CHAPTER 25 -- Rub-A-Dub-Dub
(NOTE TO READER: One of my followers suggested that I might start my chapters with a comment about my story. As many have surmised, this is not a story of fiction. My writing reflects real events in my life. As described to one reader, "
As written, the timeline is probably 90% accurate; the dialogues are probably 85% accurate. But the overall story line is 100% accurate. From beginning to end, my story carried on for almost 6 years. The earlier days are actually the most vivid and those are the experiences that I share in my writing." I cannot change who I was. I truly enjoyed the majority of my experiences. The major casualty of my chosen life was the damage that happened between my family and me. My family would eventually discover my activities and banished me from the family. Chinese shame is not something to be challenged. Unfortunately, I have been fully estranged from my family for over ten years.)
Monday morning I woke and started my fucking early. There is no need to rehash how the day went, but to say the least I was on my back and knees a lot. That evening Dipper drove me to the City for a slower Monday night.
During that day, I made a number of decisions and on the drive to the City, Dipper and I discussed those decisions.
After falling asleep at Terry's on Sunday, I realized that regardless of what my libido wanted, my body had its limits. I needed rest. Although I loved the intensity of streetwalking, the truth was I could not survive with only a few hours of sleep. I told him I wanted to do streetwalking only on the two busiest nights: Fridays and Saturdays. I would continue to do incall at the motel, but cut off time would be midnight. No money-fucking on Sundays.
Dipper had no argument. Why would he? Street walking was based on volume, whereas incall paid better. He was still guaranteed 1 to 2 grand a week with this arrangement which was 1 to 2 grand more than he was making the previous week. And, based upon the caliber of girls that I met in his harem, I suspected he was making more from me than the rest combined. Without a doubt I was getting fucked more.
There would still be crazy weeks that a hundred cocks might fuck me, but I didn't need it. If I was just in dire need of getting fucked I always had Dipper, Terry or what was growing into a significant list of clients that I could offer specials to.
Dipper would still collect from me daily, which would prevent any miscounts of his dividends.
All in all I was happy and so was he.
Tuesday I had a long lunch with Mae.
The first thing she wanted to know was how I made my way up to San Francisco and how did I even know where to go.
I told Mae the same thing that I had told Terry; I met a girl and she not only told me about it but invited me to go up with her.
Mae seemed to accept my story, but wondered why I didn't tell her about it earlier. I told her, "I wasn't certain if you would be ok with it."
She said, "It's your pussy, but be careful. That's a lot of fucking for not much money." Based on the volume that I had, I could have debated that with her but chose not to.
She said, "I also heard you have a new tattoo. What's that all about?"
I said, "A guy offered a trade. The Big Dipper was my idea. I figure if I ever get tired of it I will let my pubes go a little longer and no one will ever see it."
She smiled, "I hope to see it before that happens."
I laughed and told her, "Don't worry, you and I both know you will."
Mae said, "I'm glad you figured out how to use your pussy for bartering. I suppose it was the tattoo guy's idea. Makes no difference whose idea it was, because pussy has always been the best bargaining tool."
Even though the actual story behind my tattoo was different than I told her, she wasn't kidding. Women have been trading pussy for goods for millenniums. That is something that will never change.
She said, "It sounds like you're busy on your own, but would you like to work at the massage house? I told the owner about you and she would like to meet you."
Although Mae had suggested working the massage parlor since the very first weekend, I really hadn't given it too much thought. It intrigued me, but my dilemma was whether I wanted to give up what would mostly be incall. I told her that I would need to think about it.
She didn't push too hard.
After sharing revised versions of my first week of prostitution we finished our lunch.
I continued to enjoy countless clients both in my motel room (which I continued to rent weekly), on the street and at the bank when Terry needed to have 'quick conversations' in the conference room.
I told Dipper that I had an opportunity to try working at a massage parlor. He didn't think there would be any harm in it, but thought I was better off with my incall and streetwalking.
A week after my lunch with Mae, we met again for another lunch. As usual, the time was meant for chatting rather than eating. This time Mae was more persistent about the massage parlor. She explained that the parlor operator was going to be short-staffed that upcoming Saturday due to a few girls sharing a 'cursed weekend'. I finally relented and agreed to give it a try. It would mean I would forfeit any incall or streetwalking opportunities as I would be there for a 10:00 AM to 10:00 PM shift. But, Mae assured me it would be a good way to expand my horizons and meet additional clients.
