Category — Uncategorized

This came in from one of you guys out there:

I just visited with my current favorite, a 41 year old Korean doll who has worked at the same dark AMP for about 7 months now. When she first started she was apparently new to the AMP scene. She knew how to handle customers so she was not new to the business. She seemed new to live-in AMP lifestyle. I guessed she was in hiding as so many divorced Korean women are. I assume she worked as a young girl, got married and is now divorced and working again in a far away city as a way to get some cash.

Now after over 6 months we have a better relationship. Still customer and service provider, but she tells me more. How she lived in Texas. How she caused her divorce to happen. How she gets to decide to stay here 3 months at a time, which explains why she lasted longer than she initially told me she would. She also says life sucks. No money, no boyfriend for more than 6 months, and no future.

We enjoyed an hour together. It goes fast. I have fun from the start, but she only has fun in the last few minutes of our activity. She doesn’t enjoy the act except when it’s real, and it only gets real for her when I am close to finishing. She says it feels wonderful. She says I twist and bend near the end in a special way, and it’s real good. Each time we get together I notice she tries to move herself in awkward ways but she doesn’t feel it until I am ready. I just assume it has a lot to do with firmness. Not much I can do about that. Anyway it’s fun to explore that with my favorite provider.

And afterwards she wakes up as if to return to her existence. Boring (she says). Lonely. No future. I want to take her out for some fresh air but she’s not mine. I want to share some time with her outside of her world, so she feels more free and maybe sees something other than work. But that’s not my job. She is for me what I am for her during the last few minutes of our activity together. Just as I am at that moment a special “wonderful” feeling she doesn’t have any other time, she is that for me during our session. And then I go home to my world. Boring? Not really. I have too much to do. Lonely? Definitely. And not sensual enough.

We are all lonely and bored at times. And for each of us there is some window of opportunity to feel more. Even in a massage parlor, with yet another man paying for an hour, she finds a few minutes of sensuality that cannot be exactly duplicated anywhere else, ever. And so do I, which is why I remember almost every girl I’ve ever visited.

Thanks Missy for making the world a better place, a few minutes at a time. I will continue to try and do my part, in and out of the AMP world.

Just a reminder of these asian massage web cams that are available 24×7, unlike me!

One of you horny guys actually stole my dress today. Right out from under me too.

If you read this I don’t want it back, ok? It was nothing special and I don’t know why you stole it.

For the rest of you, I took a shower after giving him a clean-up shower, and when I came out he was gone and so was my dress. No big deal I had another, but seriously. Steal my dress? My coworker said he left happy and said good bye.

Don’t come back, ok?

I posted a report on prices in massage parlors and got a lot of feedback. Most of it was good. Mostly, people thanked me for being honest and sharing the information. Please remember it was reported information, which I edited to reflect some of my own inside knowledge.

Now in response to additional requests, I will try and answer the ago old question – how much do I tip in the massage parlor?

Dear Missy: I appreciated your information on the cost of extras in massage parlors during this down economy. I have very limited funds. I have even more limited cash. Everything is tight, but nothing is as tight as my favorite down at the massage parlor. So how much do I tip for service? I want the full package of services like I always got before. I was always paying the standard $200 my friends all confirmed was respectful and guaranteed to please. She was always happy with that and she always delivered everything I wanted when I tipped that amount. But if I can get it for less right now when funds are so tight, I’d go more often and be much happier.  How much can I tip and still expect to get the service I want? George

Well George I assume you mean an asian massage parlor (not a spanish massage parlor or russian massage parlor — those were the top Google results for those terms… one is mine!). You are right to ask me and not her. Asking her that question would be very offensive. Some guys don’t know that.

A woman does not want to acknowledge that her pussy has a price. It doesn’t have a price. But there is some dollar amount that causes her to willingly give it up. See the difference?

Give what you can. That’s how she sees it. You bring money, and give. In return, she looks you up and down, thinks about your glory and her standards, and makes a decision that she hopes no one will ever know about. Not the other girls, not the manager, and not anyone she will ever meet again. It is a secret, between you and her.

The bad thing is that maybe you didn’t give enough to get what you wanted. The good part is that once she decided to give, she is really giving herself to you (within her limits) and not just “doling out a ration”. The good providers relax and deliver after that. The bad ones meter out their honey carefully and trust me, everyone picks up that vibe.

