Tokyo Massage Girl Diary: Today's guests are drunk old men and homeless people

The following article is from BIE Bie, author BIE Bie

This is the fourth in the series of "Tokyo Masseuse Diary". For the previous part, please see:

After the New Year’s Eve dinner, I started my official job as a masseuse.

Except for the first day of the Lunar New Year when I woke up in the store, most of the time I went back to my rented house because I had a cat to take care of. I arrived at the store at noon or in the afternoon with a bunch of cosmetics and spent an hour putting on my makeup. Sometimes the customers came in a hurry and I only had half an hour to put on my makeup.

There are also a few young sisters who go to work without makeup. I am the girl who puts on makeup the most carefully in the store, because I know very well that my selling point is this face and an even younger body. Don’t be fooled by those popular Ginza hostesses who will publish books to teach social skills, saying that the most important thing in this industry is social skills. In fact, everyone in the industry knows that this is an industry where only those who are the most beautiful and willing to take off their clothes can make money.

But my face is ugly. Although I am the youngest and most beautiful girl in this store, I was the girl in my class nicknamed "ugly girl" when I was in school. The bullying lasted until I transferred to another school. Fortunately, I am good at makeup now. I will spend a lot of time to cast "transformation magic" on myself. During the time I wear makeup, I look like a completely different person.

It was amazing that the girl who was the prettiest, most popular, and had the most boyfriends in her class had graduated from Yale, while I was using this face to sell sex. But I was not unique.

There are many girls like this in the industry, especially those young and beautiful Japanese prostitutes, who were once called ugly girls and unpopular in school. Now they put on heavy makeup and become prostitutes who make money with their faces. On the contrary, those girls who were popular in school rarely enter this industry.

There is a very clichéd saying on the Internet that love and money will flow to those who have enough love and money. Although, to put it bluntly, that is, the really beautiful girls, even if they want to exchange their bodies for money, will go through different channels than us. For example, those girls from the Minato area who go in and out of Ginza social parties.

But as long as you are doing this, everyone is a commodity.

As a product of a low-end sex shop, I put full-body photos on the shop's official website for people to choose from. The photos were ugly. We were not like those high-end sex shops or clubs, who would take girls to the photo studios dedicated to the water merchants in Kabukicho to take photos (although it was only the level of college students' photography homework). But this was not that important.

Our store operates by customers calling or sending Line messages to make reservations. Basically, all customers are acquaintances. Long before I officially started working, the mama-san had already mentioned to those regular customers on the phone or when they came to the store: "There's a new girl, very young!"

01 The first job was drinking all night

At the beginning, which was also the most popular time, my schedule was almost always full of customers from 12 noon to 10 pm, and when I was busy I had basically no time to rest.

However, many of them are customers who will not make money in the future. I wait for customers to ask me to give me oil massage every day, because it saves energy and I can earn more in the same amount of time. Customers who only massage for one hour, do not overtime or give me oil massage, have no "cultivation value" at all.

Among them, the more eccentric and familiar with this, the more likely they are to pay. This may be a bit counterintuitive... In fact, the "beginners" who rarely come to the custom shops are more stingy, or they don't understand that there is only a pure buying and selling relationship here, and they are often stingy and vigilant/overly self-conscious at the same time; the more people who have been using custom shops for many years, they know that we girls have a buying and selling relationship with them. In short, paying more money is a kind of etiquette.

The first customer of this kind I met came to the brothel for no other reason than to find someone to drink with.

It was around 8pm when I received him. Mama-san greeted me in advance and said that the next guest had a good personality. "He just likes to watch girls drink and eat. You just need to eat, drink and chat with him."

When the appointment time came, the man came with a plastic bag filled with beer, soju, snacks, and meat buns bought from the convenience store downstairs. He had a cheerful face and was probably in his fifties, but I have forgotten his face. But I still remember my first impression of him: "He has been on this street for a long, long time."

Just like the math teacher I met when I was working as a hostess... those "Kabukicho old customers" who have been on this street for a long time and go to affordable custom shops or hostess shops once a week on average. Their characteristics are often: they look to be in their 40s or 50s, dress like ordinary working-class people, and wear simple clothes.

