Prostitution in Malaysia is tolerated but I was unable to determine if it was outright legal. The principal religion is Muslim, which should mean that commercial sex should be in short supply. As a more modern society (by my western standards), there appeared few traditional garb, veils or headdresses and yet plenty of drinking establishments. As for drugs, well, if you’re caught bringing drugs into the country, they kill you. Really.
I could find no evidence of a red light district. Instead they have health clubs. While you can find plenty of legitimate massage salons, a little imagination and a quick phone call will establish whether or not you receive a massage of your back or your, um, front. Most of the commercial establishments are clearly marked and range from high end to low end depending upon the neighborhood, size and other factors. The big surprise for me was learning that most of the major hotels cater to our most intimate needs. Even the old Holiday Inn had a brothel – just imagine the marketing potential!
The majority of the hotels in Kuala Lumpur are located in the same general area, just down the hill from the KL tower and not far from the twin towers (the one with the bridge connecting them). My first night in the city, jet lagged and exhausted, had me wandering up the street from my hotel to enjoy the heat and humidity of the city. I was approached several times by men offering their business cards and offering “young girls” for escort and massage. During the course of my week’s stay, I collected over a dozen different cards on a section of road less than a kilometer long. Prices were around 200MYR (Malaysian Ringgits, about 50USD) for an hour. An “all night” option of 6-8 hours was also available. Interestingly enough, the cost of a Malay girl verses a Chinese or other “imported” girl varied widely. Some told me that local girls cost more, others explained that the foreign girls cost more.
I’m not thrilled with the idea of having a young lady appear at my hotel door without having an opportunity to meet her first. I soon learned that the women are driven around in a car and you can actually choose from the three or four working that evening. While I never did partake, I did happen upon another gentleman employing such services and was rather pleased with the selection available in the car. My plan was to experience the local health club.
The only Malaysian business paper on my flight to Kuala Lumpur had a single ad for a men’s health center. I clipped the ad and called the establishment to determine what services they offered. I learned that the euphemism for sex is “package.” The Genesis Health Center offered a package for less than 200MYR. Nervous but determined, I made my way to their building. I was surprised to learn that this establishment made up the entirety of the tenth floor of this office building. The entrance was elegant and tasteful. I introduced myself to the receptionist (which was not necessary as I was the only round-eyed-devil to have visited the establishment in quite some time). A “Captain” soon introduced himself and politely asked if I had visited before. I then started asking him questions as he guided me into the facility.
Just inside the door was a pleasant waiting area with vinyl-clad booths not unlike an American diner. A snack bar serving free nondescript deep-fried-then-baked goods was located beside it. Here several robed gentlemen lounged while watching a TV program. The Captain led me to the small locker room and bid me to change. As I donned the shapeless swimming trunks, I attempted to strike up a conversation with one of my far eastern brothers (as I could not get all my questions answered from the management). In response to my question about what it was like here, the fellow replied that I would be well looked after. He asked me if I had come alone and how I discovered the place. He commented on how brave/daring Americans were for attempting such an adventure alone.
Nattily attired in my amorphous nylon shorts and too-tight flip-flops, I shuffled out of the locker room in search of my Captain. He directed me to the pool. It was a delightful sculpted water garden built along the wall, complete with a waterfall in the middle. I took a quick shower, entered the water and relaxed. With no one to talk to, I quickly grew bored and curious about what other delights this establishment might hold so I spied out and tried the sauna and steam room. I located my Captain and explained that I really wanted to have a look at the courtesans working that evening so I might choose the one who most appealed to me. As he led me down a corridor of small rooms, he assured me that he would send me the prettiest girl. Now this worried me because my idea of pretty and his idea of pretty might differ widely, especially given our cultural differences. I tried to describe my ideal beauty but he continued to assure me that I should not worry. He then ushered me into the chamber.
The little room had a shower stall in one corner. On the raised floor, just beyond, rested a tired old single mattress surrounded by a wall of low mirrors. The mattress looked less than inviting and I was wondering if my delight at the high standards I witnessed in the entrance would be offset by low standards beyond. After waiting about five minutes, I detected movement at the door. In walked a small, slim and very pretty young Asian woman. I gave her a big smile and said hello. She smiled back in spite of her cool and all too professional bearing. She spoke English quite well and I learned that she was a mix of Asian races (breeds?).
(We’re all part of the human race, right? So what the heck do you call the differences between Asians, Indians, Africans, Europeans, etc.? Furthermore, each of these geographic areas can be further broken down. I’m tempted to refer to this as breeds. Myself, I am a mixed breed of Eastern and Western European, a bit of a mutt actually. I can often spot characteristics among other pure breeds of European humans, but cannot possibly identify the distinguishing characteristics of Asians and Africans. I can see the differences when compared, but cannot tell you who is Thai and who is Vietnamese. Interestingly enough, I am most attracted to widely mixed breeds, e.g. Amerasians. Hmmm, must pursue this thread another time.)
