Nasty Client Mistreats Migrant Massage Therapist, Gets What He Deserves Later — Story of the Day

When her client started getting suggestive and creepy, Malai remained professional and walked away. She complained about him to the massage spa management, and the client wasn't happy about having to apologize. But her next encounter with him was much worse.

"Ah, girl. You have the softest fingers. Yes, keep going," her client, Mr. Sandroff, mumbled. Several moans and groans of pleasure followed his words. It wasn't exactly unusual for Malai to hear that stuff.

She was a masseuse, and clients came to her to relax. Some were more vocal than others, and she had received all kinds of compliments over the years. But a few people were much different. Some men were too involved. It wasn't all men – some women had strange tendencies – but the majority of her least favorite clients were men.

However, Mr. Sandroff was the worst of them. His moans and words only got louder and nastier as the massage continued, making her even more uncomfortable, but Malai couldn't stop or ask him to shut up. It was part of the experience.

Please, don't let him be one of those fetishists. The plea felt almost too loud, like she had spoken it. But Malai knew it was useless. She knew the truth about him. It's hard to explain, but many Western men have a particular idea about Asian women, especially Southeast Asians.

They look at porn at home and imagine any kind of things about these women. But it's worse. They barely see them as people, and some even treated her like a slave just because she was in the service industry, as if she didn't deserve any respect due to her ethnicity and background.

But Malai wasn't a weak woman. She knew how to hold herself professionally and had rebuffed the advances of many of those men. However, dealing with clients like that was a little trickier. She had to remain friendly and hospitable. It was her job, and she did it well.

One glance at the clock eased the anxiety in her heart because Mr. Sandroff's time was up. Malai removed her hands from his thigh and covered him with a towel.

"Why did you stop?" Mr. Sandroff asked, breathing heavily. "That was so delicious, and we were just getting to the good part." His eyes were squinted, and his mouth turned into a lewd, suggestive call, but Malai did her best to keep her disgust hidden.

"Your time is up, Mr. Sandroff," she said, wiping her hands with a towel. "You can make another appointment if you enjoy it."

"What? No, no. Wait," he said, lifting his entire torso on the massage table. "How about we continue this massage a little bit later? Huh? Would you like that? You have a certain magic I would love to explore tonight."

"Sir, the spa hours are between 10 a.m. and 6 p.m.," Malai continued as if she didn't understand his real meaning. "You can make an appointment at that time."

"No, Malai, darling," Mr. Sandroff insisted, chuckling slightly. "You are not understanding, sweet girl. Learning English must have been so hard for an immigrant like you."

She gritted her teeth to keep a pleasant smile on her face. Her accent might be evident, but Malai's English was better than most people in this country.

"Let me explain," the client continued, lowering his voice. "I would like an evening massage, a very special session that ends in panting and sweat and other things…" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Her eyes wanted to roll, but Malai didn't allow it. "That won't be possible, sir. I don't work outside the set spa hours. It's against policy," she said, blatantly lying. She had many clients on the side, but Mr. Sandroff wouldn't become one of them even if he paid her a million dollars.

"Now, wait a minute. I'm offering you something amazing," Mr. Sandroff said as he got off the table with a towel wrapped around his waist. "The best night of your life, and I'll pay you for it, too. Any money that comes your way should be a plus. Right? You can't afford to say no, and you're my masseuse. It's your job to keep me happy."

"As I said, sir," Malai started as her body felt the fight or flight response kicking. Mr. Sandroff was approaching her. He wasn't particularly built. His chest was flappy and full of hair, but he was still taller and… a man. She was petite in every single way, which was one of the reasons men like him felt like they could do anything. "You can book another session at the reception desk —"

"ENOUGH! I'm tired of you playing coy, little girl," Mr. Sandroff barked. His pleasant facade disappeared at last, and his breathing became louder from excitement or anger. It was hard to tell, but he prowled toward her, which was a big problem. "Yes, it's delightful and exciting, but I'm done with that. I want you. Our chemistry is incredible. I know you can feel it. Your hands on me were full of passion."

Malai felt the cringe and couldn't entirely hide it. The issue is that men like Mr. Sandroff didn't understand the difference between pure disgust and sexual arousal.

