This is one of those blogposts where, to some readers, I am only saying the obvious. But, hey, it was a discovery for me and I reckon that for others who do not travel to Kuala Lumpur regularly, it may be useful infomation. So, please bear with me.

Very often, Air Asia gives excellent deals for travelling to Malaysia. In fact, I don’t recall ever using any other airline between Bangkok and the Malaysian capital.

However, Air Asia does not use the main terminal at Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA); it uses the Low Cost Carrier Terminal – LCCT for short. As you can see from the diagram at right, the LCCT is on the opposite side of the aircraft parking apron from the main terminal. This means that the express rail link – the fastest way to get downtown – is out of reach since it connects only to the main terminal. There is a shuttle bus from the LCCT to the main terminal, but I think it leaves only every half hour and the distance (by road) appears to be about 12 – 15 km judging from satellite images.

(The express rail from the main terminal to the city takes about half an hour and costs 35 ringgit one way.)

One can hail a taxi from outside the LCCT, but that is going to work out to be quite costly. The airport is some 60 -70 km from the city centre and taxi fares will probably be 70 – 80 ringgit depending on your exact destination.  It doesn’t make a lot of sense to get a good bargain flying Air Asia and then losing what you’ve saved on the taxi fare.

So here’s al tip: When you come out of LCCT International Arrivals, turn left and walk past both Departures and Domestic Arrivals. Keep walking towards where you see airconditioned buses parked. There will be signs and no shortage of spruikers telling you which are the buses heading to KL Sentral, the main railway station. Tickets should be eight or nine ringgit per person, available from the staff member stadning near each bus.

A number of different companies operate the route and among them, you will generally find at least one bus leaving within 10 minutes.

The journey to KL Sentral takes about 60 -65 minutes with no stops in between. Reaching KL Sentral, you can transfer to a taxi for a shorter journey to your hotel, or to Light Rail (Putra Line).

*

For your flight home, you can likewise catch an airconditioned bus at KL Sentral. Where to find the buses? Go to the east side of KL Sentral (i.e. the side facing Brickfields and Jalan Tun Sambanthan, get out of the airconditioned building and follow the crowd down an escalator to the road below.

You will find a line of buses with signs saying “LCCT”, as in the photo below. Unless you’re leaving very early in the day or very late, you will find a bus departing every 10 – 15 minutes. It should also cost eight or nine ringgit per head and similarly take 60 – 65 minutes to reach the LCCT.

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To maximise the convenience even more, I would choose a hotel within walking distance of one of the light rail (LRT) stations. That way, I merely change from the airport bus to light rail and zip to the hotel for just one or two ringgit more and avoid having to take a taxi even from KL Sentral. Here is a rough map of the two LRT lines together with the monorail line in yellow:

I have stayed in hotels along the Putra-Kelana Jaya line (blue in my map) as well as around the PWTC area on the Star line (green in my map). Naturally, I find the Putra-Kelana Jaya line more convenient since it passes through KL Sentral. To get onto the Star line, I’d have to change again at Masjid Jamek.

I would advise against staying along the monorail line (marked in yellow on the map above) There is no easy connection to the monorail at KL Sentral – there is (in 2009) a massive construction site in the gap between KL Sentral and the start of the monorail line – nor from any other point along the (blue) Putra-Kelana Jaya line. You may look at the map and ask, what about where the blue intersects with the yellow near KLCC? Yup, the lines intersect, but there is no interchange station!

Like increasing numbers of people, I fly budget airlines if I’m hopping around Southeast Asia. For example, between Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur, I think I’ve only ever used Air Asia.

One downside is that on budget airlines, food and drink on board have to be purchased and the prices aren’t attractive at all.

What I do instead is to check in for the flight early, which is my habit anyway since I hate to be in a rush, and have a meal at the terminal before the flight. At Kuala Lumpur’s Low Cost Carrier Terminal (LCCT), which is a rather compact building, the various fast food outlets are quite obvious to the eye. At Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi terminal, however, the cheap option is not so obvious. Sure, there are plenty of food options both inside the checked-in area as well as outside, on the mezzanine floor between the Arrivals and Departures floors, but these places still have “airport” prices.

Here’s the tip: There’s a food court meant to serve airport workers tucked away in a corner of Suvarnabhumi. Increasing numbers of travellers have discovered it, glad for the food-court prices it offers.

Where is it exactly?

