Working Stiff (30 page)

Jung went to work, digging her fingers into the painful nooks of my neck and shoulders. I heard a muffled guy's voice in the room next to mine. First, it sounded like the teacher in the Peanuts cartoons, but after a few sentences, I could pick out certain words. “Wah wah wah Wall Street,” “Wah wah banking wah,” and, most memorably, “wah wah you're a very beautiful girl wah wah.” Ew. Other than that, all I could hear was the purr of the air conditioning and the popping sounds emanating from each of my joints that were subjected to Jung's digitry. During a few neck adjustments, I thought I could hear an offensive line prancing over ten yards of bubble wrap.

Jung rubbed my body through the sheet, first with her hands and then
with her feet. She walked on my back, steadying herself by holding onto a ceiling-mounted pole. I couldn't enjoy her mastery; my mind was too preoccupied with the impending transition from massage to handjob. At one point, she stopped touching me for about fifteen seconds, and I couldn't tell where she was in the room. Out of nowhere, she grabbed my thigh, and I flinched. “You nervous!” she chuckled and gave me two firm pats to the buttocks. She wasn't wrong. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Jung's touch felt great, but I wasn't turned on in the slightest. She removed the sheet and traced her fingers up and down my legs, bum, inner thighs, and any parts of my undercarriage that she could get her crafty fingers on. I could hear the door to the little room open and close. Being face down and looking the opposite way, I couldn't see what was going on. Was Jung exhibiting some unnoticed birthmark to her coworkers? “You sunburn!” said Jung, and she started picking at the peeling skin atop my shoulders. “Oh ma gah!” she whispered.

That's not sexy or a second I thought she was going to have a pick at my bacne too. She turned my head to inflict some more pain to my neck area, and we saw each other face-to-face for the first time in forty-five minutes. Jung was very attractive and kind looking; she wore plum-colored lipstick. “Oh ma gah!” she exclaimed. “You just boy! How old you?” Jeff, like me, is twenty-five.

Observations/Results—quantify the effects of the experiment:

“You want everything?” she asked in a slightly hushed voice. Thank Christ for that. I was almost ready to employ the same downward-pointing motion the slob at the door had used an hour earlier. “Yes!” I said. “Really?” she sounded surprised. “Young boy like you? Oh ma gah!” She told me to turn over and I did. As Jung turned her back to get the necessary lotion, I looked down, horrified at my uninterested rig. My nerves had gotten the better of me, and it seemed that I wouldn't be giving Jung much to work with. She sat her bum down on the table, her feet either side of my torso. She applied the cream to my twig-and-berries and gently started to run her fingers around them with a motion that was, in truth, a little too effective. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better look. I stared at her face and tried to make eye contact, but Jung was looking at what she was doing: a rubbing, coaxing, snake-charming type maneuver, in absolute silence. In a matter of seconds, I had gone from willing my old chap to look alive to thinking about baseball. But Jung
had a mind to get it all over with, and within an embarrassingly short period of time, she took me from a standing start to an orgasm. So deft was the operation that I wasn't even at full mast when I dropped sauce. It all felt pretty weak, the ejaculation rather unexplosive. Jung pointed my knob up and off to one side until I was all done. She cleaned up with a paper towel as I closed my eyes and tried to come to terms with her brand of blitzliebe.

I opened my eyes and saw her leave the room. I felt like calling out, “This is the bit where I like to hug,” but it probably wouldn't have done any good. Jung was all business. I got back into my robe and padded out into the main area. Smiling, Jung handed me a fresh towel and directed me into the shower room. Passing one silver fox in the changing room and another in the shower room, I headed straight into the sauna to think about what had just happened and gleek onto the hot coals. I looked through the sauna's window at the tan, manicured moneymen whiling away another Tuesday lunchtime. A coiffed gent joined me in the sauna for a minute, going “phew” every few seconds and spreading his legs as if he were exhibiting some rare breed of plum in a nest of salt-and-pepper-colored pubes. After the heat and steam, I took a cool shower and got dressed. Jung was waiting behind the counter. I gave her my fold of bills, which she unabashedly counted twice before giving me a wink, a thank you, a business card and a “we see you again soon, I know!” Her smiling coworkers waved good-bye as I began my climb to the Earth's surface.

