Thursday, July 30, 2009

Confessions of an Erotic Economist

The recession is over! Let me be the first to announce it - before any eggheads on TV, or crooked politicians, or stupid college professors. Yes sir - you heard it first right here from an Erotic Masseuse.

And you want to know how I know this? Well, unlike all those millionaire talkshow hosts and congressmen, my livelihood is almost totally dependent on disposable income. So as the economy goes, so goes my paycheck. And my paycheck has definitely gotten fatter recently. Let me explain...

Over the last month or so, I've noticed an increase in numbers of customers - newbies and the return of some Regulars. And just recently, I've seen an increase in nudes and mutuals - the more expensive options we offer. These are obvious signs that times are finally starting to get better.

As someone who relies on disposable income, I'm one of the first people at the bottom of the economic ladder to see if people have money to spend. And this is how I invented what I call "CJ's Handyman Index." Forget the Dow Jones stock market crap. CJ's Handyman Index is way more reliable and accurate.

You see, Handymen (carpenters, electricians, etc.) rely on disposable income more than me. So when the economy is hot, people want that new garage, or pool, or 4th bedroom. But when it slows down, their work changes to just fixing things. So instead of replacing a whole kitchen, people just want things maintained so they'll last longer. And how their business goes is reflected on my massage table. When things are good, Handymen ask for longer massage times and more expensive options.

New deck with hot tub = 1 hour mutual massage with breast release.

Paint the kitchen and fix a leaky faucet = 30 minute topless with regular hand release

And when the economy is in the shitter you ask? That one's easy - the Handymen disappear altogether. That's what started happening a year ago. I was losing Regulars left and right, and those that stuck around were cutting back on the options.

Now this index only really works with Handymen. Customers with steady jobs spend differently when times are bad. For example, my Regulars who work at the local plant still kept making appointments, but they cut back on options because everything else became more expensive.

[Funny story - last winter a guy offered me firewood in exchange for a massage. That's how bad things got.]

Let me tell ya - when gas prices shot up last summer, guys were coming in and asking for the bare bones cheapest options. It got so bad that we had to create a new option for these cheapskates. I called it the "Topless or HandJob." So if a customer came in with some cash, but not enough for any of the regular options, I would offer him a choice "I can either leave my clothes on for the massage and give you a happy ending, or I can take my top off but you're on your own at the end."

I did this mostly with Regulars that I kinda felt sorry for. Most newbies I would just show them the door. I know that the "Happy Ending" is the crux of my job as an erotic massage therapist, but it just feels weird to have a guy offer you $20 just for a handjob and no massage. That's crack-ho territory there. So guys I didn't know who couldn't afford a standard option - hit the road Jack.

And there you have it - CJ's Handyman Index. I think this really is the best economic indicator out there, and should be included on the daily news reports. Then we could all have a good laugh when the TV guy says "Today there was a sharp rise in the 'Handyman' which lasted for a few moments before a sudden decline..."


Tuesday, July 28, 2009

The Massage Parlor - A Fetishists Best Friend

I've had customers from NYC, LA and other big cities tell me about these fetish "clubs" that are actually like a massage parlor, except it's for fetishes only. So instead of getting a massage therapist for your session, you get a domme or a slave or whatever. And I assume these people are experts in whatever kink you're in to.

I once met a girl at another Business who said she used to work in a place like that. She was a "sub" so her specialty was having guys do stuff to her.

She claimed there was no straight sex involved, but the clients would get very creative. For example, customers were allowed to cum on her as long as she was covered with something like a towel or a plastic sheet. Customers could spank her, squeeze her breasts, etc., but they couldn't insert anything in to her. She did confess though that for "special" clients, she would offer to use a dildo on herself. It's also interesting to note that she described most of her clients as "mild mannered." LOL. It's always the quiet ones...

Most of the stuff she did involved getting tied up, spanked, etc., with lots of pleading and begging and whimpering. I asked her about all the exotic leather outfits and torture contraptions you see in the movies, and she said it was usually not that elaborate. Anyway, I've told you about my friend Wanda who's a domme. Well, she works out of her own studio, but I would imagine that in a "club" it would be something similar.