Go down to the lowest floor of Suvaranabhumi – that’s one floor below Arrivals. Then, facing the driveway, turn to your left and walk as far as you can to the end of the building. You will pass the Bell Bus waiting area on your way there (See also the posts Express bus from Suvarnabhumi  airport to Pattaya and Bell bus lost my booking.)

Here are some photos I took.

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Like any food court in Thailand, you will need to buy coupons to exchange for food. One hundred baht’s worth is more than enough per person. The meal below, for example, cost me 75 baht. Fish noodles, spring rolls and iced tea.

I was surfing idly last night when I chanced upon a first-hand account of a Hero Massage experience. I found it on an online forum called Blowing Wind, which appears to be Singapore-based. It reminded me that I myself was in Hero earlier this year, but I don’t recall writing up that visit. I searched the archives and indeed, there is no write-up. How did I forget to do so? Or did I write but erased it accidentally?

Oh dear, too late now. Can’t remember most of the details, although in general, what I found in Hero was more or less what I expected to find – lots of hunky boys, a parlour busy with customers, and tiny rooms.

Two details came back as I thought about it. The first was that the massage table creaked. By about the fifteenth minute, I found it intolerably distracting. A massage should be a relaxing experience, and a creaking table would ensure it was not.  I stopped the massage, thinking I might ask him to see if we could change the room. A second later, just as he was halfway out the door to enquire about a switch, I changed my mind. The whole idea of moving, with my clothes and shoes, seemed too much a bother. In any case, his massage was not that good and didn’t seem worth the trouble. I called him back.

I decided that we would go immediately into sex. The noise would not be too much of a problem, since relaxation was not the objective with sex. The sex turned out great. He offered to bottom for me and I accepted – that was the second detail I remember of that visit. With hard fucking, I think we nearly broke the table.

And yet, my story is nowhere as interesting as the story I came across last night. It mentions a massage performed in a steam room, called Tora massage. I have never heard of this before, anywhere.

I can do two things. I can put a link or I can quote his story in full. In the interest of future searchability, it’s probably slightly easier for my readers if I quoted it in full. It’s not that long anyway. So here it is, a first-hand report by a certain Alexander, dated 20 October 2009:

Hero:
I went there on the last day before I departure and it was very satisfying. The main intention was to bring my friend to go explore Hero and Banana. Went in with my friend and he immediately attracted some of the masseurs’ attention. There was even one trying real bad to get his attention, and off they went choosing Tora massage (body massage in private steam room). Then the papasan recommended a young twinkie bottom with strong massage, very to my liking and off we went for Tora massage as well. The boy’s name is Bon, a 24 year old University student studying Accounts, quite a lean fit guy with a huge dick. He speaks good English and we were able to communicate much, but then there is nothing much to communicate coz we were in a steam room and it was very heaty, so we rather save the breath for last. The massage was quite strong and does his body to body massage, he was very into the job. He was also very tentative and was trying to please me as much as he can. His body was dripping sweat and water which made everything hot and sexy. He went slow on sucking my nipples and very playfully as well, very much to my liking. Then he proceeded to my cock,his skill was very good. I returned the favor by having him standing and I gave him a blowjob. Surprisingly, he was quite hard all the time throughout the massage which is quite a rare encounter for me. He moaned while I gave him a blowjob on my knees, he was dripping sweat on my face and it was real arousing. I find his dick real tasty, a bit salty in fact, maybe it is because of sweat? Then I proceeded to fxxk him, with him on top then cum in missionary, I felt he was enjoying it although there is a possibility he might be faking it, but it was way better than my previous encounters. I tried to ask him out after work, but he said he has school the next day, how unfortunate, tsk tsk tsk! I paid 1000BHT for the room and tipped the masseur 2000BHT for a work well done!

Does Tora massage have anything to do with the Japanese word for ‘tiger’? Does it have anything to do with the film about the attack on Pearl Harbour, 7 December 1942? I shall have to ask when I’m next there. Just out of curiosity. I’m not sure I’d be keen on massage in a steam room; I might get heat stroke.

September 2009:

I recognise it. His was clearly a different style of massage – the Chinese style – consisting of strong presses on the ribcage and lumbar region, followed by thumb accupressure on each side of each vertebra. Then knuckle-rolling and  considerable clapping and slapping.

At 72 kg, standing 178 cm tall (body shape S3m), Bendong had the weight and strength to deliver what was required. I would give him 8/10 for the quality of massage he delivered, except that he worked mostly on the back. With the butt, he used oil but didn’t really know what massage techniques would be suitable for oil. He didn’t do the calves until the end (after we had cum), once again using strong, dry Chinese techniques of kneading, thumblining and slapping to loosen. As for the arms and thighs, they were mostly neglected. Absent those, I’d say, he deserved no more than 6/10.

