Tai Shan Spa
- Thread starter kingotis
- Start date
Part 1 - Making A Mark
His name was Irving but he always told the girls to call him John. At one time he thought it was funny - a john named John - but eventually he was stuck with it and he came to see it as his "real" name as much as "Irving." He started his hobby the way everyone else does. He wasn't getting what he needed at home and started looking for satisfaction elsewhere.
As a dermatologist with a successful practice in Manhattan he had no shortage of funds at his disposal. Treating the acne vulgaris cases among the children of the upper east side ruling class with injections of powerful antibiotics and salves he had shipped from Europe brought him a seemingly limitless clientele of shallow people with deep pockets. He was one of the first doctors in the city to offer botox, when it was still under the FDA's radar and could be procured easily on the international grey market and peddled to insecure aging trophy wives at any price he chose to ask.
The money bought comfort and convenience but it made no one happy, not Irving, not his wife Sara, not their two depressed teenage children. Sara stayed in bed for days at a time in a severe clinical depression that was not helped by Irving's utter disinterest in her 40 year old tits and ass.
What Irving craved was the perky tits and tight asses of young asian girls, and with both time and money at his disposal it wasn't long before he found places where he could buy exactly what he wanted. He started with the places near his office, and then gradually expanded his range in ever-widening concentric circles. He went once a week at first, then soon it was two or three times a week, and then it was every day, and some days more than once. He got to know the mamasans pretty well. He was never short of cash, and he made good small talk. He even brought vials of botox every now and then to help them look young.
They knew he liked the young ones and that cute little Chinese or Korean girls with A cups would bring him back again and again and again. He loved to hear how big his cock was, how handsome he was, how nice and kind and fun he was when everybody knew he was a nasty little man with a tiny cock and a hairy back.
The girls were what he wanted, what he craved, but what Irving really needed was to be loved. He would never find that with 19 year old girls who quickly recognized that his wallet was the coolest thing about him. But one day he walked into a place he'd never tried before, a place in midtown, a place that was bigger and grander than any he'd seen. There were ten rooms, each with its own shower. There was a sauna and there were first class massage tables.
Irving sauntered up to the desk where a slightly disheveled woman in her forties was staring into space with the bored expression of a teenage girl at a black and white movie. He flashed an enormous wad of cash and asked how much the house fee was. It got her attention, the way it did everywhere he went. But Irving could not possibly have known just how intently her attention had been caught.
June, as she called herself, was an imaginative and creative if somewhat imbalanced Chinese woman who had toiled as a massage girl, saving up her tips and looking for an escape hatch from the life. One day she was wandering aimlessly on the west side, stopped to use the bathroom at a diner and somehow ended up in a conversation with the owner of the place. When she said she was a masseuse, he told her that he had a big vacant space in the building that had been a therapeutic spa at one time.
June had big ideas, and when she saw the space her imagination ran wild. It would take money, alot of money; but if she could find an investor or two, she could make the place into the biggest and best spa in Manhattan.
She invested her savings in the place. She borrowed money from her American-born Chinese husband. She was still short of what she needed, so she took a high interest loan from unscrupulous businessmen in Flushing. Altogether, she poured $150,000 into the place, and it was beautiful. She had new tile laid into all the floors and walls. All the plumbing was new with a special water heater to supply enough hot water for all those showers. Everything was top of the line and brand new.
She filled the rooms with cute young Asian women and customers began to trickle in. Weeks turned into months. The interest payments consumed most of the house fees, and her operating costs were enormous. June sank into depression. She wondered how she could dig herself out of this hole and live the successful life that she dreamed would come from this business. She began to drink during the day and would simply stare into space while waiting for the customers who arrived now and then. But when Irving walked in with his expensive shoes and his pocket full of cash, she finally saw the way out.
She looked him in the eye and said "For you, there is no house fee." He grinned stupidly and she knew she had found her mark.
