James Gramercy worked 60 hour weeks. Before daybreak, he made the hour-long train ride from the suburbs into the city, and at dusk, he would take the train back. His exhausted eyes, when they could stay open, traced the lines around the train car, the steel doors shaking with the wind and each bump of the track. He could count on one hand how many others rode the train at this time.
When James returned home in the evenings, his children were already asleep. His wife, Pamela, herself weary from taking care of the house and the children, frequently would doze off on the couch after cleaning up from supper and performing the nighttime routine for the children. This carousel spun indefinitely for the couple, never stopping to change course.
On Thursday evening, James stepped off of the returning train and nearly broke his neck on a piece of paper on the ground. After catching his balance, James picked up the paper and examined it. There was a photo of a man and woman of above-average attractiveness, laughing at each other. In bold sans-serif font across the top, it read, “Pleasure Salon.” Next to the photo of the models, the caption read, “Come take care of your troubles the way you take care of your hair.”
James exhaled from his nostrils and laughed to himself. “What a load of crap,” he said under his breath. He put the flyer in his briefcase and headed for home.
Upon returning home he found Pamela sprawled on the loveseat, shockingly still awake on her phone.
“Hon, check this out.”
James tossed the flyer on Pamela’s chest.
“Hmm. What do you think? Are you going to go?” she asked.
“What?! No way!” James was surprised she thought to ask him that.
“That stuff sounds like a waste of money and time.”
“Well, I know several people who’ve gone to these new salons before and they said they’re pretty incredible!”
“Really? Like who?”
She looked up at James with a forgiving face.
“Like Erica and Randy Walters, and also Victoria Strauss went just the other day. She said she goes practically every week! And Erica and Randy said it saved their marriage.”
“No kidding. Well, maybe we should give it a shot. How about this weekend?”
“We can’t this weekend, we were going to take the kids to the beach remember?”
“Oh yeah. Damn.” James said disappointedly.
“But you should go! I can take the kids, it’s no problem, really.” Pamela said.
“Really? No trouble?”
“Really. Go ahead and try it out and let me know how it goes. I’m interested to see if it works for you!”
“Well alright, then. It’s settled. Saturday I’ll try out this “salon”.”
Saturday morning came around and after Pamela drove off with the kids to the beach, James got on his bike and rode the 5 miles to the salon.
He parked his bike near the entrance and locked it in place.
The front door swung open, a ding sounded, and a woman looked up from the front desk at James.
“Hello, sir! How are you today?”
“Fine, thanks. This is the pleasure salon?”
“Why, yes it is!” she had the demeanor of someone who had taken one too many doses of Zoloft.
“Just sign in here and we’ll walk through how it works.”
James filled out his information on the waiver, left his wife’s cellphone as the emergency contact, and checked the boxes declaring he had no allergies or history of open-heart surgery.
James slid the form back to the woman at the desk and she happily took it from him and scanned it into the computer.
“Alrighty, James. You ever been to a tanning salon?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Okie Dokie, well it’s really simple. First, you’ll go down the hall to room number five. Make sure to take all your possessions out of your pockets and put them in the locker outside the room before you go in. Then, you’ll need to disrobe down to your underwear and put on the special goggles we have in the room. There’s a dial next to the pleasure bed, make sure to turn it to the setting that says, “Medium” and not anything further. You have to work your way up to go farther. Since this is your first time, just go to Medium, okay? That’s really important.”
James nodded.
“Finally, after turning the dial you just get in the bed, and it will automatically close once you’re in. The bed will open when the session is over. You don’t have to worry about opening it.”
“So what do I do when I’m in the bed?” James asked.
“Just think happy thoughts! The bed takes care of the rest and you’ll come out of your session much happier than when you went in. Guaranteed!”
James gave a little smile and started down the hall. There were photos along the hallway of happy-looking models. Tossing their babies in the air, riding bikes, and eating beautiful meals. The whole place had a floral, coconut smell. James couldn’t tell if people were in the other rooms since the doors were closed, but he had a suspicion there were.
At room number five, James closed the door behind him and found himself in a ten-by-ten room with just a chair, something that resembled a tanning bed, and a coat hanger. He put his clothes on the chair and squinted at the dial next to the bed.
The dial had ten settings, the lowest read, “Infant” and the highest had a print that was too small to read as if it had been rubbed off over time. James set the dial to medium and the bed opened. He put on the goggles and lied down on the mattress-like bed.
A quiet ditty played as the bed’s door began to close around James. He took a deep breath, preparing for whatever was to come.
Within seconds, James felt his face turn into a smile. He felt euphoric within half a minute. James began thinking of his family at the beach, having a blast. He saw his wife’s smiling face, glowing and youthful. He saw his children laughing and playing in the sand. He could smell the ocean, feel the breeze, and hear his family’s voices. It was so real!
As James was enjoying his session, a maintenance worker who was repairing a bed left the room adjacent to his and slammed the door behind him. The dial next to James’ bed fell to the right from the force.
James began to see things in even more vividness. He saw himself scratching the winning lottery ticket, drinking champagne on a terrace on the Amalfi coast, and shaking hands with the president.
A technicolor haze existed throughout what James was experiencing, though he didn’t notice. It was a surreal, hedonic paradise. Everything he wanted was coming true, he thought.
“I hope this never ends.” James thought to himself. “I could go on like this forever.”
After some time, the session cut to a close, the bed opened in the small room again. James removed the goggles and sat up. He felt drunk. Stumbling, he got up from the bed to put on his clothes again. He fell to the ground on his hands and knees. He was enraged. He couldn’t remember what had just happened or even where he was.
He looked up at the large framed poster in the room, it displayed a colorful advertisement for a pleasure salon, an experience that promised to whisk your worries and doubts away from you.
James felt nothing in the realm of pleasure. He felt nauseous, his head was throbbing and his eyesight fuzzy. Wincing, he looked left towards the dial next to the bed. The dial was turned to two o’clock. He couldn’t make out what the dial said.
“I can’t tell what it says,” James grunted.
“Print’s too damn small.”
James finally stood up, clumsily put his clothes back on, and left the salon. He had regained his balance by the time he returned to his bike out front. He threw his leg over the top tube and went on his way back home.
An hour later, Pamela and the kids arrived back at the house from their day at the beach. The front door flew open and the kids ran in to greet their father.
“Daddy!” the kids shouted. They jumped into his arms and he held them close. Such a scene never failed to make James smile. Today, James felt nothing.
