Thursday, December 31, 2009

Welcome 2010

Happy New Year Guys!

Sad but true, I will continue to enjoy my time off for another couple of days. In fact with the bad weather and all, I'm glad I'm not coming in. But for any of you guys out on the icy roads this holiday weekend, Audrey will be holding down the fort all by herself.

Good luck with that.

We've been hearing complaints lately from customers who say that Audrey is ALWAYS here. True - since Thanksgiving she's gone into total workaholic mode. That's nothing to brag about since there's nothing more annoying than to have your boss stealing customers during YOUR shift. I know it's her business, but hey - we all need to make a living.

The way things work around here, business will be achingly slow for the next 2 or 3 months. What with everyone paying off Xmas bills and taxes, no one has money for happy endings. But when tax returns start rolling in, business picks up.

So let's hope that 2010 is a better year for everyone! And where are those flying cars they promised we'd have by now?


Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Merry Christmas Everybody!

Merry Christmas everybody! I'm off this week, so nothing to report from work; which is nice because I didn't take a vacation this year. And from what I'm hearing, it looks like I'm not missing anything.

Audrey is actually working all this week. I think part of it is greed, and part of it is because she has nothing else to do. All of her family is on the west coast, so she tends to become a workaholic on holidays.

But the weird thing is that business just tanked right before Christmas. Normally things get slow right about now, but Audrey said it's been absolutely dead. Believe it or not, we usually sell quite a few gift certificates at this time of year. Most of them get redeemed by cute little old ladies for therapeutic massages.

This year I think we sold just a handful. That's not a good sign since it looked like business was starting to pick up again after 2 years. I don't know... Maybe I shouldn't read too much into it.

Someone asked for a Xmas story, so here's one from last year. Speaking of gift certificates, I had a guy who got one from his wife who did NOT know that we offer more than therapeutic massages. Well, what she didn't know was that he was already a Regular here. I guess he "hinted" to her that he could really use some body work and she actually came in and bought him an hour session.

Well, now that the cat was out of the bag, he felt free to talk about what a "relaxing" time he had at The Business in the hands of Trina. In fact, he made it sound like so much fun, that his wife decided to try a session herself! AND she asked for Trina!!

So now this guy was shitting a brick - his unsuspecting wife was in the hands of his monthly little secret. Trina did manage to take good care of her, but she said it felt kinda weird to here her talk about how her husband turned her onto the idea of getting a massage. Meanwhile Trina's thinking to herself "... lady if you only knew..."

I know it's not the most exciting Christmas story, but hey - I'm on vacation! Time to eat cookies, drink eggnog and figure out the instructions to all the toys for the nieces and nephews. I'm sure there will be plenty of debauchery to share next year.


Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Confessions of the World's Luckiest Prostitute

OK guys, you've found me out. In light of recent comments I've decided that I can't lie to you anymore, and I've decided to come clean.

I am in fact the worlds luckiest prostitute.

So now that I have nothing to hide anymore, I've decided to share with you guys the Gawds honest truth about what REALLY goes on around here. Here goes...

This morning I came to work about an hour late. There were already a couple of guys waiting outside, but I decided to sit down to an hour of TV just so I could relax and enjoy my coffee in peace. After an hour of news, sports, and weather, I opened up the front door and let in the guy with the most expensive car. The others I told to come back when they could afford something manufactured during a year that begins with a "2."

"Richard" owns his own bank, and stops by once a month to dump what he calls "tarp" money on me (I don't know - it looks like normal money to me). He asks for a mutual massage, but I tell him I'm feeling a bit under the weather, so would he mind just massaging me? He ends up doing a very nice job, and I make him spend extra time on my feet. When he's finished and ready for his happy ending, I tell him that I just did my nails and would he mind taking care of himself?

I left the room so he could finish his own happy ending without me distracting him, pausing just long enough to grab the pile of bills he left for me. As I'm counting my money, I thank Gawd for giving me a vagina and a sense of entitlement.

Richard only killed 15 minutes of my day, so I settle in for some SERIOUS TV watching. As Oprah comes on, I turn the phone off and lock the front door. As I'm closing the front shades, I tell the 3 guys standing outside to go jerk off in their cars and just leave the money under the door.

3 hours later and I'm ready for lunch! Sitting down really makes you hungry. So as I'm walking out the front door, I bump into "Fred" - a rather nice mortgage broker who used to fly in by helicopter before the economy tanked. Now he takes the limo like everyone else.

Fred asks if we can do a quick session, but I really can't give a proper handjob without lobster in my stomach. He looks really disappointed and is about to leave when I ask him if he has masturbated lately.

