Meeting Strangers While Naked - A True Test of Courage.
By Me and My Merrells on April 09, 2014
The pool on the far left should have come with a warning sign; something like, “You Might Die of Shock”, would have been appropriate. It was the cold pool – cold like dipping yourself into some glacial mountain pond in the spring time Alps cold – cold like “There be icebergs ahead!” cold. Damn cold. I managed two – very brief, like ‘don’t blink’ brief – foot dips into this pool, both after a prolonged simmering in the hot pool.
The water was crystal clear without a single ripple, kinda like how I imagine the river Styx being. My legs from the knees down literally went numb in about the space of 2 minutes. One girl claimed it was so cold it made her skin itch; I was kind enough to point out that the ‘itching’ feeling was actually the feeling of her blood rapidly leaving the outermost tissues – the beginnings of localized hypothermia.
The pool had built-in benches like the other two pools – who would actually take the time to SIT in there?!? – but unlike the medium and hot pools they were empty. During our entire stay at the spa – a span of some 5 hours – I only saw one woman get completely into the cold pool and even she failed to park a seat; she emerged seconds after she entered with thin blue lips and the hardest puckered tits I’d ever seen. It takes a special kind of masochist to sit in that pool on those frozen benches.
During all the multi-temp pool hopping I had been watching the line of women getting spa services ebb and flow. It had been months – maybe a year? – since I had gotten a massage, and while I couldn’t recall ever receiving a ‘body scrub’ it sounded like something healthful and nice. Curiosity got the better of me and I signed up for a ‘Body Scrub and Massage’ combo; the first of my wrist waving purchases. It would be a two and a half hour wait.
“That’s fine,” my friend sighed leisurely from under the heat lamp that we had all taken refuge beneath; reclining in absolute abandon. “We’ll be here for hours, all night if you want, they’re open 24 hours.” The three of us talked about boyfriends – or my lack of one, old friends, and what was on the cafeteria menu – this subject was far more important than boyfriends anyway – as we continued to lie naked on the floor beneath the heat lamp – light in the 633 nm range was reported to be good for the skin – completely oblivious to all other concerns of the world. I had literally never felt more hedonistic.
After dressing in our matching spa uniforms – a sight that gave me just a little sense of unease as they reminded me of a similar gym-type uniform I’d seen in pictures from soviet era Russian ‘youth camps’ – very George Orwell a la 1984; any sense of brainwashed uniformity always made me edgy – we ventured out into the communal area. The first thing that I noticed – and this with squealed delight – was that the tiled floors were heated. Every step was like walking on sun warmed stone. There was a large regular swimming pool off to the side behind the cafeteria; I observed that no one was swimming in it. Who would when you could go naked back in the girl only ‘just right’ pool?
There were several appealing features to the communal area. The first of these was the cafeteria. It was as authentic a real Korean short-order kitchen as you’d get this side of Seoul; even the menus were in Korean with smaller English translations for the items underneath. Everything looked good – Kimchi stew with savory pork belly? Yes, please! – I got the dumplings with a Pineapple smoothie. Halfway through my dumplings ‘friend number two’ arrived. She was a hugger with a booming genuine laugh; I liked huggers. I also liked that we were meeting for the first time with clothes on; even if neither of us had undies on.
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