His name was Irving but he always told the girls to call him John. At one time he thought it was funny - a john named John - but eventually he was stuck with it and he came to see it as his "real" name as much as "Irving." He started his hobby the way everyone else does. He wasn't getting what he needed at home and started looking for satisfaction elsewhere.
As a dermatologist with a successful practice in Manhattan he had no shortage of funds at his disposal. Treating the acne vulgaris cases among the children of the upper east side ruling class with injections of powerful antibiotics and salves he had shipped from Europe brought him a seemingly limitless clientele of shallow people with deep pockets. He was one of the first doctors in the city to offer botox, when it was still under the FDA's radar and could be procured easily on the international grey market and peddled to insecure aging trophy wives at any price he chose to ask.
The money bought comfort and convenience but it made no one happy, not Irving, not his wife Sara, not their two depressed teenage children. Sara stayed in bed for days at a time in a severe clinical depression that was not helped by Irving's utter disinterest in her 40 year old tits and ass.
What Irving craved was the perky tits and tight asses of young asian girls, and with both time and money at his disposal it wasn't long before he found places where he could buy exactly what he wanted. He started with the places near his office, and then gradually expanded his range in ever-widening concentric circles. He went once a week at first, then soon it was two or three times a week, and then it was every day, and some days more than once. He got to know the mamasans pretty well. He was never short of cash, and he made good small talk. He even brought vials of botox every now and then to help them look young.
They knew he liked the young ones and that cute little Chinese or Korean girls with A cups would bring him back again and again and again. He loved to hear how big his cock was, how handsome he was, how nice and kind and fun he was when everybody knew he was a nasty little man with a tiny cock and a hairy back.
The girls were what he wanted, what he craved, but what Irving really needed was to be loved. He would never find that with 19 year old girls who quickly recognized that his wallet was the coolest thing about him. But one day he walked into a place he'd never tried before, a place in midtown, a place that was bigger and grander than any he'd seen. There were ten rooms, each with its own shower. There was a sauna and there were first class massage tables.
Irving sauntered up to the desk where a slightly disheveled woman in her forties was staring into space with the bored expression of a teenage girl at a black and white movie. He flashed an enormous wad of cash and asked how much the house fee was. It got her attention, the way it did everywhere he went. But Irving could not possibly have known just how intently her attention had been caught.
June, as she called herself, was an imaginative and creative if somewhat imbalanced Chinese woman who had toiled as a massage girl, saving up her tips and looking for an escape hatch from the life. One day she was wandering aimlessly on the west side, stopped to use the bathroom at a diner and somehow ended up in a conversation with the owner of the place. When she said she was a masseuse, he told her that he had a big vacant space in the building that had been a therapeutic spa at one time.
June had big ideas, and when she saw the space her imagination ran wild. It would take money, alot of money; but if she could find an investor or two, she could make the place into the biggest and best spa in Manhattan.
She invested her savings in the place. She borrowed money from her American-born Chinese husband. She was still short of what she needed, so she took a high interest loan from unscrupulous businessmen in Flushing. Altogether, she poured $150,000 into the place, and it was beautiful. She had new tile laid into all the floors and walls. All the plumbing was new with a special water heater to supply enough hot water for all those showers. Everything was top of the line and brand new.
She filled the rooms with cute young Asian women and customers began to trickle in. Weeks turned into months. The interest payments consumed most of the house fees, and her operating costs were enormous. June sank into depression. She wondered how she could dig herself out of this hole and live the successful life that she dreamed would come from this business. She began to drink during the day and would simply stare into space while waiting for the customers who arrived now and then. But when Irving walked in with his expensive shoes and his pocket full of cash, she finally saw the way out.
She looked him in the eye and said "For you, there is no house fee." He grinned stupidly and she knew she had found her mark.
