I walked down this candlelit hallway to where an Asian lady stood at the end. I brought up the conversation. She kind of kept going back to the ass, though. We talked over the ramifications of half-drunkenly paying for sex. I looked down at my beer gut and generally unimpressive body. She grabbed me by the hand. Massage the left arm.
No, we were not members.
How I Got A ‘Massage’ in NYC, And You Can Too!
We walked up the stairs and into a massage room. After collecting the dirty money, we walked back to the parlor, met Dirk, and walked in. Massage the left arm. My legs felt like I had just squatted Khloe Kardashian. No, we were not members.