He looked confused and then admitted to whacking it about twice a week since our last session. I then convinced him that since I have a vagina, he's technically been taking work away from me each time he jerks off. And since that's money that should have gone to me, he therefore owes me a cut of each of those whack jobs. At first, he has trouble seeing the logic in this, but since I have enormous breasts he eventually agrees to pay me ten bucks for each time he jacked off since his last visit.

I happily thank him as he empties his wallet, then I give him a hug - as a token of my affection. Hey, I can't let him go home empty handed now could I? That's called good customer service. But now he has no money for another session, so I tell him to come back after he finds an ATM.

With that extra wad of cash, I decided to go for a nice sit down lunch downtown - where I can watch all the poor working stiffs going back and forth between their "jobs." As I'm downing my 3rd glass of port, I almost feel sorry for men and their penises - having to make up for their lack of a vagina with 4 years of college. Suckers.

I thank Jesus for not giving me a penis nor any discernable math skills. I'm so lucky that it's a woman's world and we get to make up all the rules, else I might actually have to work for a living. I think of how lucky my sister crack-whores are... men can't even drive past them on the street without offering them money! Now that's what I call respect. And here I am having to drive to work everyday...

After my 2 hour lunch, I start to miss the comfort of a warm television, so I head back to work. There are 4 guys standing out front when I arrive, but they can wait because now it's time to catch up on my Stories! I find the spot on the couch that has my ass imprint and settle in for 4 hour of soap operas. The phone rings more times than I care to remember. I consider changing the answering machine message to tell guys to just mail the money in, but realize I have to move to do it.

My mind starts to wander after 4 hours of TV, which is the price you pay for being so intellectual. I remember that the rent is due next week, so I better end the day with another customer. I praise Jesus for all my lady parts which entitle me to free money and television. Then I praise Baby Jesus for making men work so hard to give us money and television.

I make my way to the front door and see 6 men standing in line to get in. I open the door and greet their eager faces. I'm feeling generous so I yell "Ok, who here has more than 6 years of college?" Five dejected faces look down. "You there, the skinny one - you win the lottery. Let's go. The rest of you Johnny Punchclocks - go back to school."

My last customer of the day is "Andy." He's a doctor. With 8 years of school, he's either really envious of my vagina, or he's making up for a very small penis. But I figure that since he went to school for sooooooo long in order to afford my attention, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.

We get into session and... it's the latter. Sorry Albert. I explain to him my pricing and options. Since he's on a budget, he opts for the disinterested handjob while I daydream about Oprah. There's a slight chill in the room, so I tell him if it's all the same I'm just going to leave all my clothes on. He begins to protest that he paid for a nude massage, but I inform him he should have thought about that before the room got chilly.

Halfway through the massage I take a phone call from my boyfriend. "Oh nothing dear... I'm just in the middle of tapping the ATM for spending money." After a half hour of other romantic exchanges, I turn my attention back to Albert who's fallen asleep.

"Wake up Al. You're done."

He looks confused. "What happened?" he manages.

"I sucked your dick and swallowed your manly load. You're a stud. Now get up and get outta here."

Albert dresses and I walk him to the door. "Did I enjoy it?" he asks.

"Oh Albert - you loved it. Thrashed around and everything." I give him a big hug. I figure it's the least I could do for paying my rent for 2 months. "Keep studying!" I call out to him as he makes his way to the parking lot.

My day is now over. I figure I can squeeze in a couple more hours of TV watching before I head home to watch more TV.

And that my friends is my REAL typical day. I'm sorry that I lied to you guys for 2 years now, but I didn't think anyone would care to hear about how truly lucky I am to have a vagina.


Thursday, December 17, 2009


Well I was planning on talking about how my Xmas shopping is going, but instead I see that some of you out there are obsessed over this idea that I am somehow "lucky" to have this job.

"Lucky" is such an interesting word to use to describe erotic massage. It implies that luck is what gets us here. Is it luck that we get a lot of drug addicts walking through our doors looking for work? Is it luck that the college students blow outta here as soon as they graduate? I don't know, but that doesn't sound very lucky to me.

Or maybe you're thinking that I'm lucky I have a vagina, because it entitles me to a job where I can sit on my ass watching TV in between customers who shovel money into my purse. In that case, I would like to point out that my vagina has never been lucky enough to get me a job at the local plant - where decent-paying study jobs only seem to go to applicants with penises. Believe me - most of my friends and family have tried gettting work there, and a vagina is only lucky enough to get you a gig as a secretary.