Conclusion—summarize your findings, don't forget to attempt to identify possible variables that could result in different findings for others trying to re-create your test results:

I really felt like a fish out of water at the spa, considering that I was a decade or two younger than most of the clientele and didn't carry enough pocket lettuce to buy Belgium. My excitement and arousal during the experience was somewhat compromised by a creeping feeling of sleaziness despite, or perhaps because of, the spa's ritzy ambience. The whole geisha-girl feel of the place—and the way the high-finance geezers lapped it up—made me feel like more of a john than I would have liked. I was left with questions about how Jung and the other women view the happy ending. Sure, it's probably pretty nonsexual and mechanical for them, like helping someone scratch an itch. But for most of their clients, it's undoubtedly more than that. I wondered how far the girls go in
accommodating their clients'needs. In my case, Jung treated me to a couple of suggestive, “Oh ma ga's!” and a series of winks, but she stopped short of casting her eyes anywhere near mine when doing the deed. I wonder how the women's husbands and boyfriends deal with their profession. Are they as pragmatic and unimpressed as the women seem to be? I wonder if the full massage is viewed differently in Korea. In India, for example, it used to be common for barbers to fellate their customers after a shave and a haircut. Ultimately, I had to deal with the fact that I crossed a line. It's a terrible cliché, but I found that sex without any emotional attachment, or even mutual satisfaction, was a slightly chilling experience.

Read on

A Disturbance at Leather Camp

A
FTER MY
“Letters from Leather Camp” articles appeared on Nerve.com, I received thousands of e-mails from members of the BDSM community, a majority of them expressing their extreme displeasure at how I'd gained entry to Leather Camp, an event forbidden to reporters.

As its inclusion in
Working Stiff
provides a new outlet and a new audience for my take on the experience, I wanted to include an e-mail that expresses the viewpoint of the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom (NCSF).

The following template letter appeared on the NCSF website in the hours after Nerve.com posted my story; BDSM community members were encouraged to send it to Michael, Rufus, and myself.

NCSF Sample Letter to Nerve.com

Re: Letters from Leather Camp

 

I was very upset to see you sent a reporter, Grant Stoddard, to a private adult event and are now publishing articles about this event. It's like sending an undercover reporter to a private party at someone's house and then reporting on it. Leather Camp is a place for adults to go and explore their fantasies in a safe, sane and consensual setting. Your reporter violated the trust of every individual he spoke to, lying in order to obtain their private confidences and activities then publishing them for everyone to see. In the future, please give private events within
the SM-Leather-Fetish community the respect they deserve.

 

Sincerely,
[
Your Name
]

 

[
Your phone number
(
for verification purposes only
)]

 

A project of NCSF and the NCSF Foundation National Coalition for Sexual Freedom (NCSF) is a national organization committed to altering the political, legal, and social environment in the United States in order to guarantee equal rights for consenting adults who practice forms of alternative sexual expression. NCSF is primarily focused on the rights of consenting adults in the SM-Leather-Fetish, swing, and polyamorous communities, who often face discrimination because of their sexual expression.

Talk Like the Author!
Useful Phrases for One's Stay in Essex

¹
bottle
verb
: to smash a bottle into a person's face, very often a beer bottle after a drinking spree.

²
bottle
noun
: courage, confidence, e.g., “John's scared, he's lost his bottle.”

boy racer
noun
: a young man who has a penchant for fast cars and reckless driving.

chav
noun
[Orig.Southwest.Popular from early (2000s)]: a person, usually of poorly educated, working class origin, who dresses casually in designer sportswear and vulgar jewelry.[Chavs are generally viewed as an ignorant underclass with a propensity for criminal or loutish behavior.] (
Usually derog.
)

cunting
adjective
: an intensifier, e.g., “If this cunting weather doesn't improve within the next twenty-four hours, we'll have to cancel the whole trip.”

geezer
noun
: a gregarious man about town.

ginger knob/minge
noun
: a person with ginger hair. Male being
ginger knob
(also ginger nob), and female,
ginger minge.
(
Derog.
)

mug
noun
: a hapless fool.

minge
noun
(1900s.): the female genitals.
Derived from dialect, which ultimately may have its roots in the Romany,
minj.

minger
noun, pronounced with a hard G
: a physically undesirable, smelly, or ugly person, e.g., “It wasn't 'til we woke up the next morning, that I realized quite what a minger she was.”

muppet
noun
: an idiot, an objectionable person.

nonce
noun
: 1. a sexual deviant, having been convicted of a sex crime against children. 2. an objectionable or contemptible person, by extension of the definition in noun 1.

pikey
noun
[South-east England/Kent use. (
Dialect
)]: 1. a gypsy. 2. a vagabond, vagrant. (
Derog.
)

¹
ponce
verb
: to beg or freeload, e.g., “He's been poncing off shoppers up the high street, saying he's homeless.”

²
ponce
noun
: 1. a contemptible person. 2. an effeminate male. (
Derog.
) 3. an ostentatious male. (
Derog.
)

slapper
noun
: a promiscuous woman.

wide boy
noun
: someone who flashes material wealth without any obvious means of acquiring it.

 

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Cover design by Gregg Kulick

Cover photograph by Clayton James Cubitt