All characters are over the age of 18
I've been in this business for a long time. I remember it started simply enough with the desire to make a bit of extra money to help me through my student days.
Back then I was a willowy nineteen year old, with long blond hair, pert little tits, a tight bum and, my friends all said, about the dirtiest laugh they had ever heard.
I was always an extrovert and never had a problem going topless on the sunny beaches of southern Spain. In fact I rather enjoyed it, all those men pretending not to notice while they ogled my tits.
I was a bit of a tease because, when I noticed I was being watched, I almost always played up to it. If I was walking topless along the beach and noticed I was being stared at, I would sometimes break into a trot just to get my boobies bouncing.
I had been befriended by Carla, who was a year ahead of me, and we often sat drinking wine and putting the world to rights late into the night. Carla was another extrovert with a larger than life personality and the tits to match.
She said she envied my 'nice little tits' as she called them, but hinted that her 'jugs' did have their advantages. I suspected she might be a lesbian, or at least bi, because she seemed to take as much interest in my body as some of the men, but that's not really relevant.
"I don't know if I'll be able to go on holiday this summer." I moaned one evening into my wine.
"Why not?"
"I'm struggling to make ends meet at the moment and every time I get a bit saved some other problem crops up. Student life!"
Carla, by this time was getting a bit tipsy. All right, lets be honest, she was smashed.
"That's such an easy problem to solve." She slurred.
"I wish!"
"No really."
"OK fairy godmother how?"
"How do you think I manage?"
"I have no idea, but you never seem to be as strapped as most of us are."
"Promise you won't tell another soul?"
"Promise! Promise on Brown Owl's petticoat."
That elicited a little giggle, slurred, but a giggle non the less.
"I have a part time job in town. In the 'entertainment' business."
"Good God, you're not a stripper are you?" As I felt a twinge of excitement.
"No that's hard work, all that vamping about for tips. No thanks."
"Then what?"
"Have you ever given a massage?"
"Only a shoulder rub to a boyfriend, I wouldn't know where to start."
"It's not the start." She giggled, "it's the finisssh." She said making a fist with her right hand and waving it up and down. Suddenly I caught on.
"You work in a massage parlour!"
"Yep! Whenever I need dosh I do a few evenings at The Tropicana. They don't pay me much, but I get two or three customers a night and set my own scale of 'tips' for the 'extras'."
"So what are the 'extras'? How does it work? How do you know if extras are even wanted?"
"Don't be so naΓ―ve. If a man goes into a sauna, run by scantily clad girls, do you think he's on his way to the gym? No he wants to get his rocks off and I'm just the girl to help him....for a tip."
We talked on late into the night before falling asleep. The next morning I brought the subject up, as tactfully as I could.
"Oh fuck," said Carla, "it wasn't a dream! I did tell you about The Tropicana?"
"You did, and I can't pretend I'm not interested. So come on, I'm intrigued, spill the beans."
"Well OK but this is our little secret. I don't want every boy in my year angling for a freebie. It all starts with a buzzer as a new customer is let into the building. One of us is usually told to show him round, unless he's a regular. I try and get this job if I can. It gives you a chance to chat to the customer, maybe flirt a little so I get chosen later.
"There is the locker room, showers, a sauna of course, a steam room and a plunge pool, deep and freezing. The customer is invited to take his time in the facilities and come to the lounge, wrapped in his towel, when he's ready for his massage. The trick then is to look more sexy than the other girls so you get chosen. Some of the girls just look bored and wonder why they don't get much work!
"I usually smile a lot, make sure they get a flash of my knickers and all the usual stuff, then we make our way to a massage room. These are sexily lit with lots of mirrors and the usual supply of oil, talc, Kleenex and so on.
"All the rooms have a sign on the table saying 'No Sexual Services' so, just to remove any doubt, I make sure he's seen it, pick it up and turn it round while raising my eyes to the ceiling. That usually gets the message home.
"I get him on the table, face down, and give him his massage, as sensuously as possible without actually touching anything in the cock and bollocks department. Once he turns over, I'm disappointed if I haven't managed to provoke an erection and we take it from there.
"He then usually asks for extras, so I give my list of services and the tip concerned. Easy. Then I shed whatever clothing he has paid for and start oiling his cock. Topless is by far my favourite because it usually doesn't take long once his hands are on my tits. He plays with my tits, I oil his cock and in a couple of minutes there's a big jet of spunk and I'm forty quid richer!"