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Part 2 - Feeding the Beast
Although she didn't really fit his usual taste, there was something about June that was enticing for Irving. That first night she sent her youngest girl in to take care of him and he tipped her generously but what he really wanted was to go back and talk to June. After he finished with the girl he went back to the desk and found June there. She smiled at him solicitously and he put one elbow on the counter and chatted with her.
They talked for a solid hour about various things - his experiences at spas, his business, her business, her goals, his desires. Finally she asked if he'd like to come to her apartment for a drink, and of course he did. She put one of the girls at the front desk and they walked directly across town to the East side where June had rented an apartment (with some of the money she had borrowed) so she could be in walking distance of the spa. She brought him upstairs to the five room place, which she had decorated with tasteful furniture and artwork, and she led him into the bathroom, where there was an enormous shower with four shower heads pointing in various directions. She started the shower and told him to get ready. He turned and got undressed and when he finished he turned back and there she stood. She had stripped her clothes off too and her body was stunning. Her skin was perfect, her breasts stood firm like those of a woman half her age, and her ass stuck out just enough.
She beckoned to him and he stepped forward with no hesitation. She stepped into the shower with him and when they finally turned the water off and came back into the room 45 minutes had passed and her throat was filled with his come. They walked out of the bathroom and he sat on the king size bed and started to get dressed but he felt her tug at his arm and she laid down on the bed before him. He was instantly aroused again and he could see that she was wet and ready as she whispered "I want you."
In an instant he was inside her with no condom, no forethought, and absolutely no caution whatsoever. She moaned and ground into his pelvis and as he began to fuck her hard she called out so loud he wondered who her neighbors might be. As he built toward an orgasm she stopped him. "Wait," she said. She pulled back and slid away from him and then she was on all fours in front of him. He moved forward to enter her again and she reached around and grabbed his cock and guided it into her ass.
A few moments later they were lying together on the bed and the only sound was their breathing. In his entire life up to that moment, Irving had never felt connected to anyone, he had never felt a need for another human being that was specific, that couldn't be satisfied by anyone who happened to be available. He had rejected his wife and he had never cared much for being with his children, but this was something else. He wanted her and her alone.
He began to see her every day. He continued to sleep in his own apartment, but he spent less and less time at home. He learned from June that her business was struggling under crushing debt. He wanted to help. She wouldn't accept his money, she said. She loved him, she said. He told her that he loved her too.
His passion for her grew and grew. Irving felt less and less interested in anything else. He began scheduling fewer appointments at work so he could spend more time with her. He fucked her in every room of the apartment in every position he could imagine and yet he still wanted more of her. One night she broke down crying over her financial state and he finally got from her a full picture of her financial situation. She needed $100,000 to get out of debt and begin to turn a real profit on the spa. That was more than he could afford to lose, but he saw an alternative to treating the pimples and crows feet of the ruling class - he could invest in her business and combine business and pleasure.
He arranged to transfer $100,000 to her account and she promised to put together the paperwork to bring him on as a full partner. Irving cut his practice back even more and began spending his days at the spa. He told his wife Sara he was leaving her and he rented a studio near June's apartment. Sara immediately had his access to their joint account revoked on the grounds that he was transferring joint assets out of the marriage. Irving didn't care. He was excited about June and he was excited about the spa and he was excited about his new life.
Just when Irving thought his happiness was right around the corner, things started to change. June began to behave erratically, to treat him differently. Her eyes were glassy all day long and sentences tumbled out her that made less than no sense. One night he walked into the spa and she was nowhere to be found. He knocked on doors until finally he opened the storage closet and found her there with a pipe in her hand.
He got on his knees and shook her and her eyes opened. Her pupils were enormous and he knew immediately that she was high on something. He asked her what she was smoking and she laughed. He said he would get her help and she laughed harder. He offered to bring her to rehab and she spat in his face and laughed a hideous cackling laugh that made his blood run cold.
