Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Why I'm Here

I only really discovered the internet about 2 years ago. My last Sugar Daddy got me a laptop computer for Christmas, and I had no idea what to do with it. So it kinda sat there for a while, untouched, until I got an iPod. Then I went crazy. Once I figured out how to use it for music, I started to finally play around on the internet.

At first I started to look for anything regarding myself . That’s when I first saw a “review” of the Business in one of those adult chat rooms about massage parlors. Let me tell ya, when I first saw my name on that screen I freaked! There it was for the whole world to see – a description of some guys session with me. Thank Gawd he didn’t know my full name or I probably would have had a heart attack.

After I had calmed down a little bit, I realized that he didn’t say anything particularly bad. It was just a quick description of where we were and how much we charged. All he said about me was that I was “cool”, had “fabulous” breasts, and I wasn’t full service.

But this got me thinking… What if he had written something bad? What if he had lied and said we were full-service? What if he were a stalker and started posting all sorts of personal stuff about me and my co-workers? This type of thinking only made me panic all over again. I tried to figure out how I could erase this stuff and realized I couldn’t.

Now Trina and I have always said that one of the most frustrating things about our job is that the only people you can talk to about work are co-workers. Anytime you want to bitch about a customer, or tell a funny story – you can’t. It’s 8 hours of my day that I can’t just share with anyone whenever I feel like it. Shit, even if you’re a rocket scientist you can still bitch about work to a stranger – they may not understand a word of it, but at least you can do it.

We can’t do that unless it’s to each other! Can you imagine what that feels like? So Trina and I used to talk about how great it would be if we could tell some of these wacky stories of ours to anyone without being judged. Then one day when I was swapping stories with a customer, he said I should talk about these in a “blog.” I said what the hell is that, and he said that people write all sorts of shit on the internet and they’re called blogs.

Well, I told my techno-nerd Velma to go get me a “Blog.” Then last December Velma set me up here on this site and told me to go to town. And the rest is history.

At first I didn’t know what to write about, so I just talked about my day. Heck – I only had 2 other people to impress. Then I thought it might be interesting to talk about not just what I do, but how things work in a Business. And then there was Trina to remind me of some of the really whacked customers we’ve had in the past. And lastly, I wanted to remember my time with Cindy back when business was wild and life was crazy.

And that was it. I just started to have a fun time talking about all this stuff (in some cases, for the first time in years). And I liked getting positive comments from people out there who seemed to enjoy it. Then I started reading other peoples blogs, and in some cases some fellow masseuses with similar stories. And let me tell ya, it felt kinda good to be able to throw some stuff out there and get some feedback from people who are not in the Business.

Then I read some stuff that really began to piss me off.

So here I am, just doing my thing when I discover that I’m labeled as a “sex blog.” You mean I’m actually lumped in together with guys who write to Penthouse Forum? Let me tell you something – I find it hard enough to use the term “sex worker” – now I’m just a sex blogger?

Then to make things worse, I read somebody saying that sex blogs are “…all the same…” which really really really hurt my feelings. What the fuck??? At first, I was this sort of society outcast that had to keep half my life secret from the other half. Then when I finally decide to speak up for myself and say “Hey – these things really happened to me” some stupid fuck labels me and says I’m the same as everybody else who “confesses” anything.

Well ya know what? Fuck you. Until you’ve jerked off 30 guys in 1 day, or been thrown against a wall by a 300 pound customer, or had $1,000 taken from your purse by a coworker, or been told by your boss to suck his cock to keep your job, you really aren’t in a position to say I’m the same as anybody else. In fact, you really aren’t in a position to judge anything about me.

Now talking about this is really hard for me since I’ve said before that I don’t like getting personal on this thing. So if no one minds, I’d like to get back to the fun stuff that I like talking about.

Enough said.


