You’re A Hell Of A Masseuse.
A short story about massages.
“I’d rather have a good $30 massage than a $265 one.” — Josh Brolin
Some of my clients — I won’t say how many — are big girls. For obvious reasons, they need strong thumbs working on them. I have particularly strong thumbs. Nobody realizes how strong they are until they get on my table. By the time I’m done, they’ve probably screamed more than any other time in their lives.
It earns me comments like, “You’re a hell of a masseuse.” Nobody in my profession wants to hear that. Masseuses are what we call the sex end of the business. Believe me, sex is the last thing on my mind. I never think about sex when I work.
This is important since we’re often called upon to give massages in customer’s homes. One client had me set up in her bathroom. She was a massive thing, covered in powder, but still smelt like putty.
To get full certification, those thieves at the licensing board made me put in over five hundred hours.
“You’ve got great thumbs,” she said afterwards, a compliment, sure, but I’ve earned it. To get full certification, those thieves at the licensing board made me put in over five hundred hours.
