I couldn’t tell why business was soooo slow, I just couldn’t figure out what the deal was, whether it was an issue with a system or that folks were cash-strapped towards the end of the month – which is really the reason I’m guessing, as with any bureaucracy, student loan payments come in on “the government’s time because it’s the government’s dime.”
When I saw the reservation coming through, I nearly shit a brick. I was chilling at the front desk with Forbes on the laptop reading about “How One Can Turn A Struggling Business Around In 5 Easy Steps” while jamming out to Notorious BIG – Juicy on the sound system – you didn’t know this, but we got bass in the walls and we can make the whole place rumble (unce-MF-unce!). As usual, my right hand was holding my smartphone looking at some high-production videos of “Good Girl with Daddy Issues” finding herself in a compromising situation – my left hand ensured that my weapon was at half-cock.
I feel low-key sexy as hell walking around with “chubs in scrubs”, liking the way that it pokes out just barely enough to catch their attention and to keep their mind going while they try desperately to maintain eye contact and remain professional. The sound of the message was louder than I expected and it quite honestly did startle me. At first, I looked towards the door because I thought it was the entrance bell but no one was there. It’s because I hadn’t heard it in a couple days, so my mind was a couple seconds behind recognizing it for what it truly was.
The Pampered Princess Package booked by what I would presume to be a younger lady named Luna C. I like to pull all the strings, push all the buttons, yank all the levers to really set the impression that this person is booking an engagement, not just a clinical routine exercise reminiscent of a post-coital cold-embrace, but rather it is an experience designed to wow the client, exceed their expectations (and to generate loyal repeat customers). Now don’t get me twisted, I do make sure that all of my clients get what they came for and more, but this is a business after all, someone’s got to keep the lights on – “This dick ain’t gonna suck itself.”
Wow, this lady either knows what she wants or she’s an epileptic and her caregiver had left the room because all the freaking options were chosen. Personalized sound coming from her own device (I hope TF it ain’t Justin Dweiber again), a mellow, relaxing, and comfortable environment was being masterfully designed specific for this massage, having the softest of mattresses with the plushest of covers. This is where I get jealous that I can’t have an out-of-body experience and massage myself. If I could clone myself, I would be able to finally feel what all of my beneficiaries have felt. To be honest, if I can clone myself, I wouldn’t put it past me from getting myself drunk and taking advantage of me.
I thought I had time to get the room setup because it was set for Tuesday. I had all the time in the world. I went back to my absent-mindedness of scrolling through the pornucopia displayed at my fingertips. Something was niggling my brain though about one of the options selected and I just about dropped my phone when I realized it wasn’t next Tuesday but this Tuesday, as in freaking today. As in 2 hours from now!
“Fuck”, I winge as I “drop my cock and grab my socks”. I ran to the supply storage to start gathering all the gear. For what this crazy lady ordered, it would take me all of that time to get set up and I don’t even know if I’d have the time to wipe off the sweat being created as I’m jumping through hoops to make this lady’s dream come true.
In all actuality, it only took about an hour for me to get the room all set up and pre-loaded, so that when she arrived the room and bed were already warmed, the ambiance was set and everything was square so that all she has to do is “Plug and Play,” strip down to what I imagined to be beautiful form (git nek’d), and place her goddess-like form on the table positioned waiting for the pleasure inbound. Because I did have some time left to kill, I went ahead and put up the “Be Right Back” sign that I use when I gotta twista fatty, pinch a loaf, or rub one out.
Having specifically carved out “Me-Time” is important because you don’t want your mind wandering about what that noise was when you “tryna do da do”, knameen?. I figured I could squeeze in a 20-minute shower and get all cleaned up and fresh-smelling, so I don’t scare this new client away with a whiff of fumunda. I hopped in the shower stall and turned the water on to make sure it was all set, quickly dodging out of the way so as not to get wet. It was one of those really tall rainfall water showers that the clients (hipsters) use after they’re done with the massage to help get the oils and scents off their body to prepare themselves for slipping back into the disgusting IRL – “Hey, at least it’s not stripper-glitter.”
However on the way back into the stall I had a sudden urge for a potty-break. What I thought would be a Number One, normally knocked out pretty quick, quickly advanced to a Number Two, so had to be taken care of post-haste. As you may well know, 1 + 2 = 3 meant that I had to sit for a bit. Unfortunately, this ate up more time than I preferred and ruined my chance for the ol’ rub a-dub-dub, but as a side-effect the room was nice and hot, now just stupid short on time.
My horn-dog mind was already thinking about all the possibilities that could present themselves for how this Client would look and I went with the stereotypical “shorty-PAWG” that has been dancing through my imagination lately. I am past the phase of entertaining the larger ladies like the ones towards the back of the magazines where the lowest-cost advertising is. Those pictures will make you go soft quicker than shit. In my mind I was picturing a cute little punk girl with colored hair, facial piercings, and inked up (I hope TF a full sleeve).
In my minds-eye, she’s got one of those classic hourglass figures that withstand the sands of time. Supple round breasts: big, not huge, just pleasantly present. I just cannot contain myself until I see that A$$ when I pull the towel off once she’s down on the table. It’s one of those heart-shaped buttocks, looks like a heart turned upside down, nice and full with curves and smooth lines. Something to grab onto or something preventing you from breaking her back bone as you rail her against the wall. I can’t deal with those “stick-chicks,” I feel like I’m going to split them in half when I slide home for the first Time – “Shit, you can almost hear wood splintering.”
I can’t do the larger ladies any more because it’s like looking for the three fricken marshmallows in that chintzy box of Lucky Charms, which those cheap-ass bastards hand out like methadone in Seattle on a Friday morning. The body type that I’m picturing for you is “Goldilocks,” not too big – not too small – not too thin – not too thick – not too short – not too tall… This is my imagination, so “just let Jesse James rob this train.”