I stood outside the office, having just passed all of my exams with flying colors. That license, that precious license was in my hands.
No 9 to 5 grind for me, now I could work legally for 3, maybe 4 hours a day, where I wanted and when I wanted to. Good money and fun to do also, what could be better?
It meant I was finally done with the mostly boring classroom instruction, which had consisted usually of sitting there reading a book, memorizing the long Latin names of muscle groups.
Sometimes the teacher actually got up and gave a talk, lots of times we just worked on each other. Some days we had real "hands on" experience when the trade school teaching massage I had signed up with had "volunteers" come in.
Those clients the school charged a small stipend which of course the trade school kept. The vast majority of the volunteers were men. I would have preferred females but those were rare volunteers in the mid 1980's.
That should have given me a clue, more than one "volunteer client" got a crestfallen look on their face when they realized I was to be their student masseur for the day.
But to get that precious license, there was no other way. It was my first inkling that this profession might not be all rosy like the ads for the school suggested.
Thinking of getting a job on a cruise ship maybe was one of my fantasies. Italy, the Bahamas, perhaps Alaska? A free trip just for doing a few massages along the way?
That was for me, no doubt.
Hairy men were not all that pleasant to work on, plus so many had big strong muscles, it was simply hard work.
Of course I also had to undergo the final massage board exams once class ended and I had sufficient hours in.
Some people sat there in chairs watching intently and asking questions, telling me to demonstrate my techniques on muscle groups that without fail they called by name.
The lady on the table that day I happened to know in passing, she worked for the State massage regulating board as their enforcer. Her job was to cite therapists that crossed any line, and the potential fines involved could be enormous.
She was also clearly quite naked underneath the thin sheet, and very attractive.
I suspected that part was deliberate, one little slip of the drape, the accidental appearance of a nipple, one error of any kind meant I could be sent right back to the class for more training.
I had already endured more than 1200 hours of that class, so I was very cautious. I was forcing my mind to think of what the muscles of her body looked like underneath the outer layer of skin, a trick I had used in class the few times a new female did show up to be a practice subject.
A bit like being in the meat market at Safeway, that worked.
I had no desire at all to spend another almost $5000.00 on school, I was ready to go to work, make some money.
Eager, naive, filled with an honest to God intention of doing my very best to help people, give them comfort and improve their lives, their health?
All while earning a comfortable and easy living?
Yep, that was me.
And I passed with flying colors.
+++
I remember when saw the ads, "work when I wanted to" and the ones about getting a "free" working trip on a cruise ship.
Simply fun, and money coming in for doing it? Not hard to take, not hard at all.
The school I chose was called Oregon School, it was one of the oldest if not the oldest trade school of it's type around.
The building was also old, on the run down side but adequate.
There were just 9 other people in the group I was assigned to, all of them women.
For the first week or so I got a lot of curious looks, after all, I was the only male and I was also in my late 20's. Just over 6 feet tall and 180 pounds, I guess one could say I was not that bad to look at. The shock of sandy colored hair and an easy grin helped a lot also.
Plus I was single, my wife had taken the car and everything she could get into a U-haul trailer, including the little dog and headed out.
It really didn't take very long and the females in my class got used to me being there. I am sure that some if not all of them decided I was a homosexual and therefore of no concern. No one said a single word about that, though. I was careful to not mention having been married, and when it hit me what they all thought about me, everything became much easier so I never challenged that.
I did discover that when women get completely used to a man being around every single day, they lose all of their normal inhibitions.
You all know how a wife might think nothing at all of taking a piss while their hubby brushes his teeth? Or like the Deer in the garden that stares at you? When nothing happens, they go right back to eating.
Yea, a few days and women relax around a male when they see him all day every day.
We often worked on each other, in short order they thought nothing at all of not being cautious climbing on and off the tables.
By the end of the first month I saw all of their bare breasts, knew which ones were shaved and which ones were not.
A few of them seemed to delight in getting me as their subject on the table, I did try my best to not wave things around in front of them but I sure did get bumped a lot. Somehow I managed to not erect, and for a couple of them, that was like it was an outright challenge.