Out here in the boonies, we don't have them thar fancy fetish clubs. So the locals have discovered that your friendly neighborhood massage parlor is a nice alternative. I've learned over time about some of the basic BDSM stuff. But in the rooms, you kinda have to keep it simple. For example, we couldn't do the candlewax thing - too messy. I draw the line at:

Restraints on me
(but I'll tie the shit outta you)
Spanking on me
(but I'll beat the shit outta you)
Little girl role play (I won't do anything that references kids)
Customers feet (I will NOT touch a guys feet - EVER)

Fetish things that I have done at work include:

Foot worship
Role play
(no insertion)
Costumes (lingerie, high heels, boots, etc.)
Ball busting
(I could write a book on this alone)
Cum play
Dirty talk

Foot worship I just talked about, and I did older posts on dirty talk, smoking and dildoes/strap-ons. So that leaves...

Role Play
This is kinda fun for me, and it breaks up the monotony of the standard rub-n-tug session. I don't get requests for it very often, but when I do it's usually the "You've been a bad boy" kind. I've been asked to put my hair up and wear glasses as a school teacher who has to spank her bad student.

In my professional acting life I have played such dramatic roles as:

Bad Student
(in need of discipline)
Seductress Teacher (you've been a bad boy)
Sexy Nurse (checking your temperature)
Police girl
(I get to handcuff you)
Secretary (pleading for her job)
Boss (you plead for your job)
Ex-girlfriends (a weird one where I put on a wig and get called "Mary" or "Rachel" or whatever for an hour)

But my very personal favorite was Pizza Delivery Girl. A Regular had this detailed fantasy of seducing a Pizza Delivery Girl, so I agreed to do it. He got an outfit for me and even showed up with a fresh pizza! I put on A T-shirt with the name of some local pizzeria and had to knock on the massage room door while carrying the box. The fantasy revolved around him complaining about a cold pizza and how I could "make it up" to him. Of course it ends with a handjob and he tips me extra. And the best part about it was we got to have pizza afterwards!

I'll wear outfits as long as they're new with the tags. I'll put on a Catholic school girl outfit, but I draw the line at any references to "little girls." Mostly I get requests to wear sexy lingerie. But occasionally a Regular will bring in something fun like a prison guard outfit or sexy nurse.

Now the serious guys will bring in very specific outfits such as conservative blouses and long skirts for a "secretary" or "she-boss" roll play. I think the most unique outfit I've ever had was a Burger King employee uniform. Complete with name tag and ugly hat! You can only guess what that role play was about, but let's just say that the outfit ended up needing a serious washing afterwards.

Ball Busting
This is a whole thing in and of itself. This is where guys want you (actually NEED you) to do extreme things to their balls and/or penis in order for them to get off. Some guys have virtually no sensation in their junk, so they ask you to do all sorts of weird stuff to them like punch, pinch, squeeze, and in some extremes stomp. I haven't said much about it in the blog because I haven't had a good one in a while, but I've got some stories of the things I've been asked to do that I swear none of you would believe.

Cum Play
This is a messy one that I'll only do with Regulars that I like and trust. Guys in general are fascinated by their own cum and just marvel at the little messes that they make. That said, some customers take it to extremes.

Breasts and face are the most common requests I get. I don't mind breasts, but only a very priveledged few have ever popped on my face (that shit stings the eyes!!!). Next most common is feet, and I'll get the occasional request for ass or stomach. I draw the line at hair - no fucking way.

Another variation of this is with clothing. The guys who bring in lingerie often request to cum on bras, stockings, and occasionally shoes. Weirdest request I ever got was from a guy who wanted to cum on a cowboy hat while I called him my "Pimp Daddy." The runner up to that was a guy who came on a pair sunglasses, then took them off me and licked them clean.

So for all you closet foot worshipers, diaper wearers, cross-dressers, role players, and spankers out there - don't give up. If you're tired of paying full-service prices at brothels, or you can't find one of these "clubs" around you, then give your local massage parlor a try. Don't be afraid to ask about your particular kink. Remember - there is NOTHING we haven't heard before.


Thursday, July 23, 2009

My Day Off

Yesterday I got a day off because Trina wanted to trade shifts for this weekend so she could attend a wedding. I don't mind picking up some hours on Saturday because business has just started booming again.