However, what I had ordered was Body-to-body massage, so, to be fair to him (pictured above), he shouldn’t be expected to do the limbs thoroughly. His body-to-body work was really good, being totally smooth (body hair code 0A1),  an essential for B2B, and big enough to provide much skin-to-skin contact. He was also strong enough to pull himself this way and that over me.  Best of all, he was hard by the third glide over my back and it was bliss feeling a warm rod travel up and down my crack.

B2B continued after the turnover; by then, there was hardly anything to differentiate it from frottage. We proceeded smoothly to sex.

*

There was nothing on the street front to say “Havenn Massage”. I had to look for the house number “95-1″. On the left is a picture of the entry into the stairwell, a little inside of which is a locked metal gate. The receptionist however, can see you approach the gate via closed-circuit TV, and he will open the gate for you from upstairs.

On one wall of the lobby were pinned about 40 – 45 photographs. I was almost floored by them all. The featured guys looked too good to be true – mostly masculine-looking, semi-built guys from China. Not only did they have nice bodies, they had far nicer faces than I had ever seen in any massage parlour. At least half of them could be used for modelling.

However, with this number, I got skeptical. They couldn’t all be here, surely. Most must be freelancers a phone call away; some might even have gone back to China after their stint.

“So, which ones are here in the shop?” I asked the captain.

“You can look around; some are inside the room over there,” he said.

Well, there weren’t forty, but six. But damn, they actually looked as good in person as their pictures. I would have had a hard time choosing if not for Bendong looking up and smiling.

*

By the third or fourth glide during the frontal B2B, Bendong was nibbling at my ear. He also commenced negotiations.

“Do you want special service?” he asked. “I suck and kiss, for 150 ringgit.”

Chinese boys are known for this. They drive a hard bargain. Sometimes, the tough negotiations completely spoil the mood. With Bendong, fortunately, it remained amicable, and we agreed on 120.

But then, the next problem would be whether he’d deliver. Quite often, I am told, they don’t – I’ve had a few warnings from well-intentioned friends about Chinese boys. With this guy, it was not too bad, but then it might be because he was really gay. The “work” appeared to be pleasurable for him, judging by how hard he stayed throughout. We hugged, kissed all over (after wiping off as much of the oil as we could), and intercrurally fucked each other. Sex: 7/10.

*

The captain at Havenn (I think his name was Sean) was not particularly friendly, though nothing like the gruffness of the guy at Sempurna Avenue. He answered my questions, but there were none of the courtesies that would have made a customer feel valued.  Nor was even a drink served.

As for the massage rooms, they were basic. The cabins were small, just large enough for a floor mattress, the partitions were three-quarter height, airconditioners were shared between cabins, and cabins’ doorways were merely curtained.

One toilet at the back had a water heater and shower head. It was relatively clean but totally functional. The liquid soap, however, was virtually useless. It was either of very cheap quality or it had been diluted (to save costs?); either way, it was quite hopeless at removing the oil.

Towels were thin and worn.

But the boys, the boys, were beautiful.

*

60 minutes not naked massage: 40 ringgit.
60 minutes naked massage: 60 ringgit.
60 minutes body-to-body massage: 100 ringgit.

Havenn Massage
95-1, Jalan 3.93,
Taman Miharja

Phone: +60 3 9284 8098; +60 12 267 1683; +60 13 345 9444.
Havenn does not have a website.

Open from about 14:00 h  to “late”.

Havenn is located in the Miharja area, with a number of other massage places. For a map, see Directions to Miharja Massage Parlours.

September 2009:

I was caressing him all over, licking the shaft of his cock as well. But nothing. He was as flaccid as ever. Should I give up? I asked myself. Just let him do a handjob on me and call it a day?

Then he reached for his cellphone under the towel to the side of the mattress. Oh, no, this is going from bad to worse, I feared. Now he’s going to check his messages and text his friends. Funny thing, though. I didn’t hear the phone beep. Was it on vibration mode? I didn’t hear any vibration either.

What I soon realised was that he wasn’t texting. He was playing some girlie porn clips he had stored in his phone. Realising that, I gave him a knowing smile, and he smiled back a little sheepishly. Here evidently, was a straight boy trying hard to please his customer.

