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Sophie* the sadist masseuse

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* Name changed to protect the guilty.

Sophie is probably a very nice lady.
I will never know because I don’t want to see her again.

Sophie is a fifty-three year old South Korean masseuse who is in such a remarkable state of preservation and short-skirtedness that she is still capable of instantly reigniting the cold embers of old men’s desires.
(So I’ve been told.)

I still don’t want to see her ever again.

Let me delicately describe for you Sophie’s domestic arrangements as revealed to Mrs GOF during an episode of massage “girl talk”.  This has absolutely no relevance to my story, but if you are looking for high quality objective journalism, scrounging around in The Bucket is probably not the best way in the world to find it.

Desirelighter Sophie apparently has a little old conjugal flame flickering away at home.   He very generously gave consent for Sophie to light a second much hotter fire under the same roof, so that she could satisfy her wish to keep every little nook and cranny permanently glowing with radiant warmth.

After briefly wondering whether she might also occasionally have the need for a sexagenarian bonfire in her house as well, I concluded that I really don’t want to ever see Sophie again …… any capacity.

Why?  Because Sophie has an abysmal command of English language which resulted in her pulverising my skeleton to such an extent that she came within an inch of remodeling it’s Homo sapiens vertical functionality into something pre-dating Homo erectus.

Laying face-down on a massage table with your head jammed down into a hole facing the floor does not provide optimum conditions for either concise or precise communication with another person, unless they happen to be supine on the floor looking back up at you.

This did not apply to Sophie.  She was still swinging from the rafters when we had this final conversation last year;

GOF:    I am really impressed by the way you keep your balance using the handrail on the ceiling whilst shoving the full force of your heels into my shoulder blades Sophie, but it is REALLY painful so could you please do it more softly.

(Editors comment; I apologise for interrupting GOF’s riveting little memoir mid-moan, but over a glass of plonk last night he revealed to me that at this point in his conversation with Sophie he almost gave birth to an impure thought.  In his words;  “I figured I could distract myself from all the agony by considering that if only I was facing upwards I might be receiving more, albeit different, value for my money.”   It is fortunate that GOF received a comprehensive Methodist Sunday Schooling, for after humping this piece of intellectual wickedness around in his head for the remainder of the massage he was then able to expunge it completely from his mind. Just as well for him.
The Bucket certainly will not tolerate adventures into depravity by any member of it’s staff, either in thought or deed.)

Sophie:   Shong fuchu ehasta whahjo neehar what you say Mr GOF Softer not enough Harder! Harder ! Ah?


Sophie:   Ha! misho wa-chu da sifo chanda-ru. Now I got it. Pain right there. Little pain is good. Harder! Harder!  Kill little pain!  Now I stand on neck. Good yes?


Sophie:   Ah! Holy shit yes now we fix big pain in neck. Kill pain in neck!  Kill pain in back!  Kill pain in shoulder!  Everything good now. Shahbu wucha dongbe ande shanjong fifty dollar thank you Mr GOF.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *

I took my Rolls Royce in for a 60-minute service and tune up, and what came out resembled a crash-tested Volkswagon.
I need another body mechanic urgently.
Preferably an ugly one clad in long trousers who doesn’t have handrails screwed into the ceiling.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *     *      *

This story was written with empathy for Elaine, a subscriber to
The Bucket,  who was also recently damaged by her masseur.

About GOF

"Life is like a sewer. What you get out of it, depends upon what you put into it." (Tom Lehrer)

29 responses »

  1. Laughin’ my ass off over here!!

    I’m sorry you were damaged, I truly am, but it’s SUCH a funny story!

    And you said “staff”.

    • I can laugh about it this year…….now that I’m fully recovered Lauri.
      Where did the saying “staff of life” come from? Perhaps I don’t need to know. 🙂

  2. She WALKS on you?! What the hell?!

    As a massage therapist, everything about this story freaks me out.

    You definitely need to find someone new.