Don't listen to those idiots on TV about the economy, listen to a masseuse. The economy is finally recovering because business has taken off for the first time in a year and a half!!!!

Anyway, what do you think I did on my precious weekday off? Go to a movie? Picnic in the park? Shopping at the outlets?

No. CJ went ghost hunting. Yes, you read that right. I was chasing ghosts like a regular old Ghostbuster. A couple of friends of mine (outer circle) are super into the paranormal. I mean these guys have the books and movies and everything about ghosts and spirits. But it's not too weird considering we have Gettysburg and the Amish country and such nearby, so there's actually a lot a ghost groupie can do around here.

The weather was decent so I thought it would be a nice day to spend driving around the countryside.

Wrong. My friends (Stacy and Greg) tracked down 2 places they wanted to investigate - an old gas station and an abandoned factory. Great - I just bought some fabulous new tank tops that The Girls have been dying to try out, and I'm crawling around old buildings.

Ghost hunting isn't just walking around an empty building at night after a six pack of Old Milwaukee. Stacy and Greg are totally serious about it. They do that "spirit photography" and seances and all that freaky shit. What we were trying to do was call the spirits out then take their pictures. I am not kidding.

They had a list of names of people who had died (I assume horribly) in these 2 buildings. So my job was to walk around calling out their names while they took pictures. To get an idea, Stacy would walk in front taking pics followed by me saying things like "Joe Smith... Are you here? Make yourself known to us..." Meanwhile, Greg would walk behind taking more pics.

The gas station was still in business, so we walked around the outside and tried not to draw attention to ourselves. The factory was empty and we went in through an open door, ignoring the "No Trespassing" signs. Talk about being scared as shit... if the ghosts don't get you, the meth-heads might. Luckily we didn't see anything other than pigeons living there.

I don't want to say that Stacy and Greg are full of it, but I don't see anything in those pics. They claim you can see "energy fields" or something like that if you look closely, but I just see specks of dust floating in the air.

And that's how I spent my day off. The End.


p.s. I know that some of you were probably hoping that our little field trip in the country would have ended up in a 3-some in the back of the car. Unfortunately, not all of my adventures end with a handjob. But I promise to think up something freaky for next time. LOL

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Freak of the Week - The Cloud

This one's just nasty. The latest Freak of the Week isn't even a person - it's a monster. I don't know where to start because it's disgusting and weird and funny all at the same time.

Anyway, on Friday I was working the day shift with Audrey and business was decent (finally). I had in this one guy in the early afternoon who was your average Joe. I think he'd been in once or twice before. What I distinctly remember about our session was that he said he had Thai food for lunch. I remember because I love Thai food, but I rarely ever have it. I mean, who sits around and says "Hey, let's have Thai for lunch!"

So we finish the session and as we're both getting dressed he asks if he can use our bathroom before he leaves. I said sure, then I headed out the back door to have a smoke. Well, as I'm finishing my smoke, I hear Audrey up front yell "CJ! Get over here!"

I note the panic in her voice as I run back inside. I find Audrey standing smack in the middle of our lobby with her nose all crinkled. I'm wondering what the heck's going on when suddenly it hits me too... the absolute worst Gawd-awful shit-stinking smell that's ever been in history.

To help you picture the scene, the front of The Business is a lobby with front desk. A hallway runs directly down the middle of The Business with session rooms on either side (it's basically the same layout as a tanning salon). The first room on the left is a restroom for customers. So basically, the restroom is in the MIDDLE of everything.

I'm like "What the fuck is THAT smell?" and Audrey's like "I think it was your last customer."

The bathroom has one of those useless exhaust fans that only makes a noise so you'll think it's doing something. I was almost afraid to look and see what horrible devastation took place in the bathroom, but I knew Audrey wouldn't do it - AND ITS HER BUSINESS.

I kicked the door open and was shocked to find...

It was completely clean. Even the toilet was empty. Whatever he left behind - it was just a Cloud of Pure Evil Stink. I noticed that there were no paper towels in the wastebasket, so he didn't even wash his hands - EWWWW.

With nothing to actually scrub down or flush away, Audrey found a can of air freshener to fight off the foul smell. She sprayed and sprayed till the can was empty - the Cloud of Evil Stink ate the whole thing!