Let me start from the beginning.

Diamond Sanctuary wasn’t hard to find, though there were no easy transport options to its location except by taxi. From KL Sentral – the main railway station in the heart of Kuala Lumpur – it took about 20 minutes and cost 13 ringgit. Armed with directions I had picked up from the web – you will see clear directions and a map in Directions to Diamond Sanctuary – I managed to find it with no difficulty at all.

The front door was kept locked; one has to ring a doorbell to gain entry. But the welcome was warm. Two small, very gay twinks helped me remove my shoes and “socking” and store them away, after which, one of them sat very, very close to me on the sofa to assist me in perusing the photo album. There were about 20 guys featured in there, of which perhaps 3 in 4 were said to be available. Most looked small and skinny even under their fashionable clothes. It wasn’t easy to choose, since, except for just one guy whose photo showed him topless, there was no way to gauge how their bodies would appear in real life.

Oh well, one had to decide based on their faces, I suppose, so I chose Fairuz.

“But before you call Fairuz out,” I said to Sit-very-close,  “How much?”

“50 ringgit for normal massage,” he said.

“What is normal massage?”

“One hour.”

“Oil?”

“Yes.”

“Naked?”

“Yes.”

“And for one and a half?” I asked further.

“70 ringgit.”

“Alright, let’s do one and a half, then,” I decided.

Very-close then showed me to a room – the best room they had, it seems, since there was no other customer around. It was the furthest from the lobby.

“I need to shower first,” I said.

“Oh, the toilet is the other side,” he advised, pointing to the back of the unit. “I get you a towel.”

“But there’s a towel here,” I pointed out.

“Not for shower,” he said as he ran off. I had no chance to ask the reason for the difference.

He came back shortly after with a towel, helped me undress and personally showed me to the toilet.

“There’s no soap in here,” I said.

Three people then got involved to hunt down a new bar of soap.

The toilet-cum-shower room was clean enough, the toilet flush and instant water heater were in good working order, and I couldn’t complain having been given a brand new bar of soap.

After showering, I made my way back to the room by myself and still the masseur Fairuz was not there. So I lay down on the floor mattress to wait for him. Meanwhile, about the room. It was about 2.5 metre square with a massage table against one wall and a mattress on the floor. The mattress was prepared, but not the table, so it was obvious that the massage would take place on the floor. Why the table was not in use, I didn’t care to find out. Perhaps they felt that a table would be more impediment than help with the sexual coda to the massage?

Anyway, after about 2 minutes, I heard the door slide open and someone enter. Since my head was facing the other way, I couldn’t see who it was, nor did I need to. Some rustling sounds indicated that he removed his clothes. Then he got to work on my calves. Not a word had yet been spoken.

“Hello, my name is Mack,” I said to break the silence. “You must be Fairuz.”

It was obvious from the unintelligible reply that I wouldn’t be able to take the conversation much further. He didn’t speak a word of English.

His massage skills were poor. The pressure was good but the techniques were extremely limited. On the back of legs, he mostly plowed with the thumb. On the butt and the back, it was most palming, some thumblining and a brief attempt at elbowing. With such a limited repertory, there was, naturally, much repetition. Each stroke was also relatively short, travelling no further than 20 cm on average. I later discovered the reason why: He was using cream, not oil. Cream does not provide enough glide. Why Sit-very-close had told me oil at the start, I never figured out.

I also discovered what the other towel was for: to wipe off the cream after he had done a leg or some area.

After the turn-over, the massage simply petered out. There was some rubbing of the pectorals and the abdomen – for formality’s sake, I suppose – before Fairuz’s hands moved to my cock. That was about the first time I really opened my eyes to take a good look at him. He was about 20 – 24 years old, now with a goatee when the photo didn’t show one, body hair code 0B3, perhaps 174 cm tall, 60 kg (he said) and an Q1 (well, maybe Q2) in terms of body shape. Too skinny for me. Clearly, I had been misled by his loose clothing in the photo album.

Deciding that a handjob by a skinny lad wasn’t going to be a satisfactory conclusion, I made the usual move: I put him down on the mattress and asked him to cum for my viewing pleasure.

We all have our quirks. While I love body-to-body contact, hugging, cuddling and so forth, this can only be fun when there is at least a medium-sized guy to hold. To have a skinny guy would be like making love to a telephone pole. With straight skinny guys – and by the way, what I call skinny, many would call “slim”, so don’t imagine that Fairuz was skin and bones; he wasn’t – the only thrill I can get out of them is to make and watch them cum. That’s my quirk. A private masturbation show is what I would want.

