opened up my eyes, Meg had slipped a parking ticket envelope under my windshield wipers.
“There.” She dusted off her hands. “They wouldn’t give a handicapped person a parking ticket. They double wouldn’t give a handicapped person a parking ticket when they’ve already got one from some other asshole parking attendant.”
“Meg! You’re going to get us in trouble if we’re caught,” I said, glancing around as if the parking enforcers were out trolling for us in their little yellow cars already.
“Come on, girlfriend. You work for the mob. Abusing handicapped parking privileges is the least of your problems,” Meg said, slinging her oversized purse over her shoulder. “Now, we’ve got body buffs to get to. Move your buns inside, ‘cause I don’t want to be late. I promised my honey I’d have a smooth ass when I came home tonight.”
“They scrub your butt?” I groaned. “I did not sign up for this.”
“Nope, you didn’t,” Meg said, leading the way inside. “And you don’t know what you’re missing. But don’t worry, I signed you up.”
Chapter 2
“Hunh,” I said. “Looks closed. Bummer.”
We yanked on the front doors of the Asian spa, the windows plastered with pictures of women in all stages of massage and looking like they were having quite a blissful time.
“I’m going home,” I said, feeling secretly elated. “No use sitting outside all night.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t love the occasional massage or manicure. Part of my hesitation was that I couldn’t afford the luxury of spa treatments on my current salary. My perpetually blinking check engine light was a significantly larger problem. But the other part of my hesitation was that, on a scale of one to nudist, I veered real close to a two. For me, this meant that being naked was okay in exactly two circumstances: alone in the shower or while getting jiggy, as Meg would say. The rest of the time, I preferred salt only on my French Fries and clothes all over my body, please and thank you.
“Nuh-uh. You’re not going anywhere.” Meg yanked my arm before I took a single step away from the door. “I bet there’s a back entrance. Real secret-like, you know? We are on a spy mission, after all.”
I gave Meg a light smack on the arm. “You’re the worst spy on the planet. Don’t go around saying we’re on a spy mission. Plus, we’re not even spies.”
“You’re right. We’re mobsters.” Meg nodded.
“No,” I said, scowling. “We’re doing a recon mission. Just gathering data. We’re not really spying.”
“Of course we’re not.” Meg gave a huge wink in my direction. “In fact, that was all made up, in case anyone was listening. I’m just here with my friend, enjoying a nice body buff.” Meg nearly shouted the last line, and I surmised that most people in the Twin Cities could hear her. “I think it’s gonna give me a six-pack.”
“Meg, that’s not what a body buff means, even I know…” I trailed off. Explaining was not useful, as Meg was already halfway around the building.
“Hey, look back here. There’s a whole entire parking lot,” Meg said. “It’s amazing. I bet it’s free parking for the spa.”
“Yeah. Convenient.” I shook my head, thinking of the handicapped and ticketed Lumina on the side of the road, begging for a citation.
“These doors even open up on the first yank,” Meg said, astounded. “Come on. I don’t even gotta kick it in.”
I didn’t have a choice as she grabbed my wrist and gave me a light tug, which for Meg, was the equivalent of sling-shotting my body through the door. I rubbed my neck, wondering if I might have a case of whiplash. I looked up as she thrust my wrist forward onto the front desk’s countertop.
A young, attractive Asian woman with heavy eyeliner and perfect skin smiled up at me. “Two for the body buff? Eight-thirty appointment?”
“Yeah,” I said, my eyes looking around. I was quietly assessing the other females in the room, wondering who’d see me naked. And also, who I’d have to see naked.
All women are beautiful creatures, don’t get me wrong, it was just a bit hard to appreciate all the nakedness when I was too busy feeling awkward beyond belief. There was also a lot of junk to worry about. Had I shaved the appropriate stuff, for instance?
In particular, I wondered if I’d finally managed to get that one gnarly patch of hair near my ankle. For some reason, that one area was a tricky little bugger, and I always ended up slicing my skin so badly I needed to wrap toilet paper around my ankle until the bleeding stopped. Then, there was worry number two: had I eaten too many watery foods and salt lately? I preferred not to look like a grounded hot air balloon struggling for liftoff.
Stop it. I said to myself. You’re here on a mission. For work.
I sighed again, this time because of that last part. Lacey, I said in my head. What are you doing with your life that your work requires visits to nudey Asian spas?
“Lace,” Meg smacked me, “credit card.”
“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, torn out of my thoughts. The receptionist must have asked for it multiple times, too sweet and polite to knock me out of my daydreams, unlike Meg. I forked over my VISA, thinking that this had to be one of the oddest work expense receipts I’d ever submit. How exactly to tell your grandfather, the Boss of the Italian Mafia in the Twin Cities, that going to a spa and getting our faces salted and our butts massaged, or whatever Meg had signed us up for, was part of the job? I signed a receipt without reading the amount and listened, opened-mouthed, as Yoo, the receptionist, instructed us on our next steps.
