False Alarm

A former Mets massage therapist who was busted for allegedly sexually assaulting a customer also got some major-league thrills by holding swingers' parties and X-rated video shoots in his East Side spa, a sensational lawsuit claims.

The papers filed in Manhattan Supreme Court add a new woe for Carlos Araque and his Essential Therapy spa. Another physical therapist, Marty Jaramillo, said he subleased space from Araque because he "represented that he was a duly licensed massage therapist, that his reputation as that of Essential was stellar," and that being associated with him would be good for business. ... Araque, 44, who'd worked sporadically for the Mets for two years and treated the likes of Jose Reyes and Mike Piazza, was also charged with a felony - for giving massages without a license.

-New York Post, August 16

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Scene: A dingy, anonymous East Side coffee shop. New York Police Detective LANCE RIGGS sits at a corner booth, swilling bad coffee and occasionally glancing at his folded copy of the Daily News. In the background, bacon sizzles. Paint peels off the baseboards. Enter MARTY, the informant, who gingerly walks past the booth once before quickly sidling into place across from Riggs. He wears a brown trench coat and weathered fedora, and breathes heavily.

Riggs: So, you're the guy who ...

Marty: Stop! [Leans forward violently] I don't have much time. You have no idea how bad it is there. I'm taking a huge risk just by coming.

Riggs: Well, why don't you tell me what's going on?

Marty: Oh, I'll tell you. It's ... sex.

Riggs: Did you say, "sex?"

Marty: That's right. Sex. [Pounds fist on table]. Tons of it. All over the club. It's a madhouse. A madhouse!

Riggs: [Shifts his weight, puts right hand on service revolver at hip]. Um, O.K. This is about the spa, right? I checked the files. We looked into that place last year, after the owner was accused of molesting that woman during a massage. But those charges were dropped, and they only got him on a violation for not having a license. What else is going on? Have you seen him do something illegal with a customer?

Marty: [Not listening] Dirty whores, grinding all over the Italian leather chairs. Filthy women, their filthy legs, spread out like the Lincoln Tunnel at all hours of the night. On the imported rugs. Do you know how much those cost? Disgusting! And the men they bring. Brutish, nasty things, all buffed up and smug with their mustaches, about 6-foot-3...

Riggs: Awfully big mustaches.

Marty: ... bouncing in front of the cameras with no shame for hours at a time. And then the makeup. And then more bouncing, and they add the dark-haired guy with the goatee who's been standing in the corner for a while, they shift the cameras around to get in from another angle, and the girls start moaning again, and then they yet, "Cut!" because someone's nipple fell out of frame, and they have to re-do the whole thing. It's shameful, I say. Where's the decency?


Riggs: Nipple, eh?

Marty: Now, I'm no prude. I like women as much as the next guy. But the things that they do there, detective. The things that they do! I had no idea what a fluffer was until last month. No idea. I was perfectly happy living my life not knowing that such a thing existed. Now? It's all I can think about.

Riggs: Er, yeah. Listen, if they're shooting x-rated films at this place without a permit, that's certainly something we can get into. I can have somebody from vice get into it later this month, after the Team Facelift investigation is complete. But it doesn't sound like there's a whole lot of criminal behavior here.

Marty: Detective, you've got children, as I understand it.

Riggs: I do. Two boys, as a matter of fact

Marty: Are they baseball fans?

Riggs: Of course. Big Mets fans. Been taking them to games since they could walk. Before, even! Oh, it's a bit of a family tradition, I'd say.

Marty: [Licks his lips] Do your boys have a favorite player, by any chance?

Riggs: You know, I can't imagine why, but they're just crazy for that Paul LoDuca! They love him! I had to buy them matching jerseys just to get them off my back, and now they wear them everywhere. [Laughs] Every time he comes to the plate, my son D'Brickashaw points at the television and says, "Daddy, look. It's Paul DoLuca!" Oh, it's the cutest thing you've ever seen! It's actually getting a little disturbing, because he's 10 years old now, and we're really hoping he's not retarded, but damned if he can pronounce the name right. And then my other boy, Jeremetrius, he's 14 and the starting catcher on his travel team. He'll be going out for varsity in a couple of weeks. Very excited.

Marty: That's what I'd heard. Well, it sounds like Paul LoDuca's very important to your family. Let me just say this, detective. It would be a ... shame if something bad were to happen to him.

Riggs: I'm not sure I follow.

Marty: Oh, you know. If some ... unfortunate details were to emerge about his ... private life. Unsavory details. Details that just might break your sons' delicate hearts.

Riggs: You mean some more.

Marty: Pardon?

Riggs: You mean, "More unfortunate details." Man, you're probably going to try to sit here and whisper in my ear that you've seen Paul LoDuca going into this club or whatever for orgies or sex movies and whatnot. That you've got the dirt on all the freaky shit he does in the spa. That you'll rat him out to the papers, or cause a big stink if I don't do something for you, or promise an investigation. That about right? I've got you pegged, asshole?

Marty: [Gurgles, freezes]

Riggs: First of all, fuck you. This meeting is over. Second, you don't know nothing about my boys. We already went through this last summer after Paul got caught fucking that high school girl out on Long Island. And you know what? They know that's just a pimp being a pimp. We gave him MAJOR props for taking that down. Look, my boys know the deal. They know a fine piece of young ass when they see one, just like Paul. And they know how a real mack handles his business. Why do you think he's their favorite Met, stupid?

Marty: I don't ...

Riggs: [Stands up] If Paul's been taking down housewives two at a time after they get massages, that's fine with me. In fact, it's better than fine. I hope he's recording it for posterity. Now get out of my sight, you blackmailing fuck. Go tell it to the judge. I've got criminals to chase.

Marty: [Jerks out of the booth, holding onto his hat, and runs out of coffee shop.]

Riggs: [Sits back down. Takes sip of coffee, picks up police radio.] Lester, this is Lance. I'm over on Lex right now. You can call this in as a 10-41 Mike.

Radio: Do you need backup? Should I send units to your position?

Riggs: Hold on, no. Use your head, Lester. You're thinking of a 10-51 Mike. That's a drunk and disorderly Lastings Milledge. It's 10 in the morning, for god's sake. This is a 10-41 Mike.

Radio: I don't think I've ever heard that one used before.

Riggs: [Sighs] Well, you're new. It's the code for a Paul LoDuca sex club sighting. [Takes a long pull of coffee, gathers coat, stands.] We get them all the time.

[Exeunt]