Such guests have their own set of etiquette and rules. When we entered the compartment, he first took out two bottles of hot tea from a plastic bag from a convenience store and gave them to me. He asked me to choose the one I wanted to drink, and then said to me, "Thank you for your hard work."

"Nice to meet you," I accepted the tea and bowed, then winked, "What's your name? Oh, by the way, you can call me Chiyo if you want."

This is my strategy, and you can say it's cunning - I will let the "worthy" customers call me by my name. Although everyone in the store is called by their work number, it also makes me different because I have a name. In addition to my youth, I can speak Japanese, so I can serve customers like those Japanese girls in the hotel.

To put it bluntly, it is the erotic route.

02 My Price

When I asked him if he wanted an oil massage, he refused and only wanted a massage. But he only massaged for about ten minutes... I was still thinking about it in my mind, reciting the massage steps like a text in school, but he suddenly indicated that it was okay and sat up:

"Come and have a drink."

I was relieved to find that I could make money without having to drink alcohol, so I said yes with a smile on my face. Then I sat on the chair, and he sat on the massage bed, taking out the wine from the plastic bag and drinking it.

"Do you like drinking?" I asked.

This is a standard line in the hotel, and you can say this when you have nothing to talk about. He said of course he likes it, and asked me if I like it, so I started talking about wine, talking about Japanese sake and Japanese whiskey. Of course, this is also to please people, Japanese men will be more or less happy to hear foreigners praise Japanese sake. I feel that this is a universal skill.

"Your Japanese is very good." The customer praised me.

Although my Japanese language skills are not good enough for international students in Japan, I was not happy about being praised like this, but I still pretended to be overjoyed and mentioned it casually , "Before coming to this store, I worked at Girl's Bar in Kabukicho."

I am raising my own value, which should be pathetic to a third party. I am proudly hinting at "my value" to the other party. In the past, I was a girl who could only drink and chat with me for 6,000 yen, but here I can have physical contact with her. I can touch her. It is implied that buying me is not a loss.

For people who are not in this line of work, talking about this kind of experience would be embarrassing. However, when we are in this line of work, we cannot regard ourselves as human beings, we must regard ourselves as commodities.

If you don't treat yourself as a commodity when you are working, you will have mental problems.

I smiled and talked about my price of 6,000 yen per hour. As expected, the other party showed great surprise and interest. She immediately said that there were not many girls in this restaurant who could drink and chat like this, and we must have a good drink together today.

"Of course," I said with a smile.

We drank and chatted about trivial topics. After more than an hour, the wine was finished. Although it was still within the massage time, he simply prepared to take me to the convenience store downstairs to buy wine and keep me for the whole night.

"One night?" I was slightly surprised because the next day was a working day.

"Yes, I often sleep in your store." The customer who loves drinking said, "I have come here since the beginning whenever I get off work late. I can take a shower in the store, sleep here overnight after taking a shower, and go directly to work the next day."

It’s hard to imagine what kind of lifestyle this is.

I imagined that the office worker would go to a sex shop after work, drink and chat with girls in the shop, then take a shower and sleep in the shop, put on the suit jacket the next day, and go to work. The crowd in the subway station was no different from the hundreds of office workers in black suits around him.

There aren't many people like this in Japan, are there? I thought to myself, taking a look at the wrinkles on his face - If he wasn't single, his child would be in middle school at least. How would you feel if you knew that your father would stay overnight in a sex shop instead of going home at night?

I spent a few seconds imagining a family like this. Never mind, this is not what I should be thinking about, especially since this is Kabukicho.

Those who come here are not serious people. Maybe this guy has a strange life, so he lives such a strange life. This is the low-lying area of ​​Tokyo, and everyone who gathers here has their own reasons.

Everything went smoothly . We walked out of the cubicle, and I went to the lounge to get my coat and put it on. I happily greeted the mama-san, and then took the guests downstairs.

