The Female Happy Ending

One of the interesting trends here at The Business is that we get all these new customers at the beginning of the year who are burning up gift certificates for massages that they got for Christmas. Some of them are guys whose friends got them as a (rather expensive) joke. But most of them are sweet little old ladies who got them from their loving children.

"Agnes" is a good example. She's one of my favorite customers even though she doesn't tip for the therapeutic. I like her because she swears like a sailor and has the dirtiest sense of humor. Imagine your grandmother, but with the mouth of Chris Rock. Everything is "F- this and F- that" with the occasional "N word" thrown in (yes - she's black).

I get to see her twice a year - right after Christmas and Mother's Day. Her son buys her gift certificates, and No - he's not a customer. In fact, I really doubt he knows anything about The Business, other than it's within walking distance from his mother's house.

Agnes came in Saturday for her semi-annual session and we did the typical catching up. She tells me all about what her children are up to, and the grand kids, and everyone else in her family. Then she hits me with the annual question about why I'm not married, the lack of quality "gentlemen," and why I gotta follow my dreams, etc.

Well this time we were wrapping up our standard 60 minute therapeutic session when she hits me with "Soooooo... I'm ready for my Happy Ending now."

My heart skipped a beat on that one. My therapeutic technique with her has pretty much been identical for the last couple of years, so now I'm panicking - has she heard something about The Business? "Haaa... haaa... happy ending?" I stammer. "What are you talking about?"

Now I've played dumb before, but it's usually been with guys we don't trust (or don't want to touch). Agnes really threw me a curve ball there.

"That is what you call it, isn't it?" she continued. "That bit at the end?"

I think all the blood has drained from my face at this point. "Uh... what bit?" I manage to say. I have nothing. No comeback. No witty retort. No funny punchline. Nothing. I feel like a teenager who's mother just discovered the condoms under the mattress.

"My head massage..." she explains. "It's my absolute favorite part of the massage girrrl. You should know that by now."

Oh shit - I almost forgot about that part. I always end her with a scalp and facial massage. I breathed a sigh of relief finally. "Of course Agnes! I just forgot about the clock," I lied. "I was just about to get started." I regained my composure and repositioned myself to start working her temples.

Agnes closed her yes and started making "mmmmmmm" noises as I massaged her temples and jaw line. "Mmmmmmm... I mean it's not like I have a dick you can massage now is it?... Mmmmmmm"

I lost it. How often do you get to hear an 80 year old black lady tell you she doesn't have a dick?

"I've lived in this neighborhood for 50 years. Do you really think there's something going on around here I don't know about?"

We had a good laugh - and I think I needed it after the scare she gave me. After we both stopped laughing, we talked during her "happy ending." She was kind enough not to ask me any questions about The Business. Instead she told me stories about how this place used to be a computer store, and before then an insurance agent. And before this building, there was a giant bakery here.

We went 20 minutes over, but I didn't care. It was fun just to chat. Unfortunately, not all of the seniors that come here in January are this friendly. Some are downright nasty, grumpy-ass bitches. If I get stuck with any maybe I'll share her as a new Freak of the Week.

CJ