And to correct another misconception, it is not "lucky" to watch TV all day. Let me tell ya - every fucking minute that I'm stuck in the lounge watching the clock tick, I am painfully aware that I'm not making any money. We have to cover 8 hour shifts, and that's 8 hours that could be spent with friends and family or ANYTHING more productive than watching TV. And it's even worse when those 8 hours are spent with some bitch that you can't stand.

You wanna know where luck figures into it? I guess that I'm "lucky" to have a cute face and large breasts on a small frame. That has definitely helped in getting new customers. But it's been my personality and massage skills that keep them coming back (no pun intended).

And I guess I would consider myself not so much lucky as fortunate that I have a job that can sometimes break a 6 figure salary. I'm sorry, but I just cannot bring myself to use the word "luck" to describe the hundreds and hundreds of handjobs that I had to do that particular year (Phew!).

Now all of you guys out there should consider yourself lucky that I'm an erotic massage therapist, or else you'd be reading "Confessions of a Grocery Store Bagger."

Today we ran out of plastic and I had to switch to paper. Forgot to double bag a gallon of milk and the bag ripped...

None of those stories have a happy ending.


Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Walk A Mile In My Shoes

Wow guys! Thank you sooooo much for all the advice and support. You answered most of my questions and gave me lots of stuff to think about. I realize now that I've only been scratching the surface of all the extra stuff I could be doing in my little corner of cyberspace.

One thing I realized is how uneducated I am when it comes to all these tech things. I just kinda skimmed over all the talk about links and widgets and stuff. When it comes to the technical stuff, I am such a girl. I usually just call my Techno-Nerd and say "read this and call me back." Poor Velma - don't be too hard on her since she helps me maintain this site as a favor.

So expect to see some changes around here soon. I'd like to get those handy links up as soon as possible. It's funny - when I started I wanted to educate everyone out there about what really goes on in a parlor. Now it turns out that I have to know all this internet stuff so I can do it professionally! Like I'm a real professor of handjobs or something. I wanted to tell stories, but I never realized it would ever get so SERIOUS.

Now to answer some of your interesting questions...

You wanna job giving massages and handjobs all day in various states of undress? Welcome to it. We always welcome newbies who aren't druggies or strippers (no offense to my sex-worker cousins out there, but some of you just have really bad work ethics). The reason why I can charge a guy $80 to see me topless and get a hand release is... (drum roll please)... because I can. It's the going rate. Basic market dynamics, just like everything else on the planet. Whether you view my job as easy or not has nothing to do with the market rate for a massage and happy ending.

Look at the guy that empties your garbage can once a week. Is the work hard? Yes. Does he get paid well for it? Yes. It has to be yes, because if garbage men got paid badly, no one would offer to do it. You want to switch jobs with me? Go ahead - but as a guy you'd have zero customers, zero dollars, but 8 hours of quality TV time. This job does require a certain set of skills (and a vagina).

The reason I've done this so successfully and for this long is because I take it more seriously than most. Unlike some of the druggies and skanks I've worked with, I don't view each customer as just another step towards getting my next fix. To me it's always been about getting the customer comfortable enough so they want to come back. Put it this way, a newbie is $80 one time only. A Regular is $150 every week/month/etc.

OK, enough of me rambling on about my MY work ethics. Unfortunately, I don't have any good freak of the week stories for you right now. I did have my shopping date, but that story ends with a lobster dinner and not a happy ending. Sorry guys, but sometime a girl needs her own happy ending, and mine was coated in butter and served with a roll!

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Gettin' Paid

I've asked my Techno-Nerd Velma to see if she could add links to the side of this blog to some of the more educational stuff I've posted. Things that the newbies keep asking about... how to find a parlor, code words, what to expect, etc...

Well as you can see, she hasn't figured it out yet. But, she did discover that I could put ads on this page and maybe make some money. At first I thought that was kinda sleazy. Yes, a blog about handjobs that doesn't want to appear sleazy. Well Velma pointed out the irony in that, so now I'm wondering how that would work.

So what do you guys out there think? If I added ads to this thing, would you respect me in the morning? I mean, I've seen other blogs that have advertisements for sex toys and stuff, and I always thought that was kinda cheesy. Also made me think that the blog wasn't real and it was all about selling crap.

Well the only thing I'm trying to sell here (so far) is the massage parlor lifestyle. Don't know how I'd feel seeing ads for condoms and dildos on the sides of the page. I don't know.

But it's not like I haven't made money in other ventures. I've occasionally done outcall therapeutic massage for some of my mom's friends. I've helped old boyfriends paint houses. And once I even did housekeeping. That particular job was for an old Sugar Daddy (and like most of my stories, it ended with a hand job), but I have to admit that I worked my ass off that day and that house was immaculate when I was done.
So honestly, what do you guys think? Should I put ads up on this thing?