Tuesday, September 23, 2008


I don’t know about you guys, but one of the blogs I like to read (other than my Girl Slutty McWhore) is Confessions of a College Callgirl. Try it – what she did I can only dream of doing. But if you’re not an avid reader of hers, she just announced that she wants to retire her blog. She said that after a certain point there’s only so much you can write about sex and hooking.

Well I support her decision to give it up, but at the same time it makes me think that if she finally got burnt out, well what about me? After reading her touching farewell, I realized that I couldn’t just go home after another grueling day at work and tell a goofy story about some perv who wanted to be spanked with a pool cue while I call him “daddy.” It all felt just kinda meaningless after reading that.

Not that I won’t tell that story later. It’s just that I spent some time thinking about what I’m doing with my life and where this entire mess is actually going. Yes, I’d like to move on to some line of work that’s a little bit more meaningful (and clothed). Maybe find some guy who’s relatively normal who doesn’t mind a girl with limited career potential, and settle down. And like College Callgirl, I’d like to eventually walk away from all these stories and at least be able to say that it really happened, people believed me, and maybe someone learned a few things and had a laugh along the way.

But in the meanwhile I guess I’ll just keep chugging (or jerking?) along. I have to admit that I don’t fully understand what it’s like to be a hooker. I know that most people tend to lump us all together – escorts, streetwalkers, erotic masseuses, strippers, etc. – under the label of “Sex Worker.” But I can’t seem to relate to the burnout that hookers tend to go through. And that is probably a really really really good thing.

I know that I’m an erotic masseuse. I jerk guys off for a living, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. I don’t have any problems admitting that. And I really don’t feel like any less of a person for doing it. I mean – someone’s gotta do it, right? And if not me, then it would probably be some drug addicted skank who doesn’t give a fuck about how your day at work went and just wants you to cum quickly so she can spend that $50 on her next fix. At least I know most of my customers on a personal level, and I know how to make their day a little brighter.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though College Callgirl may be gone, I’m still here. And I think I’m OK with that.


Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Final Word on Andy

Since I started writing down all my weird stories, I have yet to figure out what you guys think. Take Andy for example… I never would have thought that his story would be so controversial. I mean I’ve told you guys stories about hookers and drug addicts and throwing bodies in dumpsters, but people had really strong opinions on what happened to Andy. The best I can figure is that the guys out there are relating to Andy as a fellow customer. Am I getting warm?

Anyway, Andy finally came back this week. I apologized to him once again and said I felt kinda like a jerk for ignoring him last time. He laughed and said it wasn’t really that big of a deal. Now I wasn’t sure if he was just being kind or whatever, and under different circumstances I would have just dropped it right there.


Since there has been so much interest in this topic, I decided to get to the bottom of this once and for all. I confessed to Andy that afterwards I felt guilty and wanted to find out if what I had done truly insulted him – so I told a few people what had happened (or maybe a few thousand on the internet, but who’s counting?). The opinions I got back were:

1) I was an asshole for treating a customer that way
2) Andy was a perv who obviously found the whole thing kinky
3) A combination of the 2.

Well, Andy had a good laugh at that. And he felt a little embarrassed that his incident got shared with a few people (Oh Gawd – if he only knew). Then he said for the record (and I quote), “To tell you the truth, I think it was a little of both. At first I thought you were being a little selfish when you wouldn’t put your phone down, but only because I look forward to catching up with you and your stories during the massage.”

“But then I started to pay attention to what you were saying on the phone, and I could kind of hear your sister on the other end. Well then I just closed my eyes and relaxed, and after a while I started to feel like a peeping Tom. And I have to admit – it felt kind of dirty but exciting at the same time. Does that make any sense?”

I nodded, but I didn’t want to explain that it took an anonymous reader on the internet to explain it to me.

Andy continued, “So by the time you began to jerk me off, I was already feeling like I was spying on two sisters have a private conversation. And I think it was the whole taboo feeling of it that I pretty much had no trouble cumming.”

There you have it guys – right from the horses mouth. And I tried to quote him as best I could remember. So I guess I can stop feeling guilty about that whole incident and get on with my life.