  3. I think I’ll just live with the kink in my neck …

    • You can fix it DIY if you have a vice (or is that spelled vise in the US) in your workshop GOM…..just show Mrs GOM how to wind it in and out on your neck.

      Did I just ask if GOM has a vice? hehehe 🙂

  4. … and this is pre-cisely why I don’t want to go and see any masseusse, short skirt or not. I suspect that the length of exposed thigh makes up for the (ahem) quality of treatment… although I have no solid base for this assumption.

    I much prefer the work my sexy baby gives me. No pain, good conversation and a guaranteed happy ending… er… ummm…

    Nice weather we’ve been having, eh?…

    • Yep, nothing like a good laugh at the end of it and a discussion about the weather Tina. (now I know why both of you went bush for a week) 🙂

  5. Being an old CMT myself, this made me laugh my ass off! I have, on request and under duress, occasionally been known to walk on someone’s back. I don’t know how they stand it. Trust me, it’s not easy balancing for us, either. She’s smart to have handrails on the ceiling! That’s brilliant. I had to have my victim lie down next to a fireplace and hang on to the mantle.

    • I was impressed by her balance and the control she was able to exert using her toes and heels kimmy, and up until this occasion I had always felt “comfortably sore” after her massages.

      Love your use of the word “victim” 🙂

  6. No pain – no gain!! Ha Ha!!!

    • Ahhhhh”…..with great respect Roz the “Ha Ha” part of your response will probably cause me to decline if ever in the future you offer to walk on me to cure anything wot ails me. 🙂

      Oh, and I wish you the very best result from the procedure tomorrow.

  7. My dad used to have me walk up and down his back and I do it for Brother now. I can balance! I’m not thinking of it as a trade, however.

  8. SO funny, GOF! Yes, this resonates with me big time; never again will I ask for a “deep muscle” massage. My chiropractor has told me that in the future i should only get “fluffy” massages! it took him 2 months to undo what that massage therapist did (& he wasn’t even hanging from the rafters!).

    • I am so happy you have now recovered Elaine. No doubt massages have so many benefits both physically and psychologically, but dear oh dear it is hard to find a competent person to strike the right balance between “fluffiness” and damaging deep tissue. For a couple of years a wonderful Yugoslavian masseur kept me in shape, but then he was called back to his home country to teach massage therapy to students.

  9. Walking on the back is apparently a common method of massage in Asia. A relative from Japan once asked me to walk on his back, but it was too creepy for me, especially after he asked me to stand on his buttocks. :-0

    I don’t understand why masseuses think pounding you until you hurt is a good thing. I once went in for a Swedish massage, and this burly, muscular woman who must have weighed at least 200 lbs. kneaded, pounded and elbowed me until I was crying. She said I would feel terrific afterwards, but I didn’t: I simply swore I would never go in for a massage again, at least not the Swedish kind.

    • Walking on somebody’s buttocks must be like taking a ride on one of those inflatable kids fun-fair castles……not that I’ve any immediate plan to try either HG. 🙂

      In Australia “Swedish” massage most commonly means a pointless rub-down that you can hardly feel…….sorry that you got something different…….and equally pointless.

  10. Oh GOF, GOF, GOF! Stay away from the Asian massage centres. They don’t receive the same training as Australian masseuses. I don’t mean that in a racist way, they just don’t have the same training. Cheaper for a reason. Go to an Australian trained masseuse and enjoy the process, but not in the way you might really desire!

    • She was a “sole operator”…..hehe sometimes I love it when vocabulary accidentally comes together FD…….not part of a bigger business………and up until this day, Mrs GOF and I had been satisfied with the work she did. I’ve had equally bad treatment or totally useless treatment from some Australian-trained massage therapists too.
      The best massages I ever had were done by a Yugoslavian bloke who was trained in Japan.

  11. Truly funny GOF – though I say that well after you have recovered of course. I’ve had a few “deep tissue” massages and am never really sure if it’s a good ow pain or not that I’m feeling. The best massages I’ve had were some feet massages in China – absolute bliss!


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