Did we all have a good 4th of July weekend? Audrey closed the business for 3 days, so I got a much needed break from work. I didn’t do anything productive, just ate and drank with family and friends, plus fireworks on Friday and Saturday. The great thing about Philly is that there are always plenty of fireworks to see. I even had a real date over the weekend with the Brad Pitt clone, but I think he’s getting frustrated because I’ll make out with him, but I won’t let him touch my breasts. But enough stalling…
This is NOT Part 3 of our exciting 3 Part miniseries. I will get to that eventually, but some of you asked exactly how I learned everything I needed to know about the Art of the Happy Ending. When I first started writing about the “birds and bees” talk with Dawn, I actually began to describe all the sorded details of how they did business, but then I got bored with it and thought you all would get bored too. But I guess not. So here ya go… More of the mundane details on how I learned to properly administer a Happy Ending.
Now at the tender age of %^#$ I had already known how to give a decent handjob, but I had never considered it an important job skill. But let me tell ya, back in those days all I pretty much knew how to do was the standard one-handed tug. I mean think about it – in high school, you don’t really have to be particularly good at anything. Just look at an 18 year old the right way, and he’ll get off.
So basically I only had 1 weapon in my erotic arsenal. Dawn never asked if I KNEW how to give a good handjob – she was only concerned that I was WILLING to give one. Looking back, I guess I didn’t realize the full weight of what I had just agreed to cuz if I did, I may have just run back crying to my Spa job. Now that I’m writing this story down, I think that if they told me about the handjobs BEFORE they gave me that first customer, I probably would have just gotten up and left right there in the interview. Instead, my first customer gives me a cash tip bigger than most of my paychecks from the Spa, THEN I’m told what I was supposed to do to earn it.
(But maybe it’s good that I didn’t walk out, else I wouldn’t be here today telling you this exciting story).
After dropping that atomic bomb of a detail, Dawn quickly changed the subject and moved on to more mundane things about how a massage parlor is different from a spa. For example, the next thing she explained was the “options.” She double checked again to make sure I was OK with getting naked in front of strangers, and believe it or not, after that first guy I realized I was. The rooms are dark and it’s just the 2 of us, so who cares – right?
Dawn said I would offer 3 options – topless only, topless while wearing a G-string (Shit – I normally went without back in those days!), and fully naked. Each had its own price, and they were non-negotiable. She then pointed out that most of the girls offer a 4th option – the “Mutual” massage. – but it’s not required and I could work my way up to that. Let me tell ya – I’m glad she said that because even though I had just agreed to the Happy Ending bit, the thought of strangers groping me just freaked me out.
Dawn noticed the look I gave her when she brought it up, so she went on to say that the customers have no right to touch me in the rooms. This bit actually surprised me and made me feel infinitely more comfortable. I’m not sure why, but perhaps it gave me a feeling of control of what happens in session – I can touch you, but you can’t touch me. It was like this little boundary gave me a sense of security, but I would learn soon enough that it was a false sense of security.
“However,” Dawn went on, “you are allowed to let them touch ‘within reason.’” Why on Earth would I WANT them to do that? Ewwwwwwww. Then she explained that it’s all about the tips, and that I could earn extra money by letting the customers touch me. EXTRA money? There’s even more if I let a guy grab my ass? I figured out later that it was in the owners best interest for me to charge as much as possible – partly because it made me a happy worker, but mostly because it meant they could keep their own prices for extras high too.
The last thing she explained was that their sessions ran from 15 to 45 minutes, with the average being 30 minutes. This is different from a Spa where sessions run from 30 minutes to 2 hours. We were to charge the same for options no matter what the length of the session was, so Dee and Dawn wanted us to push the guys towards shorter times. And when I asked how we could possibly squeeze the massage into a 15 minute session (remember – I’m from a Spa), Dawn said “… we don’t. By the time you take your clothes off it’s time for the hand release. Those customers pretty much just want to be finished quickly so they can get outta here. You will learn to love your 15 minute guys.”
As for the 45 minute sessions, Dawn said there’s no point going any longer since you can’t charge extra for options and you’ll just wear yourself out. Plus, they were doing such good business (back then) that they couldn’t afford to take a girl off the floor for any longer. That’s the one and only thing I miss about the old days! Today, sessions are longer, and I rarely see a 15 minute guy anymore. I guess customers want their money’s worth in this economy.
We spent about 30 minutes going over all the ground rules of my new universe, and I tried to concentrate on them and ask intelligent questions since it helped distract me from the thought of giving my first dreaded “hand release.” When I couldn’t think of any more questions, Dawn took me around and formally introduced me to 2 more girls. Six girls in all worked for them, for a total of 8 masseuses.
With the first shift ending, Dee and Dawn left me with a girl I’ll call Candy (since she was a stripper). They wished me luck and said if I had any problems, just let Candy know. Luckily, she was the chatty type so I got a lot of dirt from her (some of which kinda scared me). The first customer at the door she booked in and then passed on to me. I led this 300 pound trucker into 1 of the session rooms and told him to get comfortable.
15 minutes later I was in my car driving 90 MPH and crying my eyes out. I didn’t go back the next day. I didn’t take any calls from Dee or Dawn. I didn’t go back the next day or the day after. And that was my first day in a massage parlor.
CJ
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6 comments:
I've been loving the last few posts. This is great stuff. I can't wait to hear about your session with the trucker. It sounds like that might have been a traumatic experience at that stage of your sheltered life.
Alan
hey CJ! wow, your posts have been great! cant wait for the exciting conclusion to this!
take care,
a
Like some of the commenters in the previous entry said, I think the first customer was a ringer -- someone they called in to get a massage and sort of "break you in."
The big tip may or may not have been from him; it's a lot easier to get someone to agree to do something they might not do otherwise when they've come damn close to it and have been paid (it's called "cognitive dissonance" in psychology).
Still, keep writing, it's fascinating to read!
your entry into this job is very interesting. Those are some formative years, 17-23. I think anyone could have been in your place.
So what happened next? how did it go from crying and driving 90 mph to being you now?
It's great to learn about how you came to where you are now from your perspective as a newbie.
Teenage boys get hard at the drop of a hat and can come within SECONDS. As you say, ANYBODY can give them a R&T and they're not picky. But past 40, and when guys have health problems... it takes more of a pro and that's where a HJ can be therapy.
I've taken issue with your 5' HJ because of this.
"I can touch you, but you can’t touch me."
Absolutely. You DO feel in control, don't you? The provider may be a woman alone with a man in a room, but SHE makes all the rules and sets all the boudaries.
We feel it too, and that's why newbies can be intimidated and/or inhibited; just wanted to point that out.
Another reason why it's in the interest of owners and providers to go as far as possible when it comes to extras, is that there's always another parlor.
Of course, another way to keep customers from going THERE is to file fake complaints or to convince guys that FS is no good and/or strictly the province of "slaves" and filthy druggies...
"I guess customers want their money’s worth in this economy."
The bastards! Some of us also want therapeutic AND sexual, BTW.
I was a bit shocked by the last paragraph and, again, feel bad for you. Looks like 10 years down the line, you've toughened up some, though.
I got flamed by a provider on another blog for daring say that jerking off strange men for money might not be any little girl's dream job. Looks like your intro to the HE scene confirms what I thought (not that easy).
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