GHAFLA EXPLORES: If You Thought Massaging Is The Only Activity That Takes Place In Nairobi’s Massage Parlors, You’re Terribly Wrong….. I Went To One This Past Weekend And These Are The Unbelievable Services I Was Offered

I have a knack for adventure and as I am sitting like a tightly coiled spring bored in my apartment on the evening of the last Friday of January, I make a decision to visit a massage parlor. I am eager to know if the stories about ‘happy endings’ are just gross exaggerations or the worst kept secrets. So I check my account via phone to see if my salary has reflected and it’s a go

I’ve heard that because the term ‘massage parlor’ has negative connotations nowadays, most respectable places that offer the ‘body rub’ now refer to themselves as day spas or therapy centers. And that’s exactly what i find when I reach the building I have been directed to by a friend who has been at the same place before. It’s labeled blab bla bla spa on the outside and I think it’s appropriate not to name it. From the outside, it looks like any other high end shop. To an untrained eye, not accustomed to seeking out a storefront massage parlors, the grimy red awning is virtually invisible among the artisanal coffee shops and cyber cafes. But to connoisseur, the red lights mean ‘pleasure.’

My heart beats a little faster as I approach the place but I do my best to remain calm.

At the reception, I meet a well-groomed man. His head is shaved smooth as a baby’s bottom. His edged beard is clipped close at it forms a goatee and he looks funny. I almost retreat but then he quickly starts a conversation, eager to not let business slide. He asks me a couple of questions just to make sure I am not a cop or journalist before groaning out the word “karibu” and directing me to a hot mamii seated at another desk on the room. The hot mamiii happens to be the supervisor of the girls. She asks me if I have gotten massages before, to which I reply,

“I’ve had non-therapeutic massages before.” Which is the lingo for , “I want a happy ending.”. She smiles before enlightening me on the packages.

She says there’s the Sh 2000 package for the normal 45 minute massage, or the Sh 3500 for a massage plus oral gratification and then there’s SH 5000 for massage plus kukuta vitu. Wow. Apparently, there are also different types of massages such as the Asian shiatsu, deep tissue, swedish or the drill. I say I’ll go with the drill. She then informs me that a customer can also make an order for a girl to come to your place and that’ will cost you Sh 8000 going upwards depending on the things you want her to do and the amount of time spent.

Customers of the ‘happy ending’ get a kinky benefit too. They are allowed to choose whether they like their masseuse to be fully clothed, topless, wearing a g-string or completely nude while giving them the massage

I ask if I can start with the basic massage with the option of adding more money for ‘ a little something extra’ as time goes, and the ‘nameless’ supervisor agrees. I am directed to a private room in which I am told to undress, wrap a towel and lie on the bed while waiting for my designated masseuse to arrive.

The girl arrives and she’s hot AF. Just what I expected, creamy and boasting of curves like a magnificently sculpted statue. I stare into her warm dark eyes that have a constant sparkle of mischief. They have a certain kind of fire in them. A fire so strong that I am immediately lit. I am tempted to immediately add the ‘happy ending package’ but I wait. With mellow coos, she asks me to lie on my back and close my eyes. I dutifully oblige and let my mind drift upon the wave she’s creating. The sweet scent of flowers outside mingles with that of her perfume. And as she opens the oil bottle and begins spreading it on my back, my nose almost gets blown away. Everything else is magical

She’s clearly an expert but the way she does her job is good that I’m inclined to think the girls do this in order to get men to ask for the ‘extra services.’ They want you to cough out more money even if you didn’t want to.

I don’t even realize it when the 45 minutes are over. But I have to go. There’s a disappointed look on her face as I tell Jacky I won’t be staying any longer. On my way out, I see lots mzungus and pot-bellied men entering the seedy establishment. Some are still pulling into the driveway. They are definitely going to get some. Perhaps I’ll come back another day when the dry spell is real. I’m just not ready to pay for s3x right now.

Those are Nairobi’s massage parlors for you