I Have To Pay For It?

I whipped out my phone and copied down the address as well.

"Good luck buddy," Jerry said.

I didn't get any more work done that afternoon than I had gotten done during the morning. I spent the whole afternoon researching massage spas. I'd seen porn where guys went to Asian massage parlors and got jacked off and more, but I never thought they were real.

My search revealed that Asian massage parlors and happy endings weren't just a porn fantasy. They were very real. And handjobs weren't the end of it. At some spots, the ladies would actually get undressed while they stroked you and let you touch them too. At other places, they'd give you a blowjob if the price was right. And at a select few, you could even talk the women into full sex.

As I delved further into my research, I found that, while these places were real, they were relatively hard to come by. Here today, gone tomorrow. They were usually set up in commercial areas and tried to pass themselves off as legitimate businesses. Sooner or later, the police would get tipped off. The spa would either shut down before the police moved in, or they'd get caught.

I browsed through dozens of stories of massage parlors getting raided by the police. The pictures of frowning Asian women in mugshots graced news articles from around the country. Some of the stories were even accompanied with the mugshots of men unlucky enough to get caught inside the parlors when the raids happened. "Caught With Their Pants Down" the headlines would say. I'm sure it was no joking matter to those men. Their lives were ruined because of the arrests. They were humiliated. Marriages ended. Jobs were lost. Futures destroyed.

For the next three weeks I put the whole thing out of my mind. It was far too much of a gamble. I had a good job. My boss respected me. I was already on the promotional fast track. If I could keep my nose clean, senior vice president would one day be within my grasp.

And yet...there was still something missing. For all my professional success, I had never accomplished the one thing that even teenage boys had managed to do. Sure, I might one day be in charge of an entire department, but what difference did it really make if the intern pushing the mail cart was pulling more girls than me? No, I had to do it. I had to go Jade Road Spa.

I pulled as much information about the parlor as I could find...which was barely more than nothing. I wasn't able to find any references to it on any sites or any forums. The parlor's business website referred to it as a "place of healing and relaxation." Everything about the site indicated that the place was totally legit.

I was starting to have second thoughts until I researched the parlor's address and found a news article from five years ago. It was a story about a parlor (with a different name) being shut down following allegations of prostitution and tax evasion. Sure enough, there were pictures of four young to middle-aged Asian women frowning in mug shots. And just below their row of pictures was a row of four men arrested when the cops busted into the place.

And yet, there was a new establishment operating at the same address now. Totally legit on the surface. I hoped Jerry was right and it was all a façade and that his password would get me past it.

The parlor was located downtown on the third floor of an office building. I drove past it, slowing down just enough to confirm the building number. I frowned as I went past. The door of the building opened directly onto the sidewalk. Anyone who saw me going in would know exactly what I was up to. My knuckles started to turn white as I gripped the steering wheel.

I circled the block again. The sidewalk outside the building was crowded with people coming and going, everyone minding their business. My eyebrows arched when I spotted an older woman with a small boy walk into the building. That's right! It's an office building. No one outside would know which office I was going to! I made another right turn and doubled back, but to play it safe, I parked three blocks down.

The air outside was stifling. I swiped at my forehead and then wiped my palms down my pants, then started walking up the street. I tried to walk as casually as possible, even giving one passing woman a wink and a nod. I crossed onto the city block where the parlor was located and the building's white awning came into view. My chest felt heavier the closer I got. This was it. Just behind those walls awaited the first woman who would touch my dick.

I was about thirty feet from the door when I noticed an odd bulge in the sidewalk pedestrian traffic. And then I saw why. A black woman was standing at the edge of the sidewalk, hands on her hips, and people were shuffling around her. Of what I could see, she had a cute face. The upper half of her face was obscured by dark aviator sunglasses. But her face isn't what caught my eye. Beneath her cute face was blue the uniform of the city's police department! And she was looking right at me.