The paperwork never materialized, and Irving's $100,000 was long gone. The spa was beginning to get popular, and June was making good money now that her debt was retired. The money went liberally to shady men who appeared with small packages that June took and consumed in private. Even in her disheveled state he wanted her still, and he was reduced to begging her for sex the way he had once begged his wife. She laughed in his face and handed him to one of the massage girls.
Irving contented himself with those massage girls but June had made him her mark and the girls followed suit. With one after another after another he handed over what little income he could pull from his shrinking practice to buy clothes, jewelry, shoes, phones, whatever they wanted in exchange for their fleeting affections. When he ceased to amuse them they passed him to the next girl, who picked over what was left of him.
No one, not Irving's wife, not his children, not June nor any of the massage girls at the spa felt even the smallest hint of empathy for him. His ego was enormous and his lack of self-control was overwhelming. Even at his lowest, he considered himself to be a superior human being, and he never hesitated to pontificate and dispense highly judgmental advice. His desperation for affection was so self-centered it left no room for any sort of genuine relationship.
In truth, it wasn't the first time he'd been had. About a year before he had gotten involved with a Russian medical student who professed a desire to be his girlfriend. He gave her a bunch of cash for her expenses and put her up in an apartment to make her his "kept" woman, but it didn't take long for him to find out she was seeing other guys and considered him a first class sucker, a checkbook with legs. He had pulled the rug out from under her to the best of his ability but tens of thousands of dollars had been wasted.
Still, that experience paled in comparison to where he had ended up with June. Down he sank into depression as his personal and financial life slid into ruin.
Although she didn't really fit his usual taste, there was something about June that was enticing for Irving. That first night she sent her youngest girl in to take care of him and he tipped her generously but what he really wanted was to go back and talk to June. After he finished with the girl he went back to the desk and found June there. She smiled at him solicitously and he put one elbow on the counter and chatted with her.
They talked for a solid hour about various things - his experiences at spas, his business, her business, her goals, his desires. Finally she asked if he'd like to come to her apartment for a drink, and of course he did. She put one of the girls at the front desk and they walked directly across town to the East side where June had rented an apartment (with some of the money she had borrowed) so she could be in walking distance of the spa. She brought him upstairs to the five room place, which she had decorated with tasteful furniture and artwork, and she led him into the bathroom, where there was an enormous shower with four shower heads pointing in various directions. She started the shower and told him to get ready. He turned and got undressed and when he finished he turned back and there she stood. She had stripped her clothes off too and her body was stunning. Her skin was perfect, her breasts stood firm like those of a woman half her age, and her ass stuck out just enough.
She beckoned to him and he stepped forward with no hesitation. She stepped into the shower with him and when they finally turned the water off and came back into the room 45 minutes had passed and her throat was filled with his come. They walked out of the bathroom and he sat on the king size bed and started to get dressed but he felt her tug at his arm and she laid down on the bed before him. He was instantly aroused again and he could see that she was wet and ready as she whispered "I want you."
In an instant he was inside her with no condom, no forethought, and absolutely no caution whatsoever. She moaned and ground into his pelvis and as he began to fuck her hard she called out so loud he wondered who her neighbors might be. As he built toward an orgasm she stopped him. "Wait," she said. She pulled back and slid away from him and then she was on all fours in front of him. He moved forward to enter her again and she reached around and grabbed his cock and guided it into her ass.
A few moments later they were lying together on the bed and the only sound was their breathing. In his entire life up to that moment, Irving had never felt connected to anyone, he had never felt a need for another human being that was specific, that couldn't be satisfied by anyone who happened to be available. He had rejected his wife and he had never cared much for being with his children, but this was something else. He wanted her and her alone.
He began to see her every day. He continued to sleep in his own apartment, but he spent less and less time at home. He learned from June that her business was struggling under crushing debt. He wanted to help. She wouldn't accept his money, she said. She loved him, she said. He told her that he loved her too.
