Sunday, August 23, 2015

Massage Girl Musings – Pheromones and Ulterior Motives

My basket of supplies includes unscented lotion,
unscented coconut oil, colloidal silver (disinfectant),
a cloth for wiping my hands, and my business cards.
Guest Post by Little Red

I thought the novelty might wear off. All this rubbing on people and loving it.

Alas, this must be my calling because I can't get enough of giving neck and back massages to music.

This is me when a sexy song comes on: I frantically look for someone to touch. Who will be next? Please?

The manager of the club told me that I am my own best promotion, because it looks like I'm enjoying myself so much that the other guys in the club are like, “I want to try that.”

I told him, it's because I am enjoying myself. I continue to build up a regular customer base. Why are men (and dancers) coming back for more and more? Because it is an intimate, caring experience with another human being. I think it helps too that I'm kind of cute.

I feel men of all ages and sizes as they melt under my touch. Some flex their muscles when I run my hands over them, letting me know they are strong. Some direct me to places on their necks or backs that need the most attention. I do my best, but I can't help it when I get into the zone and my massage goes where my hands take me instead – usually the shoulders, chest, neck.

The people who can't enjoy my massage are like me. Jaded. Walls up. Some of them may be able to relax when it is sex, I wouldn't know. But they cannot relax in a strip club with a strange girl working her voodoo magic on them.

My love energy is a promise they aren't ready to accept.

I totally get it, having had multiple love energy promises made to me during my work shifts. Touch is one way, fellas. Hands to yourself. The domme in me thinks of ways to punish you.

I hate it when guys cross the line by grabbing my ass. It wrecks the moment for me. I have nothing but good feelings toward my customers, until they touch me. Then I get pissed.

Surprisingly, this has not happened a lot. It turns out the worst offenders are mostly men I've known for 20+ years from when I was a stripper working the circuit. Naughty fuckers.

The DJ tells me that if a guy touches me, that's serious and I should tell the bouncer immediately. HA! I would lose some of my best customers. No, it appears I will have to handle this problem myself. Now, where did I put that whip?

Several men have told me how they don't normally come into the club or that they stopped in on a whim; that it must be destiny to find me because they needed my touch so much. I tell them I'm glad it makes them feel good. I tell them that it makes me feel good too, because it's true. 

Finally, I am getting the intimacy I need without having to fuck anyone or be their “one true love.”

Although it's true that my soul is fed when I touch others in a caring way, I don't think I experience it the same way as my customers. They are lubed up with beer or liquor, like putty after getting a love energy treatment from a kind, smiling chick in a tight skirt. 

The way they look at me, with smoldering eyes, halfway into a massage; the desire I sense in them to get to know me (this woman with the magic hands); the way they groan when I put my arms around them in a “hug-like” chest rub...this is intimacy they have been starving for.

I get it. I'm starving too.

I'm not a complete robot. I feel a connection to each person I touch, regardless of gender or appearance. But I am not as affected by the experience we share as they are. Likely because I am the one doing the touching, rather than being touched. Also, we can't discount the jaded bitch part of me lurking behind my amicable exterior.

Like every rule, there is an exception. You know those people that you have sexual chemistry with? You have no idea how it got there or why it picked someone completely wrong for you, but it's there and it's strong.

I sometimes massage men whose pheromones must be mixing with mine unbeknownst to us. Those are my favourite massages. They may also be my undoing because they are like a drug. It takes a lot of my willpower not to harass my sexual soulmates to buy another massage.

Should I feel bad for using them this way? Selling massages to them when my intentions are more ulterior? I want to feel that special feeling you get when you touch someone with the right chemistry connection. I want to feel it in a safe zone, where it will lead neither to sex nor love.

The men who have been the most bad for me in my life were the ones I had the most sexual chemistry with. They are like an addiction that no one ever talks about. Fuckers.

I am constantly amazed at the epiphanies I experience doing this work. How much I needed to touch people. How touching people is healing me. How relieved I am to find a way to get my intimacy needs met without feeling obligated to date or have sex. To sum it up, how fucked up I am.

Don't worry, it's all good. Two weeks into my new job, and I couldn't be happier.

A sexy song is playing on the radio...Need to be touched, anyone?


Posts in this series:
Musings of a Mindful Massage Girl
Massage Girl Musings - Pheromones and Ulterior Motives

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