[F] Memoirs of a sushi hostess

Hi, all, and happy new year! A user browsing my post history came across my post describing my time as a sushi waitress and suggested I post some of the things I experienced while working there here, so I figure, why not? Be kind, though, much of this is filtered through thirty years and translated from half-remembered Cantonese but I’ll do my best. :) And I apologize in advance for the length, but I figured I should explain some of the background before diving into the stories. If your eyes start to glaze over, feel free to skip this one. Otherwise, here’s the story of my interview for the sushi restaurant.

—–

So, in 1987 (I was 20 then) I had taken some time off college to tour Asia to kind of reconnect with my roots and maybe earn a bit of cash to help pay for my next year at college. I’d landed in Hong Kong low on money and with only the name and phone number of a friend of a friend who lived in the city. After I collected my bags, I called her and arranged to stay with her for a couple of days until I could find a place of my own to stay (which I did two days later; a women-only guest house and I sprung for the private room with the private bathroom…$15 USD a night! :) ). She introduced me to some of her friends, and I started looking for work the next day. It was tough going at start; most places didn’t want to hire me because I couldn’t speak much Cantonese (not my birth language). However, a friend of the friend knew a *friend* who worked at an upscale place that paid well and might not care about the language…or my lack of a work visa. Did I want to meet her?

Checked my pockets. $100 USD left, hmm? Why *yes*, yes I did!

I arrange to meet with the friend (Maggie), who tells me that she works as a hostess in a members-only club that hires only women and caters to people – mostly men but a few women – who tend to have more money than most governments and who want to impress the world with it.

“Yes, OK,” I said.
“You neeed to be discreet and keep your mouth shut.”
“Yes, I can do that”
“You’ll work naked.”
Umm….OK? “Always?”
“Every night, unless you’re on your period. Then you’re a greeter, not a hostess. You want to meet the boss?”

She assured me it’s just being naked, not sex work. She made a point, as it was, that I’d have no man inside me. A weird point to make, I thought, but sure. I’m getting *really* low on cash and being naked didn’t bother me. *This* time I’ll be getting *paid* to get naked, and Maggie was pretty well dressed and didn’t seem to be on drugs so why not? Sure, I’d like to meet him.

“OK. I’ll talk to the owner, and if he wants to meet you I’ll bring you in tomorrow before work for an interview.” I thank her, pay for her dinner as thanks, and go back to my friend’s place for the rest of the evening.

—–

Next day, she brings me in to the restaurant, about two floors down from the street in a skyscraper that looked like every other skyscraper. I don’t remember much about the building other than being disappointed…I kind of expected it to look like a palace and it didn’t look much like anything. The top floors were apartments, middle floors were for shopping (including a bowling alley, I remember the alley) and the restaurant was in the second level below the street. I remember walking in and thinking that I’d never been anywhere so *opulent* before…there were dragon murals laid out in *real* gold, the tables were some beautiful natural wood, and being amused that the light fixtures looked rather cheesy instead of elegant.

She brought me over to a table with a middle-aged couple. The man was the owner of the place, dressed in a collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up, she turned out to be his assistant in a plain skirt and blouse, with the *thickest* coke-bottle glasses I’d ever seen in my life up until then. Maggie introduces me to the boss in Cantonese, explains I’m from the States here to work, and he starts the interview. He asks me if I can speak Cantonese (some), can understand any (more), and then launches into an explanation of what I would be doing as an employee and hostess, the rules and guidelines, the work schedule, what I could expect to be doing on my period days….very little of which I caught as he spoke too fast and never once used English. The gist of it seemed to be that I would be expected to waitress for the clients and I *would* be naked the entirety of my shift. The guests would add a tip before the meal, and I was to cater to whatever they needed based on what the gratuity was. Was I OK with all of that?

I looked over at Maggie, who nodded, and I figured she could fill me on whatever details I missed later on. I said I was, and then it was the assistant’s turn.

She stood up, and told me to strip naked. Well, that *was* why I was there, so I did, folding my clothes neatly on the bench beside the table. Then she asked me to sit on the table, and cupped my breasts, checking for who-knows-what, asked me to open my mouth, then told me to lie down. She then proceeded to rub her finger along my slit, then pushed it in. She slid it in and out for a bit, then pulled it out, sniffed first her finger, then best down to sniff between my legs. She made a note in her book, then reached over, grabbed a couple of swabs from a box on the table, swabbed the inside of my vagina, stowed each swab in it’s own plastic bag. Then finally she bent back down and gave me, I don’t know…the taste test? She licked me, considered for a moment, then nodded to the owner, made another note in her book, and told him what I think was that I was clean. Ooookay, of *course* I was but whatever.

Boss told me to get dressed, and told me to be there for work the next evening, starting at 5. I said I would, and left with Maggie. After we climbed back to the street, I asked her to fill in the details. She told me that yes, assuming the swabs came back clean I’d start tomorrow, I’d be working naked for the duration of the shift but the place was warm enough that I wouldn’t be uncomfortable. She explained the tip system: the tips were set by the restaurant at two levels, added on to the bill. For the smaller tip, we would be expected to serve the guests, and if requested to run the food over our bodies, feed them with our own hands, pour their drinks, put up with being touched on the breasts or ass. For the larger tip, we would be expected to do all of that, plus rub the food along us, *inside* us if they asked for it, let *them* dip their food in us (so to speak), and turn a blind eye to hands on us and in us. She told me that we’d be told of the tip after they were seated but before the orders were taken, and while we were *technically* free to refuse the tip, the owner turned a *very* jaundinced eye to any girl who did. We got half the tip paid, and I could expect about $350 USD or more for the small, $700 USD or more for the larger, and that often the guests added tips on top of *that*….which the owner *also* took half of.

I was also told to – discretely – get security if a guest got out of hand, tried to do more than they paid for, or if they started to hurt me but at the same time to do what I could to defuse the situation with the guests *first*. She told me not to worry, though, that in the three years she’d been working there she’d had to call the large men in black suits only once, when a guest got too drunk and too excited, grabbed her and tried to sit her on his penis. He was shown the door by the large men and his membership revoked for six months.

She *then* told me of the KTV rooms they had. Some guests came for the sushi and asked to eat them in a KTV room. Rather than sing, though, the girl assigned for the night was expected to fuck the guests or put on some sort of a show for them. As far as the owner was concerned, the guests were singing karaoke in those rooms and nothing more, but the hostess could expect a *lot* of money for entertaing the club members that evening. I remember stopping in the the middle of the street, wondering if I’d just bitten off more than I wanted to chew and the look on my face must have said plenty because Maggie shook her head and explained that you had to volunteer for those rooms, and they wouldn’t take just anyone. Any guy, she said, could visit a $10 whore but this place expected an more refined experience.

I remember asking, “Refined?”
“Jaded,” was her reply. She didn’t explain further and I wouldn’t learn the details about that until later, though.

Afterwards, we went for xiao long bao, I promised I’d meet her at the restaurant at 4:30, and parted ways for the evening.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/acb3c7/f_memoirs_of_a_sushi_hostess