Wednesday, December 9, 2009

The Hangover

Last night I waaaaaay over did it. I was a really really really bad girl. After the depressing week I had, me and some of my girlfriends decided to just go out and really blow off some steam. We started off the evening innocently enough with our beers and wines; eventually shifted to cosmo's and flirtini's, and then ended the evening with shots of Jager.

Have you ever ended an evening with Jager? I think selling Jager after 11pm should be considered a form of assisted suicide and be outlawed in this state. Needless to say, I was a hurting puppy this morning.

And I had to work.

Ever have one of those hangovers where you wake up and the room is still spinning? Then you realize that you're actually still slightly drunk? It was like that. I staggered into the bathroom only to discover that those horrible dreams I had about throwing up in, out, around and all over the toilet were in fact not dreams.

I forced myself to take a shower, but even afterwards I still looked like Death warmed over. It was so bad that I actually put makeup on. I NEVER wear makeup to work. Then I just threw on sweats and a hoodie (fuck Audrey if she complains) and poured myself into the car.

The extra strong coffee at Burger King with greasy breakfast sandwich didn't help things either. By the time I got to work, I was ready to just curl up and die. That's when I got the message on the answering machine that Audrey wasn't coming in.

The good news was that she wouldn't see me in this state. The bad news was that I was on my own and couldn't pawn off the first customer on someone else while I slept this hangover off in the back.

Luckily, my first customer of the day was a Regular I really like. We'll call him Mark - A nice middle age guy who takes the occasional mutual and never asks for anything weird. I was like "Thank Gawd it's you. I don't think I could have handled a therapeutic this morning!"

Mark was being understanding so I told him "Look - do you mind if you just do me today? I just want to lie here and not move." Yes I actually said that. Looking back today, that was pretty shitty of me to do that to him. So I got undressed (with much effort) and crawled (with much more effort) onto the table and let Mark massage me.

I swear to Gawd that was the best massage ever. That man should be freakin' sainted for what he did. I just lied there on my stomach and Mark gave me an absolutely wonderful massage. Even did my feet. He only paid for a 30 minute session, but I totally ingored the clock since it was ME on the table (benefit of the job).

He asked if I wanted to flip over, but I was totally limp at that point and didn't want to move. So I told him to just keep going. He did my back a second time, but when he finished he asked what I wanted to do about the happy ending. Oh crap, I thought that would require movement on my part.

Or would it...?

"Mark - you did such a great job I really don't want to move. Can you think of something that doesn't require me to do anything?"

Let me just stop right here and say that I am normally not such a bad masseuse and this story does not reflect my professional work ethics. I was in such a bad way, and I DID manage to drag my hungover ass to work. So at least give me credit for that.

Mark is not an adventurous guy, so he didn't know what to do. I told him he could do an ass release if he wanted. THAT wouldn't require me to even use my hands! Unfortunately, he's not exactly a very physical kind of guy so the idea of dry humping me on the table didn't appeal to him.

I thought of a compromise and told him to grab a bottle of oil and come over to the front of the table. He took a bottle from the warmer and stood in front of me. I was still on my stomach and my head was turned to the side with both arms up over my head. I opened my left hand and told him to oil it up real good. He squeezed some warm oil over my open palm. I squished it around in my fist a few times then I placed my hand at the edge of the table.

"Give me your dick" I ordered. Mark looked confused, but he stepped up to the table and put his slightly limp penis in my left hand. I closed my hand gently on him and then worked the oil onto the shaft. When he started to get hard, I just wrapped my fingers around his prick and said "Fuck my hand."

He seemed happy enough to obey, so he started to go at it right there. Luckily the height of the table was more or less good for him to stand and just move back and forth - pumping my fist with his cock. My head was turned to the side so I had a nice ring side seat to the action.

Now I've said it before and I'll say it again - I enjoy watching a cock shooting cum. It's just proof of a job well done. Well, Mark was no exception. So when he came, I just made sure I aimed him just right so he shot his load right in front of my nose, and on to my left shoulder. It puddled nicely on the table.

Mark almost fell over. He said he can't remember the last time he came while standing up. I'm glad I was there to help expand his horizons!

After he left, I collapsed in front of the TV in back and slept for about an hour. I was woken up by the phone, but at least I felt slightly better. Luckily I didn't have another customer till later in the day - when I had sobered up a bit.

So there you have it - confessions of the worlds laziest masseuse. Please don't judge me!


Thursday, December 3, 2009

Confessions of an Erotic Shopper

OK... I know the holidays are here when I've gotten my first request for a "Shopping Date." It's an extra service I offer to friends and family at no additional charge. When it comes to shopping, my skills are legendary and without compare.

