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- Aug 24, 2009
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On a warm sunny Friday afternoon, I decided I'd finally take the plunge and get a first-hand look at the "hobby" that I had been reading so much about on the massageplanet.net website.
It happened that I had an errand to run that would take me to the north end of the city, so I checked the map to see which establishments were within a reasonable driving distance from my destination. I figured that on my first visit it would be best to stick to one of the MPs that had been covered (and blessed) by the massageplanet.net membership. The place I chose was an easy detour to the east of my route northward, so after taking a quick shower, off I headed. Rightly or wrongly, I decided to just walk in and take my chances with whomever happened to be on duty, rather than make an appointment. Besides, the place I selected didn't have an online schedule or catalogue of MPAs.
En route, I debated whether to go straight up to my primary errand and hit the MP on the way back, or vice versa, but the more I considered it, the more it seemed that if I was going to go through with it before I lost my nerve, it would be a better idea to head for the fun first. The drive from downtown was unexpectedly smooth, and I arrived at the location in less than half an hour. Much to my surprise, it turned out that the address was in a strip mall adjacent to the offices of my former dentist. I suddenly wished I had recognized the proximity of the two when I was travelling all the way out there for my dental appointments.
I walked up the stairs and found myself in a small but empty anteroom. Within seconds, the door opened, and out popped a plumpish blonde, dressed in street attire. I must have looked a little bit hesitant, because as she ushered me inside, she gave me a second look and asked, "Are you in the right place?"
"I think so," I replied.
Inside was a hallway and I could see several closed doors, but I couldn't see or hear a sign of another person in the place, so I continued, "Are you the only one here?"
"Well, there are two other East Indian girls," answered Blondie, "but they're both busy."
She quickly introduced herself, and began shepherding me along the hall like a lost puppy. Now, I know when I'm being hustled, but on the other hand, there was something about her aggressiveness that got my attention, so I decided to keep going, and allowed her to lead me down the hall and into a room at the front. Inside, the central focus was the 'table', with nothing else to spoil the institutional ambience.
"It's forty dollars for 30 minutes," said the girl. Then she continued, "Of course, that's just for the house, then it's another sixty dollars." Before I could say anything, she immediately added, "And that's a rock bottom price." Close quickly, close often, as my old sales manager would have said.
"Do you have a 45-minute deal?" I asked, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing.
"Well, no, not really," came the reply. "I guess we have sixty minutes for $80, but that's all....I'd do the thirty minutes."
"Okay," I said. She obviously preferred a faster turnstile. "Cash only? Or do you take credit cards?" Not surprisingly, she liked cash, so I pulled out my wallet and found forty dollars. As I was doing that, she asked, "Is this your first time here?"
"Actually...it's my first time...period," I said. For some reason, I wanted to make sure that she knew up front that she was dealing with a newbie. Why? I'm not sure. I guess I thought that perhaps there was a special kind of 'first timer' treatment, in which case I should give her the opportunity to do it right.
"Oh, I see," she said, and smiled even more. "Well, in that case, I'm the right one for you. I've been at this a long time...two and a half." I assumed she meant years, yet that didn't strike me as being an extraordinarily long time. I briefly wondered if MPA years were somehow like dog years.
"I have a lot of regular customers, and they all love coming back to me," she concluded. "You're lucky I'm taking care of you."
No doubt about it -- this babe was in permanent sales mode. Taking the money, she asked me if I needed a shower, or "was I good?" I said I was "good". Then she suggested that I get comfortable while she did the same, and she disappeared, leaving me alone.
As soon as she went out, I realized that I would need to find a bathroom before we started, so I didn't disrobe, but instead waited for her to come back so I could get directions. I also thought that this might allow me to check out the rest of the facility. Moments later, Blondie returned, wearing a robe. Upon hearing my request, she led me back down the hall toward the washroom, being careful to close any doors en route. But as I approached one open door, I caught a fleeting glimpse of an East Indian or Oriental girl just before it was shut.
Upon locating the washroom, I relieved myself, making a mental noting that there was a shower in the corner if I wanted to change my mind (or maybe for afterwards?), and made my way back along the hallway to my room. It sure didn't look to me like there were any other customers in the place.
Now, at last, it was time to begin. I quickly took off my shorts, shirt, shoes and socks (I had even made things easier for myself by skipping on underwear that day), and, following her direction, lay face down on the table. She found a position sitting beside me, her head snuggled intimately next to mine. We began to chat as her hand drifted over my back.
I had come here with two simple objectives, one of which was to find a decent relaxing massage, since various recent circumstances had left me feeling rather stressed out. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that my attendant wasn't especially focused on that aspect of the service. I couldn't really tell whether she was good with her hands (although it didn't seem so), but I knew that her cozy tete-a-tete configuration would never lend itself to letting me find out...
