I am a massage parlor girl.

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.

I heard a funny one yesterday. A gentleman comes in for the first time, and agima gives him to me. Not the best idea, because I’m amazing and he’s new. All I’m going to do is play with him and then leave the room and send in the new girl. He will be sad. But she will also be put on the spot. She has to make him happy enough to come back looking for her, but at the same time, she has to be careful with the new guy.

So the guy spends his 40 minutes and leaves happy. And she seems ok. I have no idea what went on, so I ask. What did he want?

“He likes push me”, she says. I ask her sternly .. she didn’t do full service with him, did she? Of course she says no. “But he really wants push me”, she says again. Okay. So I figure he tired his best, and got a release. Since he wants to do her, he’ll come back.

Today he comes back, happy as a clam. I chat him up, and find out she gave him a thrill he said was “better than a new tattoo”. The two of them went to a 69 position, her on top, and she gave him a show while releasing him. He, apparently, went to town on her the whole time. What’s with the “new tattoo” thing?

He’s back today because he can’t shake the image of her “push-ee” in his face, and he keeps thinking back to it and feeling giddy just like the way he keeps lifting his sleeve and smiling at a new tattoo for days after he gets one. She as even better than a new tattoo… even more of an “amazing visual” he says. With no pain!

Visual I bet. And wet and sensual and furry and hot and probably. She called it “push me” but that was just bad-teeth Korean for “pussy”. He wanted pssuy, and he got it, even if he couldn’t dip the wick. Wow… what goes on behind closed doors.

They spent an hour together today. He was very happy, she quiet as usual. He’ll be back before Friday. Those two were made for each other.

Hello to my New York area friends. I wore jeans on my way here and that was a BIG mistake. New York is so humid, it’s worse than Tampa! I thought I looked great in my Fornarina jeans but here I am so sweaty they feel like they don’t bend and weight 500 pounds. When I got to my bed I had to peel them off before my shower.

Looks like I’ll be shopping tomorrow!

Hi guys. I’m changing plans. I came to Seattle but it was too hot. Hotter than Las Vegas for me. I didn’t know that about Seattle. I also didn’t know about the Asians here. Where I come from, we have to work hard and be smart like foxes. But it seems in Seattle you can grow up like an American girl. Lazy and not knowing what to do with life. Again, I don’t understand Seattle.

I went to a few clubs with some girlfriends but they were like children given pocket money to spend. No thinking, just dress up and then move with the crowd. They let the boys (and I do mean boys, not men) drive everywhere, pay for everything, and make deals with the club owners and guards. I thought these guys were like pimps, that’s how bad it was. And the girls just drank to get drunk. What fun is that? And the food is terrible. The International District at 2am serves what I would not give to homeless in LA. It’s not expensive but it’s garbage so why buy it or think of eating?

I think the comparison of these Asian girls is like the tease and the flirt. Smart girls know how to flirt. Stupid girls that try to flirt only tease. You know what happens to girls who tease. I like to flirt.

My travels are not so fun this time. I thought this time I would spend my time with Asians and girls in this life but that has been a mistake. So I am changing plans. I am going to New York even though I hate it there in summer, I have to reset. My friends there are very connected and I can change everything from there.

New York tomorrow and probably no blogging because my writer friends are hard to reach these days. I do need help editing. I’ll write soon enough.

I willbe in Spring Lake before the weekend and also look for me at Atlantic City. I like Tropicana and Trump Taj and Bally’s. My friend used to manager a massage place right near the Hilton, that was closed many, many times. The only good thing about it was that it had smart, young Korean girls who knew what they were doing and why they were doing it. Last time I was there I went out every night with girls from there, for a lot of fun. Too much cocaine in the clubs that time (I avoid that) but I fit better with those girls than these west coast generations. Hard work is necessary, and fun should be fun,not just frenzy busy time.

Little girls today are as dumb as can be. So stupid. I can’t believe it.

Ten years before a girl had be smart to survive. Now you can survive as stupid. Real stupid and still survive. I don’t know.

I went to Portland and went with handful of very stupid girls. They have money from being so stupid, but will not last long. Their bodies are ruin. They are going to be dead soon, before 40 for sure. Maybe 30 if thats 9 years from today. To be honest, they will need special underwares if they get old because they can’t hold theres inside any more. They sold there bodies to cheap. They are to eazy and to stupid.