The mama-san was of course happy to see me making the customer happy, and she was also very happy. She asked the customer in Japanese, "Isn't this child really good?" and sent us to the door and downstairs. I could feel the gazes on my back when I left the store, and I couldn't help feeling proud, thinking that I looked pretty handsome just now, and I was really a capable prostitute.

Yes, I am capable and I will prove that hiring me is a good choice and I will make the mama-san who treats me well feel that she got her money's worth.

This idea may be a little ridiculous. Not to mention in the sex industry, it would be laughed at in ordinary industries. Of course, she works hard to make money for her own purpose, and I also work hard for my own purpose, and I hate owing people things. Mama-san treats me kindly for her own purpose, so I have to create more value than she expects.

I want to balance that intimacy to the point where I won't feel guilty about running away or doing something else. In other words, at least I'll feel balanced.

I wanted to prove that I was at least valuable as a prostitute.

It was the first time that someone around me was happy because of my presence.

As the cold wind blew outside, my mind calmed down a little and I suddenly thought of this.

03 Diary of a Mad Old Man

We bought some wine at the convenience store, and when we came back, the customer called Mama Sangja-chong.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Mama-san said apologetically, "She was scheduled to have another guest starting at one in the evening."

There was another customer? I didn't even know that, and the reservation was made at one o'clock, which was our closing time.

The alcoholic guest said ok, but still decided to extend the stay until midnight, and then stay in the hotel. We continued to drink and chat for a while, and after we finished drinking and eating, he simply lay down on the massage bed and asked me to lie down on it. I was wearing my own clothes: a short-sleeved top, a skirt, and thick black stockings. I climbed up and lay down for a while, listening to the drunk uncle next to me talking about topics that were so boring that I couldn't even remember them.

At about 12 o'clock in the evening, he paid the bill and I sent him to take a shower. Mama-san collected the money and then turned off the lights in the store. Everyone had already gone off work, and I was the only customer. The lights in the corridor were also turned off, with only a little light leaking from the top of the small cubicles where a few girls in the store lived.

"The next customer is a little eccentric, but he's an old man, so just fool him. Don't worry, he's a regular customer." Mama-san said, "Do you want to stay in the store today?"

I thought for a moment, "I'm going to wait for the first tram at six in the morning, then go home and sleep."

The mama-san then told me that when I leave I just need to close the door and it will lock automatically. I nodded.

After a short rest and sending the guests who had finished showering back to their rooms to sleep, I walked towards the next cubicle that Mama-san had pointed out to me. It was the cubicle in the far corner, slightly larger than the other cubicles, so I said "Excuse me" and went in.

He frowned the moment he entered.

There was a faint, indescribable smell in the room, like the smell of decayed old furniture. Compared with other compartments, this compartment had a more lively atmosphere, with suitcases placed in the extra corner, but there was no sign of a girl living here, and there were no cosmetics in the room. Moreover, if this was a compartment where the girls in the store lived, they would have come back to sleep by now.

What is frowned upon is mainly the client himself lying on the massage bed.

He was an old man who looked to be at least 60 or 70 years old. He was almost bald on top of his head, but he still had long hair on both sides. It had been a long time since his hair was taken care of. It was as greasy as a kitchen rag. He was lying on the massage bed with his back facing up, covered with a thin blanket from the store, revealing his skinny shoulders and arms, and playing with his mobile phone connected to the charger.

He saw me coming and smiled at me. His face was strange, like a cat. At first glance, I thought it was a woman, but when I saw the exposed shriveled neck and chest, I confirmed it was a man.

Just like... those homeless people outside Shinjuku Station. They are so skinny that I could break their bones if I massage them with just a little more force.

Then it came. He curled up and climbed out of the bed, laughing at me. The thin blanket fell off, revealing his naked body and his genitals hanging from his crotch, shriveled and dangling.

I tried hard to keep a smile on my face.

Then he walked up to him, picked up the towel and put it on his back to cover his body, and pushed him back.

"Then I'll start the massage." I said without any emotion, as if I didn't see the cock.

The old man made a fake cry and tried to wave his arms, so I simply held his arms down through the towel and started massaging his arms. I asked expressionlessly and even with a bit of business in my voice, "Is this strength okay?"