And that’s why you tip your favorite more than just any girl. She learns that you appreciate what she gives andhow she gives it. Again the good providers will respond and deliver more and care more. The bad ones will try and be careful to follow a recipe.

Did that help? If you give $200 and you both always end up happy, you have to give $200. What do you do if you don’t have $200?

I suggest this experiment (but don’t tell anyone it came from me). Go to see her at not busy  time, but only bring $200 total. Ask the manager for a different girl for a nice massage, because you don’t have enough for your favorite, and pay for a full hour (probably $60). That leaves you with $140 in your pocket and the manager has taken $60 (which no one could ever get back). As the manager leaves you in the room, ask her if your favorite is available. This will confuse her because you just asked before for a new girl, but just say yes and play along.

Confused, she will get your favorite. If you were greeted by your favorite and not the manager, then you are inside the room with her now and just continue from here.

When your favorite shows up, say hi and everything like you are glad to see her and then try to explain to her  you didn’t ask for her because you don’t have enough money today. Tell her you still like her best, and you will ask for her again next time when you have more money. Have the money in your hand as you explain this, but don’t offer it and don’t act like you are waiting for her to take it.

What will she do? Of course she will tell everyone to go away, she will close the door and she will take you because you are her customer and she needs to keep you and save her own face. If she even bothers to check your money, which she usually won’t,  trust me it will be enough. She will take care of you at least as good as usual.

When she sees it is $140 she will be fine with that this time. She may warn you to save more money or tell you never go to another girl, but chances are you will now enjoy a lowered regular rate with your favorite. I would suggest you tip $20 more next time, and keep it there. If she’s as good as you say, she’s worth that much (and you got a pretty good bailout discount, right?)

After your session, be sure to compliment her in front of the manager and say out loud how she is the best one of all, and your favorite, and that you will always ask for her first.

Like this advice? hate it or disagree? Please comment.    Missy

I don’t envy Massage Envy. I see many reports on the Internet of men giving massages to women at Massage Envy, and the reports are creepy. Should I link out to them?They are like these:

Massage Envy and Rape of Customer

Massage Envy and Sexual Assault of Customer

Massage Envy and Sexual Assault of Customer

see massage envy post

We are closed now, and off tomorrow. Happy Chrismas ever one!

A customer got a full service half hour last night for $80 plus $40 house fee. That’s the lowest market price in ten years.

This economy is rough. Pocket money is scarce. The cost of living has not gone down, yet the number of customers has. This puts downward pressure on the girls to make money. And if the customer wants something, and only has $120 before paying the $40 house fee, she is left with a situation. She needs to do what it takes to get that $80 from the customer. Will he settle, or will he only stay if he gets full service? And if he does get full service, there is another problem. He has to be happy.

Don’t forget that once inside the room, no one knows what happens. The manager only knows that Girl A went inside the room with paying customer #1. If the customer doesn’t get satisfaction, for any reason, it reflects on the girl. She won’t get the next customer. She will not be “as good” as another girl, so she won’t get the better customers. What does $80 buy? It used to buy a massage and a release, topless or with roaming as is needed to get the job done. Is it really enough to get full service from these ladies?

You may not know that these workers are on 3 month shifts. They move here and live here. They have very limited expenses, and save almost everything they make, sending it home via money orders or bank deposits every few days. At the end of their time, they have made X amount of money for 3 months dedication.

So when you come in, especially towards the end of the 3 month term, and you don’t have much money, you probably get a bargain. And the bargains I have seen in the last few days, leading up to the holiday season, are better than I remember in the last ten years.

Of course I am not talking about workers with choices. I’m talking about full time, live in workers hustling to make a living on the circuit. If your local massage parlor employs local women who live in the nearby communities and support families, and have dreams of opening their own nail salons someday, you may not persuade them with your $80. Some girls draw a line. But still, I have not seen $80 full service in a major American city for at least 10 years, outside of the fly by night Spanish brothels or 15 minute places.

I’m glad I don’t do 30 minute sessions. I don’t even know how you can go from “Hi My Name Is…” to finished full service and getting dressed in 30 minutes.  It’s not my game.

This just in from a friend… it’s a report from the real world we all live in. A world of righteous liars and abusive authority. If you support your own authorities (police, lawyers, judges) you may be supporting people who behave as described. Don’t be fooled into thinking that when it is your turn, they will treat you any better. They won’t. As long as we all allow them to lie and abuse people, they will grow stronger in their ability to lie and abuse you, too.

