The Female “Happy Ending” Massage

by Melissa Lafsky

Chemistry with your masseur is a key factor, and one that can’t always be controlled. But if it’s present, the possibilities are endless. “I was going through a divorce and feeling like hell,” said Alexa, a 30-year-old attorney. “So I went to a high-end spa for a massage, and the only person available was a guy—I was nervous, I’d never had a man massage me before. He ended up being so hot. I was turned on the whole time, but nothing happened. Then I went back two weeks later. I was on my stomach while he massaged my back, and when I turned around, topless, we started making out. He said, ‘I can’t do this, it’s unprofessional,’ so we stopped. But when I went back a third time, we ended up having sex in the massage room. After that, we started dating.”

Nonetheless, it’s important to remember that the risks can be high for massage therapists. Every state (save Nevada and Rhode Island) considers prostitution illegal, and in some states it can lead to months of jail time. Also upping the ante is the gray area surrounding sexual assault, generally defined as nonconsensual touching of the genital area.

So how hard is it to find that perfect massage combination of chemistry, timing, setting, and mood? I hit the massage tables to find out. Stop No. 1 was Cornelia Day Spa on Fifth Avenue, known for its Chanel-clad clientele and handsome male staff. I booked a Swedish massage and showed up with high expectations. But after 60-minutes of awkwardness peppered with a few moans that provoked no response besides “Is the pressure OK?” I decided to call in reinforcements. So I dispatched a sexy and adventurous friend, Joanna, on a spa mini-marathon, with instructions to request a male massage therapist and, if possible, end each massage with a big finish.

Her first stop was Great Jones Spa, a relaxation Mecca for the downtown set. “It was definitely a ‘my husband is a venture capitalist, I eat vegan and live in a loft’ kind of crowd,” said Joanna, who made sure to request “the best man you have” for her Swedish massage. The result was Andy, a pony-tailed Adonis with bicep tattoos and a winning smile. As he massaged her thighs, she flirted with comments like, “That feels sooo good” and “Feel free to keep going.” At first, her advances brought no response, but after a while he treated her to a polite, non-judgmental lecture about how “going there” was against the rules, and he loved his job too much to put it at risk.

“I was feeling a little rejected,” Joanna said. “But after it was over, he rushed out to the waiting room to introduce me to his girlfriend—apparently she was nearby—and asked if I wanted to ‘hang out’ with the two of them sometime. So I felt better—though I said no.”