A literotic sexstories: Getting Married Tomorrow by MingeMuncher ,
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It was 1974 and I was working in Christchurch, NZ. Friday’s after work I usually played squash with a mate from my rugby team, and then we headed to the Grenadier Arms, where we would grab a burger or something for dinner and have a few beers with our friends.
This Friday night there were about a dozen of us, girls and guys sitting around a table in the bar. The bar was moderately full, as it was most Fridays nights, people conversing and waiting to find where the action was going to be later in the evening About 6:30pm a very smartly dressed woman came into the bar and moved to the bar to get a drink. Someone in the group made comment, along the lines of “look at that snooty bitch”. Looking over I could see they were not far off the mark, she was about 5′ 8″, dark hair, quite attractive, in a handsome way rather than beauty queen material and really well dressed in a dark suited jacket and skirt with white blouse. But she looked like she should be in an executive meeting of some large corporation, not in a bar on a Friday night. I felt sorry for her as it was obvious that everyone in the crowded bar, was looking at her and making derogatory comments.
I needed a drink, so I got up and moved over beside her at the bar where she was waiting to order. She looked down her nose at me; most guys would have given up and moved away. But I gave her a cheeky remark, which got me a very scathing reply.
“You’re not very friendly tonight. Are you always so uptight or has someone really pissed you off.” I said.
She replied in a very posh voice that matched everything about her. “I just feel a bit out of my comfort zone here. Not the normal sort of place I would frequent.”
I had thought New Zealand, relatively class free, but believe me this lady was very upper class. I had to wonder what the hell she was doing here. But refusing to be flipped off so easily, I told her she reminded me of a joke about a polo player I had once heard and proceeded to narrate the tale. (I find if you can get a woman laughing, you are always half way to paradise).
She did laugh. “Very good, how did you know I play polo?”
“I’d have to be a fucking idiot if I could not pick that. You really do stand out a bit in here.” Something I found when living in England and mixing with the upper classes, they like to swear, and the cruder the better it seemed.
“What are you doing here? And I’m not having a dig at you, just intrigued.”
“I’m getting married tomorrow, and just wanted to get out and do something I may never get a chance to do again. A girl I work with said this was a good place to find some action, parties etc.”
“Yes she’s right, most Fridays and Saturdays if you keep your ears open, you will hear of a party here. What do you want to drink?”
“I don’t want to be beholding to anyone, I will get my own thanks.”
“Hey, you are not going to be beholding to anyone, especially not me. What do you want to drink?”
She backed down and asked for a Campari and Soda.
“Not a good choice,you will not fit in at all drinking that here, let me order for you. You are going to need a buzz on if you want to let your hair down, and Campari is not going to do it. By the way, you are not exactly dressed for a party”
“Yes, I know, but the only way I could get out tonight without raising all sorts of questions, was to stay overnight in the city because of work. That meant I could not really bring any party clothes. The way I feel here, I think it was a bad idea; I may give up and head home.”
“Don’t you dare give up yet, I’ll sort something out.” I said.
I ordered her a double vodka lime & lemonade and myself a bourbon & coke, then we joined my friends. I introduced her as Joy, which is the name she gave me, everyone tried to make her feel welcome, but she really was struggling and I felt quite awkward for her. I did find out a bit more about her however, she was 25, I have to admit I thought she was older than that, and that she had known the guy she was about to marry all her life. His parents and her parents had adjoining farms and it had always been known they would marry. By the sound of things both families were “old money” and owned a great deal of property around Christchurch. She had had a girl’s night out with her friends a few nights earlier, but was starting to realize her life had been very insular and protected. Then she floored me by coming straight out and admitting she had never been with another man and at the last minute had decided she needed to rectify this.
“I could help out there too.” I offered, giving her a cheeky wink, which thank goodness, made her smile. “But let’s leave that for now, you may find someone far more to your liking as the night goes on.”