The massage parlor was doing okay. It was open seven days a week, staffed 10 hours a day. It earned a few thousand dollars profit each month, after all the bills were paid. Someone was always working. The workers gave their lives, for a few months at a time, to hard work. No side life. No friends. No distractions. Just hard work, every day, for several months until they moved on (usually back home) with their savings. Who worked here? Transient workers. Not unlike farm workers. People who knew massage, has massage certificates, and worked in various massage parlors in various cities. You may have known them as “june” or “sarah” or “sue”, common names assumed by Asian massage ladies when they work anonymously in massage parlors.

But they are not anonymous. They are certified, having paid thousands of dollars for the school credits required for a massage license or permit. They had green cards and driving licenses, ID numbers and bank accounts. Just like you and me, they were easily tracked through the system for credit, identity, and of course legality. You may have thought them anonymous, but they were no different than any of us if anyone wanted to check. And the owners, too, were not anonymous. They lived locally, had registered and paid annual permits, carried insurance and paid lawyers and accountants for all of the paperwork required. The typical owner has 2 or more such parlors, because it is not possible to live on a few thousand dollars a month (before taxes). It is possible to live on a few thousand a month after taxes, which is what most owners make.

Keep in mind I’m not referring to syndicated brothel owners. I’m talking about massage parlor owners.

So when a competing business harassed the local police to check on this massage parlor, the police sent undercover agents to “check it out”. On that day, a new girl started working in the parlor. It was her first day. She was referred by another worker that needed coverage for her shift. The owner asked if she had her certificate and was ok by immigration – she did and said she had a green card.

The police sent at least a half dozen people to the parlor. They waited outside, while one called in for an appointment. The worker accommodated him. She was reported to be friendly and happy, and the officers later called her stupid for not having noticed the several marked police cars outside when she unlocked the door for the undercover agent. To them, she was an idiot for opening the door, letting the guy in, and not noticing the police cars.

This is the first indication of the level of disrespect our police have for us. They had no reason other than a competitor’s complaint to suspect anything was wrong, but they treated us like criminals. It gets worse.

Once inside, the undercover hinted he wanted extras, and had money, and eventually got the new girl to somehow acknowledge she would do something for extra money. We don’t actually know what happened, because the recording he made doesn’t reveal anything factual. Nothing unusual was recorded. Nothing incriminating was said. There weren’t even any pauses as you might have imaged there might be if someone was answering a question with hand gestures. You’d agree if you heard the recording yourself. But you won’t ever hear it.

The officer’s written report said she made gestures offering sex for money. He also said he had a lot of experience investigating massage parlors. He said he knew from the way they answered the phone, whether or not they were legitimate. He said he knew from the language they used in their advertisements, whether or not they were legitimate. He said all of this and more to a judge, and asked the judge to rule that the massage parlor was an illegal prostitution operation, that the owner knew all abut it, and that his boss could take everything of value to be sold for cash at auction, and close the business.

No one actually knows what gestures might have gone back and forth between the clearly biased undercover cop who already believed in his heart that this woman was a prostitute, and the woman who gave up a regular life to work three months straight, 7 days a week, to save money to solve her financial problems. If he offered her $200 cash for a hand release, would she be tempted? As a regular woman away from home on a job for 3 months in order to save money, would she have been tempted? We don’t know. We won’t ever know, because the officer lied. Over and over he lied to make his claim appear to be true. It wasn’t enough for him to say she offered him services for money. he had to stretch every other detail he could account, to make it sound as if it further supported his claim that this obviously prostitution business. Almost every stretch he made could be easily countered by any decent lawyer, in any court. But there is no opportunity for that.

The officer interviewed the owner, and made notes. He then lied, saying she said things she didn’t say. He said what she meant when she answered his questions, as if he were both King Solomon and a psychic. He lied to make a good case. And the judge accepted his lies as fact, without checking, and approved prosecution of the girl and the massage parlor owner based on the officer’s claims.

You probably don’t know that this is how it is done. If you review the paperwork, it sounds good. A solid report from an experienced policeman, given to a judge with a request to shut down what is claimed to be a public nuisance. Sounds like good work. But what if the business was legitimate? Shouldn’t there be some way to counter the claims? Protest the accusations? Demand that the accusers prove, even a little bit, what they claim? Of course if you are American you are thinking that is possible.. that the massage girl and owner just need a defense attorney, to plead innocent, argue, make a deal, etc. But that’s not how it goes.