I swear to Gawd that I could hear it laughing at us.

Next we propped open the front and back doors, but that only seemed to help the Cloud spread through the entire building! Now the back office started to smell.

I got desperate, so I went through all the session rooms (holding my breath) and immediately lit all the aromatherapy candles in an effort to head 'em off at the pass. In the back closet I grabbed scented candles like hand grenades and brought them up front to join the fight. In the bathroom alone I tossed in 4, and the rest I scattered around the lobby.

This only made the Cloud angry and we could see lightning starting to flash around it's edges.

At about this point, a customer came in and stood at the front desk. Audrey booked him for 30 minutes, and no joke - he changed it to 15 after he got a good whiff of the lobby. Audrey took him to the last room down the hallway, but later said you could still smell it inside.

I wasn't about to sit at the desk with the Stink Cloud from Hell hovering over me, so I actually stood just outside the doorway and lit up another cigarette. A walk-in customer came up and I warned him about our little problem. He didn't believe me until he got one whiff, was totally skeeved out and left. 15 minutes pass and Audrey comes back out of her room just as a second customer also changes his mind.

I told her we can't do business like this. She agreed, so we put up the "Back in --- Minutes" sign and took a 1 hour lunch. Damned if we were going to put up with that smell. We were so desperate to kill the Evil Cloud that we actually left all the candles burning too. Torching the entire building would have been worth it to save the city from that Evil Smell.

And no - we didn't have Thai.


Thursday, July 16, 2009

Freak of the Week - Foot Lovers

Yesterday I had another foot guy come in. The foot fetish is so common that it never occurred to me to write about it, let alone elevate it to Freak of the Week. THAT is how common it is. So there I was, sitting on the massage table (fully clothed) patiently waiting as my fully naked customer was kneeling in front of me - my right foot in one hand, himself in the other – when it suddenly dawned on me that some people may consider this odd. So today I will talk about the Foot Lovers.

Of all the fetishes I’ve seen, I would definitely say that foot worshiping is the most common. Now before I go on about foot stuff, I have a theory as to why we see so many of them here at The Business. It’s not because PA is home to the most pervs who are into feet - I think it’s because massage parlors are the most ideal place to cater to their needs.

Let me explain… Any full service place would gladly take them as customers, but for the most part, the foot guys are not interested in sticking their dicks in anything. So why pay for full service when there’s an alternative? The guys that I’ve talked to about it say that in a brothel, they don’t really know how to accommodate a guy who just wants access to a girls feet. For example, they would pay $60 for the door fee, another $200 for a full-service session, AND THEN another $100 or more for “fetish” stuff.

Since a massage parlor isn’t supposed to be full service, our prices are lower and clothing options are available. So if a guy just wants to look at my feet and take care of his own hand release, then he’s looking at $45 at the door, $60 for the fully-clothed option, and maybe an additional $60 for my “foot fee” ($100 if you want to cum ON my feet). So massage parlors just make economic sense, which is important in these trying times.

Anyway, back to the foot worshippers. There are a number of different kinks including:

Toe sucking
High heels
Leg humping
Foot release
Toenail polish
(yes, some guy paid me to do my toes)
Foot massage

The most common are toe sucking followed by a foot release. With the foot release, I usually sit down while the guy gets on his knees (or lies on his back), holds my feet together and then slides his cock in between. Another variation has me on my back with my feet in the air while he fucks my feet from a standing position. And they almost always end with cum on the feet. I don’t mind, I just charge a little extra for it.

Some guys are just kinda turned on by it, and want to see my bare feet during a normal session (one guy insisted I keep wiggling my toes). Then they go all the way to the hardcore “I only wanna see your feet” kind. I LOVE those guys! They only take up 15 minutes of your time, you only have to take off your shoes and socks, and THEY do all the work! LOL.

My customer yesterday was one of them. Easiest session I’ve had in a while. He was new to The Business and he had trouble asking for what he wanted. Luckily I’m quite skilled in the language of the foot, so I quickly figured out what he wanted. I swear, he looked like a kid in a candy store as soon as I went over some of the foot-friendly options I offer. He settled on the barefooted, do-it-yourself Happy Ending, with jizz on the side (or the #2 as I like to call it). What was unique about the session was that he insisted on getting completely naked himself, except for his socks and shoes (yes, he put his shoes BACK on).