I am disgust right now with stupid girls. Sorry for that guys. I love good customers and I see good girls in those taking care. But ugly is there to. Ugly in customer and also the girl. Today is only ugly. 20 years and busted up just from taking money. So stupid. Away from home and so stupid, no one to slap them hard.

Sorry for my english today guys I am tired and no help writing today. The next time you pay to go back side please pay enough to cover doctor later okay? Stupid girls dont know what they do today.

I am enjoying meeting new people and stopping into a few massage places as I travel, even though I wasn’t planned to be working in any massage places. It’s just that things are a bit slow with this economy, and my friends have been dragging me around to meet their friends, which leads me to massage places.. currently in LA, San Francisco’s next, and then Portland, Seattle, Salt Lake and Las Vegas.

I stayed extra long in LA this time, and will only stop by San Francisco this time (a day or so?)

My question to you is, where in those cities should I stop by? Post comments with places (name, address if you have it) and if you know anyone there, gimme a name so I can check in ahead of time. Also tell me if you know if it is korean or chinese or russian or whatever… I have a few friends traveling in and out with me in these cities, of various ethnic persuasions, who can connect for me. I may take pictures of myself outside the storefronts for fun, or inside with the ladies, if it works out. Otherwise, I’ll just stop by and meet the girls, and talk about buying places (that usually gets me a pass).

If you look for me, I will always be wearing a noticeable belt… it is my signature item for this tour. I have many and am collecting more as I shop, but I am noticing that I am usually the only one wearing a belt in the places I have been visiting. If you notice and say “hello Missy” you won’t embarass yourself (we’re all Missy, right?) but if I come around and take your arm and thank you for welcoming me to your city, you will know it is me

San Diego is an interesting city. I’ve visited San Diego for many years, but never stay more than a few days. I have to confess I love the navy regulars but sadly they don’t usually know how to treat a lady like me. Maybe they are used to “real” Asian girls, and once they see I am “western” they assume I am an American borne Seattle-style Asian girl (looks Asian, but hasn’t a clue what it means to be Asian). No, not me. I’m half Asian but my Asian half is very, very Asian!

Anyway San Diego has this culture of BigWhiteGirls (American) and LittleBrownGirls (Latina). Guys here seem to like broad shoulders on their blondes. I am a bit intimidated by women who stand nearly 6 feet tall and are broad shouldered. But I am not at all like the Mexican ladies, who are often from other nations further south than Mexico. Sometimes I am asked if I am a Mexican Indian. I wondered why because I don’t look anything like a Mexican, and then someone showed me a picture of a southern Mexican Indian lady and she did look a little Asian.

I’m not here to work in a massage parlor, but am limited to a circle of friends this time through. Still, I find myself hanging around with girls who could be porn star blonds. It’s a bit awkward.

I hiked the trail down to the shore at the monument yesterday, and back up. I love that hike. It’s simple but in the early morning very very beautiful. It doesn’t open until a little later but I had a little special treatment. I was out before it was officially open to the public. Later I went over to UCSD to meet a friend, and we had lunch. The campus is very beautiful but not busy like I remember from last visit. We walked the nude beach but didn’t take everything off. Lucky for me I was wearing colorful underwear, so I just looked like I was in a bikini. My friend wore shorts and we didn’t see a single sex organ on the whole walk! That place has calmed down a bit.

Tonight we ate sushi at Japengo in the Hyatt. Really good. I went out onto the brick patio a few times for air. I really like that about San Diego. They leave you room to breathe, walk around, without going too far. They put like 4 restaurants right around each other, so when you tak a walk you run into people from the sushi place, the american grill place, the night club, etc. Could be a real mix, but tonight it was big blonde girls and one relatively little Amerasian chick. I’m not small, but I felt small.

I’ll be leaving San Diego but not before a night out with some massage girls tomorrow. My massage blog covered san diego massage parlors years ago, and I published a story of fire and ice massage centered around San Diego massage. Look for us somewhere between Costa Mesa and La Jolla. We’ll be the cute 6 pack of Asians drinking too much and laughing too loud, I guarantee.

I’m hitting the road for a few weeks. San Diego, LA, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, a brief stop in Alaska (to fish!) and then Salt Lake City Utah. Las Vegas, Phoenix, Denver, Kansas City and then of all places, Cleveland Ohio (but just for a day thank God). I will then return to Tampa for just one week, and summer up north until I return to Florida in late September.