We now rejoin the Wombat as he nervously chats with the lovely courtesan.
I admitted my naivety regarding what we were about to do. She directed me to remove my trunks as she prepped the shower. Once the water was ready, she guided me inside and gave me a good scrubbing, paying special attention to my little wombat. Unfortunately she would not allow me to return the favor, choosing to wash herself. Back in the room she toweled me off (a pleasant surprise) and laid out additional towels on the mattress. She then instructed me to lie on my back so she could give me a massage. Weighing in at less than 45K and barely over 5 feet in height, I could not imagine what kind of massage she could provide for me at easily twice her size. However, I was again pleasantly surprised at her technique, more so when she proceeded to walk on my back. When she was finished, she had me roll over and positioned herself between my legs. The real massage began as she proceeded to use her lips.
Her blowjob was careful and deliberate, skillful but without enthusiasm. After a few minutes I suggested that I could return the favor and she readily agreed. While not shaven, her pubic hair was short and neat. I provided her with an appreciative reward for her own good work for several minutes before suggesting we move to a 69 position. After several more minutes I expressed my desire to move on to the next phase. She pivoted around and lowered herself onto me. She then proceeded to work her body like a small piston, barely touching me. It was a most delightful sensation.
Over then hour we tried a variety of positions including me picking up her small frame and engaging in some acrobatic sexercise. Concerned about the time we had spent (it is supposed to be a 45 minute massage), I asked her how much time we had remaining. She answered, “Oh, I don’t care about the time.” Oh, yes!
Upon completion I offered to give her a massage. She was now the one to be pleasantly surprised because no one had ever offered her a massage before. We relaxed and chatted before finally returning the showers again. (By this time I had taken five showers that day, a new personal best!) Unfortunately, she was unwilling to let me wash her. I kissed her goodbye and promised to visit again. Unfortunately she was not working during the remainder of my stay and I never did see her again.
My second encounter was in a nearby hotel about which I had read good reports. I explored the Concorde a couple of times but could not find the health club; I found the fitness center, but no health club. Too embarrassed to ask, I wandered around the place until I stumbled upon what I was looking for tucked discreetly down a side corridor and framed by tasteful leather doors. Their prices for a “package” were higher than Genesis and the street workers so I expected a higher quality of service. Unfortunately it was not to be. The décor was nothing to get excited about and a dip in the pool cost extra. Again I was unable to select from the available courtesans but the Captain promised me a” pretty girl with long legs.” When my mate for the hour entered, I found her pretty but not really my type. She was friendly enough that I figured I’d take a chance. The routine was similar to my previous experience but midway through our “exercises” she started complaining about being sore and not willing to do anything more than lie on her back, totally non-responsive. I’m not a big guy and am very gentle, so I was a bit put off. I can’t have fun with a girl in pain (or complaining, come to think of it), so I quickly finished and showered alone.
Pleased with my very first experience, I returned to Genesis on another occasion, making it there just in time for last call (11PM). There was no time to appreciate the pool so I was ushered into the nearest available chamber. After a few minutes, Michelle, a nicely proportioned young woman in her mid-twenties entered with a big smile. We chatted and showered (again a one-way affair) and she expressed surprise that I came alone. This comment was made during every encounter. I guess Asian men travel in small groups when visiting the health clubs because I never saw one sitting alone. I told her it was my second trip to her establishment and told her about my first time. She was surprised that I enjoyed myself so much with the first girl because she was so tiny. Laughing, she told me that she was better because she had more meat on her bones -- which she did and she looked great.
Michelle suggested that she “sex me” first then massage later. Hey, sounds good to me! She laid me out on my back and began working her magic on the little wombat. After an invigorating suck, she mounted me and got down to business. As she was an active participant in our mutual pleasure, we had a lot of fun together. Unfortunately, she had to mind the time, as everyone had to be out at midnight. One terrific orgasm and shower later, I was back in the sweltering city heat.
My final tryst took place soon after I discovered my own hotel had a health center. It was as neatly hidden away and unmarked as the Concorde’s center. I figured the hotel was too upscale for such debauchery. I am pleased to inform you all that debauchery is now officially upscale. The entrance, locker room, and facilities were all in keeping with the excellence of the rest of the hotel. The price for my visit was the same as Genesis, less than 200MYR. The pools in this facility included a large and elegant hot pool and a smaller cold-water bath. I’m normally a hot tub kinda guy, but the heat and humidity of Kuala Lumpur had me lounging in that cold, cold water in no time flat. After a long sauna, a shave (razors provided!) and another cold bath, it was off to find the Captain.