"Sir, no. I'm a professional masseuse. I would never do anything beyond the services offered at this place," Malai started, and a thought popped into her head. "Besides, I have a boyfriend."

It was hard to admit, but some men backed off when women revealed their relationship status. It was almost like they respected another man's claim over a woman more than the woman's decision. Not all men were like this, but Mr. Sandroff was the perfect example of the worst kind of man.

"Oh really? A boyfriend," Mr. Sandroff mocked, walking closer and closer while Malai backed away. Her back hit the towel shelf, and he kept coming. "I bet your little boyfriend can't even pay for a nice dinner for you two. I can do more than that if you keep me happy."

"Sir, please back off," Malai said, her voice trembling.

As expected, Mr. Sandroff misunderstood her tone. "See? You're just as excited as I am," he said huskily. "Let's keep going right now. Against the wall. I'll make you scream, but you'll have to keep as quiet as possible so the manager doesn't interrupt us."

Malai's body recoiled, and the urge to vomit was thick, but she needed to keep her head in the game. She moved to the right, but he responded, moving his body closer, corralling her into the towel shelf, and imprisoning her with his arms.

"Uh-uh, no. Don't run away. Stop fighting. It's sexy, but it's time to get to business. Now, be a good girl," Mr. Sandroff insisted, still using a mocking tone.

"Please, Mr. Sandroff. Please, let me go, or I will scream for help," Malai said, but it came out too weakly.

"And how will that help? Will your manager help? Because all he cares about is making sure I come out of here satisfied. The police? They won't help you either. Do you know who I am? They won't care about a lowly immigrant. I bet they all believe this massage spa does certain services to stay afloat," Mr. Sandroff laughed proudly. "Do it, girly. Give in."

"NO!" Malai said, using her petite form to duck his arm and run out. She could hear the laughter coming from that room. She reached the employee lockers, breathing wildly and feeling the pain of tears in her eyes.

But she couldn't be that weak simpleton that stayed quiet to avoid rocking the boat. Malai fixed her hair, wiped the few tears that had gathered, and went to see Jason, the manager.

***

"That'll be $200, sir," Jason said when the client finally left the massage room. Mr. Sandroff frowned at him.

"Sorry? I have a membership here under Sandroff. You can put it on my card," he said haughtily. "I gave it to that other girl."

"Oh, Miriam. She took the day off. I'm the manager and usually don't work in reception. Let me just check here," the manager introduced himself, clicked on his keyboard, and opened a drawer on the desk. "Can you tell me your first name, sir?"

"Ulysses," the client responded and sighed, a signal that he was bored and too good to wait for the bureaucratic process.

"We don't have anyone with that name," Jason frowned at the computer screen.

"Right," Mr. Sandroff rolled his eyes. "It's under my wife's name, Marjorie."

"Ah, yes," Jason smiled while he finished typing something up. "Sir, this membership has just been flagged with a violation. Per the spa's rules, another violation will result in a removal from membership and possibly a permanent ban from this spa."

"Excuse me?" Ulysses asked. His face was colored in offense. "What violation? That doesn't make any sense! It's already wild that a measly spa asks for a membership like a gym or something, but now, I have to deal with this. What is this violation?"

Jason's eyebrows rose, and he was about to answer when Ulysses' phone rang. It was Marjorie. "Honey! I was about to call and ask you to dinner at your favorite Thai place. How does that sound?" the client asked into the phone. "Spa violation? No, there must be some kind of misunderstanding. No, they shouldn't have said anything. I'll fix it. Don't worry."

Ulysses hung up and stared daggers at the manager. "You called my wife?"

"It's policy to call any member when they get a violation," Jason explained professionally.

"What is this violation?!"

"One of our massage therapists complained about your behavior during your session. Sir, we don't take kindly to any harassment, but based on what she explained, you only get a violation and warning this time," Jason answered, but his pleasant tone changed, becoming a little more severe.

"I see," Ulysses swallowed. "And is there any way to remove the violation?" He wagged his eyebrows and nodded at the manager to convey his message.

"No, sir. It's in the database," Jason continued. "Per our spa's terms and agreements, any violation is permanent."

"I can't believe this," the client scoffed. "Fine, but can I change the contact information on the membership card? I use it much more often than my wife, and I don't want her to get any more distressing calls. Please, she's a fragile woman."

