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More Tales From The Massage Parlour

(The Single-minded working girl)

I have been working in the sauna for a few years now, and Magda often asks me to help her interviewing new applicants. With no extra benefits though.

I have never in my life met anybody who was so determined to achieve an aim that she had set as the new girl.

When she turned forty, Winnie who had been teaching for almost eighteen years took early retirement on health grounds, having had two severe mental breakdowns and stress-related disorders in the recent past, and came to work for us at the Blue Eden. Her husband Fergus was an assistant philosophy professor at the university. They sold their house in Costorphin and bought a dingy little flat in Gorgie. She invested her lump sum and the bulk of what they got for their impressive house in one of those new technology firms which were then making millions overnight. They had an agenda of course, although they would not tell us about it.

It seemed that the professor was quite happy for his wife to go on the game, and had said that he wouldn’t bat an eyelid if a colleague or even a student were to use her services.

Winnie admitted to us that she had no experience of the job, that indeed she had hardly known any other men apart from her professor, but promptly assured us that she was no naive and sentimental little rose, and that she knew that she could cope with anything. Besides she had a few ideas about sex which she would dearly love to experiment with. We asked her to elaborate, and she told us about what as a teacher of eighteen years’ experience, she had felt: That most boys had fantasies about sleeping with their teachers; she knew for sure that half the boys entertained sexual fantasies about her (and the other half were homos or liars, she said dismissively). A figure of authority inspires some sort of awe, but if in spite of that you were still able to dominate her sexually, the sense of achievement gives one a sensation which was like no other form of orgasm. We did not reject her ideas outright, although we believed that having been in the sex business ourselves for so long, we knew all the angles, but there was one snag: physically Winnie did not fit seem to fit the picture that we in the business think is required. She noticed our hesitation when Tim and I interviewed her, and she laughed. She was forty and looked it, was on the plump side, although not really fat; she had short dumpy legs, and her hair was like that of a baby, curly and sparse. As is often the case with a woman of that physique, she had massive tits which are often an asset in the business, but usually when sported by some pretty young thing. By no stretch of the imagination could she be called pretty,; but she had an appeal which one could not put one’s finger on. As she was quite articulate later she described herself as a jolie laide.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said, ‘that I am no spring chicken, am no pin-up, with my dumpy legs, drooping tits and my hair, but all I ask is for you to give me a chance; I have a feeling that I will earn big bucks for you.. and me. If you play fair by me, you’ll find me reliable and considerate; I won’t fall ill, have no kids to look after, and I intend to work all the hours god gives us. If after a trial period you find I am not delivering, I’ll just walk away in the sunset, and no hard feelings.’

We had been undergoing a bad spell with new girls disappearing after three or four days. This is the bane of our lives; we open the shop and take bookings and then the phone rings, and it’s Sam or Mandy starting with a sob story ending with them telling us they aren’t able to come in today. So we have to get on to our two other places and ask if they can spare us a girl or two. Often we have to send regular clients away and close early. One girl left to get married, another had taken time off to have an abortion. So we shook on a deal; Tim was dubious, but I sensed that we had had a fair deal.

Winnie started working for us, and we’ve never had so many satisfied customers. Within two weeks she was making more than me. I remember once at five in the afternoon, a total of seven gentlemen came in asking for her. And none went away; they booked her and went drinking at The Owl round the corner to wait their turn. She finished work after midnight, when her husband came to collect her on his motorbike. Most of the other girls had no more than four customers that day, but we all laughed with her. For some unknown reason nobody was jealous of her, I think we recognised the true pro and were willing to bow to her superior devotion to duty.

Winnie quickly explained to her that all the tax-free money was being wisely invested by the best broker in the city. She didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t do drugs and was trying to lose weight; so she spent no more than five pounds a week on herself. All the rest is savings! We didn’t have cause to complain either, for we charge her about twenty five percent of her official takings.