My "date" is a customer I'll call Mike. He's married wth 3 kids AND a big wedding anniversary coming up. So not only does he have a shopping list a mile long, he also needs gifts with pizzaz. In other words, a Snuggie ain't gonna cut it this year.

The last time I saw him in session was 2 months ago, but he actually stopped by The Business yesterday and begged for my help. He's been a faithful Regular for years, so I had to help him. Besides - he has no problem of being seen with me in public since he lives over an hour away.

So do any of you guys out there find it in poor taste that the hands that oil up Mike's cock are the same hands that are picking out his family's Xmas gifts? Personally, I think it's funny. But think of it this way - as a girlie girl, I know exactly what kind of things his wife will like. And with all my nephews/nieces I know what all the hot toys are for this season.

And in return for my services, I'll get dinner at Red Lobster. Plus, he'll probably get me a gift card for Target or something as my Xmas present. I figure that's only fair considering I'm the one that will research and find all the coolest toys for the kiddies plus the most romantic and thoughtful jewelry/lingerie for the wifey - AND all within his budget.

Did I mention that we should be able to accomplish this within 2 hours? Now is THAT service worth something to you? Your entire Xmas list done in a fraction of an afternoon? Just think of me as a professional gift consultant.

Now I've never told anyone this before (except Trina), but I also provide one extra special service for the weary Xmas shopper. Two years ago, I was helping a rather timid gentleman who was deathly afraid of the mall and crowds. I managed to get him in and out of the mall and 2 shopping centers in 1 short evening. It would have been 3 shopping centers, but he was breathing funny and I thought the poor guy was gonna have a panic attack.

So I made some very bold decisions regarding Webkinz and an espresso machine so we could call it quits. He was relieved, but still a nervous wreck. I offered to buy him a beer, but he said he didn't drink. I still felt bad for the guy, so I told him to park the car at the far end of the parking lot. When we got there, I told him to just lay back and relax.

I took a quick peek around to make sure no one was nearby and I unzipped his pants. At first he was like "Whaaa?? Are we alone?? Can anybody see??" I told him we were fine and to just shut up. As a loyal Regular he was already quite familiar with my technique, so he calmed down quickly. Without the benefit of baby oil, I took care of him dry (The HJ technique is very different between lube and dry but a lot of inexperienced girls don't know the difference).

When he was getting close to cumming, I pulled his shirt up a bit (you try explaining cum stains on your shirt to your wife after "shopping"). He moaned out loud and made a neat mess on his belly. After directing me to hand him some paper napkins in the glovebox, he thanked me several times. I was just happy that he was finally breathing normally again. Then he rolled down his window and tossed the used napkins before driving me back to my car at the mall.

It's the one and only time I've successfully mixed work and shopping.

Happy Holidays!


Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Happy Holidays!!!!

Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for making this a pretty good Thanksgiving weekend. Not quite what I was expecting, but good nevertheless.

First off, what's usually the busiest week of the year for us here at The Business turned into a Homecoming of sorts. We did better than usual, but not what I had hoped. What was weird though was that there were few newbies. Instead, I saw guys I haven't seen in ages finally stopping by for a session and to catch up.

It almost felt like a happy hour that went on for 4 days. Guys would stop in for a session then just hang out and chat afterwards. The coffee machine was working overtime! There was soooooo much to catch up on. Customers telling us about their kids and their jobs and their vacations, etc. But in general, people came back because they finally got work and aren't broke anymore. I guess that's a good sign of the economy, right?

As for me, I can't complain. Most guys took topless, but I got quite a few nudes and even a couple mutuals. Cha-ching!

But the highlight of my weekend was definitely an old Regular I'll call Big-Toe Pete. Big-Toe is (as you probably guessed) another foot guy. His thing is to suck on my toes while I stroke him. We both lie on the table and he takes both my feet in his hands. Meanwhile, I use the oil on him and perform the happy ending. I can tell when he's about to cum because he takes both my big toes and pops them in his mouth. Then as he cums, he sucks them like he's a diabetic and my toes are full of insulin.

Ever had your toes sucked? It's weird and fun at the same time - especially when you can feel that tongue darting over your skin. If you haven't I would suggest you try it at least once. Oh - and wash your feet first.

Big-Toe was more than happy to get his Toe-On, and he showed his appreciation when he tipped me. Let's just say that my nieces and nephews won't be too disappointed with their Auntie CJ this Christmas. And I was worried for a while there!

So go out there guys and buy some Christmas presents! And maybe I'll see you at the mall. I'll be the one with the numb hands trying to dig change out of my wallet.