O no he didn’t!

This is quite possibly one of the most embarrassing stories from my massage history (both for me and the client):

In Spa Unrejuvinated, I was booked solid for one whole day. Yay! I grabbed the client intake form with my name on it and called to “Mr So N So.” A black gentleman stood up and shook my hand. I introduced myself and the lady next to him stands up immediately and says  “Wait! I requested you! You’re Shannon, right?” Oops, our stupid-ass owner doesn’t know what a “request” is apparently so I switch the papers out and bring back “Mrs. So N So” (aka the wife of black gentleman). Mrs. So N So wanted a 75 min deep tissue massage and so I give it to her. And she LOVES it. She just can’t stop smiling and sighing, she even slept at some point. After the massage she just RAVES about me. I’m SO happy to have given her the massage she had been looking forward to. I have NO idea who told her I was good at what I do, but she said they told her correctly! And to show her appreciation she left me a $5 tip (on a $115 treatment!). Whatever, cheap-ass, she just enjoyed my massage and that’s all I can truly ask for.

The next day I get a “request” again and this time it’s Mr. So n So. His wife was so pleased with her massage that she sent the hubby to come get a 75 min deep tissue massage. The massage commences and he doesn’t really say much. He asks a question here and there about where I’m from and the typical “should i be talking?” questions. I had concentrated the majority of massage on his back since he had requested that. I provided 20 minutes or so to the supine (stomach-up) position. I’m working on his neck and I notice his eyes are open, well that’s a little strange because most people close their eyes. I offer him an eye cover and he declines. So I (feeling more uncomfortable than normal) move on to work on his arms and legs. I’m doing deep tissue on his quads and I notice he’s starting to shake. I ask if the pressure is too much and he says no, keep going. So I do…and then he starts shaking more violently.
I look up and immediately take a step back: He has the “O” face going on.
I had not even NOTICED that he had some excitement going on (you’d think I would considering I was on his LEG!!) probably because we had double blanketed them and it’s not easy to see the shifting unless he’s huge (obviously not, in this case).
((as a side note, in this spa we had specific draping policies and I wasnt even halfway up his thigh))

I stand shocked for a minute and Mr. So n So sighs in pleasure and then begins apologizing profusely:
“It’s just you’re so beautiful and I couldn’t help it. You’re so voluptuous.” WHAT!! I had to wear baggy black shirt with white shorts – how is that even remotely attractive!?
I explained that the massage had to end early because of his ‘issue’ and that he still had to pay in full. My advice to him was to go home and show his wife a good time and not come back or request me please. I also requested that he put the sheets into the laundry bin himself.

And in the faithful pattern following his wife’s, he left me $5 for that crap. Thank you Mr So n So.

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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