"Sir, I'm sorry. We can't do that," Jason shook his head. "The information contained in a membership card can only be changed by the cardholder. A spouse is allowed to use the benefits but not change anything. You understand. It's our protocol to protect our clients."

"God! This is ridiculous. Fine!" Ulysses stomped to the door.

"Have a nice day," Jason called out. He then lowered his voice and muttered, "Pervert."

***

"Jason, I really wanted to thank you for letting me speak up yesterday," Malai told the manager a while after opening the spa the next day.

"You don't have to thank me, Malai. I'm here for you. I won't tolerate that kind of behavior here," Jason shook his head gently. "Honestly, I would make this a women-only spa forever, but we've had amazing male clients that wouldn't even dream of being inappropriate. So, it would be awful to discriminate against them.

"Yeah, I know," Malai nodded eagerly. "Mr. Lowestein is always pleasant and gives the best tips."

"Mr. Rowanski has that bad back and has been coming here for years. I swear he paid for the entire sauna," Jason chuckled. Malai joined him eagerly.

This was a fantastic workplace, and most clients were great. Unfortunately, a few bad apples could ruin the entire pie with the rot in their soul and the bitterness of their miserable lives. Speaking of which…

"Malai, come behind the counter," Jason whispered urgently. "Mr. Sandroff just walked in."

Malai's eyes were wide and fearful as she squeezed behind Jason quickly. She also schooled her expressions as soon as possible, like the ever-gracious professional who knew how to deal with the most demanding client.

"I guess I deserve that," Mr. Sandroff muttered, loud enough for them to hear. "No need for you to hide. I came here to apologize for my reprehensible behavior. I was really out of line yesterday. I'm very sorry."

Malai nodded, not knowing what to say. Jason stepped in and asked, "What will you be getting today, Mr. Sandroff?"

"No, wait," the client insisted, ignoring the manager. "Please, look at me. I need to know that I'm truly sorry. I'm not just lying about this. I realized how awful I came across and that I made you afraid like so many men who take advantage of women in vulnerable positions."

Malai frowned slightly but remained quiet. Never in a million years would she describe herself as a vulnerable woman. She had a job she loved. She was strong and knew how to face challenges. She was making enough money to pay for herself and send a little back home. Resilience was essentially her middle name. But a man like that wouldn't understand. Would he?

Ulysses thought highly of himself for some reason, and anyone else was probably beneath him in his eyes.

"It's fine. I accept your apology," Malai said, and to show her strength, she stepped out of Jason's back and into the hall. Her intention was to flee to the employee lockers until this man left. But he thwarted that plan.

His hands grabbed her upper arms immediately. "Thank you! Thank you for being so nice," Mr. Sandroff said, smiling in what he must have thought was reassuring. It wasn't for Malai. She couldn't hide her disgust, especially when his hands started tightening.

"It's fine, sir. I have some things to do in the back for inventory," Malai nodded at Jason and fake grinned, trying to make her exit. But Mr. Sandroff didn't release her.

"You're not busy with another client, right?" he asked eagerly. "I want another massage to compensate for my behavior. I swear I'll be on my best behavior. You won't hear a bad comment from me."

"That's not a good idea," Jason began, typing on his computer. "We have Hans available. He's our resident Swedish masseuse and has miracle hands."

"What? A man?" Ulysses scoffed. "No, no, no! I wouldn't feel comfortable with a man's hands on me."

"Why? It's entirely professional," Jason quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey! I apologized out of the goodness of my heart," the client started, touching his chest. Good people don't point out how good they are, Malai thought. "I deserve to get the masseuse I want, and I want her. She's professional, and I like her work."

"Sir, don't get agitated," Jason said calmly. "It's just better to avoid anymore...uh… misunderstandings. We wouldn't want another violation on your card."

"You're not understanding," Mr. Sandroff bellowed, hitting the reception desk. He took a step back when Malai and Jason flinched. "Sorry. Sorry. I've just been under a lot of stress. That's partly why I acted so poorly yesterday. But I want to make things right. Please, let me make things right. Please."

He almost looked tearful, and although Malai didn't believe him for a second, she gave Jason a slight nod. At the very least, she would do it to get him out of their hair.