In fact, it kinda sounds like I may have found a new “option” I could charge for. So whadya think?

1) $50 for calling sister.
2) $60 for calling “boyfriend”
3) $70 for calling mom
4) $100 for calling your wife and pretending to be an “old friend”


Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Freak of the Week – The Porn Hound

I’ve been dying to tell ya about this guy for a week now. Remember when Sugar Daddy Pete showed up and turned my morals upside down? Well the latest Freak of the Week came in early that same day.

He was a normal looking guy… about 35, stringy hair, but dressed nicely. I’m sitting out front when he comes in and plops a giant stack of papers on the desk. My first thought was that he was selling something, so I was a little surprised when he said he wanted a session. Since he’s not selling anything, I ask what the papers are for. He says he has a ton of paperwork to do for work. But before I can ask if he plans on doing it in the middle of his massage, the front door opens again…

In walks a father and son.

My heart skipped a beat! Remember that previous Freak of the week that wanted to bring his kid in????? Well, I think I went pale when these 2 just walked in. I’m scared stiff that he’s the other freak, but luckily there’s another guy here in case he starts trouble. I stammered, “… uh… can I help you?”

Very gruffly he says, “Do you know if the mechanic is open?”

Now I’m feeling confused and relieved at the same time. “Huh?”

The auto place across the street! Is he open or not?”

Since he’s NOT the father/son freak I’m no longer afraid, but just irritated. Jerks I know how to deal with. So I tell him I don’t work there, so I don’t know. But since I’m such a loving, giving, people person, I add that there’s another place down the road.

Whew!!!!! Now with him gone, I turn my attention back to the new guy. I’m asking him how long a session he wants when I notice the stack of papers again… only they’re not papers…they’re magazines. DIRTY magazines!!!

It took a deep breath and just said, “First room on the left. Make yourself comfortable.” He disappears into the room with the stack of porn.

Another day, another dollar I sigh to myself.

A few minutes later, I go in. He’s laying nude on his stomach and propped up on his elbows – reading one of his magazines. The rest are sitting in a neat stack on the corner of the table by his head. I tell him about our options and he asks for a G-string. I strip down, but he still can’t be bothered to put down the porn. So you know what I did?

Nothing. I just pretended everything was perfectly normal. Nothing to see here folks! I grabbed a bottle of oil from the warmer, lubed up my hands and started working on his shoulders. He stayed up on his elbows like a kid glued to a comic book. That position actually made my job a little bit easier since I had easy access to his shoulders. We chatted briefly about the weather as I worked down to his legs.

When I finish his calves I told him to flip (I don’t do feet). He rolled over and then tucked the pillow behind his back so he could sit up. He twisted slightly towards me – but not to gaze in admiration at the Girls. Oh no! Instead, he opens up a new magazine on the table next to him so he can keep reading.

At this point, he stops the chit-chat, so I just start working his lower legs in silence. Then I notice that he’s now working his dick with the right hand, while turning pages with the left. Since he’s not even looking at me or talking, I figure he’s ready for his own version of the happy ending. So instead of continuing the massage, I start lightly caressing his upper thighs… kinda trying to stay in synch with each jerk of his hand. I did this for a few minutes until he finally came all over his stomach.

I offered to clean him up, but he said to just hand him a towel and he’ll take care of it himself. So while we’re both cleaning ourselves up, I ask him what’s up with the magazines. He says that he’s been addicted to porn for several years now and can’t get off without its help. I said “you do realize I was gonna take care of that for you?” He said he did, and thanked me anyway.

Apparently he’s gotten to the point where he prefers to get himself off. When I asked him about how this affects his sex life, he said the porn consumes everything to the point where he no longer has one. It’s been years since he’s actually dated anyone, and in the meanwhile he just became more and more obsessed and dependent upon porn. I actually suggested he try a hooker to try to wean him off (no pun intended), but he said he was too afraid of diseases to go that route. Based on the hookers I know, I can’t blame him!

