The Massage Parlor – Song-i
Dressed as always in jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers, I climbed aboard the bus headed for the So-gu district.
It was the height of rush hour, so the bus was packed wall to wall with dicks and cunts; I had no choice but to stand and ride it out.
The speakers overhead were playing the radio—some DJ’s syrupy voice cooing about taking song requests—and right after that, Gifted School’s hit “Flashback,” which was all over the airwaves at the time, flooded the bus.
This was early summer of 2012, right when the heat was just starting to settle in.
The moment it hit me that I was actually going to interview at Eden—one of the top-tier handjob parlors in the nightlife scene—a mix of anticipation and a strange, tight nervousness rose up inside me.
I was still broke enough that filling my mouth tomorrow felt like a long shot, and that left me restless, but the thought of finally planting my feet in the red-light world I’d been eyeing for a while also got me fired up. A few years earlier I’d already worked a full month at a massage parlor, so I knew damn well how fucking brutal and shitty the job could be.
Winter of 2009. I’d answered a help-wanted ad in the paper, interviewed in the dense nightlife strip of Gwanri-dong, and somehow ended up working at a massage parlor. The start was anything but smooth.
I’d pictured myself surrounded by good-looking women, sneaking free fucks now and then, draining my balls cheap, floating around like I was living in paradise. Instead, the very first day shit hit the fan.
Because it was a nightlife district, most of the customers who came to get their rocks off were drunk-as-fuck bastards who’d already poured half a bottle down their throats. From day one I was hauling those wasted assholes into the waiting room, then cleaning up every room after the girls had finished fucking them.
Of course my first shift landed on a Friday night, so nine out of ten customers were shitfaced. Those bastards would puke mid-fuck, smear toothpaste all over their dicks and ream a girl’s cunt for a full hour, or walk in screaming for the owner, calling him a fucking piece of shit and threatening to call the cops unless they got their money back. Every single one of those nightmare scenarios exploded on me in a single day.
The only thing that kept me from completely losing it was watching the decent-looking girls sashay into the rooms in their slutty hostess outfits. I’d steeled myself for this kind of bullshit when I took the job, so luckily I never hit the full mental breakdown that would have made me quit on the spot.
The hardest part of that whole month-long massage-parlor stint was the attitude of the senior who was supposed to train me.
Normally, no matter what the job is—even if you’re just temp labor—they stick you with someone who actually knows what he’s doing so you can shadow him and learn the ropes. This fucking guy, though, whether he was a special case or just a pure asshole, told me straight from the first day that he had nothing to teach me and no intention of teaching me anything. “Watch what I do and figure it out yourself, or don’t—do whatever the fuck you want.” I came this close to unloading a full stream of curses and ending both our careers right there by snapping his neck.
He wasn’t even the owner—just some guy who’d started a little earlier, drawing the same shitty paycheck I was. The second he kept that high-and-mighty act going, I started ignoring his ass completely. Not long after, the owner announced they were opening a new shop at Dongseo Shopping World and told me I was being transferred there.
Only then did I half-understand why the bastard had been such a prick. He wasn’t going to have to deal with me long-term; I was just some temporary body he was supposed to teach a few things before shipping off to another place. Why bust his own jaw teaching me when there was zero upside for him?
The new shop was another massage parlor in a nightlife strip, but instead of any grand-opening rush we went days without seeing so much as a single ant crawl through the door.
The owner finally shoved a thick stack of flyers into my hands and ordered me to blanket the industrial complex. It was the dead of winter, twenty below, so I had no choice but to stand out there freezing my balls off, handing out flyers while my whole body shook.
A month later nothing had improved, so they did a restructuring. I’d only been there thirty days and I got the axe on the spot.
It had been a month of pure dick-kicking misery in the red-light world, but it wasn’t nothing but shitty memories. If it had been, I never would have even considered heading to Eden for an interview, and after I quit the paper mill I would have kept the vow I’d made never to set foot in this business again.
Once I moved to the new Dongseo Shopping World shop and the days without a single customer—or even an ant—started piling up, the only people left inside were me at the counter and the two live-in girls who sold their cunts for a living. Aside from the short stretches when I went out to drop flyers, we basically lived and slept there.
Customers trickled in once in a blue moon, but unlike the main shop where I’d first learned the ropes, almost none of them showed up blackout drunk. Most were just ordinary suckers who’d had a light drink with dinner and wanted to drain their balls. The work was actually easy.
Which is exactly why I got laid off after only a month.
