Massage To Go

The women who came to get their hair done left feeling relaxed and smiling with one of my business cards tucked into their purses.


The first woman who won a free massage was Trudy, a little woman about fifty who looked like anybody’s grandmother. She was prim and proper all the way from her short, open toed heels to her medium length, freshly colored and styled auburn hair. I’d massaged her neck and shoulders after she told me she spent a lot of time carrying her grandson around. Trudy drew one of my free massage cards when she paid her bill.


Trudy seemed excited in a prim and proper way. She asked a lot of questions about how I’d do the massage, what she’d need to do, and where in her house would be the best place. She also asked if her husband could be there at the same time.


"It’s not that I don’t trust you, young man, but I’d just feel better if my husband was there, too."


I told her that was fine with me if her husband was there, and explained what I’d do. Trudy seemed satisfied and asked when I could come to her house.


A rule of selling I’d learned early in my career is to always give your customer the impression you’re selling your stuff faster than you can get it. If a customer thinks your product is that good, he or she will want to buy it now before you run out.


I looked at my appointment book, the appointment book I’d carefully filled with fake appointments.


"Well, the soonest I have an opening in my schedule is Friday. Let’s see…what time can your husband be there?"


She said five, so I wrote her name, address and phone number in at five that Friday.


At five that Friday, I knocked on the door of Trudy’s two story house in the northern suburbs of the city. She let me in and introduced me to Fred once she pried him away from his fishing magazine. He didn’t seem too impressed by the whole thing.


"So…Trudy says you’re gonna give her a free massage, and I’m supposed to watch?"


"That’s the plan. She wanted you to be here."


"You gonna have her take off her clothes? She doesn’t like bein’ naked much."


Trudy was blushing.


"Fred. You don’t have to tell everything you know, do you?"


Fred grinned.


"You get her naked, you call me. I’ll be right here readin’ my magazine til then."


Trudy showed me into their spare bedroom.


"I hope this bedroom is all right."


"It’ll be fine. I’ll just set up my table and we can get started."


She was blushing again.


"Do I really have to take off my clothes?"


"No. I can do this either way. It won’t be quite as nice, but you’ll still enjoy it. Oh, I’ll need you to fill out this form. It’s nothing really, just a statement that you aren’t pregnant or have had surgery recently, things like that. After you’re done, we’ll start."


Now, a masseuse is sort of like your barber or hair stylist. To keep you from getting bored or nervous, we’ll talk to you while we’re working. It helps establish a relationship and takes away the fear of being touched in places you normally don’t let a stranger touch..

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