“You’ll take this t-shirt. Then go downstairs and find a pair of shorts and a bathrobe. Leave everything in your locker, which is controlled by this device here.” Yoo fastened what looked like a watch around my wrist, but it was completely made of plastic and had the number eight-oh-nine stamped on it.
“It doesn’t tell the time,” Meg whispered.
“This is your locker key; it’s waterproof. Don’t take it off. When you go downstairs, put everything into the locker and lock it up.” Yoo gave a pleasant smile.
I leaned on the counter. “Everything? Like, even my underwear?”
“Everything.” Her smile didn’t fade.
“And put on the shorts and t-shirt?” I asked.
“No, I think you’re misunderstanding. When I say everything, I mean everything. The shorts and t-shirt are for the salt cave. The mud room and dining area are on the third floor, which is a coed floor. You’re required to wear clothing there.” Yoo continued her never-ending smile.
I turned to Meg. “Should we just head right to the third floor?”
“I’m getting a buffed body, girlfriend. Smooth butt, remember?” Meg smiled at Yoo and bobbed her thumb in my direction. “This girl – paranoid of naked people.”
“I am not—” I cut in.
“The body is beautiful,” Meg said, a hint of chastisement in her voice.
Yoo nodded en
thusiastically.
“Of course it is – it’s just – ugh, fine. Let’s go.” I grabbed a towel and swung my bag over my shoulder.
As Meg and I descended the staircase, I felt like I was entering the tunnel of doom. My feet were turning into sandbags, and my arms swung like useless clubs at my sides. I only realized I was squinting, in order to avoid swinging body parts that weren’t my own, after I ran nose first into the corner of the stairwell.
“Now, this is what I call a spa.” Meg spread her arms wide as we reached the end of the staircase. There were two doors on either side of the hallway, one for the ladies locker room and one for the dude room. The women’s section wasn’t quite as separated from the men’s as I would have liked, so I scooted in past the entrance as quick as humanly possible and glanced around, taking stock of my surroundings.
The locker room was shaped like an L, from what I could see. I was on the short end of two intersecting hallways, standing near rows of white, shiny sinks, fluffy stacks of towels, and lots and lots of skin. The long hallway was punctuated with small offshoots of lockers and dressing areas.
I took a big gulp, preparing myself to go spelunking into the deepest depths of the scary place called the Women’s Locker Room. I dashed through benches, sinks and showers, finally leaping around the corner into the security of the maroon cubbies where women left their belongings. When I paused in my scooting long enough to look up, there was an array of women – all shapes and sizes and colors – walking around naked.
“Wow,” I turned to Meg. “This isn’t as awkward as I thought.”
Meg stood grinning before me, completely in the nude. “I know, right?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I raised a hand to shield my eyes. “It is now. Too personal. Back away.”
“Oh, honey, the female figure is beautiful. Why do you think there’s only one painting of David and a million statues of curvy females in Greece?”
“Italy, I think you mean. And David is a sculpture. But no difference,” I said, as Meg walked towards me and flung her arm around my shoulder.
“Get a move on, girl. I’m about ready to go dip some skin in that hot tub.”
“Oh, alright then.” I slowly plucked Meg’s arm from my shoulder, envying her confidence.
Boom. No clothes – no problem.
Me? No clothes – huge problem.
“How did you get undressed so fast?” I asked as I removed my earrings.
Meg rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re doing. You’re stalling. Move faster.”
“Why don’t you go wait in the hot tub and I’ll join you there?” I suggested, hoping she’d take the hint and give me some alone time.
“No.” She stared me down.
“Why?”
She perched her hand on her hip. “Because of a few things. First, I don’t trust you to join me. Second, I can’t catch your skinny ass if you run away. Third, I think you’ll like it once you get used to it. Fourth, if you get naked now, in front of me – your best friend – it’s like easing into it. I don’t care what you look like, obviously, since we’ve been friends for like a million years. Fifth—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” I slipped out of my jeans and shirt and cautiously surveyed the room in my underwear.
I breathed deeply. You can do this, Lace.
I slowly took off my bra and stashed it in the locker. As quickly as possible I wrapped a towel around my torso.
Meg fluttered her eyelashes in dismay, but didn’t say anything.
Then off came the underwear. Up went a second towel around my girl bits.
“Who on earth do they think these towels will actually cover? A Barbie?” I held up a flimsy white scrap of cloth that looked like a coaster.
“They’re not meant to cover anything,” Meg said. “They’re to rest your head on during the buff. Let’s go.”
I took a few steps forward, and Meg snapped her towel against my butt. I jumped forward, yelping, “I’m moving!”
We made our way into the hot tub area. There were a few Jacuzzis scattered about, like small pits dug into a field of white marbled floors. A few shower heads lined one of the walls, where an assortment of women washed off scented shampoos, conditioners, and body washes.
Meg steered me towards the first available hot tub, with instructions to “sit in the dang thing for fifteen minutes and soak your dang body.” Apparently, that’s how one “preps their skin” for mutilation via salt scrub. Our “scrubbers” would call our numbers up for the torture session one by one.