What really happened is the defense attorney got a settlement agreement from the prosecutor, as the only practical option. The Judge approved it before it was presented to the accused. The massage girl and owner were told to sign the agreement, admitting they were knowingly in the business of prostitution, co-owners of the business, and that they had done everything that was claimed. They were told that they could sign it or choose to fight several separate court cases. The defense lawyer, the one recommending his client sign the agreement, said the cost of continuing in court would start at $40,000, and that he needed that cash up front or he would not take the case. A second lawyer was consulted, and he at first said the same thing. Then, after hearing who the current defense attorney was, he outright declined to take the case.

Consider for yourself what this means. Your legal system, rigged this way, not only removes your rights but also your options. The owner was forced to sign a paper admitting all sorts of things that were not true. A direct question to the defense attorney — “why do you want me to lie to the court” went unanswered. In actually, with the Judge’s approval, the court demanded that she lie, or face ruin. There was no fair trial, and no option for fair process at all.

If you want to say “she should have stood up for herself and if she was innocent, she would win her case” you need to wake up. Making a few thousand dollars a month from each of a few massage parlors (not syndicated brothels), the owner cannot shell out $40,000 cash to a lawyer, let alone a lawyer that does not seem to have her best interests in mind. And don’t forget the $40,000 was to get started. There was no estimate of wat it would actually cost to handle the cases.

What does this mean for you, the neighbor living in this world? It means the next massage parlor will be a dirty brothel, because only prostitution money can afford to pay corrupt lawyers and judges colluding to trap and abuse massage workers. Small business owners are being taught that they better cheat and steal, because good guys finish last, and if there is ever any doubt, they had better have a way out because the truth will not set you free.

Shame on the lawyers who participate in this corruption. Shame on the judges who don’t bother to provide their citizens with access to fairness, in their own courts. Shame on the police who abuse their authority to impose their will on those they consider anonymous or stupid. Was that girl really stupid? No, she was very nice. She loved people, liked to help people, was simply doing her best to be friendly and happy and accommodating to the new customer at the door. Why would she look around to see police cars? Why would she be concerned if she saw them? She was just like you and me… not afraid of the police who might be outside or in the neighborhood. But she will be untrusting and afraid of our “authorities” from now on.

At every step it was clear that everyone accepted that the owner and workers were knowingly engaging in prostitution, had money, and would be unharmed by getting fucked by this process of judicial rape. To them it’s just money and paperwork, admission of guilt in a non-criminal context. Push them through to accept the settlement, take their cash and confiscate their stuff, and send them back out to start over. No big deal, right?

Wrong. It is a big deal. You are corrupt and in the wrong, and doing harm. With every abuse of power you shave away the authority you expect to be granted by the people. You take away their trust, and leave them powerless and rightfully afraid of you. And that will come back to hurt you later. When you least expect it, when you fully expect the citizenry you claim to protect will support you, perhaps in a situation of legal challenge or maybe at a time when you are injured and in need of help, the people will let you down. Educated judges know this. They actually require their lawyers to “maintain the public trust in the bar”. But as these corrupt authorities continue, the people lose trust. They learn that although you wear a uniform that suggests you protect the people and preserve the peace, you are actually a bad guy to be feared. When you fall injured, they won’t help you. When you need help, they will look forward to your demise. Given the opportunity, more and more will don black masks and throw rocks at the police, seeing force as the only option when faced with unjust and abusive force imposed upon them unfairly. Where will that leave us? I don’t know, but I do know that it isn’t the fault of the girl who may or may not have actually agreed to give a hand job for $40 while no one was looking, or the owner who gave her a chance to work her way out of her financial distress as a massage provider. No, it’s your fault. You’re fucking it all up, and we will all suffer the consequences someday.

what a mess

Put your answer in the comments! Where (what city) and when (what year) did you enjoy the best tasting massage girl of your life? No names please, but do tell what you remember, especially why you remember the taste part (was it a kiss, a secret taste, a mouthfull etc).

This story came from old friend, who is now sending me email. He says “Hi Missy. This is my short story. I’m writing it to you from my car, instead of going in to see an Asian massage girl“.

Here I am in my car. It’s raining. Noisy rain, late afternoon. It is getting dark and the rain helps everything hide. If I walk on the street no one will see me. No one sees anyone in this city when it is getting dark in late afternoon and it is raining hard. Everyone is going somewhere. On the dark street in the rain I am anonymous. Anonymous as I leave my car parked in this lot, and walk across to the massage parlor with the neon OPEN sign. Like I did last week. But I am not doing today.