I felt pretty sorry for the guy after talking to him. When he asked me how much he owed, I knocked $20 off the tip and told him to let me take care of things next time. He confessed that he originally had second thoughts about coming in, but now thanked me for being patient and making him feel comfortable.

“Don’t thank me sir. It’s my job.”


Friday, September 12, 2008

Quick Update

With all the weirdness going on this week, I thought I'd just catch you guys up quickly on whats going on around here.

Remember the new girl we hired, Rachel? Well, it looks like she's history. Audrey would fire her personally, if she ever bothered to show up to work anymore. Oh well, back to interviewing again. Please feel free to send those resumes to:

c/o The Business

Please include a short paragraph on why you hate yourself enough to work here, and a list of all the non-prescription drugs you are addicted to.

The other big thing going on in my life is that my boy-toy (Brad Pitt Clone) is no longer speaking to me. Apparently I kinda blabbed to him (while drunk) about how I have a profile on Match.com. This did not go over well (go figure). But the good news is that I think I have an internet blind date Saturday night. Keep your fingers crossed that he's not too weird.

And I ALMOST forgot... I finally heard from Andy!!! Remember him??? Anyway, he called and we patched things up. I promised to make it up to him and we're all cool now. He's coming in next week, so I'll probably give him a free double happy ending. With my luck, I'll probably be on the phone with my mom during Andy's massage this time. How kinky would that be? LOL


Winner of the slogan Contest!

The results are in! After taking a vote between myself, Trina and Velma - we agree that our favorite T-shirt slogan is:

"HappyEndingz: Big Tugz and Big Jugz" courtesy of Villageidiot.
The runners up were:
2nd place - Up. Down. Repeat as Necessary
3rd place - Making the World a Happier Place, One Dick at a Time!
Both courtesy of Jack. If this blog thing ever becomes famous, I promise to give you guys your own custom T-shirts. Velma came up with the picture of the winning T-shirt. Looks good, doesn't it? LOL
Thanks to everyone for your funny ideas.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

The Return of Sugar Daddy Pete

Sorry I haven’t been around lately, but I’ve had a really weird and busy week. Remember Sugar Daddy Pete? He was last here 3 months ago, but he actually called and made an appointment with me on Monday. Heck – I almost forgot who he was when he called!

I had pretty much written him off, but let me tell ya – that didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach from coming back. I don’t know what it is about him that just makes me so nervous. I mean, I’ve had rich customers before, so I don’t think it’s the money thing. And it’s not like he’s a dead ringer for George Clooney, so that ain’t it either. I don’t know, but when I figure it out I’ll tell ya.

So anyways, I booked him as my last customer of the day. And luckily I was working by myself so I didn’t have to worry about Audrey or the clock. In a way I was thankful because I had only made $80 that afternoon with 1 bizarre customer (but he MORE than made it up to me as my next “Freak of the Week” – I’ll tell ya later…). As the appointment approached, I actually booted out 2 walk-ins. Sorry guys, but I didn’t want to take the chance of being busy when Pete arrived. Rule #6 – Never let Customers see each other.

Pete ended up arriving a little late, but whatever. He gave me a hug, which was weird considering he’s not even a Regular yet. We chatted a bit while still standing out front. I learned that his nearby vacation house is almost done. His summer was busy with work. And his family is still driving him crazy. Same old shit basically. But, he added that the vacation house will give him lots of excuses to pass by in the coming months. I’ve heard that one before, so I pretended to be excited. So then he booked an hour, and I took him into session.

Now here’s the weird part. When we got in the room, I just started taking my clothes off. I didn’t even bother to ask him what option he wanted. I NEVER do that with a new customer – even a potential Sugar Daddy. It’s like I’m just assuming he’s in, or (even worse) I’ve become desperate enough to do anything to hook him. I know that taking my clothes off in front of a customer is what I do all day, but to me this lapse of judgment is a big deal.

