Salon Salubrity

My racks of frustration and boredom were greatly eased this day (excuse my air of imperiousness the following has got to my head a little). On insistence from Lemon's mum that I not be bored, myself, Lemon, her mum, her mum's mate and Driver Uncle, went to a VIP massage salon. VIP means that you get your own room (5 of us together I mean) serviced with tea and telly, and ease back on a leather lazy-boy whilst the manually skilled young girls and boys treat you to a neck and foot massage. Naturally, the opposing gender is required to service the guest, so Lemon's mum and her friend went out to find the prettiest girl for me (they make no prudish bones about that kind of thing - it's fairly obvious if someone is attractive or not, and you are quite at liberty to say so), and some handsome young gentlemen for themselves. After the neck massage, the masseu-r/sse plies one's foot with a scraping blade, then massages from foot to knee, over the course of an hour and a half. Lemon's mum had a double service, with two young gents, one massaging, one performing a pedicure. It was just the thing to wind down after a hard day of doing nothing. The cost was something like $NZ4 per hour each.