I know that the more I react to this kind of person, the more he will go further and enjoy the feeling of teasing girls, which he can no longer experience with this body. So I won't let myself show any reaction that shows horror or disgust. Ignore it, ignore it all, and just concentrate on massaging.

As soon as the old man had a chance, he reached out to unbutton my shirt. It was a shirt with a row of buttons. When he unbuttoned the first button, I didn't move, just squinted my eyes. When he unbuttoned the second button, I waved my hand away and then buttoned the two buttons again.

So he would endlessly unbutton those two buttons that could never be unbuttoned. When he put his hands on my chest, I would grab them directly and then put them gently on the massage bed and start massaging my arms.

Why the second button? Because if I start to stop him from the first button, it will never end. I start pressing his hands from the second button to let him know that no matter how hard he tries, I have the final say here.

I looked at the old man pretending to sob with a disgusting face on the massage bed. Objectively speaking, he might be pitiful. He must have mental problems. A homeless vagrant who didn't even wash his hair and still spent money in a sex shop. No matter how you look at it, he must be mentally ill and has been expelled from the daily society.

Even in this situation, he is still dominated by his lower body like an animal and even pretends to cry in front of a young girl. Human beings are really strange animals.

But I can never sympathize with him. I won't really think about what happened to this person and how he became like this. If I were a social worker or a reporter, I might sympathize with such elderly people and think about the reasons for their living conditions and the social problems behind them.

But now I am a prostitute. In this business, prostitutes have unlimited moral immunity. Prostitutes will not sympathize with customers. Whatever is done to customers, they deserve it.

When it came time to stand in front of him and massage my shoulders, the homeless old man started pushing my legs and trying to pull my leggings with his dry fingers. The leggings were thick and warm, so he couldn't pull them apart, so he started pushing me hard again. Unfortunately, as both animals, I was the younger and stronger one. I was weaker than the young people, but I had an absolute advantage against a skinny old man. I stood still, so he couldn't push me down.

Is this what people become when they get old? I looked at the old man, who was lying on the massage bed like a fish crawling on the ground, struggling but struggling in vain. Well, getting old is really scary. This is the first time I feel that getting old is such a scary thing.

So he started trying to open his mouth and use his teeth to bite the pantyhose at the base of my legs.

At this point, I really wanted to call the police. Some people might say, call the police, just treat it as eliminating harm for the people. But of course, it is impossible to call the police in this business. Not to mention that no matter what happens in the sex shop, it is impossible to solve it by calling the police, not to mention that I am working illegally, our shop is still an illegal shop, and there are even illegal residents without residence cards living in the shop. When we encounter such problems in the sex industry, we always solve them in other ways.

I see, that's why I made the appointment so late. Everyone in the store has left, and the Japanese uncle employee who was a threat has also gone home. That's why I chose this time. I don't know if the sisters sleeping in other cubicles will wake up if I yell now.

I thought about the look on Mamasan's face when she told me that I would have a guest in the evening. I don't have to feel guilty towards her anymore. I can put it all on this account.

I slapped the old man's hand away and pushed him back to the bed. I wanted to beat him up, but I hadn't gotten paid yet, so I couldn't beat up the customer. Before, the mama-san asked me if I wanted to be paid weekly or daily, and I said it didn't matter. Now I've made up my mind to get paid daily even if it seems suspicious.

"Time is up."

After I finished speaking, I slapped his hand away, packed up my phone, closed the curtain and left.

When I was packing my things, I found that a button on my underwear had opened while I was tearing it apart. I really wanted to kill someone. Although normally, according to my personality, I would say "I really want to die" like a catchphrase at this time, but now the desire to kill really prevailed.

It was almost four o'clock in the morning when we finished this trip.

04 First time out of the ban

I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, and then used water and hand soap to wash my pantyhose. Fortunately, the old man's saliva did not stain my pantyhose, otherwise I would have thrown it away. After all, I bought three pairs of pantyhose in a package at Don Quijote (a Japanese low-cost chain store).

