I’ve been a professional, licensed massage therapist since 1982; in Las Vegas since 1990. By far, the most interesting clients I’ve met have been here in Vegas. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve worked on billionaires and busboys. I’ve worked both in spas, offices, storefronts, and have provided outcall service everywhere from the Villas at the Mirage to the crapiest weekly motel rentals. Why not just stick to the high-end clients? The ones in the beautifully appointed hotel suites that are often more square footage than my house? Or the posh gated homes on multi-acre estates? Well, for starters, the money I’m paid by either end of the socio-economic spectrum is redeemable at the same institutions. And Countrywide doesn’t accept “I was not comfortable working in that environment” as an excuse for missing a mortgage payment.
I have a semi-regular clientele, but they don’t provide the bulk of my income. For that, like many Las Vegans, I rely on visitors, who come in all shapes and sizes and from all reaches of the globe. Last Sunday, for instance, I was worried about a dollar amount I wanted to appear in my checking account by the following Friday, but my appointment bookings didn’t support that figure. So when the phone rang at 4 PM, I was happy to book a double-client hotel call appointment.
The voice on the phone sounded foreign. It took me a minute, but I was thinking Middle Eastern or that general region. The client asked for a session for two of them in the same room and didn’t mind that I would be doing them back to back, rather than simultaneously with another therapist (better for me, but not always agreeable when they’re pressed for time). After going through my screening process (as it turned out, they were also wary of me), I determined they were looking for legitimate massage and not just a cheap thrill, so I headed for Circus Circus. Mentally, I was almost trying to talk myself out of going. “It’s going to be a hassle… it won’t be worth the energy… they’ll be obnoxious” were a few of the excuses running through my head.
Now I hate to be a snob, but I think we all know that Circus Circus is not a Mecca for high rollers and celebrities. But I wasn’t prepared for the level of dinginess that I encountered when I pulled into the parking lot of “The Manor” area of Circus Circus that afternoon at 4:30 PM. It’s not the main building, but a three-story older group of buildings out back. No valet parking, no elevators. But plenty of “street life” in the parking lot, if you catch my drift. Three teenage (?) girls sitting on the pavement, drinking beer and swearing a lot. A couple young guys with baggy jeans congregating around the dumpster, and a bike cop circling the grounds.
I’d been in this particular area of the hotel only once, back in 1992, and thought it was dated then. I doubt any redecorating has been done to it in the interim.
I unloaded my equipment and called my client to ask him to escort me into the building, which required a key pass. He quickly obliged; a thirtyish, long haired Indian man in bare feet whom I knew on sight was the one I’d spoken to on the phone. He helped me carry my massage table and rolling cart up to the second floor (normally I do this alone through an elevator). Along the way, we passed a young couple parked on the second floor stairway. Why they were loitering, I have no idea.
Because foot massage is part of the service and he’d just dirtied his on the entrance, I asked him to shower. He said he already took on that day, but I said I thought I was advised anyway. He went along with my request. While he was showering, I sat there fuming that life was so hard! Seriously, why am I, at my age, still going out to flea bag hotels? Why can’t I get all the nice, pleasant jobs, etc? All the negative thoughts were weaving knots into my own muscles.
All massage therapists are somewhat apprehensive about being alone in a hotel room with an unknown client not obtained through a proper referral, even though we sort of have the upper hand just by being fully clothed and standing above them. But I was quickly put at ease by this young man, who told me he’s from NYC by way of India, and working in as an I.T. professional. He behaved exactly like I’d hoped, and although the room and hotel were not the best I’ve worked in, he could not have been nicer and more gentlemanly. His traveling companion was equally polite. Both gave me an unexpected tip, and a promise to post a favorable review of my business on the internet site on which they discovered my ad, and to refer their friends, who had warned them not to try finding a legitimate in-room massage in Las Vegas.
I left much more relaxed than when I pulled into the parking lot, and with a better attitude. Two hours after coming in, the same couple was sitting on the stairway. I offered the man $5 to help me carry my table down the stairs. He replied that he’d be happy to, and no remuneration was required. A lucky day for me on all counts.
Hired Hands Massage & Skin Care.
(22 votes, average: 4.86 out of 5)
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