My heart felt like someone had their hand wrapped around it and was squeezing the blood out of it. I veered to the other side of the sidewalk away from her, and continued past the parlor. I dared myself to peek over my shoulder. She was no longer looking in my direction. Her face was still fixed in the same direction that I had come from. I picked up the pace as I fled the scene. All I had to do was circle the block on foot, get back to my car, and get the hell home. I took one more look over my shoulder as I got to the corner. What I saw froze me in my tracks.

A police car pulled up next to the black officer. She swung the door open and practically jumped in. The blue and red lights went on, the siren sounded, and the car peeled off from the curb. I ducked my head as the car whizzed by. The police car continued for another block and then made a hard left, tires squealing as it went. I stood frozen in place as the sound of the siren drew away into the distance until it disappeared into the cacophony of the city's ambient noise.

Did I dare go back? It took about three seconds of contemplation before deciding that, yes, damnit, I did dare.

I turned on my heels and began marching back to office building. I kept my head lowered, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. I didn't even break stride as I got to the door. As I stepped in, I did my best to look like I was on my way to get a root canal instead of a handjob.

The air inside was chilly against my sweaty skin. There was a long hallway in front of me and a staircase to the right. My legs were feeling like jelly so I continued down the hallway in search of an elevator. About midway down the hallway I found it. I stepped into the car and pushed the button for the third floor. The elevator started with a lurch. The cables above me groaned, and for a moment I pictured them snapping and dropping the car to the bottom of the elevator shaft. On my tombstone it would read, "He Died A Virgin."

The doors opened slowly when the car reached the third floor. I stuck my arms through and tried to pry them open and stepped through when there was enough space. A sign in front of me listed the offices with odd numbers as being to the left and the ones with even numbers to the right. Jade Road Spa was in office number 339.

I passed two security cameras as I walked. The hallway was silent except for the echo of my shoes on the freshly polished floor. It made sense. It was Saturday. Most places would be closed.

Each door looked like it was made out of pine and had a brass handle. Office number 339 was tucked around a small corner at the end of the hall. "Jade Road Spa" was stenciled on the door and I was greeted by a blue "We're Open" sign. I grabbed the knob and quickly glanced back to my left. I took a deep breath, turned the knob, and stepped in.

The door opened into a small space, about ten feet by ten feet. Another door greeted me. This one looked to be solid steel. It looked cold and foreboding, and stood in stark contrast to the warmth of the exterior door.

I walked toward the door and just as I raised my hand to knock, something plastered to the center of the door froze my arm in midair. A blue sticker with the words "We're Watching You!" There were a pair of dark eyes emblazoned across the middle of it and the logo of the city police department was in the lower right corner.

The shock of seeing it short-circuited my brain. I commanded my feet to stop but my eyes locked onto the sticker and my body continued forward. Bam! The pain of my head crashing against the door shook me out of my haze. My vision clouded briefly.

"Shit!" I practically screamed, rubbing my hand over my forehead. Hopefully it wouldn't leave a mark. I glanced up and something else caught my eye. There was a camera hanging from the ceiling, tucked away in the corner. And damnit, I had just looked directly into it! "Shit!" I barked out again. I whipped around, and headed back the way I'd come. I was pulling open the exterior door when I heard a woman's voice from behind the steel door.

"Who is it?" the voice said in a heavy east Asian accent.

"I'm uhh...," I couldn't focus. My forehead was throbbing. Where was I? What was I doing?

"You here for massage?" the voice said. I could barely make it out. Partly because of the accent and partly because it was muffled by the door.

Massage. Yes! Jerry's voice came back to me and I allowed it to come out of my mouth.

I cleared my throat. "I'm errr...umm...Richard. I made an appointment."

Silence. Followed by more silence. I turned around again and was stepping back into the hallway when I heard a loud click from behind the steel door. Followed by several more clicks. The sound of deadbolts being turned.

The door opened with a whine. An Asian woman in a long, flowing red gown was standing there. Her face was covered in too much makeup. Her hair was pinned up with what looked like red chopsticks. She looked to be in her 50s or 60s but her body looked like it might've belonged to a woman half her age. She looked me up and down and then offered me a broad smile.

"Ahh yes, Richard, please come in." She stepped aside and waved her arm back into the parlor.

