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Massage Parlor Memoirs
 Sex work in the 70s

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 sheet 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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