It is so easy. Pussy awaits me 150 feet over there. Comfort and adventure waits for me. She sits and watches TV, talks on her cell phone, and waits. Dressed in a sun dress and panties, she waits all day. Will I show up? Will any one show up? Who will it be? Or will no one come in today?

In my real world, nakedness is managed one body part at a time. Behind layers of individual clothing pieces, skin hides from the air, the sun, any contact with others. What skin is exposed is covered with make up or hair. If I want to see skin, I have to beg or trade or plead or pull mind tricks. Even then, if I make progress, I have to get past buttons, zippers, hooks, and layers and layers. Half the time I regret having made whatever deal I made to get past the armor, and the regret distracts me from enjoying.

In my real world, there is no copping of a feel. A brush by produces nothing but pressure from “something” under the clothes, and usually demands an apology. Afterwards I wonder, was that a breast, or a knee? They feel the same when hidden behind numerous layers of cardboard, foam, and fabrics passed off as bras and “tops”.

But when I brush my hand across the breast of my massage girl, my fingers stumble across her erect nipple, fingertips no more than one thin polyester layer away from that soft skin. I can see her with my fingertips. I can feel her life. When I stand over her less than 5 foot frame, as she unbuttons my shirt, I see right down the front of her sun dress. I see her breasts, her nipples, and the soft skin of her belly. When I raise my hands up along her sides, my fingers drag her sun dress up to expose her thighs and buttocks. She doesn’t pull it back down. She doesn’t react. She simply allows. In that room, the natural order rules. In that room, I succeed.

But not today. Today, I stay in the car.

I remember the first time I visited a massage parlor. I was on a roll. I had just quit my job, standing up to my ass of a boss for the first time in almost 15 years. I told him off, and quit. It was a winning moment. I had struggled to work up to it for many years, and for some reason woke up that day ready to take back what was mine — my dignity and freedom. Everyone witnessed my effort, and everyone saw me win.

I drove away from work at high speed, damn the torpedoes. I had won. I was victorious! Yet if I drove home I would be shown I was a loser. A jobless loser. And reminded of what a shit I was now in, with no job and a mortgage to pay. Everyone from the wife to the neighbor would react the same way… what will you do now? they’d say, missing the point completely. I couldn’t go home.

I drove on the highway. I went fast and determined, right into the city center. I had a phone number scribbled on the back page of my mileage log for almost a year — a secret late night place for when a visiting client wanted to party. I had never been to such places, but heard all the stories. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I parked and called. I was told I could “come up honey”. I went.

Inside I was out of my element, in a world run by warm women who knew how to calm a beast. I didn’t have to request, demand, direct, or ask for anything. They knew what to do. They smelled the testosterone. They senses the tension. They simply knew I needed attention, and they knew they had what I needed.

I remember handing her my money, not knowing exactly how much it was or what her price was. It didn’t matter to me, and apparently it was enough for her. She set me at ease immediately. They all handled me perfectly, from the older lady who escorted me in with a warm, positive “of course we have what you need” attitude to the little cutie who came into the room to help me remove my clothes. Professionals, focused entirely on solving my problem, whatever it was.

In that hour I remember I was touched softly, caressed lovingly, grabbed passionately, managed professionally and practically carried through a course of events that left me exhausted, completely satisfied, and feeling like a winner. I always remember that first experience as being like a hunt. Like a raw blood and guts hunt, cavemen chasing vicious wild animal. We chased caught and conquered the beast, drinking its blood and reveling in the warmth of its death. I guess it was she and I who conquered, but it was really just me being taken expertly through the stages of caring, to caress to tease, to titillation and then arousal, on to strenuous physical activity, and finally explosive release upon victory. I conquered while she encouraged. I remember I wept after, while gasping for breath, and she joked which made me laugh, and it was all good.

And that was the start of my addiction.

But today, I stay here. I’m okay today. Things are good. I finished work on time today, and I have a promising day to look forward to tomorrow. I’m on my way home now to relax with a drink and maybe watch some TV.

Right over there, waiting for me day after day, is that sweet little body all warm and ready to take care of me. No questions, no demands, no problems. Just ready. If I want it. If not, it will wait until tomorrow. Or the next day. For when I need it.

I appreciate that so much Missy. I really do.