With no customers and just the two live-in girls plus me at the counter, every so often one of the girls would wander out. We weren’t close, and I was too tense at first, so we kept it stiff and awkward. After a day or two we started saying hello, trading life stories, and got friendly fast.
One of the two live-in girls was the shy type—she almost never left the waiting room. The few times I caught a glimpse of her, her face was nothing special and her body was average at best, the same jar-cunt style Seong-uk hyungnim had been talking about recently. Of course I never actually fucked her, so whether she really had a jar cunt stayed unconfirmed.
The other live-in girl—the one I got close to in a hurry—went by the stage name Song-i. She had the kind of look that made her the shop’s ace.
Long, glossy hair that looked almost liquid, skin so white it glowed, a face so small and finely carved it could have been a sculpture—anyone with eyes would call her a beauty. Her body was the slender, feminine type, and the line from her waist down into her hips was pure art; the second you saw it you thought, Fuck, I want to grab that bitch from behind and rail her like a dog right now.
Overall she was built on thin, elegant lines, but her pelvis flared out so wide it barely looked real—like a body that shouldn’t exist outside of fantasy.
One time she came out of the waiting room and bent over by pure chance. I got a full view of that breath-stealing rear end and for a second I didn’t give a shit about money or anything else. I just wanted to drag that fucking girl into the next room, throw her on the bed, grab her ass, and slam my already-throbbing cock straight into her.
I couldn’t understand how a girl that fine could sit around with cobwebs in her cunt while customers stayed away and left her high and dry.
The empty days kept stacking up. That particular day Song-i came out of the waiting room like always, flashed me a fake little smile, and said hello while I was stuck at the counter.
“You’re already on shift… Still no customers?”
“Yeah, it’s dead again today.”
“I’m gonna eat. You?”
“Haven’t eaten yet. Want to eat together?”
“Sure.”
Song-i was a year older than me—technically my noona—and with a face that fine I kept the polite speech going, answering her carefully.
I followed her out the door. Across the hall was an adult arcade; we walked past it to the door at the far left end of the corridor. Song-i stopped, punched in the door-lock code like she’d done it a thousand times, and stepped inside.
The new shop I worked at was on the fourth floor of a six-story commercial building that was basically a one-stop nightlife gift set—adult arcade, karaoke, beer halls, massage parlors, all stacked on top of each other. The massage parlor sat on the fourth floor; the adult arcade faced us across the hall.
Inside was a small kitchen and a big table that could easily seat four. Song-i noona and I moved like we knew the place, opening the fridge and cabinets, pulling out side-dish containers and the rice cooker, setting the table. Tonight the kitchen auntie had left seasoned crab.
Massage parlors are the kind of place where the standard course is drain your balls, crash hard, then grab a hangover breakfast before you leave, so some shops just throw you ramen and a bowl of rice. Plenty of others, though, bring in a kitchen auntie and serve proper home-style meals.
Once everything was set, Song-i and I sat across from each other and picked up our spoons.
“No customers is really starting to fuck us.”
“Tell me about it. The last place was so busy I never even got a break…”
“It’s not just a day or two. I should talk to the boss.”
“I already told him, but I haven’t seen him the last few days.”
Once the grand-opening rush never happened and the days without a single ant kept coming, the owner—who was on the hook for the live-in girls’ daily pay, meaning their quota—couldn’t handle it. He’d gone dark for days and hadn’t shown his face once. That left Song-i under pressure to fill her numbers somehow, and with the boss missing she had no one left to bitch at except me.
“If I were a customer I’d be coming to see you every single day…”
The stupid shit I’d only been thinking slipped straight out of my mouth.
“Pfft! Hehehe… hahaha…”
My private thoughts had jumped out without permission. For a second the table went quiet, then Song-i’s laughter—half choking—filled the kitchen.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m not the type who falls short anywhere I go.”
“Ah… sorry. That just came out on its own.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s not even wrong, hehe… As long as I can take customers, I don’t care if it’s staff.”
“…”
Her sudden line left me speechless. Instantly my head felt like it had been shot and my cock went rock-hard. “I don’t care if it’s staff” was basically a green light that I could fuck her cunt as a customer.
There was still a chance she was just joking to cover the awkwardness, so I decided I needed to lock it down for sure. I steeled myself and kept going.
“If it stays this empty, what are we supposed to do? I might as well go in as your customer and fill your quota myself.”
“That works for me, hehe…”
“For real? You’re okay with me coming in as a customer?”
“Yeah, I don’t care. It’s not like I’ve only worked a day or two. Every place is a little different, but I’ve taken plenty of owners, owners’ friends, even the counter managers as customers.”