Except that Fairuz couldn’t even get it up. For some five frustrating minutes, I was making no headway. That’s when he reached over to the side to pick up his cellphone.

That he had it at the ready suggested that it was a problem he knew to anticipate. This guy was 100 percent straight. Without girlie porn he couldn’t get a stiffy. But once he had something to watch, it was easy. It rose to about 13 cm, proportionately thick, circumcised (he was Muslim) and ramrod straight.

I also had some fun trying various rhythms when giving him a handjob. It’s amazing how different people can be. It turned out that Fairuz responded best to the upstroke, that is, with my hand going from shaft to tip, applying grip as I went, then loosening slightly on the downstroke, at a pace of roughly one upstroke per second (relatively slowly).

It was also interesting that at no time did Fairuz want to do himself. He was quite content to let me do him, allowing me to vary my grip and pacing. By my observation, most straight guys, when asked to do a “show”, would want to use their own hands.

Anyway, when I hit the magic rhythm that got him hardening conspicuously, I stayed with it. He then closed his eyes, let his hand holding the cellphone drop away and soon shuddered in orgasm.

Satisfied, I then let him jerk me off.

Massage rating 2/10. Sex 3/10. Tip to Fairuz: 50 ringgit (it would have been 30 if he didn’t cum).

One more surprise was to come. After wiping off the jizz on our bodies with the dry towel, he pushed open another door, one which I hadn’t noticed earlier. This door led to a small room – bare cement walls and floor – with a water tap and a large bucket beneath it. One could wash up here, Asian style, that is, by scooping water over one’s shoulder. There was a ready bar of soap too. Now, why didn’t Very-close tell me this room had a kind of attached bathroom? Why did he show me to the back toilet – the one without soap?

Perhaps because it was more presentable, with proper tiles, water heater and a toilet bowl. Probably for the best of intentions.

*

Cream massage, naked masseur, 60 minutes: 50 ringgit
Cream massage, naked masseur, 90 minutes, 70 ringgit

Diamond Sanctuary
Third floor
15-3-1 Jalan 2/50
Diamond Square (Block A)

Telephone: +6012 615 5857
Website: www.diamondsanctuary.com.my

Opens from 14:00 h to weekdays, noon to on Saturdays and Sundays.

See Directions to Diamond Sanctuary.

September 2009:

On the map, Emperor Massage looked some distance outside the centre of Kuala Lumpur, but it was actually just 15 minutes by the LRT train from Masjid Jamek station (which is kind of like the centre of the LRT system) to Tasik Selatan station, the one nearest to the shop. The shop itself was only 5 minutes’ walk from the latter station, albeit on the other side of an intimidating eight-lane highway.

Bin, the “in charge”, gave a warm welcome with a broad smile. He’s actually the best-looking guy in the place and I really should have taken him, but as always, I am never sure whether the guy who plays the role of captain is available, and I try not to cause offence. I think I will be a little more direct the next time I’m there.

There were eight others in the place, an eclectic mix of Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Nepali and Malaysians of Malay and Borneo ancestry. Some had their photos in an album, yet didn’t look a bit like their photos, others weren’t in the album but looked like someone else who was… eventually it got so confusing that I abandoned the album and looked around the two adjoining rooms instead. One room was for guests – some boys were there watching TV – and the other, separated by floor-to-ceiling glass, was for the boys to snooze in.

None caught my eye. Those from the Indian subcontinent I ruled out completely; they all looked too hairy for me, though I’m sure they would appeal to some others. That left just 4 guys, and almost by random fate, I picked Aris simply because he smiled at me. Aris was Malay Malaysian.

Emperor had a special offer, though how long it would last, I don’t know. “Only 50 ringgit for a massage,” Bin said, “with free scrub.”

“How long will the total session be?” asked this customer, who could more or less guess the answer.

“The massage is one hour,” Bin replied, “so the total is more than one hour.” Can’t say he was wrong there.

There were steel lockers for customers and I was invited to put my sling bag and dripping wet umbrella in there. I think the place deserves a plus for this; I feel a lot more secure with my camera and wallet locked away.

After changing into a towel, Aris led me to the scrub room. Which was a bit of a shock: Not the room, which, as I more or less expected, was a bare space with two shower heaters on the wall, but the scrub table. It literally was a marble table and immediately one made the association with morgues. Disturbing associations aside, the marble surface was also way too hard to be comfortable and my knees and ankles began to protest quite soon after climbing onto it.