Later, I did give handjobs to customers, and let them take off my clothes and touch my breasts, but they had to pay extra. I asked for 5,000 yen, which is less than 300 yuan at the current exchange rate. Even if I paid extra, I still declined the offer from the crazy homeless old man.

While I was washing clothes, the drunk uncle who was sleeping in a nearby cubicle seemed to have woken up, so I went over to say hello.

"I met a perverted old man who wanted to touch me." I said with a smile.

So the uncle also smiled and said, "How pitiful, there are those who don't follow the rules. Do you want to take a break together?"

"No," I said. He nodded, "Good night."

There was still an hour before the morning bus, but I didn't want to stay in the store. I went back to my cubicle, packed my backpack, put on my coat, walked quickly to the entrance, and opened the door.

The door was locked. Mama-san seemed to have said that it would open if you twisted it this way or that, but I had forgotten and I tried several times but it didn't work. I walked around the dark store, trying to find something like a key. I walked past the quiet rest room and the dark kitchen, where a few street lights could be seen through the window. I could see cockroaches crawling on the rice cooker, rustling and rustling, several of them, and then they disappeared in a flash.

The sisters in the store usually use this rice cooker to cook rice.

I turned back to the corridor of the compartment that was now a little unpleasant, and found Master No. 5 who was sleeping. I pulled open the curtain, whispered "Sister" and walked in. She was sleeping soundly, and I pushed her arm. Her arm was warm. She didn't wake up, and she was talking in her sleep. She seemed to be sleeping soundly. So I went to find Master No. 2 again, and this time I finally pushed her awake.

"Sister, I'm sorry, I need to go home now. I can't open the door of the store."

I apologized quietly, and No. 2, who was disturbed in his sleep, looked impatient. He grabbed a handful of hair, but didn't say anything. He got up from the bed, helped me twist the door a few times, and opened the door.

The cold wind blew in from outside, and it was pitch black. I bowed to Sister No. 2 and whispered a few words of thanks. She closed the door... and then found that she couldn't close it either, so she simply waved her hand and said forget it, and went back to sleep.

I closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. There was still an hour left, so I planned to find a place outside to eat something and then wait for the first tram in the morning.

But before that.

I picked up my phone, opened WeChat, found Mama-san, and sent a string of angry texts. The anger was probably even greater than I felt. I scolded the perverted old man in a very angry tone, and then said in a tone that would not brook rejection: "I will never pick him up again. And tell him not to come to the store in the future."

The meaning was obvious. Either he got out of here, or I would not come to work here again. I knew that the mama-san would not refuse this request. From the perspective of the store's interests, it was obvious who to choose between an old homeless man who only ordered the lowest-priced set meal and the young newcomer who could make the most money in the store.

This is how we solve problems in our industry, which is also known as "breaking the ban". In the night industry, when we encounter customers who break the rules, the ultimate way we can fight back is to break the ban and prohibit this person from coming to this shop again in the future. Prostitutes will do this to customers who almost rape them, and hostesses and gigolos will also use this method to restrict troublesome customers.

I have heard that the yuri entertainment industry also bans customers, but generally it is more about emotions than physical conflicts, and there are also female customers who stalk girls. Underground idols also have this rule.

After sending the WeChat message, I vented my anger on Weibo before I walked out of the building.

I looked up and found that it was snowing outside.

At 4 a.m. on February 9, while it was still dark, it began to snow in Tokyo.

I started killing time, waiting for the first train in the morning. At four o'clock in Shinjuku, there were still people on the streets. Occasionally, there were office workers walking around on the empty streets, and other night working women who had just got off work and were laughing and looking for food everywhere. If you go to Kabukicho, there will be more people like this.

This is the time when night workers usually get off work. Asia's largest red-light district shows a different face at this moment, which is probably only known by night workers. Kabukicho in Shinjuku is often said to have two faces . One side is a bustling commercial street during the day, and the other side is a city that never sleeps filled with lies, money and bubbles of love.

However, I think Kabukicho still has a third face. That is what the red-light district looks like after work, only known to the people who work here. The people who wear elaborate makeup and clothes bought with money, who sell lies and love on this street, their lives, or our own lives, only start from this time.