She agreed to take me to and from the massage parlor that upcoming Saturday.
It would be my only my third week of professionalism that I would experiment with this new venture. I told my parents that Mae and I were going to have a fun Saturday together. I said I would be home that night, but would not work the restaurant. My mom was happy that I was taking the night off.
Mae had instructed that I needed to bring my own supplies, which meant condoms. She also suggested that I wear something that would be easy to take on and off. She suggested one of my summer dresses that was easy to slip in and out of.
Although the massage house did not open until 10:00, Mae picked me up a little before 9:00. When I stepped into the car she asked, "Is everything ok?"
She read me well. I had cramps and said, "My period is coming. I didn't think I was going to have to worry about this for a while. It's due tomorrow or Monday."
Mae looked surprised, "You're really sure you're not pregnant?"
I answered, "I took a pregnancy test about a week and a half ago. It showed negative. The instructions said to test after missing a period but also said it could still confirm pregnancy earlier."
She smiled and said, "I'm relieved." She read the look on my face and said, "But I can tell you're not."
I told her truthfully, "I was sort of hoping."
She simply said, "Careful what you wish for."
She gave me a Motrin from her tote and drove to our place of work for the day. Until we arrived at the massage parlor I never knew how near it was to my parent's home.
It took fewer than five minutes to arrive as it was only a couple of miles away.
We pulled into the parking lot of a small strip mall. The front windows of the parlor were blackened. The only thing that could be seen through the windows was a lit neon sign that read 'MASSAGE'.
Mae drove to the rear entrance of the building. I had my 'supplies' in a small backpack. She had hers in a tote. She knocked on the door and a young Vietnamese woman let us in. She and Mae exchanged a quick dialogue in Vietnamese which ended when the woman said, "Nice to meet you."
Mae led me to a small room which was our 'Waiting Room'. It had a couple sofas, refrigerator, microwave and TV. There was another Vietnamese girl that was sitting on a sofa. Again a dialogue in Vietnamese followed with another 'Nice to meet you.'
Both girls were attractive and, like Mae and I, were wearing-easy-to-get-out-of clothes. All four of us were obviously braless and I had to guess that no one wore panties either.
Mae and I set down our belongings. We left the girls and went down a hall to a door that was closed. Mae knocked on the door. An accented woman's voice said, "It's open."
Mae introduced me to Tiffany, the owner. Tiffany was also Vietnamese. Although we were all Asian, I was the only Chinese and I was certainly the youngest. I guessed Tiffany to be close to 50.
Tiffany said, "So you're Mae's Wonder Girl. She's told me about you. Mae's told you how this works, right?" I answered by handing her $150; my fee for having the privilege of fucking at her establishment.
Accepting my tribute she said, "The customers pay, $60 for half an hour or $90 for an hour. That money belongs to me. You earn your money from tips. I will greet them and bring them to their room. I will let you know when it is your turn. What you do with them is between you and them. I don't want to know about your sessions. But, your sessions cannot be noisy. Mae will show you where the clean towels and linens are. You will need to clear the linens and towels after each visit. Mae will also show you where the washer and dryer are. Each room has lotions and oils for massages. There are also baby wipes. Do not throw away any trash in the room. Most of your trash will need to be flushed down the toilet. If you need any other 'personal supplies' you have to take care of those yourselves."
There was no employment application. There was no W-9 to fill out. No insurance forms. In fact she never asked for my full name, although she did ask for my phone number. There would be no record of employment.
It was obvious she knew exactly what the girls did there. And, she knew exactly why men patronized her establishment. The reality is, she was the madam of a brothel. She knew it. We all knew it. But, in the event of 'legal complications' she could honestly say that there was never a discussion or expectation of sex for money.
Mae led me to another door. She said, "This will be your room today." I noticed there were four other identical rooms lining the hallway.
Inside the room was a massage table. In the corner was a small table with the lotion, oil and baby wipes that Tiffany described. Underneath the table was a shelf with stacks of white towels. Lastly, there were a two small chairs. The room had a single ceiling light that was controlled by a dimmer switch. The light was turned down low.