We kept our ears and eyes open all the time, for we all wanted to know what made her tick. Her technique, which she had apparently elaborated with Fergus, involved a little SM; she would greet her callers with a serious face and call them naughty little boy as they came in the room, but there wouldn’t be anything physically abusive. The men would begin by feeling uneasy, but she would smile at them encouragingly to reassure them. No doubt the relief felt when realisation dawned upon the poor sap that Miss wasn’t really angry was probably what did it for her. We supposed that she must have been very respected as a teacher, for she commanded attachment and awe in equal proportions. Indeed she had charisma to spare.

‘How much money do you have?’ Tina who wasn’t the world most tactful woman asked her one day.

‘Tina’ we remonstrated.

‘No, it’s all right, I don’t mind. The answer is not enough.’

‘But you said you got a bomb for your mansion in Costorphin; then you had a lump sum when you retired-’

‘Yes, but it’s not enough for what I need. I have to work exactly five more years. The day I get enough for what we’re planning, and it will take five exactly years, I’m outa here, I promise you.’

‘And what’s that?’ I asked. Winnie looked at me with a smile.

‘Don’t you think I’ve told you enough for the moment; I’ll tell you everything in good time.’

And although our curiosity was aroused, Winnie would never until the very end reveal what she was saving the money for, although she gave us a good few hints which we didn’t pick up at the time. We surmised that must have had a figure in excess of half a million pounds in mind.

She worked as often as we wanted her to, she didn’t mind the long hours, agreed to sleep with punters who paid the price for a whole night. There is no problem which Fergus and I can’t solve with our mobile phone, she explained. If somebody wants my services, I can always phone Fergus up. She didn’t have a car, and said that it was an immoral toy which was damaging the environment.

In five years she only took a holiday on days when we actually close the shop, like Christmas and Boxing day, Hogmanay or Easter, when we believe she went with Fergus to some island in the north. During the academic holidays, Fergus apparently stayed there working.

She would wax lyrical about those islands, bathed in the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. Otherwise with her it was work, work and work. It was amazing how she never complained about anything, back ache, sleeplessness or the long hours; she was always serene to a fault; we found her predictability quite daunting. We commented on her serenity and capacity for work, and she told us that it was the same with Fergus, who would readily go to any obscure American university for a stint if asked, as the money was fantastic.

They had both grown up in homes for abandoned children, she in Fort William, and he in Inverness, and when they had met in Edinburgh where she had her teaching job, and where he was just offered a lectureship, it was this common bond which had attracted them. Winnie explained that the cheerfulness arose from the fact that both she and her husband had reached a fair degree of comfort against the odds. They both knew inmates of their Homes who had ended up badly, drug addicts, derelicts or dead.

With her winning ways, Winnie never incurred the jealousy of the other girls; I cannot remember more than a handful of bitchy things that the other girls had said about her in five years. We all respected her and often asked her for advice about diverse matters, and we were always impressed by her common-sense.

But we never socialised, she never came to The Owl with us, and whenever we had someone’s birthday party to celebrate in The Blue Eden itself, she usually asked to be excused. Again it was surprising how this did not create any bad blood.

She was such a level-headed one that whenever anything went awry, we would openly laugh about it and tease her. The incident with the Instant Lottery gave us a lot of pleasure at her expense- schadenfreude it was called, she told us herself, shrugging. You wanna laugh at me, go ahead, she said, it doesn’t cost me money. What happened was that this punter who came to our shop for the first time, instead of paying her the forty or so pounds, said that he had just won one hundred pounds on an Instant scratch card, and showed it to her. On a diagonal line, she could 3 £100 under the paint which had been scratched away. I’ve never won anything on the Lottery, she said with a sigh. Tell you what, said the chap, I am feeling generous, seeing that I won another hundred quid only last week, I’ll give it to you instead of cash, then you can go and claim it. That would be fun, she exclaimed, and the deal was done. She entertained him for a bit longer than usual, and the man left, a very satisfied customer. But when she looked at the ticket in the full light of the office, she noticed that the scratching had been cleverly left uncompleted, one of the hundred pounds had an extra hidden 0!