His passion for her grew and grew. Irving felt less and less interested in anything else. He began scheduling fewer appointments at work so he could spend more time with her. He fucked her in every room of the apartment in every position he could imagine and yet he still wanted more of her. One night she broke down crying over her financial state and he finally got from her a full picture of her financial situation. She needed $100,000 to get out of debt and begin to turn a real profit on the spa. That was more than he could afford to lose, but he saw an alternative to treating the pimples and crows feet of the ruling class - he could invest in her business and combine business and pleasure.
He arranged to transfer $100,000 to her account and she promised to put together the paperwork to bring him on as a full partner. Irving cut his practice back even more and began spending his days at the spa. He told his wife Sara he was leaving her and he rented a studio near June's apartment. Sara immediately had his access to their joint account revoked on the grounds that he was transferring joint assets out of the marriage. Irving didn't care. He was excited about June and he was excited about the spa and he was excited about his new life.
Just when Irving thought his happiness was right around the corner, things started to change. June began to behave erratically, to treat him differently. Her eyes were glassy all day long and sentences tumbled out her that made less than no sense. One night he walked into the spa and she was nowhere to be found. He knocked on doors until finally he opened the storage closet and found her there with a pipe in her hand.
He got on his knees and shook her and her eyes opened. Her pupils were enormous and he knew immediately that she was high on something. He asked her what she was smoking and she laughed. He said he would get her help and she laughed harder. He offered to bring her to rehab and she spat in his face and laughed a hideous cackling laugh that made his blood run cold.
The paperwork never materialized, and Irving's $100,000 was long gone. The spa was beginning to get popular, and June was making good money now that her debt was retired. The money went liberally to shady men who appeared with small packages that June took and consumed in private. Even in her disheveled state he wanted her still, and he was reduced to begging her for sex the way he had once begged his wife. She laughed in his face and handed him to one of the massage girls.
Irving contented himself with those massage girls but June had made him her mark and the girls followed suit. With one after another after another he handed over what little income he could pull from his shrinking practice to buy clothes, jewelry, shoes, phones, whatever they wanted in exchange for their fleeting affections. When he ceased to amuse them they passed him to the next girl, who picked over what was left of him.
No one, not Irving's wife, not his children, not June nor any of the massage girls at the spa felt even the smallest hint of empathy for him. His ego was enormous and his lack of self-control was overwhelming. Even at his lowest, he considered himself to be a superior human being, and he never hesitated to pontificate and dispense highly judgmental advice. His desperation for affection was so self-centered it left no room for any sort of genuine relationship.
In truth, it wasn't the first time he'd been had. About a year before he had gotten involved with a Russian medical student who professed a desire to be his girlfriend. He gave her a bunch of cash for her expenses and put her up in an apartment to make her his "kept" woman, but it didn't take long for him to find out she was seeing other guys and considered him a first class sucker, a checkbook with legs. He had pulled the rug out from under her to the best of his ability but tens of thousands of dollars had been wasted.
Still, that experience paled in comparison to where he had ended up with June. Down he sank into depression as his personal and financial life slid into ruin.
Similar to the Lawyer-Real Estate investor that got involved with a stripper and opened a bar for her on St. Marks place called Siren. The ending is probablay the same. No HE for you.
"The headline could have read BRAINLESS MAN IN TOPLESS BAR. How did an Orthodox Jewish lawyer and family man fall so hard for a Scores stripper that he invited her to his kids' bar mitzvahs? There's more -- and less -- to this story than meets the eye".
Looking forward to part 3
"The headline could have read BRAINLESS MAN IN TOPLESS BAR. How did an Orthodox Jewish lawyer and family man fall so hard for a Scores stripper that he invited her to his kids' bar mitzvahs? There's more -- and less -- to this story than meets the eye".