At this time, I know without words that the people walking around me are all my peers. When we are at work, Shinjuku is the busiest, with delicious food and fun things to do everywhere, and by the way, we are also among the fun people.

But after we got off work, the street was much quieter. There were only a handful of places to eat at this time, and I could remember them all: the few late-night yakiniku restaurants that were still open, fast food chains like Matsuya, and 24-hour convenience stores. The convenience stores in Kabukicho would have rats squeaking through the door late at night.

I wasn't interested in taking a walk in Kabukicho anymore, and it was snowing, so I just found a shop and started playing with my phone, browsing mobile games and checking out social networking sites whose information flows had fallen into a dormant state.

At this time, I saw a good news that my favorite illustrator had opened a Chinese social account and took a Chinese name, "Nan". I don't know why, but now when I see this name, I feel a kind of touching feeling for the simple Chinese characters.

05 Snow and the Southern Islands

Nan uploaded a new illustration.

That person always paints southern islands, and the new work is the same. She always paints Okinawa, those green and lush trees, tropical plants, and the strong contrast of light and shadow that can only be found in the tropics. It is often the sea before the rain on a cloudy day, and the black-eyed children with red skin. At first glance, it is that small island in the south. There is no such scenery in Tokyo in summer, and there is no such scenery in the city where I was born and raised. I went to Okinawa because I liked her paintings. I stayed in a small house by the sea for a week and found that it was exactly like in the paintings.

Even for Japanese people, Okinawa is an island that symbolizes summer vacation.

Summer, islands, seem like an endless summer vacation. To use the words of Shimazaki Toson's "The Sea" - it's as if everything is sinking into a dream without light, heat, or sleep. There is a word in Okinawa called "island time", because everything here is very slow, and island time is almost permanently stagnant.

I really want to go to the South, this suddenly occurred to me.

I work so hard to earn money so that I can leave my family and live far away after returning to my country, so I need a lot of money. But now, I suddenly want to take a plane to a small island in the south. Although it is still winter, spring is coming soon, but it is still a long way to summer.

Even so, I really want to go.

It's still snowing outside. I wish Tokyo could just sink into the sea and be covered in snow.

After looking at Nan's paintings, my heart unexpectedly calmed down. If I could go to that small island in the south, then everything now would be nothing in comparison.

I went home and had to go to work five hours later. The next day, the snow outside still didn't stop, which was a happy thing. I checked my phone and the mama-san really joined me in scolding the customer and comforted me, "It's okay, baby, we won't pick him up again."

Then he asked me, "What time do you start work today? He has an appointment for 1pm. He is a very good customer."

I replied that I would arrive at the store at 12:30 and closed my phone.

It was still snowing outside, so I took an umbrella and went out. I took a jellyfish-shaped umbrella, which I had intended to give to a lesbian girl, but never gave it to her. So there were two jellyfish umbrellas in the umbrella bucket at home, and I took one.

The air outside smells very fresh, and the snowflakes falling on the nose make people think of cool sweet water smoothies.

White snowflakes fell from the sky above and condensed on the jellyfish umbrella, which was incredible and romantic. Through the transparent umbrella film, you can see the blue city. Looking up, it seems that the whole of Tokyo is sinking in the sea.

When diving, we call the white particles in the sea, which are the feces and bodies of marine animals, "sea snow." At this moment, the sea called Tokyo is snowing non-stop.

On February 10, 22, it snowed in Tokyo. I hurried out to work and continued my day of earning money as a prostitute. Since it was snowing, I thought, let's go eat soup curry before going to work.

On February 10, 22, I wrote in my diary:

Because of the nasty thing that happened yesterday, I woke up today and found that Tokyo had sunk. Tokyo sank into the Seto Inland Sea, and it snowed heavily. Because it was the Seto Inland Sea, the snowflakes fell on my nose and I smelled a slightly cool lemon smoothie-like smell. Having said that, I still had to go out to work today.

*This article is published anonymously at the author's request

//Editor: Rice

//Design: Banzhuanxi

All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission.

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