I swear my brain was out the window. Luckily he didn’t even notice my lack of erotic massage etiquette, and just joined me in nakedness. Apart from my little breach of protocol, there was nothing unusual about the massage. But then, right when I finished with the hand release and he was just lying there moaning, I began to have this mini-panic attack! All I could think of was “Now what? Do I just see him out? Should I try to get a phone number?”

I think he noticed something weird in my expression and finally said “I’m sorry… am I keeping you late? I better take off.”

Shit! Am I blowing this? I was still having my mini-attack, so I just told him everything’s cool and he can just relax and let me clean him up. I toweled him off, but instead of throwing my clothes back on, I actually jumped up on the table and sat down next to him – nude. I looked him in the eye, smiled and asked “So when am I gonna see ya again?”

I don’t know if he thought I was propositioning him or just being friendly or what because he gave me a great big shit-eating grin. Fuck – at this point I wasn’t even sure what I was doing anymore. Then he says (and I quote), “I don’t know…maybe you’d like to see the new house?”

Now what the hell is that supposed to mean? Is he propositioning me or does he think I’m just a big fan of architecture? I don’t know! Suddenly I became painfully aware that we were two naked adults lying on a table in a dark room, after business hours and off the clock. I didn’t answer him, but just hopped off the table and started getting dressed. “Yeah, that would be fun… call me” was all I finally said. I couldn’t even look at him!

I swear to gawd – I never act this flaky with a customer. To him I must have looked like a schoolgirl with a crush, or a poorly trained prostitute.

Well anyway, he still left me a handsome tip. Then I gave him my phone number, and I noticed that he actually saved it on his cell. That’s a good sign, right? He promised to call me the next time he was going to see the house, and that he’d plan something “fun” for us. After he left, the only thing I could think of was what the fuck have I gotten myself into?


Saturday, September 6, 2008

Slogan Contest!

Announcing the HappyEndingz first annual T-shirt slogan contest!

You guys gave me a few good ideas recently for some slogans for this blog thing of mine. Trina and I had a good laugh thinking up a few more, but let's see what you guys can come up with.
Here's a few ideas to get you started...

I went to HappyEndingz and all I got was this lousy T-shirt

With T-shirt you get Happy Ending

HappyEndingz: Where Every Story Has A Happy Ending!

Wee-Tug-Yu: Asian Massage Parlor

HappyEndingz Massage - Satisfaction Guaranteed!

Thursday, September 4, 2008

9 Brothers Pizza

Across the street is a place we call “9 Brothers Pizza.” We call it that since every guy who works there is related somehow. It’s real convenient for lunch, and the food is decent. But the problem with going there is that most of the girls give us an attitude whenever we come in.

Everyone there recognizes us and knows we work at The Business. It’s funny, when we eat there all the brothers will eventually flock to our table and chat. Most of the girls who work there just give us dirty looks from across the room. Luckily, some of the waitresses are friendly enough so that we can actually have a peaceful lunch every now and then.

I know what you’re all wondering and the answer is "No" – none of the brothers have ever been a customer. In fact, if any of them came in we’d probably offer them therapeutics only since it’s never good business to advertise TOO close to home. No, I think they’re all just too nervous to try our services.

Now the head cook I actually remember from high school. It’s almost impossible to have a meal over there without him wanting to come over and gossip about fellow classmates – and I am not one to shy away from gossip! I think he enjoys catching up on news, but I also think he enjoys making the other brothers jealous of the attention.

The women there are a whole different story.

I’m not sure exactly how many of them are “sisters.” What I do know is that some of those bitches have been downright rude to us, and on a few occasions wouldn't even seat us! There was this one time when a waitress absolutely refused to come to our table to take our order. I know that bitch was just hoping we’d take the hint and just leave, but I got up and called over my high school buddy from the kitchen. Then I proceeded to tear that bitch a new asshole in front of a room full of diners.

