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Massage
Parlor Memoirs
Sex
work
in the 70s
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Can
You Hear Me Now?
As a
hostess at the massage parlor, one of my jobs was to “knock out” a
session. In other words, I had to mark the time the
girl and client went into their session room and knock them out when the
client’s time was up.
We’d
knock discreetly. Well, as discreetly as we could,
considering all the session doors opened onto a central hall.
Knock on one door, all rooms heard it. Needless
to say it caused some confusion.
One of the
women that worked there was partially deaf. Anna
heard well if her good ear was toward the noise. However, if her deaf
ear was toward the noise, she could not hear it. This
little glitch ended up creating more than a few interesting moments
during knock out times.
One
evening, Anna and two other women had sessions. Anna’s client was a
particularly nervous little man. He constantly looked
guilty when he was there.
I’d put
them in the main three rooms, session rooms we always filled first
because they were the nicest. One of the other women
had her knock out time and I gently rapped on the door. She
didn’t answer, but I heard a loud thump from another of the rooms.
I couldn’t tell if it came from Anna’s room or the other, but
it wasn’t from behind the door I’d knocked on.
Again I
knocked, a little louder this time. I heard the thump
again, only this time much louder, followed by a string of invectives
fit for the docks.
Annie came
charging into the hall, covered by the white linen sheets we used on the
massage tables. She held the shirt with one hand and
rubbed her tailbone with the other. Her client hopped
out the door on one foot, attempting to pull his trousers on while
managing to get his tie around his neck. He looked frantic and fearful.
Annie
yelled at him to get out, which he did, post haste. He
shouted something over his shoulder about seeing her next week (they had
a standing appointment) and made a beeline for the door.
She
continued the tirade as I pushed her into the girls’ lounge and went
to get her dress from the session room. When I returned, she’d let the
sheet drop and her rather perfect behind was beginning to show bruising.
I was
infuriated. Annie, still nursing her bruised backside
began to laugh. Being half deaf all her life, her
laugh was very loud. I’m not sure why but it could
be heard all over the House. I looked at her like
she’d gone mad. Mad Annie, I decided was a
spectacular new nickname for her.
She pulled
her dress on, wincing as it slid over her butt. I asked her what might
be so funny, but first I wanted to know if her regular had hurt her.
She shook her head no and went on to explain to me that
the first time I knocked for the other girl, I had startled her
and she “bit down”, causing her client to jerk on the table, thus
thumping it on the floor. The second knock
(apparently occurring during her climb up onto the massage table) gave
her client such a start that his head smacked hers and she fell off the
table backwards, thus the tailbone injury.
I sent her
home and had her room cleaned.
The
following evening, a delivery came for her. She
received a dozen beautiful deep red roses and a heating pad…and a
check for three hundred dollars.
She
penciled his name back onto the schedule.
Copyright 2008
Do not reprint without permission
Part 1 False
Eyelashes and Fresh Towels
Part 3 Shag
Money
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