"Very well, Mr. Sandroff," Jason relented. "Can I see your card, please? What kind of massage are you looking for today?"

"Oh, thank God! Thank you! Thank you!" Ulysses smiled, giving Jason the card. "As always, I would like the Thai massage."

Malai had been stepping slowly back to escape him, but she looked at the client as he said those words. He was staring back and had a knowing expression. However, Mr. Sandroff cleared his face when Jason asked another question.

Finally, Malai ran to her employee area and took a deep breath. She had agreed and would have to work on him. In her mind, she started thinking of ways not to touch the disgusting client too much or do something he wouldn't like. But Mr. Sandroff would probably begin a confrontation if she did that.

So, she made a split decision and grabbed her phone. The spa had a rule that employees needed to leave their phones in the lockers. But Malai wasn't stupid either. She needed some kind of protection, so she grabbed her cheap phone just in case she needed to call someone.

"Okay, showtime," Malai cheered on herself and closed her locker door.

***

"Okay, Mr. Sandroff. The oil on your legs needs a few more minutes to absorb fully, so lie back and rest. You can leave afterward," Malai said, feeling great. Ulysses had been a perfect client that day, and she became more comfortable as time passed.

No groans or moans came out of his mouth this time. Malai finished the session quicker than expected and looked forward to washing her hands for over five minutes. But Mr. Sandroff turned on the table.

"Malai, sweet girl. That was perfect," he said, smiling lazily.

"Mr. Sandroff, lie back down. The oil is not dry yet," Malai chided gently. She started to turn.

"Wait, wait. Don't leave yet," Ulysses requested, moving his legs to the side and lifting his torso. "I want to thank you again."

"It's not necessary. I already forgave you," Malai grinned as her feet approached the door. "Have a nice rest of your day, Mr. Sandroff."

"Please, some silly words are not enough to make up for how I acted yesterday," Ulysses stated. "I brought a tip for you. It's in the front pocket of my pants. Can you please get it for me?"

"Sir, there's no need. Tips aren't required here," Malai said, dismissing him with a wave.

"No! I insist," Mr. Sandroff continued. "Please, take it on your way out."

"Sir, we're not allowed to touch a client's belongings, much less take money from their pockets," she said carefully. "So, don't worry it. Lie back down and relax. I don't need the tip."

"If you don't take the tip, that means you haven't truly forgiven me," Mr. Sandroff said, his shoulders sagging. "I understand that. I've been a mess lately. I just wanted to make it up to you. Even if you don't need the money, take it please. Use it for something fun. I would grab and give it to you myself, but I don't want to crowd you like yesterday."

Malai nodded. "Very well, sir."

Her hands found the pants pocket easily and encountered a wad of cash.

"Yes, that's it. I told you I was really sorry," Mr. Sandroff nodded encouragingly.

"Thank you, Mr. Sandroff," Malai nodded, finally putting the money in her pocket and turning again to exit the room.

"Where are you going?" Ulysses' tone stopped her in her tracks. It was like a different person had entered the room or, instead, his real personality had returned. "You can't just leave after taking my money?"

"What?" Malai asked, frowning at the client.

"You just grabbed a lot of cash from my pocket," he laughed and jumped off the table. "You think you can just walk away now? Thief?"

"You said it was my tip," she countered, confused.

"And who is going to believe that?" Mr. Sandroff mocked. "You think the police will believe I just gave you a thousand dollars as a tip?"

"You did!"

"No, I didn't," he insisted. "See? It's my word against yours, and in this town, I think they'll be inclined to believe my story. A lowly little masseuse got angry at a client for having more benefits and privilege than her, so she steals his cash and runs off."

"That's not what happened!" Malai said, her voice breaking at her situation. She had never met someone so vile. It was one thing to be a porn-obsessed misogynist, but Ulysses was more than that. He was the scum of the Earth.

Just like yesterday, he began to creep toward her. "I can call the cops right now and have you arrested. I can make your life a living hell," he continued cockily. "Hey, I can even shut down this whole spa, make all you filthy little people lose their jobs. I should've done that when that manager tried to intimidate me with that violation stuff. Ridiculous!" He was full-on angry.