I shut the exterior door and stepped past her into the parlor. My nose was immediately peppered with a melody of fragrances I couldn't place. Cinnamon? Lavender? Honey? It was dimly lit. There were two comfortable-looking cushioned chairs on either side of a doorway that led down a hallway that was even darker. There was a table next to the chair on the right. A bowl filled with assorted candy and mints sat on top of it.

"Please, follow me." The older woman walked past me and stopped at the second door on the left. She opened the door and light poured out into the hall.

The room was almost entirely empty. There was a table in the middle of the room. The table was draped in white towels and there was a large hole at one end of the table. On the left side of the room was a wooden rack with a row of hooks for hanging clothes. Off to the right was a set of shelves filled mostly with white towels. There was a small lamp on top along with a bottle of lotion, a bottle of baby oil, and a box of tissues. Jackpot.

"You undress and I send in girl. Nice girl for you." The older woman had her hands clasped in front of her and was grinning widely.

Even though I was there to get a handjob, I felt uneasy about getting undressed. I unbuckled my belt and slipped it out of the loops. The older woman stuck out her hand. I crossed the room and handed her the belt.

"No! No!" she waved the belt away. "House fee. You pay me and tip girl."

"Ohhh...right. I knew that." I stood up straight and puffed out my chest and tried not to look like I'd never done this before. I reached into my right pants pocket and fished out the money I had set aside. I had read online that the "Madam" or manager of a massage parlor, usually an older woman, collected the house fee. If you threw in a little extra, she'd probably set you up with one of the better girls.

I handed over the money and the older woman took it with a bow. She pinched the wad of cash between her fingers and her smile grew wider.

"I bring you very nice girl!" She bowed again and left the room.

I continued getting undressed and hung my clothes on the rack. I stripped all the way to down to my boxers. As I started to slide them down, I realized that I wasn't sure what the protocol was. Was I supposed to be totally naked when the girl came in? Was I supposed to be semi-nude? I decided to split the difference. I took off my boxers and grabbed a towel from the shelf and tied it around my waist. I sat down on the massage table and waited.

Several minutes passed and I started to get a tingle in my spine. I thought back to the cameras I had passed in the hallway and the one outside the parlor. Maybe the whole thing was a set-up. The police sit in a van down the street watching the parlor camera and then come barging in after five minutes and catch you sitting naked with your dick in your hand.

Or, if you bail at the last moment and don't go into the parlor, they use the hallway cameras as evidence that you were conspiring to go into the parlor and they snatch you up outside when you try to leave.

I waited fifteen more seconds and then hopped off the table. They'd have to catch me first.

No sooner than I'd gotten down from the table, the door opened. My entire body tensed up as I waited for men in SWAT gear to pelt me with rubber bullets. Instead, an attractive woman in a short, tight red dress walked in.

"Leaving so soon?" she giggled.

She had an accent as well, but not as heavy as the older woman's. This woman was also much younger. She looked to be in her mid 20s and barely over five feet tall. Her dress clung to her body and was a brighter shade of red than the one the older woman had worn. It was the same color as her lipstick.

She was wearing less makeup than the older woman. A light dose of eyeliner accentuated the curve of her dark, almond-shaped eyes. Her high cheekbones had the faintest hint of rouge. Her dark hair was pinned up just like the older woman's had been. When she turned to shut the door, I couldn't help noticing her firm ass. The hem of her dress was frustratingly low. It ended just below the bottom curve of her cheeks.

"I was just...no...I thought I heard my phone ring," I managed to croak out.

She stepped toward me and put a hand on my chest, gently pushing me back toward the table. "It can wait," she whispered.

I sat back on the table and swung my legs up onto it. I laid back and let my feet dangle through the opening at the other end of the table.

"No," she chuckled a sweet laugh that sounded like birds singing. "Your head goes down at that end."

"Oh...right." I felt like crawling under the table.

I pivoted around on my butt and laid back down, letting my head drop back into the hole.

She let out that birdsong laugh again. "Turn over. Your face goes there. You have been here before?"

I felt my cheeks grow warm. I knew the right answer was "Yes", but instead I said, "No."

