The First Client

Like a typical female, I find myself often remembering all my firsts: first kiss, first love, first international chocolate, first day of massage school, first etc, etc…and of course my first outcall and client.

After I received my letter saying I was had passed my national exam (NCBTMB) I immediately began looking for clientele outside of the circle of friends and family. I had decided to try my hand at outcalls and mobile massages.

For the sake of privacy I shall nickname my first client “Bob”. It’s a completely appropriate name, you see: He was a plumber living in a quaint neighborhood/village in a place I’ll nickname “Fantasia”. He had the classic plumber in his late 40s beerbelly and long stringy hair that probably should have been kept short. The way people present themselves (cleanliness, clothing choices, hair color etc) is often the first thing I notice. With the decline of door-to-door salesmen and increase of face-time on computers and phones, people of today have forgotten the awkwardness of sitting outside of a complete stranger’s door. One does not know what to expect because voices often do not match the physical presence of a person.

I had just climbed up 4 flights of stairs carrying my table that was 3/4 my size (i’m vertically challenged). I took a moment to catch my breath as I checked the paperwork: I had the correct address, I memorized the client’s name, and was had my game face on. Just as I’m about to knock, the front door swings open and there is “Bob” standing stark naked at the front door: My first massage client.

A good massage school prepares the students for moments like this. I thank goodness that I attended a hippie school and immediately took hold of the situation (get your mind out of the gutter). I turned away and requested of him to put some sort of towel or shorts on. Again, thank goodness, he obliged.

My first client insisted that he watch football while he received his massage. I obliged. My very first client asked to not use draping because his “former therapist of 15 years didn’t make me use it.” Thank goodness Florida law requires draping (at least that’s what I said). He enjoyed his Swedish massage and immediately booked another appointment.

The next time I saw my first client, he met me downstairs to show me street parking. He managed to do all of this in his biking shorts. I’m shaking my head just thinking about it. At least he was wearing something this time right?

Anyway, that’s the story of my first client. By the way, I was only 20 years old at the time.

Don't answer the door wearing this.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. David (Jelans Bro)
    Oct 26, 2011 @ 10:42:27

    Humor is the fruit of life. In your blog I saw a parallel between the climbing of 4 flights of stairs and the unusual experiences filled with mini-conflicts as a direct relation to “real life” itself. Thanks for sharing, and the ounce of encouragement gained today. VE salute.
    -b

    Reply

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