The scrub – Aris was in shorts throughout – was a quick one, lasting no more than 10 minutes, with rapid sweeps of the hand across the back and the legs. He was much more thorough with the butt crack and the perineum, which gave me a sense of what I was going to get in the massage to follow. After the turnover, the scrub of the front of the body was even more perfunctory, except for scrubbing the glans. Such selective attention to detail!

During the massage, in which he was nude, I got a good look at him. He was about 30 years old, approximately 170 cm tall, 65 – 70 kg, getting a little thick in the waist, so I would assign him a body shape code W3F+c, with almost no body hair, 0A0. His English was more than sufficient for conversation. His cock, as I would later discover, was about 15 cm, proportionately thick and cut.

The cream massage itself, with him often sitting astride my buttocks, I would rate 1/10. Now, what could deserve that low rating? This: a few thumb-plowing strokes para-spinally, circularly around the butt cheeks and up and down the calves. After the turnover, some “getting-to-know-you” brushing of the front of the thighs and a little work up the sides of the neck. And that’s that.

Mostly, his hands were in my perineum, around the butthole, on the scrotum, up the cock. His own cock was strategically placed to remain in contact with me nearly all the time, though he wasn’t hard.

The result was that the “massage” was really little more than foreplay, and I would hazard the guess that it would be the same with any other masseur from Emperor since they seem to be using casual workers from other countries (Pakistan, Bangladesh, etc) rather than long-staying staff. How much training can one give to “masseurs” who’re in Malaysia for just a month or two on tourist visas?

Making up for the pathetic massage skills, the sex was better. Aris hugged, kissed, and allowed himself to be ravished. He came fairly easily in considerable spurts. Rating 5/10.

Post massage, Bin engaged me in conversation, enquiring if I was satisfied and providing more information about other available boys. I shan’t bother to repeat what he said here since I’m sure they will have been replaced by new staff by the time readers get to Emperor Foreplay – oops, I mean Emperor Massage – But if you’re keen on a selection from some other countries, Emperor may be a good bet for you. You may also want to note that they seem to be selecting for masculine-looking guys medium to tall with a fair number of “imports” from the subcontinent.

The massage rooms were tiny, being no more than 1.7 by 2.7 metres. The partitions went three-quarters the way up and the mattresses were on the floor.

*

60 minutes cream massage – oil didn’t seem to be an option – 50 ringgit, with free body scrub.

Emperor Massage
5th floor (topmost floor)
40-5, Jalan 3/146
Tasik Selatan

Phone +60 3 9057 0820, +60 13 346 5189.
No website. No name card.

Open from 13:00h to 01:00h daily.

See Directions to Emperor Massage.

September 2009:

Over the next two weeks, I will be writing about three massage parlours which I visited for the first time in a recent visit to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. What was striking about Emperor Massage, Diamond Sanctuary and Havenn Massage was how different their boys were, one shop from another.

In Thailand, all the masseurs are Thai. Physiques naturally vary. For example, some places specialise in the small, twinky type, others in the bigger, muscled type. In Malaysia, however, many of the working boys are from other countries, so in addition to variation in physique, there is also variation in ethnicity.

The purpose of this preliminary post is to help readers decide which place might meet their taste, so you don’t waste time going to the “wrong” one – if ethnicity is important to you.

Diamond Massage had local boys of Malay ethnicity. They were mostly slim and sometimes gay twinky. The one I took was straight, however, but slim, almost skinny like the rest. Fairuz was  about 20-24 years old, and a Q1 or Q2 in body shape. He was about 174 cm tall, 57 – 60 kg, body hair 0B3.

I believe he’d be quite typical of other boys whom I saw in their photo album. So if you’re into twinks, go to Diamond Sanctuary.

In the illustration below, Fairuz is represented by the middle figure.

Emperor Massage had a mix of local Malay masseurs and imported talent – from Pakistan, Bangladesh and Nepal. The general impression I got looking around the room was that they were masculine-looking, medium to tall, naturally of dark complexion with a number of them quite hairy.

Not keen on body hair, I chose Aris, a local Malay. He was about 30 years old, about 170 cm tall, body shape W3F+c (i.e. with squarish shoulders) with noticeable thickening of the waist. I estimated his weight to be 65 – 70 kg. Body hair 0A0, which would probably make him unusually smooth for the place.