Looking forward to part 3
Part 3 - Spiraling Into Darkness
Irving's self-centered obsession with his own gratification had destroyed his family but his business was hanging on desperately and clinging to life. He had alienated a number of valuable clients by neglecting them and making himself unavailable when he preferred to spend his days and nights at the spa. Things went from bad to worse, however, when he carelessly and inattentively injected the face of the thirteen year old daughter of a prominent New York litigator with Botox instead of the antibiotics she was supposed to get to treat infected pores. The resulting blow to his reputation and his suddenly insurmountable malpractice insurance rates drove the final syringe-shaped nails into the coffin of his practice. For the first time in his professional life he was forced to seek employment as a hired hand.
The work he found - at a clinic in Brooklyn - might have been gratifying to another sort of man, the sort of man who enjoys helping others and finds satisfaction in doing good. For Irving, however, work served one purpose and one purpose only - to bring income. At that purpose, of course, working at a clinic failed miserably and Irving resented the patients and his obligation to treat them as much as he had resented the demands for attention that issued forth from his wife and children.
His medical license, however, did confer one lasting benefit in that he was able to supply various prescription medications to June. June's imaginative and grandiose mind was itself sinking deeper into disrepair and she consumed various drugs and medications in escalating quantities in order to dampen the paranoia and depression. There was cocaine, then there was crack. There was heroin and even peyote, which she would smoke and then she would devolve into a babbling mess for days at a time. When Irving brought her valium and pharmaceutical speed, he would find himself in her good graces again for a day or two, and he would bask in the warmth of her approval while he had it before she invariably shoved him away and berated him in front of the girls at the spa.
Despite June's degenerative mental state, the spa was rapidly achieving an unparalleled and unexpected level of success. The success came through relentless promotion of the place on various internet boards devoted to the topics of brothels and massage parlors. June stumbled into this promotional device when a customer happened to post something positive about the place and the phone began to ring. As more of the guys who read those boards became customers and added their own reviews, the promotional effect snowballed. June quietly offered free sessions to guys who wrote good reviews and it evolved into a marketing strategy. It worked spectacularly and before long June was clearing over $5,000 a day.
Irving never saw a penny of it, of course, and his circumstances continued to deteriorate. He still visited the spa virtually every day. The girls sucked what they could from his wallet and he got whatever services he could from them. His feelings for June began to curdle as he finally realized that he had been thoroughly defrauded and had absolutely no recourse to get his money back. With his income down to a fraction of what it had been, he was barely scraping by - paying rent on his studio, supporting his wife and children and indulging the whims of the spa girls.
It started to feel like a weight on his chest every time he entered the spa. He started reading the reviews on the boards and his soul grew blacker and his heart grew harder. He started responding to the reviews on the boards with his own nasty little comments, criticizing the way the girls looked, the way the spa was managed, the reviewers themselves. It was the only thing that brought him any satisfaction at all, any whiff of the revenge he craved, and it began to evolve into an obsession in itself - logging on and planting awful little comments here and there was fun for him.
His situation went from bad to worse when Sara had him served with divorce papers. The writing was on the wall - he couldn't support his habit and his family and his own separate living situation. He went to Sara and begged her forgiveness. She reluctantly took him back but she made one thing explicitly clear - if he ever set foot in that spa again he would regret it for the rest of his life.
Irving took back what was left of his old life, but things would never be the same. He no longer had the freedom and the disposable income that had conferred upon him the ability to indulge his dirty little habit with such abandon. He could sneak out once a week now, to little places in office buildings and apartments. He did so with religious regularity but his heart was always filled with envy and hate for men who had the freedom and the money to indulge their hobby without such restrictions. He was known as a mark in the massage world of New York, a man with whom three little words - "I love you" - could be worth thousands. He was led through a succession of independent massage girls, each of whom would siphon as much cash as they could from his pockets while stringing him along, whispering sweet nothings in his ears, then passing him along to their friends while they laughed behind his back.
