My journey towards becoming a masseuse continues.
Fanny here is used in the British sense of the word, fanny is pussy.
So, after a short chat with the manageress at The Tropicana, I suddenly became a masseuse, just like that. No course, no exam, no test. The ground rules were pointed out in detail.
No sexual services was number one, but even she had a bit of a glint in her eye as she said it. You have to remember that the sauna massage business was in its infancy, not the poorly disguised brothels of today.
The uniform requirements were quite simple, high heels, no stockings or tights, ostensibly because they were unhygienic in the humid atmosphere: yea really! A short black skirt, no trousers for the same lame excuse about the humidity, and a comfortable top to work in, they suggested a white T shirt.
We also had to choose a name, which was quite a good idea. The manageress said it was so that we were much less likely to get pestered. She also suggested a short name but and no two of our names were allowed to begin with the same letter. This was so that customers might remember it, or at least the first letter.
Thus I now identified as Cori, which was slightly ironic as, apparently, it means maiden! Just hoping the customers didn’t think I was a Vestal Virgin or some such.
So, bags of butterflies in my stomach, clad in vertiginously high heels, an almost indecent black skirt and a white T shirt, I set off for The Tropicana, swathed in a long coat, for my first evenings work.
The other girls were quite friendly and Carla, known here as Ria, had agreed to work on my first evening so that she could show me the ropes. There were four of us on that night and I couldn’t help but assess the competition.
Carla,(Ria) had big boobs, the boobs that had brought us so much pleasure on the night we made love, and me? I have pert little tits, or PLTs as I call them, so we were not in competition on the breast front. I am tall and willowy and so not in competition with Anna who was, shall we say, generously proportioned. That left Mikey, who was slightly more mature and therefore had that market covered.
Early evening, mid week, was slow and we all sat around chatting with them giving me lots of useful advice, when we heard the first buzzer as a customer was let in. I was asked to accompany Mikey as she showed him round.
He seemed a pleasant enough chap, mid thirties, obviously his first time as he asked a lot of questions and seemed quite nervous. Mikey was quick with her chat and ready smile, trying to put him at his ease.
“My name’s Mikey.” As she showed him the steam room, the sauna and the changing room with its lockers and towels. “Take as long as you like, and when you’ve finished in here, just come into the lounge and we’ll make sure you get a nice, relaxing, massage.”
He muttered something unintelligible followed by the word thanks and set off for the changing room.
I was surprised to see the sauna strewn with men’s magazines. Mayfair, Penthouse etc and when I commented on it to Mikey, back in the lounge, she just said, with a grin.
“It’s just to make sure that they have the right idea before they get their massage!”
Sometimes we would place bets on which girl the customer might choose, based on the flimsiest of evidence, but it helped pass the time.
Another buzz, another customer. This time it was my turn to show him round. I followed the formula Mikey had used, smiled a lot, offered my name, the usual stuff, and was surprised at how easily it came to me. Sometimes it was easy to forget that they were really only hoping for a nice oily wank.
The evening rolled on, and at about nine it really started to hot up. We had six blokes in the sauna and four girls. The first couple of guys had long since left, ‘de spunked’ as Mikey crudely put it.
The inevitable happened, and this tall gangly chap, in his early twenties, came into the lounge, sat down with a soft drink and I thought.
“This is a fifty fifty chance. There is only me and Ria left in the lounge and after he had settled down for a while Ria said.
“So, Pete, are you ready for your massage?
“Who would you like to massage you?
“Me or the lovely Cori?”
It was all down to his body shape preference. I was so nervous that when he said “Cori” I had forgotten my stage name and almost heaved a sigh of relief.
Fuck, me. Oh fuck! And he’s actually OK, not dishy but quite OK. Is he seriously going to pay me to toss him off?
At this stage I had had very little experience with that marvel of evolution, the penis. I wasn’t a virgin by any means, but had only had two boyfriends and had only had sex with one of them. The sex was torrid, passionate and brief, very brief, and certainly didn’t include masturbation. I had been lucky to get a dozen strokes out of his cock before it exploded. It was nice, yes, nice, but not mind blowing, not like the sex with Carla.
“OK Cori, he’s all yours.” Ria’s voice brought me back to earth. I stood up with more confidence than I felt and said.
“I’ll lead the way, come with me.”
The girls had told me always to use the word come rather than follow, and if possible try and make the word sound more like cum than come. As I stood Ria gave me a knowing look as if to say.
