Page 9 - You can't Make This Shit Up!

Let me also paint the picture of what I was wearing when I was left in that room to my own devices. A paper robe. That is all. Just me, my nakedness and a paper robe.
I opened the square little package on the table and found a hair net. Made perfect sense. I have long hair. So I put that on my head. Then I took off my paper robe and realized that the only towel was covering the wood table. I was NOT about to just lay my nakedness directly on the wood table. I knew (again since I am kinda an expert) that to get a good Massage, you can’t be wearing a paper
robe. So...Oh my God, I honestly have no shame, I got undressed and laid down, ass up on the towel that was covering the table.
Minute or two later, light knock at the door and in walks my masseuse. I am face down, with the hair net thing on, and little Italian man who was about to give me my massage breathed an audible gasp. He shuffles over next to me and says something in Italian. I lift my head to a red-faced 60-year-old Italian man with tears streaming down his face. He has one hand on my back and is just shaking his head violently no.
First thought, “oh no, I am supposed to be on that mat or in that tub”? Nope and nope.
I can’t understand what he is saying but eventually he pulls the hair net off my head. He then places it on my bare naked ass. He leaves the room.
Riddle solved. I didn’t even know that there were paper underwear!!! Like who does? In my plethora of massages in the “western world”, not a one, and I reiterate, NOT A ONE, had paper underwear!!!
The masseuse did eventually return to the room. I honestly don’t remember very much of the actual massage, being as I was replaying the scene over and over again in my brain. When I met up with my 3 friends after the “ordeal” it took me not one, but two cold Peroni beers to lubricate my mind enough to share. Can’t make this shit up.