"You don't worry. I'll take good care of you," she said as she stepped closer to the table.

I propped myself up onto my elbows and started to roll over, and as I did, she reached forward and snatched the towel from my body. Her eyes traveled down over my chest, mid-section, and legs. I was no fan of the gym but I kept myself in shape by jogging and eating right. Her eyes traveled back up my body and stopped right at my dick. Her eyebrows went up.

"You're not happy to see me?" She poked out her lips and creased her forehead.

I looked down. The ordeal of getting in here had sapped the life out of my cock. It hung lifelessly between my legs.

"No, it's not that," I said quickly, "I've just...been under a lot of stress at work lately."

Her smile returned. "You not have any stress today," she said, stepping closer to the table. She leaned down and put her lips right next to my ear. I could feel her warm breath against my face. "I'll take good care of you." She pressed her lips against my earlobe.

I immediately felt the life rushing into my cock and rolled over to hide it from her.

"Mmm, nice butt," she said, smacking me on the ass on little too hard.

I listened to her shuffling around in the room as I stared at the floor through headrest in the massage table. For a moment I considered that she might be a cop. At this moment she might be going to the door to let the big boys in to come take me away. But then I figured, what kind of cop slaps people on the bare butt?

"My name is Ada, what is yours?" she asked.

I answered "Sean" without thinking, then quickly said "Richard."

This got another birdsong laugh. A moment later I felt her hands on my shoulders. She dug her fingertips in and I couldn't help letting out a moan.

"You like?" she asked.

"Uhh huhh...," was all I could manage.

I'd never had another person's hands on my body. Her touch was ecstasy in itself. She worked out knots of stress in my neck, shoulders, and back that I didn't even know were there. For such a small woman, she had strong hands. She alternated her pressure between hard and soft in just the right spots.

When she got to my butt, she slapped it again, but not as hard as before. She slid her palms over the cheeks and caressed them. I tensed up when I felt her hands drift toward the crack, which drew a giggle from her. She moved her hands to my legs and repeated the same massage she had done on my upper body. Her hands were gone too soon.

"Ok, turn over," Ada whispered in my ear.

When I did, I had to resist the urge to cover my cock with my hands. My hardness hadn't gone down since she had kissed my ear earlier.

She ran her fingertips over my chest. Her touch was soft, almost to the point of tickling. Her fingers ran along my collarbone and down the middle of my chest. She ran them over my nipples which sent a shiver through my back. I watched with wide eyes as they moved down over my stomach, and toward my waist.

This was it! It was about to happen!

Ada's hands stopped at my waist. She leaned over my chest, and while looking me in the eye, kissed my sternum. I felt my toes curl in response.

"What you want today?" she whispered.

I wanted a handjob, but I didn't know how to say it. I mean, how do you tell a woman, "I want you to jack my dick off until I cum on your hand"?

I cleared my throat. "Uhh...what do you do?" I managed to say.

She kissed my chest again. This time I felt it in my knees.

"I do anything you want, baby."

"Anything?"

"Anything," she kissed higher on my chest, "and everything, baby."

"Do you do...uhh...," I couldn't even get the words out.

She kissed my neck. I moaned and shut my eyes tight. She blew lightly along my jaw, "I do...everything." She ran her finger down my chest. This time, she didn't stop at my waist. Her finger continued down and over my left thigh. But then it made a U-turn and she trailed her fingernail along the underside of my cock. It bobbed in response.

It had happened! A woman had touched my dick! I tried to keep myself composed.

"Ok, yeah. I want everything, please." I cringed at my own words. I sounded like a kid ordering a deluxe hamburger with extra toppings.

"You pay 150." It sounded more like she was making a statement than negotiating a price. Either way, I thought it was a steal.

I nodded in response and she stepped back and pointed to where I'd hung my clothes. I leapt from the table and practically ran to the wall rack, half expecting her to change her mind. I pulled out the wad of cash I had stashed in my left pants pocket. I had brought 500 dollars, not really sure what the going rate was for a handjob. It was all in twenties so I counted out 160 dollars and handed it to her.