Victoria @ Bellagio
Had it really been a year since I last been to The โGio?โฆSame back-alley parking, same neon "Open" sign, same dread that I must push on throughโฆ
โฆI get my eyes accustomed to the foyer. A water stand, some chocolate boxes, andโฆ
โTake your shoes offโ said a new-faced girl, not unkindly, who may have been asked to be receptionist when not busyโฆ.Hope sheโs not always this not busyโฆ
โIโm here for VictoriaโโฆI said from my end. A few Chinese words down the hallway later, and then there she was - this young Chinese girl-woman, slim legs in adorable knee high socks, climbing up to wide hips, pleated mini skirt and matching knit sweater tight as a barflyโs grip, tastefully legal, but promising trouble. Sheโs not at all like her spa-posted meme, but sheโs attractive in her own way as they sayโฆ
Victoria shows me the roomโฆI wanted a shower and I pointed across the hall. She offered the big table shower room down back, but I wasnโt in for that. She left the room to let me undressโฆI slipped on the bathrobe and slinked across to shower my way to respectability. Stepped out dripping, reached for a towelโnothing. Not a damn rag in sight. Stood there wet, cursing under my breath, and finally yanked back on that thin green bathrobe. Felt like a soggy dishrag. Shuffled back across the hall like a drowned bum in a cheap hospital gown.
Roomโs dim, and on the massage bedโs a small towel, folded neat, mocking me. Guess I was supposed to clairvoyant that shit and grab it before the shower. Too late nowโrobeโs soaked, Iโm half-pissed.
Victoria knocked and re-entered. She went out to get me another towelโฆgood girl.
Her English is impressive-no stumbling, her charming accent not thick enough to trip overโand sheโs chatting me up while I flatten onto the table.
Hands stroke my back, soft, reaching in like sheโs quietly looking for car keys. Then she asks if she can climbs up, barefoot, and starts back-walking โlittle steps, pressing out the knots like sheโs pressing out a cigarette. Itโs a little shaky but good, Iโll give her that. Sheโs under a hundred pounds Iโd wager. Muscles give up their fight, aches bleed out slow, and Iโm almost human again.
We keep talking - cooking, Asian culture, gym culture, accountingโ itโs all clean, decent, and Iโm dying like a celibate monk. I grunt, toss a line or two, and she laughs, low and lazy. Couldโve been a barstool yap if I wasnโt sprawled out under her feet. But weโre having the kind of chat you do with the new office co-op, professional and not flirtatiousโฆand now Iโm losing my mind.
Hourโs up, she hops off, and then weโreโฆdone?! Victoria goes out to get hot towels, wipes me down proper, and thatโs it. No wink, no whisper, no โanything elseโ vibe. Just a thanks and a see-you-later, like Iโd come for a damn oil change. The air had that hum, you know? That maybe hum. But nahโtoday, for me, sheโs a solid professional, ice-cold in that miniskirt. Iโm out sixty bucks, back feeling looser, but the shower towel screw-up and her no-extras routine leave a sour taste. Outside the room where she said she would wait, I gave her a twenty tip for single service rendered. No hard feelings. Literally.
Sheโs got the ingenue vibe, the voice, the legs to stop traffic, thereโs reasons why sheโs busyโฆbut would I repeat? With no towels in the beginning, and only hot towels in the endโฆtoday the Gioโkes on me.