‘Ladies and Gents’ Beauty Salons Around Bali’s Kuta Beach
Anny didn’t have such a pretty face, her figure showed the normal expansion with time, she was well into her 30s, and on top of this, she only had a 20-word English vocabulary. But three of those 20 words are the sweetest words that most red-blooded men long to hear from a woman who is potentially available: up to you.
I took a different tack from those guys who recommend roaming the discos in Bali’s Kuta Beach area in search of willing, female companionship. My observations of these ladies at the bars and clubs on the south end of Legian Street, near the monument, indicated that the ones there don’t even match the gals working on Soi Cowboy. Some of them even looked as if they would feel at home at the Grace Hotel. It’s said that the girls hanging around the bars and discos at the other end of Legian Street, in the Legian Beach area, might present a more pleasing picture for the visiting male tourist.
The first two evenings wandering around side streets off Kuta Beach’s main road brought plenty of approaches by girls who often looked as if they were one step out of the village. Grabbing hold they offered the one-hour traditional full body oil massage for 50,000 IDR, approximately $5.50 USD. Having just arrived from Thailand and needing some time to recuperate, these initial enticements went unanswered.
Five days later the traditional body massage seemed more appealing since I had had one at Lovina Beach, on the north side of Bali. That’s where I experienced its merits. It resembled the Swedish, muscle-rubbing style more than the bone-twisting, kneading Thai massage style.
I noticed this ‘Ladies and Gents Beauty Salon’ and a glimpse of Anny inside, as I walked toward the nearby Matahari Supermarket in the west Kuta Beach area. It offered a range of services such as hair care, body care, face care, and nail care as listed on the green flyer handed out by an employee on the sidewalk. I went through the doors and asked to see the massage rooms which had a raised, oblong table with the head hole at one end. Some ‘salons’ look like rat holes while others cater to the five star crowd. This ‘salon’ was in the middle with clean enough rooms, a legitimate looking business, and after negotiations, fair prices.
On my return leg from the supermarket, I again went inside, looked at the menu again and pointed out that the 65,000 one-hour massage here could be had on the beach for 40,000. Then you pay 50,000! “OK, 50,000 sounds fair to me.” Just as a means of choosing one of the four women for the massage, I asked each one to squeeze my hand to show her strength. Anny didn’t have the strongest grip but she sure had the nicest smile and the smoothest skin.
Off we head to the center massage room where the walls nearly reached to the ceiling. A full body, oil massage can be messy so when I was stripped down to my boxer shorts I asked and gestured, “Stay on or take off?” Up to you. The slow, medium-hard, oil rub was relaxing but the piped in elevator music with its repetitions of John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ and Eric Clapton’s ‘Knock, knock, knocking‘ didn’t enhance the mood, at all.
I rather suspected that since Anny was willing to offer a naked farang an oil body massage that she would be available after hours for a ‘complete’ massage. This is their euphemistic expression meaning a full service massage ... with every male muscle massaged.
Whenever I wander around the freelance, drinking, or dancing spots along Sukhumvit, I see all shapes and sizes: someone is available to appeal to nearly any male visitor. For me, the older, hardened, fast, tattooed, weird, professional is out of the question. The Asian woman who draws my attention: is under 35, has a clear complexion, shows no or only a small tattoo, wears little or no gold jewelry, wears light or no make up but most importantly, she has a pleasant smile, bright eyes, and looks at me humanly. Women who work at a steady job are also more likely to separate me from my cash than the freelancer who parks on a bar stool for a living. Anny scored well on my initial visual evaluation, and later even proved to be fun and playful at the right times.
“Can you meet me after you finish work at 8 p.m.?” Yes. “How much money do you want?” 300,000. “That’s too much. I can pay 250,000.” OK. “Can I do sex one time? Two times? Three times?” Up to you. In retrospect, I should have booked her then and told her the hotel name, address, phone number, my room number and the time to be there. Or maybe arrange a time and place to meet outside of my hotel. “Do I pay you 50,000?” No, outside. By the look on her face, the 20,000 tip was greatly appreciated and unexpected.
At 9:30, I finally placed a call to her mobile through the reception desk. I should have bought the minimum local SIM card for about 25,000 to contact her easier. “Can you come to my hotel?” Yes. “When?” (No answer). “Come in 20 minutes?” Yes. OK, guy, be a good hotel guest and tell the guard about the arrival of your Indonesian female friend and your room number. You go desk, pay money! After I walked to the reception desk from the guard post, I pleaded my ignorance about the hotels rules to the cute receptionist. She simply said that I had booked the single room rate but for 100,000 more an Indonesian guest may also stay.
At 10:30 another phone call. “Can you come to my hotel?” Yes. “When?” (No answer). “Come in 20 minutes?” Yes. At 11:10 another phone call. “Can you come to my hotel?” Yes. “When?” (No answer). “Come in 20 minutes?” Yes. At 11:40, I finally left my room and posted a note at the front desk saying when I would come back. No sooner had I walked outside, and entered a nearby all-night, open-faced bar, when Anny showed up at my table. The drink ordering curtailed, I promise to return the next day, and off we went to my hotel room.
On the way past the guards, they took her ID card and said that she will need 20,000 to pick it up later. The first stop is the lobby. Sitting down with Anny, I explained in words and by writing down numbers that I now have to pay 100,000 more to the hotel room. Then I say I could not pay 250,000 to her because she was so late. The new payment would be 200,000. Up to you. But at the same time, she gestured that she was doing some clothes washing by hand. Now I paid the hotel the needed 100,000 and I am offered a proper receipt with ‘extra charge’ listed without any clarification. Anny complained about the added room charge to bring in an Indonesian female guest and said that Masa Inn and Porpoise One don’t charge customers more for lady guests.
Anny has a 10 year-old ‘lady’ child and originates from Borneo. She shows the normal physical signs of motherhood with slight tread marks and droopy, soft breasts. She could probably be transplanted to Isaan and not look out of place: short, silky-smooth skin, and a bright smile. It was unclear if her thinly populated V-shaped bush was totally natural, had been partially plucked, or possibly trimmed. It was definitely not shaved in the recent past. Her skin tone seemed to have a slightly bronze tint, unlike our tanned Isaan ladies.
Whether Anny’s actions are indicative of how most Indonesian working women treat their customers is unknown. She didn’t offer oral, and I didn’t insist. But she handled my private parts more like taking ripe durian off the seed rather than like harvesting sugar cane stalks. She acted enthusiastic and made an effort to keep up the rhythm. I can’t say that this one-night encounter was like a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. But for a guy in his late 50’s to complete three goes in one night, without chemicals, he needs more stimulation than just an available orifice. Surprisingly, she didn’t wash up after each go. Would she if the guy didn’t use latex?
Anny left for work around 9 a.m. with an even wider smile on her face and two check kisses from me. I paid her 250,000, after all, plus the 20,000 for the guard, and two packets of shampoo. The padded mobile phone bill ended up being 45,000. So the total cost with room charge was 415,000. Not a rock-bottom deal, but not an outrageous price for a very pleasant experience. I later sent her an SMS from Jakarta and wrote “It was nice knowing you and good luck.” And I meant it.
The author sent a picture of the lady but I chose not to include it.
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