“Oh, so some places are fine with that. Nobody’s ever said anything here, and the boss and the other staff have never done it…”
“Usually the day manager takes the night girls, the night manager takes the day girls. I’ve never actually had a manager from the same shift come in as a customer like you and me, but… what’s the real difference?”
“I’ve never heard of that before.”
“You’ve only been here a little while, that’s why.”
Listening to Song-i actively rationalize why it was fine for me to fuck her cunt, my dick was already hard enough to punch through my pants.
From the first second I saw her—skin glowing white, hips flared out, ass looking solid and perfect—I’d been a doggy-style addict, and I’d told myself a hundred times I had to fuck that bitch at least once.
But she was a coworker, and in the world I knew, fucking the shop girls you worked with was pure trash behavior. I’d never even tried.
Song-i had just taken that “common sense,” smashed it to pieces with her own mouth, and flung the shards all the way past Alpha Centauri.
The girl I’d only ever railed from behind in my head was sitting across the table talking to me, looking me in the eye and basically begging me to clear the cobwebs out of her cunt.
There was no reason left to hesitate.
“It’s still early evening… wait a bit.”
“Okay, sure, hehe…”
But it was still early evening and people were wandering around the building. I couldn’t risk fucking her right then. The boss had been MIA for days, but looking at his usual visit times I figured waiting until midnight would be safer. I had to talk around it with Song-i.
If I rushed it and the boss suddenly showed up and caught the counter manager and one of the shop girls going at it like animals, there was no telling what would happen. Nothing good, that was for damn sure.
After we finished dinner in the kitchen we had a short tea break, then Song-i slowly disappeared from sight, heading back to the waiting room.
I was left gripping my cock—hard enough to tear through my pants—staring at the clock and enduring the wait.
The hands finally crawled past midnight and started racing toward one in the morning. To cut the risk even a little I’d been holding my breath, staring at the clock forever. At last I stood up, dropped onto the sofa next to the counter, and quietly lit a cigarette.
Same as every other day—no customers, not even an ant. As the counter manager, Lee Jinsik, I was the one who had to make sure Song-i noona, the shop’s self-proclaimed ace, hit her quota. There was nothing left to do but go fuck her.
I finished the cigarette, locked the shop door from the inside, walked down the inner hallway to the room at the far end closest to the girls’ waiting room, pulled 120,000 won out of my wallet, and set it on the table.
It sucked that it wasn’t free, but we hadn’t known each other long and who knew when a chance like this would come again. I put down exactly the pay she got for one customer.
Regular customers paid 180,000 cash or 200,000 on card back then. The girl’s cut was anywhere from 80,000 to 120,000 depending on rank; the rest went to the owner. Song-i was the shop’s ace—looks and service both top-tier—so she got the highest rate. That’s why I left 120,000.
In short, this was a secret side deal to fill a girl’s numbers without the owner knowing. If we got caught, even a three-year-old could tell it would get ugly.
I’d thought about just paying full price to cover the worst case, but I was already working a shit-pay massage-parlor manager job that came with the constant risk of raids. I needed at least this little perk, so I rationalized the hell out of it.
Everything ready, I walked slowly to the girls’ waiting room, knocked with a tight chest, and opened the door.
“Song-i, five-T, ten minutes.”
“Yes~”
Normally I’d call from the counter phone that connected to the waiting room, but when there were no customers it was common to walk over and give the call face-to-face. The two girls inside didn’t suspect a thing; they just answered mechanically.
I glanced at Song-i’s face. Getting her first call this close to one in the morning must have felt like a miracle—she was already rummaging through her clothes, deciding what hostess outfit to wear, even though I’d said ten minutes. I left her to it and hurried back to the room where I was going to fuck her.
I stripped completely and scrubbed my cock, balls, and asshole with almost a whole bottle of body wash, getting every crease. Just in case I squeezed out a thick line of toothpaste, smeared it all over my asshole, waited until the mint burned, then rinsed with lukewarm water.
I used nearly ten towels until every drop of water was gone, then climbed onto the bed with my cock standing straight up at the ceiling and stretched out like a starfish, waiting for Song-i.
A little later I heard the click of high heels walking straight toward me. Two knocks, then Song-i appeared in front of her completely naked counter manager, wearing a pure-white dress cut so deep at the legs that her panties almost showed.
She looked at me lying there with my cock fully hard and standing tall, like I was showing it off, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile. She closed the door, locked it, locked eyes with me, and started walking closer.