By then I was very good at not changing expression when a pair of bare titties appeared as they climbed onto the table. Now some might think that doesn't happen, but in rather short order a man in a massage therapy class becomes just part of the furniture. If the man does not react, the women simply ignore him after awhile.
Any who don't believe that, go take some classes. I took some continuing education classes right up into the late 1990's, it did not change one bit.
Other than the long and boring reading sessions, mostly just adding up hours, school was fun for me.
Every single night I masturbated furiously as soon as I got home, and again just before leaving for my classes the next morning.
With nine partly naked women in the room all at once, and touching them with my hands?
Lord.
I was young at the time, and very virile. It didn't help one bit that some of the women delighted in giving me a peek to see if I would react.
I didn't. I wanted that license. I forced myself to not even glance up when one of them held up the sheet for whoever they were working on to turn over.
Probably 30% of the time making sure they were facing my way.
Masturbation was my salvation.
+++
Finally that day I stood outside, my license in my hand!
Gina, the lady that taught our class most days was there, she came up to me and shook my hand, then she hugged me. We all did a lot of hugging in class, but that was the first time Gina hugged me.
For a brief second as she had her oversize breasts plastered against my chest I forgot my careful bedside manner and I think she noticed.
"Maybe one of these days I will call and get an appointment." She grinned at me. One eyebrow even went up slightly. In our class, she had never gotten on the table, all she ever did was go up and down the row, showing how to move our hands, how to sense what a client might need.
"Sure, I would like that." I told her.
"I bet you would." She smiled. Then she turned to go speak to some of my classmates who were there to go through what I had just done.
I found that moment a little bit odd. My classmates were all fairly sure I was Gay, I had overheard a few of the comments.
What Gina said sounded a tiny bit...suggestive?
+++
The first ad I ran gave out my home phone number. That was the part in our class that was completely missing, we were taught how to do a massage, how to drape to protect our client's modesty, muscle groups, dealing with injury, all of that.
There was nothing at all about how to actually GET clients. That part we were all left to our own devices. I didn't really think about that myself, I assumed an ad in the Yellow Pages, maybe one in a flier, a newspaper?
So that is what I did. The problem with the Yellow pages is that it only comes out once a year and it was six months before the next one did.
I made up little ads, posted them around on every single message board I could find. Then I went home and waited for my phone to ring.
It didn't.
Next I bit the bullet and ran an ad in a local small newspaper, I was excited the day that came out. One client would pay for the ad, though.
I figured if I could get six clients a day, $3barely 0 per client? That would be pretty good money, and if I wanted a bit more, just book Saturdays too!
Yea, sure.
I was far less excited when a week later, there had still been nothing. I walked around checking all of my postings, my ad with all the little tear offs hanging there.
Just one tear off had been removed.
The next day I was out mowing the postage stamp lawn in front of my downtown rented house, when I heard my phone ringing! I didn't even shut off the mower, I ran inside and answered.
"I am calling about the massages? Are you Dan?" A man's voice said.
"Yes, that's me. Would you like an appointment?" I asked.
"Maybe. What are your massages like?" He asked.
I guess I stammered, I did not expect the question.
"Well, it can be designed to fit your needs, or I can just do a typical full body massage if you prefer." I managed.
"Full body would be good. Do I have to wear a sheet? Those things irritate my skin." He said.
"I..well, yes. That is the law." I told him.
"Oh. OK then." He hung up.
A day or so later I got a call similar, then another one. By then I was getting frustrated, plus my bank account which was already thin was getting thinner.
That $5000 I had borrowed from the Government, and I knew they expected to be paid back.
I was sitting watching TV, thinking of perhaps trying to see if I could get on at one of the spas, maybe a back Doctor's clinic? I had already checked on a few, they wanted to pay $10 per client. I wasn't quite that desperate yet, besides, nearly every single one of them wanted a female therapist.
Cruise ships? Yea, sure. Competition was standing in line hoping for one of those jobs and I didn't have breasts.
When my phone rang again, I answered it, halfway expecting it to be another one of those same types of calls.
"Do you accept women clients?" A man's voice asked.
