Best laid plans

Even though I find each trip to a massage parlor to be exciting, writing (and maybe reading) about them has been getting to be monotonous to me. So I decided for variety's sake I would plan a trip to a strip club.

I had a weekday off and an excuse to go to the mall (to spend my 2-month old birthday gift card) and I started making plans. I wanted to go to the club after 2pm when the people I know who work in the area would be finished with lunch and back in their offices - I would have to go shopping first so I wouldn't be too late getting home. I didn't want to carry a bag with a big department store logo all over it into the club so I emptied out my backpack to bring in order to be more discreet. I dug out my vice savings which in this case included a lot of dollar bills for stuffing g-strings; I wore a dark shirt so I could blend into the background; I put on my old jeans which were thin enough for easy friction.

I ran out the door to catch the bus and realized halfway downtown that I forgot the backpack. Bummer. Maybe I would be able to get a plain bag somewhere that I could use to hide any logo'd ones. I guess I made the mistake of going to the department store first since every store I went to just put the Christmas presents I bought into the original bag. My last chance was a bookstore a few blocks away; the clerk said they only had ones that were smaller than the one I had so I gave up. Everything else was in place. Just one small senior moment and it's delayed gratification for me.

My next chance for extracurricular activity was the following Sunday morning on my way to work. Since I only had an hour and it was so early, a strip club was out of the question, but the spa I had previously been to downtown opened at 10. I arrived at about 10:15 and walked up the firetrap steps with the year-round Christmas tree, finally in season, at the top. Before I could ring the bell I heard an alarm bell inside that was obviously triggered by my movement. I rang the doorbell anyway and waited. It was really quiet inside. Too quiet. I looked around for the motion detector and found it on the wall behind me. Since there was such silence inside, I moved around a lot just to set off the alarm and I rang the bell again. I felt a little guilty about trying to wake them up, but they advertise that they open at 10. I wasn't going to be frustrated again.

Finally I heard some movement inside. A woman coughing, water running, some bumping around and more coughing. Finally a slightly disheveled mid-40ish Asian woman in a sun dress opened the door. I apologized for ringing so much and asked if they were really open. She said yes and led me to a room. I paid her and got undressed as she left to get the shower, and herself, ready.

I had pretty low expectations given the shape of my masseuse but she put up a brave front, smiling and trying to be as enthusiastic as she could. The shower was nice as she scrubbed me down and rinsed me off before bringing me back to the room. She left for a few minutes and I could hear a little more coughing and water running. She came back with apologies saying she had to splash water on her face. I know I shouldn't have felt guilty - it is a business after all - but I wouldn't want to jump right into work after just waking up.

I knew she was cutting a few corners as she worked on my back and butt, making it to my feet in record time. She began the teasing ritual with a light touch all over my backside giving special attention to my ass, and I did my part by running my hand up and down her remarkably smooth legs. It was easy access into her panties under her silky dress, a voyeur's dream. At last, she asked me to turn over and broke the spell by asking what I wanted. I'm sure she was relieved that I only wanted a hand job and she wouldn't have to take a pounding so early in the morning. As she oiled me up and began stroking I had my hands all over her tits and private parts under her dress.

It didn't take me long; after all, it was still early in the day when my testosterone was enslaving my blood and justifying the term morning wood. She (I didn't even catch her name) did yeoman work and I let go with a force that only a post-massage hand release will give. As I lay in a near catatonic state, she left for some hot towels after cleaning me up a little. I mentioned something about the time since I couldn't see the clock very well and she thought I was in a hurry. There was a language problem and I gave up trying to explain that I still had time to catch my bus; she was ready to let me go. I decided I wouldn't force the issue about the remaining 15 minutes and started to get dressed.

I will think twice about going to a spa, at least this one, so early in the morning. Maybe because it was a Sunday. Even sex workers need to sleep in once in a while. It's all relative, though - strip clubs open at noon, but many dancers are just barely awake when I have met them in the early afternoon. That won't stop me from making my vice trips whenever my schedule permits.