It was a couple years ago. I had just checked into my shift, with no appointments so far in the day. I hung out in the lounge in the front of the parlor, leaning back in a chair reading a magazine, in my usual “uniform” of a tank top, shorts and bare feet while two of my colleagues chatted it up with the owner.
A young man entered the room. He walked up to the desk where the owner sat.
“Uh, hello. I’d like a massage. Anyone available?”
“Absolutely!” said the owner, and she motioned to the three of us in the room. “How long and who would you like?”
He looked around and paused. “The one in the blue tank top.” he muttered. I heard it. He chose me.
I jumped up. “Alright!” I called out. “I’m *my name*” and I’ll meet you in room 1. The owner rung him up and IDed him. We had an obviously minimum age of 18…and he did look quite young.