None of the guys in Emperor looked effeminate. So if you like dark, medium to tall men from the Indian subcontinent, this is the place for you.

Havenn Massage in Miharja had only ethnic Chinese masseurs. There was one present who was Chinese Malaysian, but the rest were from China. What was outstanding about Havenn was that almost to a man, their masseurs had great physiques and quite handsome faces.

Bendong, who served me, was probably typical of the crew. He was 24 years old, an S3M, 178 cm tall, 72 kg and smooth – body hair code 0A1. He was very fair, as mainland Chinese often are.

*

The prices and expected tips, I believe, reflect the market demand for each of these types. Comparing 60-minute, naked massage,

Diamond Sanctuary: 50 ringgit
Emperor Massage: 50 ringgit (with free body scrub)
Havenn Massage: 60 ringgit.

Havenn’s price premium does not look like much, but the expected tip is more than twice as much there compared to the other places. Fairuz and Aris in Diamond and Emperor respectively looked happy with 50 ringgit; they did not negotiate beforehand. At Havenn, Bendong asked for 150 ringgit fairly early in the session and we settled on 120. In the end, I gave him a bit more – 130 ringgit – because he did seem to give his best.

July 2009:

Bangkok is a one-of-a-kind city. It has massage parlours everywhere. In virtually every district, not just the tourist centres, there’d be a soi or two that boasts of a number of them.

In Horny in the sticks too, I wrote about Sukhumvit Soi 77/1 way out near the last station on the BTS line – On Nut. There are numerous massage shops along a 200-metre stretch, including one called Dalha, in which my masseur was only too glad to escape from his clothes.

Closer in to the city centre, a short walk from Phrom Phong station, is another lane chockful of massage parlours. It’s a subsoi of Sukhumvit Soi 24, directly opposite the side entrance to the high-end shopping mall Emporium.

Incredibly, or maybe not so incredibly – this is Thailand, after all – one of the shops advertises itself in gay publications  (See post by Sextile in Cruising for sex, 29 April 2009). It’s called “24 Massage”. Like most of the shops in this alley, it had foot massage loungers in its front room visible through the glass. Oil massage rooms are either at the back or upstairs.

Sometimes I feel like taking the challenge of going on an expedition to some of the remoter places advertising in gay maps and booklets. The intrepid explorer in me wants to get going. But it won’t be easy. Usually, their address is given only in Thai, and if you call to call for directions, you have to speak Thai too.

There’s Private 22 in a garden house off Phaholyothin Soi 8 (walkable from Ari BTS station), Ima Spa on Pradipat Road (Sapan Khwai BTS station), and Bodyline at Intramara Soi 32 (Sutthisan MRT station). I believe Bodyline is related to Bento in some way.

Away from train lines, there’s Aromass out at Bangkapi, and Blue Lotus some distance up Ekkamai Road.

There’s Heimayan spa at Vibhawadi Soi 50, more than halfway to Don Muang airport (though it doesn’t stop them from claiming that they are located “in the heart of the city” on their website), and if that’s not challenge enough, there’s 88 Massage on Tivanon road, Soi 21 Raewadee. Where’s that? It’s in Nonthaburi province on the northwest fringes of Bangkok.

Then common sense slaps me. What is the point of going all the way out there – Bangkok’s traffic is not to be trifled with – when there are so many options closer to the tourist areas? On the other hand, you don’t know what you may be missing. There are gems out there…. like in Blue Lotus which I visited recently. Report to follow.

September 2009:

For the first time in twenty years of visiting Thailand, I finally came across a massage place that had a feedback form. Urban Male’s manager handed me the simple form – I think there were only five or six questions – when I came downstairs after the massage. It gives a good impression; hopefully they act on the responses.

The kink they need to work out, though, is that of the massage boy standing close by as you complete the form. Standing close by is part of the custom of having the service worker continue serving you with a drink, etc, until a goodbye is said at the door, a custom that is very much appreciated, except for the fact that a little privacy would be good when giving feedback, especially if it’s going to be negative.

Unfortunately, in this case, it was partly so.

Sao was a young man, aged 21, 172 cm tall, 68 kg, body shape code something in between S2 and S3R, with very little English. He began by soaping and showering me before commencing the massage. He worked in the nude.

It was obvious from the variety of strokes he used that he had received some formal training. He did effleurage, para-spinal thumb-lining, peri-scapula draining, forearming, etc. However, he seemed a little too keen to indicate sexual intent, and thus some strokes veered off course to brush the nether regions. Most disappointing of all, however, was that his pressure was far too light. It was more a case of caressing than massage.