Malai had tears openly falling from her cheeks, and Ulysses mocked them. "Ahh, the little teasing thief is crying now," he crooned disgustingly. "You don't have to cry at all. I have a better offer. You can give me what I want here and now, and this will be over. Well, not over. I will come back a couple of times a week, but that's much better than going to jail."

I would rather rot in Alcatraz than let you touch me! Malai thought, and all the vitriol she felt for him made her slightly stronger. "You are a disgusting piece of trash and a small little man," she spat, surprising Mr. Sandroff.

Malai slapped the wad of cash on top of his clothes. She was out of that room quicker than she could imagine. Fortunately, Mr. Sandroff didn't come for her immediately, but he yelled, "See you at reception!"

Jason was outside and saw the distress on her face. "What happened?"

Malai told him everything as the tears gathered once again. She was a blubbering mess a few minutes later… when the worst spa client in the world came out. His gait was tall and proud.

"Call the police immediately," he demanded, nodding with his nose in the air. "Your masseuse just tried to steal my money and got angry when I caught her."

"That's not what happened!" Malai cried, sniffing.

"You're a lying little thief. Who's going to believe that? Of course, you're using your tears as a shield. Guilty women always do that, but it's your word against mine," Ulysses insisted, slapping the receptionist authoritatively. "Come on! Call 911!"

"Let's calm down for a second," Jason said. "Mr. Sandroff, I was just told a completely different story, and I will have to add another violation to your card. That means a complete ban from our spa."

"Aren't you listening to me? She's lying because I caught her red-handed!" the client said, slapping the desk again. "Call the police!"

"This is not an emergency," the manager said. "And after yesterday, I believe Malai over you."

"It doesn't matter what you believe," Mr. Sandroff warned. "It's what the cops believe."

"I'll back up her story," Jason frowned, taking a stand.

"Fine," Mr. Sandrofff shrugged. "I demand to see the CCTV footage. That will reveal the truth in an instant. Come on! Look at it and tell me who will believe you two?"

Jason swallowed and pulled up the software. The video was clear as day. Malai was at the center, and you could only see a little of Mr. Sandroff still sitting on the table. Malai grabbed the cash and placed it in her pocket. It made her look terrible.

"Do you get it now?" Mr. Sandroff said. "I can call the police and say the worst things about this place. I can shut you down. You don't want that, do you? I'll lie about what goes on in here after dark, too."

"Mr. Sandroff, can we please solve this matter another way?" Jason said nervously. "There's no need for all this. I believe we've been accommodating. What else do you want from us?"

"Accommodating? I asked your masseuse for an extra service, and she goes and cries about it," Mr. Sandroff said, grinning in triumph. "But I bet even you will ask her to give it to me now. I want a special massage. Tonight. After closing. So, I can be as loud as I want. If not, I'll call the cops and my father-in-law's many friends and bankrupt this place and send you two to jail!"

The client slapped the receptionist's desk one last time and walked off.

Malai sobbed openly now, and Jason wrapped an arm around her.

"Don't make me do it," she begged.

Jason didn't say a word because no words could describe his feelings. He was torn between anger and fear, so Malai probably felt worse. He shook his head at the thought that someone as vile as Mr. Sandroff existed and wondered how many others had been screwed with his lies.

***

"Good evening, Malai," Ulysses waltzed into the spa confidently. Malai had opened the door for him and closed it quickly. The reception was utterly dark. "Oh, this will be good. You finally learned your lesson. See? You just needed to be nice about it."

Malai nodded, staring down. But her arm showed him the way to their largest massage room, filled with more candles, a pleasant lavender scent, and quiet, peaceful music. It was a perfect romantic setting for an evening massage.

"Aah, yes. I can already feel my muscles relaxing," Ulysses said, stretching his arms and making a show of himself. Malai immediately saw that he wasn't relaxed, but her eyes fled away quickly. She had to hold herself together, and her nerves were too on edge.

Ulysses' hands went to his shirt and started unbuttoning it. Malai turned to focus on a towel when he demanded, "Look at me!"

Her eyes went to him and settled on his face. Suddenly, her spine felt stronger. Mr. Sandroff wasn't as confident as he pretended, and her small show of defiance gave him pause. She had to do this against her will to save her job, but seeing how his bravado was flimsier than his muscles was gratifying.

