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Reflexology and Urut Batin Therapists in Kuala Lumpur

Reflexology and Urut Batin Therapists

Reflexology and Urut Batin Therapists

Charles Chow and I are travelling to a shophouse in Puchong. Raindrops are hitting the road so hard that they shatter and bounce back up in little ring patterns like tiny figures in white tutus dancing on the road surface. He manages to find a parking lot after circling a block of shops. Carrying umbrellas, we slosh through rain water on the tarmac to the covered pedestrian walkway.

We goose-step to a lot with a signboard that says ‘Li Jin Reflexology Centre’ and stomp up the stairs. We push open a tinted glass door to enter a bright room about the size of a badminton court. On one wall is a foot reflexology chart measuring three feet by five feet. Seven ladies, dressed in all manner of titillation, are sitting on two couches set against a wall. Ten reclining chairs and a chestnut-coloured counter make up the other furniture. At the counter, the pimp – with a pompadour of brown hair – grins, nods at us and straightens up. His bronzed arms are a rolling terrain of muscle and tattoo ink.

Charles approaches the flesh-peddler, and I stand beside him. ‘What services you have?’ he asks. ‘I mean, apart from reflexology, anything else?’

‘We have special and authentic services,’ says the pimp, his voice like a motorcycle’s rumble. ‘Number two, number four and number six are trained in reflexology. But they can give hand job. But if you want a sex reflexology package, try number sixty-nine.’ He points with a thrust of his jaw towards a willowy woman around thirty years old. ‘She’s performs the helicopter.’

‘What? Helicopter?’

‘Helicopter sex is famous in Shanghai. Very hard to get in KL. Only lou chiok (veterans) can perform this act.’ The pimp raises a finger, twirls it above his head and chortles, displaying crooked teeth. ‘Will be an exciting new experience for you.’



Charles reflexology in Kuala Lumpur

Charles reflexology in Kuala Lumpur

‘Two hundred and thirty ringgit, reflexology bundled in.’

Charles and I regard the helicopter-sex provider. She’s wearing a pink, V-necked bandage dress, and is tall and lanky with narrow shoulders. Her arms dangle a mile out of her sleeves, and her frame appears loosely hung together.

‘If I don’t take the reflexology, can or not?’

‘Reflexology’s our registered business. You’ve to pay the reflexology fee whether you want her to perform it or not.’

‘What about reflexology alone?’

‘Fifty, half an hour. Don’t be calculative. Has lots of health benefits.’

Charles asks: ‘Who are number two, four and six?’

The pimp, Charles and I turn to eye the row of women. ‘Number two’s wearing floral print dress,’ the hustler says. Her face is like a wrinkled peach. ‘Number four in t-shirt.’ Her hair hangs in little rolled clusters, like sausages, and her eyes are wide-spaced. ‘Number six, dark slacks.’ Her heavy-lidded eyes and the disorder of her ebony hair make her appear sleepy.

Charles scrutinizes the helicopter-sex provider again. ‘I’ll take the special helicopter package.’

‘Enjoy yourself,’ I say to Charles. ‘I’ll wait for you.’ I settle down on a sofa.

Two hours later, Charles and I are speeding away from Puchong on the highway back to the city. ‘How was the package?’ I ask.

In Charles’ recollection, a jimber-jawed woman with grey hair leads him down a passage to the back area. A wooden built-in closet stands near a kitchen countertop. It measures about six feet high, three feet wide and two feet broad. The woman opens the door of the closet to reveal a pile of old newspapers stacked three feet high. She knocks on the wooden back of the closet, which swings open. The woman side-steps the newspapers and goes through the entryway to an open area, with Charles in tow.


Asian girls in Kuala Lumpur

Asian girls in Kuala Lumpur

A young Myanmar national closes the secret door and slumps back on his chair. ‘Where are we?’ Charles asks.

‘Adjacent shoplot.’ She leads him to a room, switches on the air-conditioner, and a frigid blast of air chills his skin. Charles sits on the mattress on the floor, his back propped up against the wall by pillows. Mirrors are fitted on the ceiling and one wall. Enter the therapist with a plastic basket containing her accroutrements. She exchanges niceties with Charles and introduces herself as Mongmong, hailing from Anhui, China.

She accompanies him to the bathroom to wash his feet. The water heater isn’t working but Charles doesn’t mind and he returns to lie on the mattress. Mongmong sits with legs crossed and puts a folded tower under one of Charles’s feet. She starts by using the thumb and forefinger to press the underside of his toes.

‘Ouch!’ Charles grimaces. ‘Not so hard.’

After squeezing his toes, she forms a fist and drives the middle knuckle into the soles of his feet, twisting at the same time. ‘Now, it’s painful. Later you’ll enjoy pleasure.’

‘Enough, enough,’ Charles says, after only fifteen minutes.

The therapist strips and leads Charles to frolic under the icy shower. After drying off, they get in the reverse missionary position. She arches her back, raises her hands and legs and straightens them.

‘Spin me!’ she says. ‘Push... Push...’

With both hands, Charles turns her body in a circular motion. ‘Hiiiiiiiiiiiiyaaah!’ She builds the rotating momentum by pushing herself against the mattress.

‘Yaaaaaaaaaaaah!’ Charles yelps in pleasure, his face is like that of a boy enjoying a carousel ride.


Chinese girl theraphy

Chinese girl theraphy

They perform the helicopter position for more than half an hour, with Mongmong spinning like a propeller. They swap positions and Charles does the rotating until he gives his hot surrender.

In the car, Charles continues: ‘Hey, something’s wrong. I’m cold. My manhood seems numb, cannot feel anything. I’m also nauseous. Maybe, I caught a chill just now.’

I throw a swift sideways glance at him. ‘Better see a Chinese sinseh (traditional physician).’ His forehead is beaded with sweat and his face is pale. ‘Go to Old Kelang Road. I know a sinseh there.’

‘Anything to get myself cured!’

I direct Charles to a Chinese herbal medicine store. The sinseh is sitting at a desk in a corner of the shop, in consultation with an old patient. Two matronly women come in and sit on a bench to wait their turns. The old patient goes away and it is Charles’ turn. He sits at the sinseh’s desk, resting his hand on a small pillow, and explains his physical condition.

The sinseh, a middle-aged man with a lean face, feels his pulse with his fingers. ‘Are you married?’


‘Did you kiew kai (go to prostitute)?’

The two matronly women giggle and slap their knees.

Charles’ face blushes and turns as red as a ruby. ‘Er – er – yes.’

‘Wind has affected you,’ the sinseh says, his expression like stone. ‘Drinking excessive cold water after sex, too much oral sex, over-masturbation and exposure to cold wind after sex are possible causes. They result in too much yin. In severe cases, they can cause suo yang.’

‘What’s that?’ Charles asks.

The sinseh suddenly speaks in English: ‘Suo yang is koro or genital retraction.’ He writes a prescription of herbs on a pad and tears out one sheet. ‘Add three bowls of water, boil until only one bowl remains.’


Reflexology and Urut Batin Therapists in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia
Reflexology and Urut Batin Therapists in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia
Reflexology and Urut Batin Therapists in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia
Reflexology and Urut Batin Therapists in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia


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Charles and I regard the helicopter-sex provider. She’s wearing a pink, V-necked bandage dress, and is tall and lanky with narrow shoulders. Her arms dangle a mile out of her sleeves, and her frame appears loosely hung together.