Her love of money was perhaps the one thing which diminished her in my estimate, specially as we all knew that she was on her way to amassing half a million. Surely even if she wouldn’t come to our birthdays, she could easily afford to buy more than just the cheapest card, but I am not a stirrer, and kept this uncharitable thought to myself.

On other occasions she was paid in counterfeit notes, but who among us hasn’t? It’s no grat laughing matter, but because it was miserly Winnie, we had a good laugh.

One thing about Winnie, was her consistency. A year after she had been with us, she cheerfully declared one down and four to go. Regularly every sixth of April every year she would remind us. After another year, she’d come up with two down and three to go. And so on until she had been with us four years. She had so often said that she had set herself a time limit, and we saw no reason to disbelieve her. And in the fullness of time, the end of her fifth year arrived. And she duly asked to leave.

‘You’ve all been so good to me,’ she said, ‘and I’ve been such a meanie; can I treat you just the once?’

We all hooted sarcastically; that will be the day. No, she explained, you know how Fergus and I always go to Bragoon every year. It’s really out of this world, you’ll see and as you’re closing on Easter day, Fergus and I would like to invite you to come there with us, spend a day or two; I know you can’t afford more than that. Get Amanda and Serena from Eden, and Angie and Vera from Vanity to join us, and Bill and Tim of course. It’s on us, we’ve rented a van; we’d love you to come.

We were intrigued and all of us who could joined Fergus and Winnie on Easter Friday and we drove to the Highlands, stopping at a small port called St Mathilda, where we were met by this chap who was waiting for us with his motor launch. It appeared that he knew Fergus quite well, and the latter had arranged for him to meet us there. The trip to the island took no more than one and a half hours. It was a small island called Bragoon, and it was the prettiest island I have ever been on. There was lush vegetation everywhere, flowers of all the colours of the rainbow, but the most striking thing were the palm trees with giant leaves swaying in the wind.

We than followed to a rather extravagant cottage, and he said we could go in and make ourselves at home. We used this as our base and then Fergus and Winnie showed us their beloved island. It was really incredible. The vegetation was almost tropical, azaleas, laurels, geraniums, cannaes. It’s full of magic, like Prospero’s island, said Winnie. We fell in love with it when we came here on our honeymoon, she explained. The east part of the island was mountainous, with some sheer drops, which Fergus said would make excellent rock climbing for youngsters. What youngsters? I asked. They shrugged. Were they planning to have children, we wondered.

We then went visiting a place foreign birds had made their sanctuary, and we saw more birds than I knew existed. There were deer and rabbits running wild, and to top it all the beach was almost like those of the Seychelles that had so charmed Diane that she had decided to stay there.

Then came the bombshell. They had bought the island; that was what the mad lust for money was all about. Any lingering ill-feeling we may have entertained so far towards Winnie, promptly dissolved in the magnificence of Bragoon. I’d kill to live here.

Ever since we’ve been here, the ecstatic Winnie crooned, we’ve dreamed of such a place; islands aren’t all that difficult to find, but this one has plentiful fresh water for a start, and would you believe it, it has the best temperature records for the UK.

‘And you, ladies and gentlemen, are welcome to come visit us whenever the fancy takes you. Or whenever you decide to close your shop and take a day or two off.’ That was Fergus.

But that was not all. When we passed near an area which seemed to have been cleared recently, Winnie explained that they were planning to build their holiday complex. We stared, and Winnie explained that they were erecting three hangar type building with all the facilities, so that kids could come on holiday. There was the nature, the fishing, the rock climbing; they would also have tennis courts and what not.

‘But why? What do you want more money for? Where will you spend it?And their answer was the best answer one could have hoped for.

‘But we don’t want any money! It’s for children from Homes. We are setting up a trust, so these poor kids can have a holiday now and then.

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