I also noted that after the turn-over, he did the arms, but skipped the front of legs. Massage rating 3/10.

How representative he was of the general standard of massage at Urban Male is impossible to tell.

As for afters, Sao was ready and obliging. He was hard almost on command – and what a beauty it was too, a good 15 cm and thicker than average  -  but also was able to read the cue that I preferred to take the initiative. Accordingly, he mostly laid back to be “worked” upon, which was what I did to my heart’s content. 5/10.

After we had both come, he washed me down in the shower again.

—

Urban Male occupies a townhouse along Sukhumvit Soi 23, about 450 -500 metres from the main Sukhumvit Road. The interior leaves one in no doubt that it is the work of a professional interior designer. There is a modern elegance with a controlled spareness, that exudes calm and escape.

The front ground floor space is the reception and sitting area, which looks up to a small gym on the glassed-in mezzanine. Massage rooms – I am told there are six, two of which have twin massage tables – are located on the 3rd and 4th levels.

Even though I came alone, I was assigned a double room. The photo at right is probably of the room I used. It had mirrors on both side walls, and a shower space (with two shower heads) separated by plate glass from the massage area. The room was as beautifully set up as the lobby.

The towels were clean, thick and fluffy.

One flaw: for all that trouble and expense, why, oh why, do these places not have face-wells on their massage tables? Why must customers keep their heads and necks uncomfortably turned when lying on their tummies?

—

I was the second customer of the day, arriving at 16:55 h. Seven boys made a line up for my selection, with the farang owner (?) hovering in the background. Generally,  the boys were tallish and masculine looking, but did not strike me as the muscular sort.  Three or four could be described as lean athletic. In other words, they were mostly S2. Most kept their shirts on during the line-up.

Charges:

• Aroma massage, 60 minutes: 600 baht
• Aroma massage, 90 minutes: 800 baht
• Aroma massage, 120 minutes: 1,000 baht
• Scrub and massage, 90 minutes, 1,200 baht.

There were four essential oils to choose from; I chose ylang-ylang. Minimum tip 1,000 baht.

Website: www.urbanmalemassage.com

Open from 13:00 h to 23:00 h daily.

Phone +66 2 258 2430

For location, see Directions to Asoke area.

September 2009:

For the sake of this blog, even though I had no intention of offing a gogo bar that night, I enquired about the current bar fine. “How much do I pay the bar to take a boy off?” I asked a waiter at Dream Boy Bangkok.

“Five hundred baht,” was the answer. It was the highest of all the Bangkok bars, but was unchanged from about a year ago.

That done, I thought I could just sit back and watch the show, which should be starting in about fifteen minutes’ time. But before I could even lean back, the waiter asked, “Who you like?”

“No, I was just asking,” I said. “In any case, if I want someone, I know what to do.”

That bought me two minutes before the next “Which boy you like?”. And so it went. The waiter just stood there, a metre from me, for the better part of an hour. Every few minutes, he would pester me to invite a boy over for a drink. It was annoying.

And it wasn’t even as if there were no other customers for him to serve. The bar was about full, and other staff were busy hauling out extra stools for more arrivals. There were orders to be taken, drinks to be served, but this guy just rooted himself virtually at my elbow asking the same damn question every minute or two. Even the customer on the other side of me had to get service from a different waiter, the rooted one being unwilling to leave his spot beside me to fetch the customer a drink. Amazing.

Such bizarre behaviour is often explained by self-interest, and self-interest is usually the result of some weird incentive scheme set up by the employer.  So I asked myself, not that I could arrive at any answer: Why was it in his interest to do as he did? I figured that he most likely saw the chance of earning some commission. Yet, he was not a mamasan. From his uniform, I could see he was an entry-level waiter. Why was it so important to him to succeed in getting me to hook a boy that he would risk his relationships with his co-workers by not helping out when everybody else was working hard?  Do waiters get commissions when a boy is offed? Or when a drink is bought by a customer for a boy? What skewed incentive scheme is in operation here?

It is times like these when I wonder if the gogo business is some kind of devil’s game perversely designed to be self-destructive, to drive the bar and the entire industry to ruin.  In particular, I suspect there are layers and layers of rent-seekers that suck money like leeches from the price of drinks and the “tips” we pay the gogo boys. Unlike the massage business which seems a whole lot more straightforward.

Coming soon will be a story about a mamasan at Dream Boy.