When he couldn't go out, he had to settle for the perverse pleasure of raining on everyone else's parade. He logged on to the internet boards every night and left awful little messages. He opened accounts under new names to spread nasty rumors and gossip - originally about the guys who promoted Tai Shan spa but then about anyone he felt like trashing. It made him feel good when nothing else did. Every bit of his manhood had been taken from him, but at least he had this.
Across town and 20 blocks south, Tai Shan spa's golden age was coming to a close. June's erratic and imbalanced behavior began to take a toll on everyone around her. The floors were dirty and the showers were mildewed. Visitors were likely to find June wandering in the nude around the place barking at the demons in her head. She worked the girls unmercifully around the clock and accepted no excuses or limitations about what they would or wouldn't do for customers. Her attention span and temper were short, and her anger would rain down in torrents when she encountered any resistance. In her depressed narcotic haze she would often take customers herself, allowing them to violate her every orifice as many times as they desired.
It became harder and harder for her to keep girls employed there. They would come and go like they were walking through a turnstile. She turned her furious eye on the men who had promoted the place and soon they too were gone. Where the rooms had been filled with lust there were only echoes and ghosts as the customers slowed to a trickle. The desperate men and willing women have scattered to the many massage parlors that dot the streets of this city like droplets of water from a summer rain.You can still find June there. Right now at this very moment you can find her sitting at that front desk gazing off with that same bored look in her eyes, dreaming of a different world, plotting her escape from the prison Irving's money built.
In every spa in every city there are stories. There are stories of women who do what they must for men who get what they want. There are stories of generous men and women and of small, selfish children. There are stories of love and stories of passion, there are stories of lust and stories of commerce. No one can know all of the stories and most will never be told. This is only one story, but there are others like it everywhere around us, and as long as the grass is green and the sky is blue there will be men and women living lives of sorrow and joy and pleasure and pain. We are all here together, every one of us. No two of us are exactly the same and yet the same needs and the same desires drive us all. This is only one story, but it is the story of every one of us.
Irving's self-centered obsession with his own gratification had destroyed his family but his business was hanging on desperately and clinging to life. He had alienated a number of valuable clients by neglecting them and making himself unavailable when he preferred to spend his days and nights at the spa. Things went from bad to worse, however, when he carelessly and inattentively injected the face of the thirteen year old daughter of a prominent New York litigator with Botox instead of the antibiotics she was supposed to get to treat infected pores. The resulting blow to his reputation and his suddenly insurmountable malpractice insurance rates drove the final syringe-shaped nails into the coffin of his practice. For the first time in his professional life he was forced to seek employment as a hired hand.
The work he found - at a clinic in Brooklyn - might have been gratifying to another sort of man, the sort of man who enjoys helping others and finds satisfaction in doing good. For Irving, however, work served one purpose and one purpose only - to bring income. At that purpose, of course, working at a clinic failed miserably and Irving resented the patients and his obligation to treat them as much as he had resented the demands for attention that issued forth from his wife and children.
His medical license, however, did confer one lasting benefit in that he was able to supply various prescription medications to June. June's imaginative and grandiose mind was itself sinking deeper into disrepair and she consumed various drugs and medications in escalating quantities in order to dampen the paranoia and depression. There was cocaine, then there was crack. There was heroin and even peyote, which she would smoke and then she would devolve into a babbling mess for days at a time. When Irving brought her valium and pharmaceutical speed, he would find himself in her good graces again for a day or two, and he would bask in the warmth of her approval while he had it before she invariably shoved him away and berated him in front of the girls at the spa.
Despite June's degenerative mental state, the spa was rapidly achieving an unparalleled and unexpected level of success. The success came through relentless promotion of the place on various internet boards devoted to the topics of brothels and massage parlors. June stumbled into this promotional device when a customer happened to post something positive about the place and the phone began to ring. As more of the guys who read those boards became customers and added their own reviews, the promotional effect snowballed. June quietly offered free sessions to guys who wrote good reviews and it evolved into a marketing strategy. It worked spectacularly and before long June was clearing over $5,000 a day.