(end of Part 1)
It happened that I had an errand to run that would take me to the north end of the city, so I checked the map to see which establishments were within a reasonable driving distance from my destination. I figured that on my first visit it would be best to stick to one of the MPs that had been covered (and blessed) by the massageplanet.net membership. The place I chose was an easy detour to the east of my route northward, so after taking a quick shower, off I headed. Rightly or wrongly, I decided to just walk in and take my chances with whomever happened to be on duty, rather than make an appointment. Besides, the place I selected didn't have an online schedule or catalogue of MPAs.
En route, I debated whether to go straight up to my primary errand and hit the MP on the way back, or vice versa, but the more I considered it, the more it seemed that if I was going to go through with it before I lost my nerve, it would be a better idea to head for the fun first. The drive from downtown was unexpectedly smooth, and I arrived at the location in less than half an hour. Much to my surprise, it turned out that the address was in a strip mall adjacent to the offices of my former dentist. I suddenly wished I had recognized the proximity of the two when I was travelling all the way out there for my dental appointments.
I walked up the stairs and found myself in a small but empty anteroom. Within seconds, the door opened, and out popped a plumpish blonde, dressed in street attire. I must have looked a little bit hesitant, because as she ushered me inside, she gave me a second look and asked, "Are you in the right place?"
"I think so," I replied.
Inside was a hallway and I could see several closed doors, but I couldn't see or hear a sign of another person in the place, so I continued, "Are you the only one here?"
"Well, there are two other East Indian girls," answered Blondie, "but they're both busy."
She quickly introduced herself, and began shepherding me along the hall like a lost puppy. Now, I know when I'm being hustled, but on the other hand, there was something about her aggressiveness that got my attention, so I decided to keep going, and allowed her to lead me down the hall and into a room at the front. Inside, the central focus was the 'table', with nothing else to spoil the institutional ambience.
"It's forty dollars for 30 minutes," said the girl. Then she continued, "Of course, that's just for the house, then it's another sixty dollars." Before I could say anything, she immediately added, "And that's a rock bottom price." Close quickly, close often, as my old sales manager would have said.
"Do you have a 45-minute deal?" I asked, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing.
"Well, no, not really," came the reply. "I guess we have sixty minutes for $80, but that's all....I'd do the thirty minutes."
"Okay," I said. She obviously preferred a faster turnstile. "Cash only? Or do you take credit cards?" Not surprisingly, she liked cash, so I pulled out my wallet and found forty dollars. As I was doing that, she asked, "Is this your first time here?"
"Actually...it's my first time...period," I said. For some reason, I wanted to make sure that she knew up front that she was dealing with a newbie. Why? I'm not sure. I guess I thought that perhaps there was a special kind of 'first timer' treatment, in which case I should give her the opportunity to do it right.
"Oh, I see," she said, and smiled even more. "Well, in that case, I'm the right one for you. I've been at this a long time...two and a half." I assumed she meant years, yet that didn't strike me as being an extraordinarily long time. I briefly wondered if MPA years were somehow like dog years.
"I have a lot of regular customers, and they all love coming back to me," she concluded. "You're lucky I'm taking care of you."
No doubt about it -- this babe was in permanent sales mode. Taking the money, she asked me if I needed a shower, or "was I good?" I said I was "good". Then she suggested that I get comfortable while she did the same, and she disappeared, leaving me alone.
As soon as she went out, I realized that I would need to find a bathroom before we started, so I didn't disrobe, but instead waited for her to come back so I could get directions. I also thought that this might allow me to check out the rest of the facility. Moments later, Blondie returned, wearing a robe. Upon hearing my request, she led me back down the hall toward the washroom, being careful to close any doors en route. But as I approached one open door, I caught a fleeting glimpse of an East Indian or Oriental girl just before it was shut.
Upon locating the washroom, I relieved myself, making a mental noting that there was a shower in the corner if I wanted to change my mind (or maybe for afterwards?), and made my way back along the hallway to my room. It sure didn't look to me like there were any other customers in the place.
Now, at last, it was time to begin. I quickly took off my shorts, shirt, shoes and socks (I had even made things easier for myself by skipping on underwear that day), and, following her direction, lay face down on the table. She found a position sitting beside me, her head snuggled intimately next to mine. We began to chat as her hand drifted over my back.
I had come here with two simple objectives, one of which was to find a decent relaxing massage, since various recent circumstances had left me feeling rather stressed out. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that my attendant wasn't especially focused on that aspect of the service. I couldn't really tell whether she was good with her hands (although it didn't seem so), but I knew that her cozy tete-a-tete configuration would never lend itself to letting me find out...
(end of Part 1)
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