Now let me tell ya – that did the trick! Since then, whenever we come in they usually seat us in the corner of the smoking section (yes we all smoke – shoot us). That way we can have our own non-bitchy waitress, and all the brothers can pay their respects without causing a distraction to the other customers. Personally, I think the real reason they stick us in a corner is so we don’t distract any of the husbands/boyfriends in the main dining area (did ya ever see a husband get caught by his wife gawking at other women? It ain’t pretty, but it makes for a great fight in the parking lot afterwards).

It’s funny – when you work for tips, you usually tend to tip others more generously. Heck, I even tip the guy who pumps my gas (I always use the “full-service” pumps at the gas station. Isn't that ironic?). So we ALWAYS leave a sweet tip for our waitress – partly because she takes care of us, but mostly to piss off the rest of those bitches.

Now whenever we’re in the mood for a decent cheesesteak – we have to hit the diner out by the freeway. None of the people who work there know who we are, but we can always count on a familiar trucker or two to say “Hi!”


Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Freak of the Week - Father and Son

Did everyone have a good Labor Day weekend? I had to work on Sunday, but luckily the Business was closed Monday. We had a BBQ at my mom’s house and guess who was there? – my sister and her boyfriend. I still think she made a mistake by taking him back, but I was at least civil to him.

Today was busy for once. Business always picks up after the kids go back to school, and the dads have more time to themselves. And this brings me to the new Freak of the Week.

This one really got to me. I was working the desk this morning when I got a call from a customer wanting to make an appointment. He asked what kind of massage we provide and I told him “relaxing.”

He says he’s had all types of massages and drops a few hints that he’s interested in our kind of business. So I talk turkey with him, “Tipping starts at $80 for a relaxing massage. So would you like to make an appointment?”

“Yeah, you sound kinda sweet. I’d like to come in around 4.” I jot it down in the book. “Oh, and one more thing, can I make an appointment for my son too?”

Hmmmm… close family. Oh well, I’ve heard stranger.

This guy didn’t sound that old at all, so I figured his “kid” must be high school or college age. “Sure. If he’s under 21 I can schedule a therapeutic massage for him.” Our Carved-In-Rock policy here at the Business is absolutely NO erotic massages for anyone under 21. We’ll do therapeutics for under 21 (and I’ve done more than my share of college freshmen! – and believe me, they are so cute when they think they’re getting something naughty and it’s only a therapeutic).

“Oh no…” he says. “I want my son to have an erotic massage.”

I winced at that. First off, we don’t like to use terms like “erotic massage” on the phone. Second, we make the rules – not you. So I try to steer the course of this conversation away from the taboo terms. “Sir, we don’t do that here. We do ‘full-body massage.’ And if your son is under 21, I will gladly schedule him for a therapeutic massage instead.”

“Come on honey. “ I winced again (I HATE being called HONEY). “My son is going to have his first full body massage when I say so. And I think it’s time for him to know what a real woman feels like before he has sex.”

HUH? WHAAA?? Did he just say “sex? Did he just say “before?”

“Uh, excuse me. But how old is your son?”

“He’s 10.”


I wanted to say, “I’m very sorry sir, but unfortunately it is against our policy to offer adult oriented services to persons under the age of 21.” However, all that came out of my mouth was a sort of high-pitched squeak.

Apparently he didn’t properly interpret my squeak and kept trying to get his kid in. “Look, I’m willing to pay full price for him. And I swear I won’t tell your boss - just let us come in.”

When my verbal faculties came back to me, the best response I could manage was, “Are you fucking kidding me?????!!!!”

“No I’m not fucking kidding. What - you think you’re too good to take care of my son?” This guy must REALLY love his kid – in all the wrong ways. Well, you know what they say… If you can’t keep it in your pants, keep it in the family.

I finally just told him there’s no way in Hell he’s welcome in here, and he finally hung up. That freaked me out enough that I had to go outside and have a cigarette. I blame my smoking habit on people like him.

I guess Junior won’t be going back to 6th grade this year as a man. Oh well.