I won’t write much but I will be checking comments and emails. I’m visiting a lot of people in just a few months, but hopefully I will enjoy myself more than the last time i made the rounds. And I will be so happy to leave Tampa… you guys who run the dancers down here (you know who you are) I’m just so not into you at all, and very glad I’m Asian.

Today I worked a real brothel, for the first time in years. Not a massage parlor, although the sign outside said MASSAGE with big, red letters. Inside, it was pure brothel.

You enter through a door that leaves you in an enclosed alcove. It’s basically a very small enclosed porch. As soon as you enter we get buzzed, and can see you through several one-way windows as well as a peep hole. The way it works (I was a temp worker, invited to stay with a friend who was running it for a week), is we look at you and decide who gets you. If you look over 40, Mimi gets you (she’s close to 60, but says she’s 40). If you look twenty, the young girl gets you. She’s the hired help, a real pro, and in her late twenties. Twenty somethings don’t have much money and last forever, so we make her take them all. Better she get sore than me, right?

If you look crazy, the cleaning lady answers the inner door. She is almost toothless and wrinkly, but she likes to jerk a man and make an extra twenty. Her sales rate is about 40% meaning about 60% of the time she answers the door, the guy decides not to come in. No crazies.

If you are fat, we argue about who has to take you. If you are strong and fit, June gets you. She can smell a cop a mile away because she was married to one (and still is, technically, because there was no divorce). If you are normal looking I fight to get the chance. Actually, I’m happy to take just 3 per day because I’m not much of a brothel whore to begin with. I’m just here to keep my friend company, stay active, and cover my bills.

Today YOU came in and I got you. You saw right away it was set up as a massage place, but I was wearing a sun dress with nothing else underneath. You saw that the massage table was built of massive lumber, able to withstand just about anything a 200lb guy could be doing on it. But even though you saw these things, you stayed quiet and let me go through the full massage motions before you touched me to let me know you liked the way I was bare underneath my thin dress. Dumbass. You wasted 30 minutes.

You then failed to communicate to me what you actually wanted, so we wasted another fifteen minutes in playful conversation that bored the shit out of me and made me wonder how you think you will ever have time to enjoy anything with just 10 minutes left on the clock. You are lucky I didn’t leave you there to relax for that last 10 minutes.

By the time you were open to communicating clearly, my answer to almost everything was no. No BJ. No full service. No back door, and no, I would not lick you there nor put my finger there. So you overpaid and under delivered, honey. Not my fault, but yours.

You see, that first time I stood next to the massage table and put my bush right next to your face, while I held you hand and stroked your back, you should have moved my hand behind my butt so the two of us could have gently eased my mid section in towards your mouth, so you could kiss me through my thin yellow chiffon dress. I would have responded with the right sounds, and lifted my knee up onto the table. Had you then turned over and slid up on the table just a bit, to drop your head over the edge, I would have lowered myself onto your lips and enjoyed a warm up. Who knows, your fingers may have ended up somewhere interesting, coming from the back side like that. And, if things were going well, I would have probably dropped forward onto you, so we were chest on chest on the massage table, positioning my mouth convenient to your “privileges”.

For sure I could have been yours today, for at least 50 of the 60 minutes. Better luck next time.

I have to say this is the most interesting development in our secret little society in years. I had no idea, but now I do. I knew about “private stock” and I knew about “friends with benefits” that you guys have been enjoying since several states cracked down on massage businesses. You all told me about that. But you never clued me in to this Seeking Arrangements thing. I had to read about it in the New York Times!

Sugar Babies for as little as $150 ?

According to the story in the Times,

if eHarmony or Match.com is a chatty social mixer, Seeking Arrangement is a down-and-dirty marketplace where older moneyed men and cute young women engage in brutally frank transactions. They’re not searching for longtime soul mates; they want no-strings-attached “arrangements” that trade in society’s most valued currencies: wealth, youth and beauty.

SeekingArrangement.com “now claims more than 300,000 registered members…Sugar babies outnumber daddies 10 to 1,… providing what one sugar daddy called ‘the best fishing hole I ever fished in.‘”

According to reports, guys are meeting ladies who need as little as $150 at a time. I can’t believe it! That’s a marketplace for private stock! Click the picture to go to the site.

Private Stock Sugar Babies for as little as $150 ?

Has anyone gone in and posted that they seek someone to provide weekly massage sessions via such a private arrangement? We girls are talking about this site now, and I can assure you many of them will be signing on for free and listing themselves for just that sort of “arrangement”. Click to go to SeekingArrangement.com