As we talked and I kept the jokes flowing to make her laugh, a thought started growing in my head. Mostly it was about keeping her to myself and not letting some other smooth bastard reap the rewards of all the work I was putting in. There was obviously not going to be a raving party this Friday night or we would have heard about it by now. Which meant the gang would all just wind up at someone’s flat boozing and shooting the shit. Besides she was not exactly dressed for taking many places. I had just the place to take her – but I need to digress a bit and paint picture of the place I was thinking of.
I had a good mate “Ivan” who worked for a radio station. One of the DJ’s (I think his name was Tom) who worked with Ivan, was taking out a lady that owned a massage parlour, called “Trixie’s Sauna Parlour”. About three months earlier, he had invited Ivan and I up to the parlour after they finished the evening shift at the station around 11:00pm. Massage parlours have a bad name in NZ; I guess it is the same the world around. But when we got up there, I found it to be quite tame really, and Trixie (Not her real name) who owned and ran it, was incredibly competent and well presented. She said she had chosen her name as it meant ‘one who brings joy’. The parlour was upstairs above shops near the centre of the CBD and had obviously been a company’s offices before. When you got to the top of the stairs, there was a reception desk immediately in front of you and if you walked left along behind the reception you entered Trixie’s office, to the right of the reception desk was a large lounge that had about 5 groups of lounge chairs and settees around coffee tables. There was a very good stereo system with tapes records etc. and the room was lit with lamps that gave calming subdued lighting and one of those purple florescent lights that made your teeth glow, over the stereo, where there was an area for dancing. If you turned hard left as you entered the lounge there was a kitchen with a server bench into the lounge. It may give you a better picture if I say that Trixie’s office and the Kitchen both overlooked the street at the front of the building, everything else stretched out through to the back of the building.
Trixie told us we could get free coffee and nibbles here and that there was a good range of alcohol locked under the bench, but she was not allowed to sell it. She could sell you books of tickets though, and these could be used to get drinks, somehow this was meant to get around the licensing laws. Half way down the lounge on the right an archway led you into a corridor that ran pretty much the full length of the building and off this was half a dozen massage rooms, the smaller two opposite the archway had just a massage table in them, the two either side of these had two massage tables and lounge chairs and the last two were quite large rooms and had a settee, bed and a massage table in them. On the left of the corridor behind the lounge was a sauna that held about 10 people, a steam room that was just as large, a spa pool that took 6 people, 4 showers grouped together and some toilets and lockers.
Ivan had jacked up a couple of girls from the radio station this first night and we had a ball. The parlour was quite busy with at least three groups of 8 or 9 persons quite a few of them couples. We bought a book of tickets each, this was all we had to pay for, and we danced, fooled around in the spa pool and wound up fucking both girls in the showers with people walking past into the sauna etc. As I say a very good night.
Trixie had about a dozen girls she could call on but there we only ever about 6 girls on at any one time. She opened seven days a week but Mondays and Tuesdays there were only two girls on. The girls didn’t get any retainer, but got paid part of the fee for each client they enticed into having a massage. Ivan and I had become good friends with Trixie, and we had been going up there at least once a week since the first night. We never had to pay, except for any booze we drank; she liked us being there especially on the weekend nights when some of the clients could turn up quite drunk. We got to know the girls and they came from all walks of life, two were even housewives. They all were very uptight about anyone calling them prostitutes, and insisted they never slept with clients but only gave massages. But I knew dam well most of them made extra money by giving what today is called a happy finish. And one has to imagine that there were a couple of them that went further if the price was right, otherwise why were there beds in two of the rooms.
Remember that in New Zealand,1974 the pubs closed at 10:00pm! Trixie’s was a pretty popular place; a lot of people went up there just for the sauna, music and a few drinks to round off a night out. Maybe during the week you got more men turning up looking for extras. It really had become like a club, and the girls did not have to go with anyone they did not want to. But it was not a place you went all the time as the door price was not cheap. From memory it cost $20.00 to get in and another $20.00 for the massage if you wanted it. Remember this was 1974 and the average wage was about $90.00 per week. I was single and running my own building business at the time and earning good money, so I could have afforded the door fee if Ivan and I had not been such good friends with Trixie. But a lot of my friends we not as well off. So we did not go to Trixie’s all the time, as the others just couldn’t afford it.
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