A Rest-Room Dancing.

A Rest-Room Dancing.

As you know I work as a massage therapist for a big hotel.

I receive a call-invitation from the reception desk and at a definite time come to prepare the massage room and wait for the client.

Then I give massage say good-bye to the client and go home.

Sometimes on the way from the fitness centre I pay a short visit to a restroom.

Today as on hundreds of other days all went pretty much the same: invitation, massage, good-bye and the rest room on the way and I would have left the hotel as any time before if not one funny thing that had happened to me when I opened the door of the gentlemen’s rest room.

So, I opened the door and saw there a nicely smiling woman that was apparently looking after the order in the room. She was carrying a bucket with a brush and something else.

“Good evening,” she said.

“Good evening,” I replied not really knowing what to say else that could somehow match this kind of a situation.

She didn’t notice my confusion and added:

“You can now use it”

A few words about the place. All around is nicely tiled. Spotless walls and floor can compete with the interior of a surgery theatre; a slow romantic music flowing from the walls finishes the whole great spirit of the room.

This time it was a saxophone solo accompanied by three other instruments.  

I made a few steps towards a white opening fixed to the wall when suddenly I asked the cleaning lady: “Shall we dance?”

 The question must have sounded so incredibly stupid and out of the place that the woman tried to grasp the sense of the question but could not do it.

After a while she asked: “Shall we what?”

“Dance,” I repeated. “Shall we dance?”

My new ‘dancing partner’ was still trying to understand what was going on.

Then she slowly answered: ”No, we can’t do it”

Why not, I insisted. “You have a partner, a dancing partner, music and a nice atmosphere. Why not”

Having said that, I boldly stepped towards her, and gallantly bowed.

I guessed at that moment she finally saw how absurd my offer had been and put her hand on my shoulder.

We moved slowly along the white cabins and rows of shining urinals.

My trained massage hand immediately detected a nice shape of my partner’s back.

My mind started making the picture of the rest of her body when the door opened and in the frame of it stood the front office Manager, Mr Vrubel apparently trying to guess what exactly he was watching.

“Well, well, well…” he finally uttered. “What’s going on here?”

“The discothèque is sold out?”

Trying not to notice his sarcastic remark, I stopped dancing bowed my partner and thanked for the dance.

Then I gave her the bucket and led her to the exit.

Mr Vrobel, let the woman go and asked me if I could wait for him in the hall.

I said I could and went out.

Something was going to happen and I was very curious what exactly it could have been.

What would you have expected if you were in my place?