So I guess there are a few foot enthusiasts out there who are a little odd as well.


Tuesday, July 14, 2009

The Inner Circle

As I've been trying to figure out who the fuck's been telling people where I work, I have sorted out my friends into the "knows" and "don't knows." Some of you may be shocked to hear this, but the career field of Erotic Masseuse is not necessarily cherished and respected by all aspects of polite society. In fact, some would go so far as to hold us in less esteem than say "Hooter's Waitress."

So we are forced to keep a low profile. Now most of my friends and family know that I'm an LMT (Licensed Massage Therapist). The whole "shampooer" thing I only use with guys I meet, or anyone else annoying who just has to know what I do for a living (like salespeople).

Out of all those people, most of them think I work in a normal day spa. Then there are the privileged few who know I don't work for a "normal" spa. I'd say maybe a dozen or so know this. What they think is that I work in a massage parlor where all the girls wear bikinis. I would call these people the "Outer Circle" because they have an idea that it's not a normal massage place, but they know better than to ask too many questions. This group consists mostly of close friends, a couple ex-boyfriends, and my sister.

Then there is the "Inner Circle." This is the handful of people who know exactly what I do for a living. If you don't include co-workers (current and ex), Ex-boyfriends (who I confessed to), and customers-turned-friends, there are exactly 4 people who know I'm an Erotic Masseuse. Now if you add in the co-workers, ex's, and customers-turned-friends, that number jumps up to maybe 2 dozen.

And that's not a bad number to manage when you live in a small town where everyone knows your business. And for the most part, they've all proven to be trustworthy (except for that slip up last week).

As for this blog thing... I can safely say that only 3 people in the whole world know about it. That's 2 co-workers and my Techno-Geek that helps me with the computer/internet stuff. And that's it. Luckily, no customers have surprised me yet with "Have you read this blog called 'HappyEndingz?' I think you'd enjoy it."

So my secret identity is still safe for now!


Thursday, July 9, 2009

Close Call

For those of you who've bothered to read some of the old crap I've talked about here, you know that I usually tell guys I meet that I'm a "shampooer" at a local day spa. Well for those of you who are new here, I usually tell guys I meet that I'm a "shampooer" at a local day spa. LOL

And that hasn't changed. As you may remember, I went online a while ago to try the internet dating thing. Since then I still give the old song-and-dance whenever someone asks me what I do for a living. It just simplifies things - believe me.

Anyway, the online thing has just gotten so boring. I will be the first to tell you that I give good chat. I can chat a guy up like you wouldn't believe, but the minute they ask for a phone number, I totally freeze up. I don't know what it is - everything completely changes on the phone for me.

Let me put it another way... I think since I went on the computer, I've chatted with probably a couple dozen guys (yes, I'm a chat slut), talked to maybe 5, and actually met only 2. And those 2 lasted only 1 date each.

Ya know, I think my problem is that I'm a real Fuck-em-and-leave-em kinda girl. When I really want to get laid, I usually just pick a friend of a friend of a friend who I know I'll never see again, and I just go for it. And with 3 degrees of separation, it's really easy to ditch them afterwards without offending any of my close friends.

Now a guy's gotta really rock my world for me to want to see him again. And unfortunately, this is the formula that I have inevitably used to find my last couple of loser boyfriends. Great in the sack? - you're in. Got a job and you're nice to your mother? - get lost.

And that brings me to Archie. I'll call him "Archie" because he has that clean-cut, nerdy kinda look of the comic book Archie (as opposed to my other male friend "Brad Pitt Clone" who looks like Ben Affleck). He's completely unlike anyone I've ever met. And by that I mean he's a friend of a friend. Yikes - That's a whole friend closer!!! That puts him within reach of my inner circle of friends, which for me is waaaaaaaay too close for comfort for reasons that you will see.

Now before you start thinking I'm a total whore - I have not done anything with Archie. We just met for Gawd's sake. But we did have a good time chatting last week when a bunch of us got together at a local bar. At first I thought he was interesting and nice, but without that extra "friend" of separation, I wrote him off as off-limits. Well, it turns out that he's the persistent kind, so he made a few inquiries and found out where to find me!