I was finally provided with an opportunity to select a courtesan. The Captain made a phone call and a few minutes later a gaggle of giggling girls shyly peeked around the corner of a corridor. I introduced myself to each of them and did my best not to mispronounce their names too badly. Interestingly enough, many of the Asian women I met had western names. These were not working names but their real given names.
The Captain tried to discourage me from my first choice by telling me she was a mix of races and could speak no English. Well, she was pretty darn cute, had a winning smile and I would have bet we could communicate with just our bodies … so I selected Peggy. She was delighted to have been selected from among her Chinese and Malay co-workers. When she entered the chamber she gave me a big hug and a “Thank you.” It turned out that her English was quite passable and I later learned that I had been her only client on this very slow night. We chatted about the local holidays as we prepared the shower. As it was traditional to give a holiday gift, she held out her hand and asked me a few times if I had a holiday gift for her. Keep in mind that every guy who gets into one of these little rooms brings nothing more than a key, a baggy pair of nylon shorts and a smile. I couldn’t figure out how the heck she thought I could offer something. I apologized and said I had nothing for her. Meanwhile, the little wombat was pointing up like the KL tower shouting, “Pick me! Pick me!”
She admired my erection and said, “Can I have this?” We laughed and continued to wash; a mutual wash I am happy to report. She spent several minutes’ attention on my penis and my backside. She toweled me off (Mmmm!) then sat on her knees on the inflatable mattress. She then guided me strait into her mouth. I spread my legs to keep from collapsing while she charmed my cobra. After a few moments she grabbed my hips to turn me around and then proceeded to give me a rim job. Oooooh myyyyy! Pulling over a small cushioned stool, she had me sit down while she went back to work on my little wombat. Her enthusiasm was so strong that I was sure I’d unload if she didn’t stop soon. I had her lie back and allow me to return the favor. Once she had an orgasm, she pushed me on my back, popped a condom in her mouth and applied it most skillfully. She climbed on board and began a gyrating hip dance.
We tried a variety of positions over the next hour. However, the one that damn near killed me had me sitting on one leg with the other leg folded in a semi-squat position. (I still can’t figure out how we got that way.) She had one leg over and one leg under my legs vigorously thrusting her body against me. When I came, I was thoroughly fulfilled and in serious need of another shower. We lay there for several minutes before I worked up enough energy to offer her a massage. (Another woman who had never received such a favor from a client. Huh!) After a long shower with plenty of caresses and kisses, we toweled off. What a pity I had not met this little Asian tigress earlier. I already started to figure out how I might manifest a crisis in Malaysia so I could get another trip.
One side note: I found another kind of club during my journey. In an outside entrance to one of the nicest hotels was a club called the Macao. It had large glass doors manned by two doormen. Through the doors and down the escalator stood two large and ornate doors staffed by four lovely Asian ladies. As I approached, two of them pulled open the great doors while the remaining two smiled and gave a low bow. So, this is what it’s like to be a prince? Inside was a large bar tastefully decorated with gold chrome and mirrors. Along the left hand side stood a woman and three or four uniformed young men. Off to the right, a large staircase led down to a lower floor. It was nearly 10PM; the place was empty, I was the only one there.
The hostess approached me. I asked if things picked up later in the evening. “No, many people are here now.” My gaze swept across the empty expanse.
“Um, where is everyone? Downstairs?”
“No. In the rooms.” The rooms?
“What services do you provide here?” I asked figuring that this was the fanciest health club I would ever lay eyes upon. A young man then joined in to explain the pricing of the various rooms. I had no idea what the heck he was going on about as he rambled off prices and times from a slip of paper. “Can I have a look at these rooms?” I asked. He hesitantly agreed and we headed toward another set of double doors. The uniformed men smiled and bowed.
The mirror-laden chambers turned out to be oddly sized karaoke rooms with at least one big screen TV (and often at least two regular TVs), a terrific sound system (complete with two microphones for duets), a couch hugging the undulating wall and a sparkling clean bathroom. Room rental included a hostess. “Uh, huh,” I thought, but the glass doors to the rooms ensured that no hanky panky took place. The hostess, as it turned out, looked after the electronics and served the drinks. As I walked down the dark corridor I could just see inside the other chambers, filled with guys in business suits and the occasional female companions, singing and dancing. No, this sure wasn’t Kansas anymore.
So, if you find an opportunity to head to Malaysia, by all means do.