Helpless Saturday....

I have never felt so scared.


I showed up to work at 730, and was going to be the only one there until about 845, so I go about my opening duties, making sure everything is in order, cash is counted, and the spa is ready. When 8am rolls around, I unlock the doors and await for customers to come in. The first scheduled massage wasn't until 9am, so I was munching on my breakfast of an egg white, spinach and feta cheese breakfast wrap, just passing the time.

And then he showed up.

No, not the appointment... but the bum.

I caught my breath as my stomach hit the floor, I prayed that he would just continue to walk by - instead, he caught my eye and smiled. I smelled the stench before he was in my face. Leaves poked through the mass of brown curly hair, and white foam was drying around his mouth.

He looked at me, and I saw his vomit covered hands, his fingernails an inch long. His eyes were shifty and he asked, "Can I use your bathroom?" Of course, being the only one here, I inched my chair over to the register and held my shaking hand over the panic button, there was no way I was going to let him use our bathroom. I responded, "No sir, I am sorry but we do not have a restroom here."

That is when his vomit covered hand went inside his dirt covered coat and out came a rusty knife. His ice blue eyes bore into mine as he asked if I was sure we didn't have a bathroom. I didn't budge, no we do not (of course, we have three and a shower!).

"How much for a massage from you, blondie?" He made a inappropriate gesture as he asked.

I kept my mouth shut. My stomach was in knots, and I didn't know what to do. That's when the therapist walked in for her shift. She was shocked, and sat down next to me, not knowing what else to do, tears formed in my eyes as I was afraid as to what was going to happen next, and a combination of relief that I was no longer alone with him and guilt that the therapist was put in this situation.

He muttered to himself, eyes shifting, touching things with his dirty hands, his long fingernails scraping against the counter. He put the knife back in his pocket, and walked back outside after saying, "I'll see you later blondie." He stopped outside the doors as they slammed shut and waved.

I ran to the door and locked it, the therapist calling the police.

I cried. I threw up. I was horrified.

I have never felt so helpless in my life. The situation could of turned so much worse, but for whatever reason, he left me alone. I was sick for the rest of the day.

The police haven't found him.

To all the women out there, be careful.