"That's right," Ulysses recovered and finished unbuttoning his shirt. Malai's eyes didn't stray from his face, didn't look down at all, and she kept her expression blank. "Oh, this is so hot. I'm tempted just to have you, but no. No, I can't do that. I have to enjoy myself. It's the first time. The first of many, I believe. We're going to have fun."

The taste in her tongue was terrible as the bile rose, but she had the perfect poker face.

"You're not going to say anything?" he asked, opening his belt and pushing his pants down. "Ahh. Don't be angry with me. A man has to do anything in his power. You women always make us chase you down. This will be fun. I'm a great lover. You'll see."

Malai remained stoic, waiting.

"Very well," Ulysses shrugged, and she knew he had removed his underwear entirely. "I don't need to hear you talk. This is better. This should be all about me. After all, this session is to make up for the horrible way I was treated earlier. I deserve it."

Finally, Malai spoke, "What type of massage do you want today, sir?" Her tone was strictly professional. Her spine had stayed steady, and Mr. Sandroff didn't like that.

"The Thai special as always, sweet darling," he responded in what she assumed was his sexiest voice. Yuck. Malai got busy preparing her things as Ulysses got comfortable on the bed. "I'm not going to use a towel today. No need for it. Right?"

She didn't answer his question. "Please, lie on your front so we can begin."

"Oh, now, you're bossy," Ulysses teased. "I like it. I'll let you do it for a while. Not too much. I'm the real boss here."

Malai waited, expressionless. He finally huffed and got on his front.

"Yes, Malai. Yes. God, it's so good. Baby, this is delicious. Please, go harder on my shoulders," he requested, and she couldn't do anything but accept it. However, things changed then. His hand grabbed her backside and squeezed tightly.

Her hands stopped on his back. His hold was painful, and the intense feeling coursing through her body almost stopped her brain. She was frozen between wanting to hit him and wanting to cry in the corner like a baby.

"Keep going," he barked and chuckled. He had regained his confidence after feeling the tension in her stance.

Malai had to keep going but wished to all the Gods in the world that it would end soon.

A few minutes later, she was working on his legs. "This time, you need to go higher and don't stop. I want to get a message on buttocks. I sit all day at the office, and I'm sore. After that, I'll turn around to get the same service in front."

Malai kept going as if he hadn't spoken. For a second, she released him. "Where are you going?" he asked, not lifting his head from the massage table hole.

"I'm just grabbing more oil from the shelf," she responded.

"Oh, okay."

Malai looked behind her and nodded. "Why did you frame me?"

"Frame you?" he retorted. "That's such a dramatic way of saying things. Oh, yeah. That spot is perfect. Keep going."

"Why?" she insisted.

"Because I can, girly. You have no power here, and I do," Ulysses said, feeling how her hands released him for a second. She began to work on his back again. "You're stalling, girl. I've already explained what I want from you. You don't want me to do something worse."

"What's worse than blackmailing?" Malai asked.

"Blackmail? Another dramatic word," he laughed. "You've been watching too many soap operas. But fine. That wasn't even blackmail. I can make things much worse. I framed you so easily, and it can only get worse from there. I can even call immigration and get you deported. No one will bat an eye. The cops won't do anything about it. I'm a big name here."

"Your wife is a big name," Malai commented.

"What?" Ulysses frowned. "What do you know about my wife? Either way, we're married. What's hers is mine."

Suddenly, hands wrapped around Ulysses's wrists, bringing them together on his back. "Oh, is this something new? I told you I'll be the boss today. We can play like that some other time once you learn your place," he chuckled but stopped as the handcuffs clicked into place. "What the —"

Lips reached his ears. "No, sweet darling. You're the one who needs to learn his place." It wasn't Malai. Ulysses tried to lift from the massage table hole. It was Marjorie.

"Marjorie, what are you doing here?" he asked when he could look at his wife.

"What do you think, you pathetic loser?" she asked, crossing her arms. Ulysses looked away from her and saw two cops standing in the room, and behind them was Malai wrapped in Jason's arms.

"What is happening here?" he asked, acting afronted.

