Susan’s Massage

Let’s just say if you like ‘em 50 + yrs old hurry! This is your dream spa. Nice people. They understood my look of «really»? and played along. Actually added a star for coolness.

Bring enough $$, and you’ll experience plenty.

I always smirk when I walk past this place.
Susan’s Massage
Red Lights
Red Curtains
Red Steel Bars
*smirks
*remembers story of how friend witnessed a homicide on this block and picks up the pace

*Author’s note: hope not to discredit Susan’s Massage parlor if this is not the establishment draped in red curtains with white iron-​clad security fencing surrounding all doors and windows in the Tenderloin district…*
I admittedly was just curious to find out what was inside this sleazy locale, so after a long Friday afternoon of happy hours, my friend and I buzzed the doorbell and waited for the latch to open.
And open it did… into a fantasy land of plush faux velvet drapery and dark-​tinted magical massage mastery. We stepped inside and were greeted by whom I now imagine must be Susan herself: all 4’10″ of her late-​middle-​aged thai masseuseness.
This is unfortunately where the fantasy ended. Susan demanded $ 50 for 40 minutes of «satisfaction guaranteed» massage in the back parlor. My friend and I balked and asked for happy hour pricing. Susan countered with «you boys look like you need to let us help you relax». My friend retorted with «I would rather see how tense we get the rest of the evening, then possibly come back». I completed the transaction with «can you please unlocked the iron-​clad inner massage prison door please». We were soon outside again, looking for food to quench the flames of passion that had been started by Susan’s steely stare.
On a positive customer service note, when my friend and I straggled by Susan’s at approximately 3am following one absolutely ridiculous night on the ‘loin, she was ready. Before I could even make a careless passing remark about the earlier encounter, the iron-​clad Susandoor buzzed open and a chubby hand reached out into the early morning air, beckoning…
We ran.