I watched all of the women walking around buck naked, and wondered if any of the others felt uncomfortable. And then suddenly all thought stopped as Meg came up behind me silently and tugged on my towels. They slipped right to the floor and Meg guided me onto the deck before I could snatch them back up. My confidence hit the floor right at the same time my towels did. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my body, per se, but I rather preferred to keep some stuff a mystery.
The atmosphere of this place felt like a warm, fuzzy hug – open and accepting and all too close for comfort – also, completely unnatural to me. Soothing music tinkled in the background and the temperature was kept at a balmy eighty-ish degrees.
“Ahhh, holy moly, this feels amazing. Let me just tell you, I won’t need my honey to visit tonight. This is better than an anything he could do for me.” Meg’s groans, moans, and oohs and ahhs were very convincing as she slipped into the hot tub.
“Oh, hot,” I said. “Ouch! How are you in there and not evaporating?”
I dipped my big toe in the water and was surprised it didn’t get immediately singed off. I felt like I was about to be dropped into a witch’s cauldron and eaten for dinner.
“You’ll get used to it,” Meg said. “Slide in.”
Step by step I made it into the hot tub. I hated to admit it, but Meg was right – this felt amazing. I lay my head back against the wall and closed my eyes, feeling some of the stress ease away in the warm water.
** **
“All right. Cold tub time.” Meg poked me in the arm and stood up.
“What? No. I just got used to the warm one,” I whined.
“The cold one opens your veins or something. It lets food flow through easier so you can eat more,” she said. “I plan on having a huge steak after this to replenish my veins.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” I said. One look at Meg’s grim expression, and I shook my head back and forth. “Never mind, you’re right.”
I followed her over to the cold pool. It looked much like the Jacuzzi, except that instead of steam rising from the top of the water, frostiness chilled the air, and a central showerhead spouted frigid streams out of the vents in small puffs. I felt a little push from a hand on my back. I didn’t manage to regain my balance – at least, not before I found myself submerged in waist-deep, icy water.
I gasped and spluttered, losing my breath as my chest constricted with pain. When I brought my head out from under the water, I was surprised that icicles hadn’t formed in my nose hair.
“I knew you’d be a wuss without my help,” Meg said, working her way slowly down the stairs.
I splashed water at her. “You’re r-r-rude. M-m-m-mm-mmm-mean-n-n-nie.”
My teeth chattered like a jackhammer.
“Ah. Feel the veins constrict.” Meg was in up to her chest now.
“Howww… oww… long…?” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Just a minute,” she said, in no hurry to get out.
“It’s b-b-b-been a m-m-minn-n-nute.” I chattered, pulling myself onto the side of the wall.
It was everything I could do not to sprint towards the hot tub. I proudly controlled my urge to bust into a run, and instead I walked casually over to the hot tub, the nakedness becoming more natural by the minute. I crept into the hot hot tub (there were two at different temperatures), and I noted with surreal calmness that I couldn’t feel my body. There was a slight tingly sensation, but going from such
cold to such hot water mostly made me feel dizzy.
I soldiered on, eased myself into the tub, and closed my eyes. No sooner had I gotten accustomed to the temperature than a sharp voice with an accent shouted out, “Eight-oh-nine. Eight-oh-nine.”
I held up my wrist. “Me! I’m here.” I looked around for whoever was talking, but I didn’t see a soul. A hand clamped onto my wrist and I looked up; the petite Asian woman must’ve snuck up behind me without my noticing.
“You. Come,” she barked.
“Me?” I asked.
The woman, who was oddly enough dressed in her underwear, gestured towards a back room. I saw another woman ushering Meg to the same place, also wearing a flimsy bra and panties. I forced a smile at Meg. Time for a body buff, whatever that meant.
Chapter 3
Water splashed into my nostrils. “Ughh.”
I lay on my front, my stomach pressed against what looked like a massage table. However, there were a few things wrong with this picture. For starters, I was naked. For seconds, the woman standing over me was wearing a see-through bra and underwear. For thirds, water cascaded from a bucket straight up my nose and into my brains. For fourths, I had a weird watch wrapped around my wrist that didn’t tell time.
“Face down,” the woman instructed me.
“Sowwy,” I mumbled, still trying to clear the water from my eyes and nose.
I tried to remember the questions I’d written down in advance. My plan was to poke my nose around at the spa in order to figure out whether there was evidence of a prostitution ring here. Then, I’d work my way backwards and straight up to the top. A rumor from a family friend, who knew someone, who knew someone, who knew someone’s brother that enjoyed friendly massages, had led me here in the first place. With a little bit of cash and the promise of a bigger reward, this friend mentioned that I might have luck starting at this particular spa.
However, each time I tried to eke out a question, a bucket of water was dumped into my mouth. But when the sandpaper came out, I realized that getting water dumped in my face was a pleasant experience – sort of like a light tickle – compared to the vicious scrubbing that followed.
