I felt relatively lethargic yesterday. The shoulder felt relatively stiff, coupled with aches here and there, the result of golfing the day before, in a tough, undulating course, where buggies were restricted to track. My lack of practice, and hence accuracy showed, and most shots ended up furthest away from the track.
With a little time to spare in the late afternoon, I wandered into one of the spas for a massage.
The massage was excellent. I dozed of at some stage, and the masseur was intelligent enough to not interupt the rest, which I needed so much. Work had been stressful, and the toll, of scrambling for an apartment to move to, tired me out considerably.
The first interruption was when I was told to turn over, after work on my back, my hands and legs were done. The masseur started being a little cheeky. That woke me and my little member up somewhat. She popped the question about special.
Why not, was my my answer.
She peeled of her clothing, and I discovered how well endowed she was – at least a D cup. She did all the right things to keep me aroused, capped my member with the required protection, and proceeded to ride me well and good.
I had a good feel and taste of the breasts, and was doubly pleased to discover that they were not fakes. The action didn’t last long before I shot my load. With the time available, she gave me a facial massage and more back rubs.
She asked if I knew of other joints, and mentioned a few that I didn’t. When I got curious with the line of questioning, she explained that their boss wasn’t been fair to them, and a group of them was thinking of jumping ship.
The deal sounded something like this – they get $10 for every customer. The boss wanted to retain $300 a month to renovate the current place. Her view was that capital expenditure was the owner’s problem and as workers, they shouldn’t be bearing such cost, especially since they were not given any basic salary to begin with.
After all, the place charged $1 per minute per customer and was taking the lion share of the earnings. The boss sort of threatened to employ masseurs from China, where he only needed to pay them only $5 per customer, if they didn’t agree with the new deal.
Their dilemna led them to consider working for a new establishment, which led me to think if there was a business opportunity here – something like a collective and collaborative arrangement. Perhaps a little like what Henry Winkler and Dan Ackroyd did in “The Night Shift” for hookers.