“Go girl.”
Every moment of this first encounter is etched on my memory for ever. I lead him into room 3, closed the door and paused, just long enough for it to sink in, before bolting it.
Trying desperately to remember the script, or some semblance of it, I tried to sound confident.
“So, is this your first visit to The Tropicana, Pete?”
“Yes,” he replied and I saw him glance at the table and the ominous sign, ‘No Sexual Services’, so I picked it up, turned it face down on the table, and smiled my most wicked smile.
“I’m here on business and thought a massage might relax me.”
“Well I’m sure we can do that. Would you lie on the table face down please.”
He looked hesitant, with the towel knotted tightly round his waist and before I knew it my mouth had said.
“I can take that for you.”
He undid the knot and handed me the towel. Shit a naked man! I couldn’t resist checking him out as he climbed on to the table. As I mentioned before, I don’t have much experience with cocks but this looked nice. It hung down, along with his balls, as he knelt on the table to get into position. Not huge, not thick, but a thoroughly nice circumcised cock.
“Do you prefer oil or talc for your massage?” As I folded a clean towel over his bum.
“Oil please.”
“I think oil is so much better. I think you get a much more relaxing experience, you feel the sensations better.
“Some men,” as if I knew! “Like to chat during their massage and some prefer to enjoy the experience in silence. What is your preference, Pete?”
“A little chat now and then is fine but mostly I want to just enjoy the experience.”
“Of course.” And I set to work oiling his shoulders and back. Standing at his head, which was resting on his forearms, I was acutely aware that my fanny was directly in his eye line. My mind started to wander as to what extras he might choose. Would he want me topless with my PLTs out or would he want to see my fanny? Touch my fanny? This whole business was getting complicated.
The time for the back massage ended and I moved to his feet, working my way up his thighs in the usual way. There was no gap at the top of his thighs! Nowhere for my palms to accidentally stray to.
“I’m just going to make things a bit more comfortable.” As I lifted his ankles and parted his legs. Carla was right, he didn’t object, so I carried on.
“You have very firm thighs,” I observed, “you must exercise a lot.” As I grazed the pubes on his balls and he murmured his approval.
As I finished both legs and had done all I could, I got him to roll over. Disappointment! No erection!
I stood at his head and started on his chest, leaning as far forward as I dared, dangling my PLTs in front of him. More murmurs of approval.
Then I set about the leg and thigh massage from the front. There were definite stirrings now!
“Is that relaxing, Pete?” I said getting just a little more adventurous with my strokes.
“Mmmm, yes. Beautiful.” He paused then,
“Ah……. do you do any……. extras?”
Bingo! Jackpot! My heart was beating like a hammer as I went through my menu, wondering what he would choose. I know he’s opting for a wank now, it’s just a question of how much I will be wearing, and what he’s going to be touching.
“Topless please.” Said his voice with a little croak. Relief! I don’t have any problem getting my tits out, actually I quite like it, but letting a stranger feel my fanny on my first day might be strange.
“What a lovely idea.” I said, hamming it up a bit. “Massaging is hot work, it’s great to get out of this T shirt.” OK so it was amateur, and corny, but I’m nineteen years old and this is only the second erection I’ve ever seen, what do you expect?
I took my time pulling the T shirt out of the waist band of my skirt and folding my arms across my chest, pulled it over my head in one smooth movement. Bra next!
Then I had a moment of genius. I turned round facing away from him, piled my long hair on my head and said.
“Can you help me please?” He sat up and very inexpertly, with much fumbling, undid my bra. I cast it to one side, turned round to see his eyes glued to my PLTs.
“Gorgeous.” He said, “You have beautiful breasts.”
“Well thank you, sir.” I said pulling the towel away from his cock which I thought was now quite impressive, but what do I know?
“You can stoke them gently while I finish your massage.”
I poured a generous helping of oil straight onto his cock as he reached for my tits. He was gentle and it was quite pleasant but not like when Carla had done it, not like that at all.
I smiled down at him, closed my fist round his cock, and started the massage. I’m no expert, but I had taken advice from the girls so I concentrated on the sensitive bit near the head.
Then I changed to the stroke Anna had described as a great finisher. I slid one hand down the full length of his cock followed by the other, followed by the first and so on, as if he was penetrating an infinitely deep fanny. It didn’t take long. He tensed, made a little grunt, and shot his bolt. He came, fortunately with nothing like the ferocity that Carla had described, but about four good powerful spurts.