A newcomer to Monday Mag massage, WEWE sounded promising. I'm especially fond of Chinese masseuses because they're often Beijing-trained and capable of delivering a serious massage before the coup de merci.
I called and asked about rates. "One hundred thirty dollah fo' 30 minute," was the response. "We do everything."
"Ummmm, just massage thank you," I said.
"Still one hundred thirty dollah fo' 30 minute."
"Oh...well, bye..."
******
Lost in Vancouver last week, I found myself wandering into Prosper City Massage on the Kingsway.
The woman who answered the door raised by temperature about 15 degrees. She was the tallest Chinese woman I've met in this country, at least six feet, in her '20s, gorgeous, and with serious-looking boobs popping out of a corset.
The price was $40 for the room. I practically stumbled over her on my way in. She could have ushered me to a room full of scorpions and I would have hurried all the way.
I got naked, took a shower and waited. My face nearly fell off when a typically diminuitive Chinese woman showed up.
"Where is the other woman?" I asked.
"Miko," said the woman. "She manager. She no do massage."
Life is a catalogue of such disappointments. I succumbed to what's-her-face.
What's-her-face started a massage and after two minutes, got into the slate of extras: nude, BJ, full-service, etc.
I said no, massage only. I had $80, period. I told her I didn't want to fuck anybody.
"You have Visa?"
"No Visa"
"You have 'Merican Express?"
"No 'Merican Express."
She jumped off me and ran out the door.
I wasn't sure what was happening, but I liked it.
Five minutes later, the door opened and Miko, the Asian Amazon, walked in.
"I do massage and HJ only," she said, nicely.
"That's all I wanted," I said.
She began the massage. Her hands were large and powerful. She told me she'd learned massage in Beijing.
She delivered an excellent massage. She was articulate and fun, too. And gorgeous, as I'd said.
For the coup de merci, she hopped up on the mattress, rested my legs around her and reached forward with two hands to perform a diligent HJ, as if she were working a couple of hand puppets. It was very, very nice.
I gave her all the money I had. Never did find out what her official rate was.
Next time I'm in Van, I'm calling in advance for Miko. Once in a while, you really do luck out.
I called and asked about rates. "One hundred thirty dollah fo' 30 minute," was the response. "We do everything."
"Ummmm, just massage thank you," I said.
"Still one hundred thirty dollah fo' 30 minute."
"Oh...well, bye..."
******
Lost in Vancouver last week, I found myself wandering into Prosper City Massage on the Kingsway.
The woman who answered the door raised by temperature about 15 degrees. She was the tallest Chinese woman I've met in this country, at least six feet, in her '20s, gorgeous, and with serious-looking boobs popping out of a corset.
The price was $40 for the room. I practically stumbled over her on my way in. She could have ushered me to a room full of scorpions and I would have hurried all the way.
I got naked, took a shower and waited. My face nearly fell off when a typically diminuitive Chinese woman showed up.
"Where is the other woman?" I asked.
"Miko," said the woman. "She manager. She no do massage."
Life is a catalogue of such disappointments. I succumbed to what's-her-face.
What's-her-face started a massage and after two minutes, got into the slate of extras: nude, BJ, full-service, etc.
I said no, massage only. I had $80, period. I told her I didn't want to fuck anybody.
"You have Visa?"
"No Visa"
"You have 'Merican Express?"
"No 'Merican Express."
She jumped off me and ran out the door.
I wasn't sure what was happening, but I liked it.
Five minutes later, the door opened and Miko, the Asian Amazon, walked in.
"I do massage and HJ only," she said, nicely.
"That's all I wanted," I said.
She began the massage. Her hands were large and powerful. She told me she'd learned massage in Beijing.
She delivered an excellent massage. She was articulate and fun, too. And gorgeous, as I'd said.
For the coup de merci, she hopped up on the mattress, rested my legs around her and reached forward with two hands to perform a diligent HJ, as if she were working a couple of hand puppets. It was very, very nice.
I gave her all the money I had. Never did find out what her official rate was.
Next time I'm in Van, I'm calling in advance for Miko. Once in a while, you really do luck out.