"No, no, no. You don't get to act like the aggrieved party here," Marjorie shook her finger at her husband. "I received an extremely distressful call from these two employees today."

"They're lying, honey! I swear!" Ulysses said, desperate. "Can someone please give me a towel?!"

"Why? You didn't want it before," Marjorie mocked. "Yeah, we saw everything, and we also have your confession. You 'tricked her because you can.'"

"NO! That was… taken out of context! Marjorie, I'm your husband. You have to believe me!" he scrambled and stood. But the metal clanged as he tried to use his hands. "Get me out of these things. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"Mr. Sandroff, you're under arrest," the policeman said and took a couple of steps forward.

"Arrest? For what? Getting a massage?" he said sarcastically.

"For breaking and entering an establishment and holding someone hostage against their will," the policeman responded as his partner approached Ulysses, too.

"This is insane! She opened the door and is not here against her will!" Mr. Sandroff countered, pointing at Malai accusingly.

"The lady said otherwise. You were also demanding sexual favors in what looks like a blackmail situation. We heard you confessing, sir," the cop explained. "Of course, you'll get your day in court, but you're coming with us for now. Put your pants on."

"Honey, please help!" Ulysses pleaded.

"Help? You won't get a single thing from me," Marjorie mocked. "I can't believe you came here, used my card, and threatened these people. Of course, there's also the matter of cheating on me, but it pales in comparison to harassing a woman in her workplace. I can't believe it."

"That's not what happened," Ulysses begged as the tears started.

"Oh, don't give me the waterworks. I know what a master manipulator you are, but I should've known the truth when they called me yesterday about a violation," his wife continued. "I don't know how long you've gotten away with using my family's name to act like an idiot, but that stops today. I'm filing for divorce and taking everything! You won't have a cent to your name!"

"No! No!" he wailed as the cops finally started removing him from the premises. Jason held Malai tighter as they left.

When the cop car left, Marjorie turned to them. "I'm extremely sorry for this. But thank you for calling me," she stated calmly. She reached inside her purse and produced some money. "Please, take this as compensation for your troubles."

"There's no need for that," Jason shook his head.

"Yes, there is. This is only a little bit," she insisted, looking straight at Malai. "You're entitled to more, especially after he touched you. I don't know if they'll hold for long with those charges, but it was the best I could think of at that moment. I'm going to help you get a restraining order."

Malai nodded and took a deep breath to try to stop her tears. But it was hard. She could still feel his hand. But she also refused the money.

"Okay, but please call me," Marjorie handed her card instead. "I'll also call Virginia and tell her about this. Don't worry. Your jobs should be safe."

Jason and Malai looked at each other. They didn't realize Marjorie knew the spa owner, but that was great. It would help in case Ulysses got out and started trouble again.

"Thank you," Malai said timidly.

Marjorie gave her a sympathetic look and waved goodbye.

"She was nice," Jason said, smiling as he tried to cheer Malai up. They needed to close the store, but she couldn't let him go.

"Yeah. I'm relieved that all that power he talked about was actually her power. Her family name," Malai said and finally leaned away from him. "Thank you for holding me and for calling her."

"You're welcome," Jason nodded. "I'll need to talk to Virginia, too. We need more security or other protocols. Perhaps a different policy. We can ban them after one violation."

"That'll help," Malai agreed.

They both knew other people like Mr. Sandroff would show up. Some would be worse than others. It was impossible to avoid them. But they could try to find a better solution so no other masseuse or technician at the spa had to deal with such harassment. No one deserved to be touched without their consent or to receive threats of deportation. The store had to protect its employees.

Marjorie followed through and talked to Virginia, who agreed to new policies for her spa membership. The owner added two security guards, upgraded the CCTV cameras to include audio, and implemented a no-tolerance rule that would ban people after only one violation.

Mrs. Sandroff also helped Malai get her restraining order and insisted on giving her a check. The masseuse accepted it after much thought and planned to save it for her future.

Malai did what she could to help the police with Mr. Sandroff's case, but other than that, she put the incident out of her mind and returned to work.

Life goes on, and I won't let one rotten apple ruin the work I love, she told herself every day to keep the fears and the memories away.

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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a spoiled young man who mocked flight attendants on a plane, not knowing his father was watching all along.

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