And to make things more interesting, he bypassed the whole surprise phone call thing and decided to surprise me at work.

AT WORK!!!!!!

Now I don't know who the fucking bitch-skank-whore-slut-pig-dog is who told this guy where I work (but I do have my suspicions JANE), but I have to now deal with the problem. So there I am, hanging out at the back door having a smoke after a particularly grueling session with a 300 lbs. trucker with erectile dysfunction issues, when I get a shout out from Audrey at the desk.

"Hey CJ! There's someone here to see you!"

Normally a scheduled appointment would just be booked in and led into the room by whoever's at the front desk, so this is odd. I stamp out my cigarette and walk up front. Let me tell ya - my heart skipped a beat when I saw Archie standing there. It's not the first time I've been surprised by someone at work, but it doesn't get any easier each time it happens.

"Uhhhhhhh... Hey you" I managed to say. "What are you doing here?" Notice it's not "Good to see you" or "What a nice surprise!"

He can tell I'm surprised, but he can't tell it's in a bad way. "Hi CJ. I just thought I'd stop by and..." (Time froze right here. I was terrified he was going to ask to be shown around) "... take you out to lunch."

PHEW! Time started moving again. You see, as a "shampooer" I would need rinsing sinks to shampoo in. Also, salon chairs, mirrors, racks of hair products, and all the other stuff you need in a day spa. Thank Gawd most guys have no idea what a day spa is supposed to look like (at first glance, our lobby looks like that of a tanning salon).

Audrey gave me a shit-eating grin. "I said it was fine! Go you two - have a good time." Grin grin grin.

To make a long story short, I got him the fuck outta there. Last thing I needed was for Archie to see some seedy looking guys coming in to "get their hair done." I made him take me to a McDonald's a good distance away where we made small talk for half an hour. I also got the message across that he was to never do that again - but in a nice way.

He tried to squeeze a real date out of me, but I talked him down to a scheduled phone call instead. I mean, he seems like a nice guy, but scaring the shit outta me at work is -1000 points right there. He's either an old fashioned romantic, or a stalker. It's still too early to tell.

But he does have a job. LOL


Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Preaching to the Choir

It's funny - I really wasn't expecting anyone to comment about what I said on Saturday. But you guys still had some interesting things to say.

The reason why massage therapists require licenses is the same reason why plumbers need licenses. You wouldn't want any idiot with a wrench to call himself a plumber would you? As for us masseuses, we don't want anyone who thinks they know how to give a back rub to advertise therapeutic, pre-natal, or sports massage.

Then there's the erotic massage. If you ask me, I think most girls who do this for a living aren't qualified. Perhaps they need licenses too! I mean, any skank can give a handjob (up, down, repeat as needed), but what else are you gonna do for the other 30 minutes?

And that's why erotic massage is such a weird thing for the authorities to be concerned with. The actual happy ending portion is only 10% of the session - the rest is massage (or it normally is anyways.). Now in a brothel, you could spend your entire 30 minutes fucking and sucking. That's 100% of the session dedicated to an "illegal" activity. Compare that to us - why that's 10 times more illegal than we are!!!!

So it's a damn shame when I hear that one of you guys found a provider on the internet or wherever, and then the session went really bad. I mean - it gives the rest of us a bad name.

Case in point... I have a friend (we'll call him "Bill") who found a local provider on the internet and went to her place for an erotic massage. He ends up in this really dirty, skanky apartment - the kind where you actually worry about finding a clean spot to leave your clothes.

Anyway, he meets this woman and she spends the beginning of the session texting on her cell phone, and smoking like a chimney. "Bill" is expecting a sensual massage with happy ending... maybe negotiate a little something "extra" towards the end. Now before he can ask for any options, she puts out the cigarette and immediately wraps her mouth around his cock!!!!

Needless to say, the session ended quite quickly. So much for the massage. So much for the anticipation. So much for the happy ending.

And that's why I think we should start licensing erotic massage therapists, instead of driving them out of business. It's for the consumers protection.

Consumer Advocate

Saturday, July 4, 2009

To The Guy Looking For A "High Quality" Massage With Happy Ending...

Don't worry...

