I accidentally worked at a happy ending massage parlor
As told to Carolyn Tate
When I was in college, I – like many students – had a zest for life, a jam-packed social calendar and not a lot of money.
Desperate for a bit of cash, I went through the job ads religiously and one day found something that looked extremely promising.
“Professional massage therapist wanted,” said the ad. “Great money, flexible hours.”
I’d done a massage course during a vacation break and was always giving friends massages so I was confident I could do the job. Plus, the idea of great money and flexible hours sounded perfect to me so I gave them a call.
The manager Jenny* sounded lovely and warm over the phone, and I was thrilled when she invited me in for an interview the next day.
It didn’t seem like one of those places
I wasn’t a fool, and I knew that there were massage parlors and there were *wink* massage parlors, so I had my guard up a little when I first arrived. But everything looked professional and clean, and the (admittedly all-female) workers all wore a fancy starched white uniform that made them look like nurses.
The interview went well, and Jenny and I bonded over our shared love of horseback riding. Jenny said she liked my easygoing disposition and positive energy.
“You’re exactly the type of therapist we need around here,” she said. She offered me a job on the spot and asked me if I could start tomorrow. I’d be paid after each shift for each customer I massaged.
My first day
I turned up the next day, changed into my uniform and met some of the other girls in the break room, where we’d all wait until we were called to a client.
It wasn’t long before I had my first call-up. The girls all smiled and wished me luck, and I headed up the stairs to one of the treatment rooms.
Everything went just as it should throughout my first massage. The client was a middle-aged man who was OK-looking, clean and polite. It was clear he was a regular because he called the receptionist by name. I used medium pressure, as requested, and kept everything well above board.
As I was finishing, things got weird
I told the man I was done, and that I would leave him for a moment to get changed, but before I had a chance to leave, he rolled onto his back on the massage table, exposing an enormous erection.
“Finish me off, would you please, love?” he said.
He wasn’t unpleasant or aggressive in any way, and with him being a regular, I got the feeling this was his usual treatment.
I didn’t want to cause a scene or embarrass him, so, after hesitating for a moment I just thought, “Oh, what the hell.”
It didn’t take long to give the man what he wanted. He was as respectful and polite as a man can be in those circumstances. He kept his hands to himself and kept quiet throughout the minute or so it took me to get him to orgasm.
When he was done, he wiped himself dry on a towel and dressed quickly. He smiled warmly at me and thanked me, before heading back to reception to pay. Not knowing what else to do, I cleaned up the room and prepared it for the next customer.
It wasn’t until I was alone in the room, heart beating hard, that I realized I’d just been paid for sex. What would my mother say?
I wasted as much time as I could before I headed back to the break room and the other girls. They smiled and asked me how my customer was, with no hint of a knowing look or suggestion that anything other than a massage had gone on. I didn’t know where to look and just tried to act natural, telling the girls it was fine.
Had he taken advantage of me?
At first, I wondered whether this man had just taken advantage of me being new, but as I was called to service three more customers during that shift, and each asked for the same thing at the end of the massage, I realized I was definitely working in one of “those” massage parlors.
As with my first customer, I gave each of the men what they asked for. They were all respectful and polite, and each kept his hands to himself. By the end of the shift I almost saw a certain gallantry in their behavior.
I wasn’t traumatized by what had gone on, and I happily took the great pay I was given at the end of my shift and headed home to my housemates, who laughed hysterically when I told them about my first day on the job.
When the money isn’t worth it
And although I was perfectly fine after my bizarre first day, I decided the job wasn’t for me.
I didn’t know what to say to Jenny, so I pulled a no-show on my second shift. I assume I probably wasn’t the first to do that because Jenny didn’t bother to call to see where I was.
A couple of weeks later I landed a job as a waitress in a seafood restaurant. I was paid about a quarter of what the massage parlor paid me, but I was much more comfortable there.