Irving never saw a penny of it, of course, and his circumstances continued to deteriorate. He still visited the spa virtually every day. The girls sucked what they could from his wallet and he got whatever services he could from them. His feelings for June began to curdle as he finally realized that he had been thoroughly defrauded and had absolutely no recourse to get his money back. With his income down to a fraction of what it had been, he was barely scraping by - paying rent on his studio, supporting his wife and children and indulging the whims of the spa girls.
It started to feel like a weight on his chest every time he entered the spa. He started reading the reviews on the boards and his soul grew blacker and his heart grew harder. He started responding to the reviews on the boards with his own nasty little comments, criticizing the way the girls looked, the way the spa was managed, the reviewers themselves. It was the only thing that brought him any satisfaction at all, any whiff of the revenge he craved, and it began to evolve into an obsession in itself - logging on and planting awful little comments here and there was fun for him.
His situation went from bad to worse when Sara had him served with divorce papers. The writing was on the wall - he couldn't support his habit and his family and his own separate living situation. He went to Sara and begged her forgiveness. She reluctantly took him back but she made one thing explicitly clear - if he ever set foot in that spa again he would regret it for the rest of his life.
Irving took back what was left of his old life, but things would never be the same. He no longer had the freedom and the disposable income that had conferred upon him the ability to indulge his dirty little habit with such abandon. He could sneak out once a week now, to little places in office buildings and apartments. He did so with religious regularity but his heart was always filled with envy and hate for men who had the freedom and the money to indulge their hobby without such restrictions. He was known as a mark in the massage world of New York, a man with whom three little words - "I love you" - could be worth thousands. He was led through a succession of independent massage girls, each of whom would siphon as much cash as they could from his pockets while stringing him along, whispering sweet nothings in his ears, then passing him along to their friends while they laughed behind his back.
When he couldn't go out, he had to settle for the perverse pleasure of raining on everyone else's parade. He logged on to the internet boards every night and left awful little messages. He opened accounts under new names to spread nasty rumors and gossip - originally about the guys who promoted Tai Shan spa but then about anyone he felt like trashing. It made him feel good when nothing else did. Every bit of his manhood had been taken from him, but at least he had this.
Across town and 20 blocks south, Tai Shan spa's golden age was coming to a close. June's erratic and imbalanced behavior began to take a toll on everyone around her. The floors were dirty and the showers were mildewed. Visitors were likely to find June wandering in the nude around the place barking at the demons in her head. She worked the girls unmercifully around the clock and accepted no excuses or limitations about what they would or wouldn't do for customers. Her attention span and temper were short, and her anger would rain down in torrents when she encountered any resistance. In her depressed narcotic haze she would often take customers herself, allowing them to violate her every orifice as many times as they desired.
It became harder and harder for her to keep girls employed there. They would come and go like they were walking through a turnstile. She turned her furious eye on the men who had promoted the place and soon they too were gone. Where the rooms had been filled with lust there were only echoes and ghosts as the customers slowed to a trickle. The desperate men and willing women have scattered to the many massage parlors that dot the streets of this city like droplets of water from a summer rain.You can still find June there. Right now at this very moment you can find her sitting at that front desk gazing off with that same bored look in her eyes, dreaming of a different world, plotting her escape from the prison Irving's money built.
In every spa in every city there are stories. There are stories of women who do what they must for men who get what they want. There are stories of generous men and women and of small, selfish children. There are stories of love and stories of passion, there are stories of lust and stories of commerce. No one can know all of the stories and most will never be told. This is only one story, but there are others like it everywhere around us, and as long as the grass is green and the sky is blue there will be men and women living lives of sorrow and joy and pleasure and pain. We are all here together, every one of us. No two of us are exactly the same and yet the same needs and the same desires drive us all. This is only one story, but it is the story of every one of us.
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