Several states in the northeast are trying to implement some new laws forbidding anyone without an LMT license to advertise "massage" services. PA plans to start cracking down on massage parlors next year by fining businesses and individuals without licenses, or with less than 5 years of "documented" experience. Other states are even shooting for jail time!!!

So if you're lucky, you'll be able to find a Business like ours that still employs LMTs to do the dirty work. The bad news is that it'll shut down a lot of the smaller places, and the ones that are full service.

The problem of course is that it'll be tough to implement. A lot of Businesses pay girls under the table so there's no proof that you've hired anyone without a license. And the Asian places have the ability to shut down in 1 day and open the next since a lot of them work out of rented houses instead of actual office space.

Then there's the internet and Craigslist. People will still be advertising their non-licensed services and it'll be almost impossible to track those people down. So in the end, it really is just a big waste of the cops time.

So just hang in there! Pretty soon all the amateurs will have to resort to "back alley" massages! LOL


Thursday, July 2, 2009

HappyEndingz - International Edition: South of the Border

Since I mentioned Mexico last time, it reminded me of a funny story. So I've decided to make it the 2nd installment in my series on "HappyEndingz - International Edition."

I had this Regular who used to travel all over the country for work. He told me this story about the time he decided to break in the new guy on the crew by taking him to a strip club in Tijuana or something. Remember what I said last time about how in Mexico there's no distinction between strip clubs and brothels? Well, apparently it wasn't uncommon to see the girls blowing customers under the tables in this joint - it was that bad.

So the new guy - Kevin - is the guest of honor and the guys buy him rounds of shots till he's nice and happy. That's when they introduce him to a very lovely girl...

"Hello there. My name is Kevin, what's your name?"


"That's a very pretty name. It's nice to meet you Maria."

"Hola Keveeen."

"This is a cool place. You like working here?"

"Sucky fucky 15 dollars."

"This is my first job. I just graduated from the University of Tennessee. Where did you go to school?"

"Sucky fucky 15 dollars."

"I guess it's OK so far. The guys here are all pretty cool. Do you like the girls you work with?"

"Sucky fucky 15 dollars."

"So uh... How much to go upstairs?"

Upstairs is where most of the action took place. Maria leads Kevin in to a pitch black room and sits him in a chair. Without a word, she undoes his pants and pulls them down around his ankles. She starts blowing him and apparently he's loving it, but after a few shots he's too relaxed to cum quickly. He starts to moan and Maria quickly puts a finger to his lips. She takes his dick out of her mouth long enough to whisper "shhhhhhhh."

A couple minutes go by and he's starting to get into it when suddenly he's blinded by the room lights coming on. Kevin blinks a few times and looks around... the place is packed with other guys silently getting blowjobs.

And standing at the door with his finger on the light switch is the biggest, toughest, meanest looking Mexican he's ever seen. He gives the entire room a dirty look and says loudly "30 dollars."

Kevin looks down at Maria for help. She just kinda shrugs her shoulders as if this is a normal part of foreplay for any blowjob.

The Big Guy begins to walk around the room taking a collection. When he finally gets to Kevin, he asks "So does this include the 15 dollars I already paid downstairs?"

Apparently the Big Guy isn't used to questions, but is more than happy to entertain them. He thinks for a moment and answers in his best english "30 dollars."

"Yes, but what I'm asking is whether this includes the money I paid downstairs, or is it on top of that?"

"30 dollars."

"I understand that it's 30 dollars now. But if you're saying that it's an addtional 30 dollars above the 15 I've already paid, then I think that's unfair considering..."

After a very lively debate with the Big Guy that ended with the words "30 dollars," Kevin realized just how weak his position was (sitting in a chair, pants down around his ankles, half limp dick in the hands of a pretty Mexican prostitute, under the shadow of a very large Mexican man) so he dug into his wallet and handed the money over.

With the last of the money collected, the lights went back out again. Poor Kevin was a bit shaken by all this, so he apologized to a very confused Maria that he couldn't finish. With a very concerned note in her voice, she inquired "Sucky fucky 15 dollars?"

He just got up and went back downstair. He never saw the lovely Maria ever again, but his co-workers didn't stop laughing about it until long after they came back across the border.

And they said NAFTA wouldn't work.