I was never technically a madam because I never ran a brothel. My girls never had sex. I’m okay with “mamasan” but I was never called a madam. There is a mark on my About Jun timeline in 2005, and it says I “Started a sex business while returning to work in banking, in the same time frame.”
This is true, but “sex business” is vague.
I ran, for a period of time, a high-end private body rub service. What does a high-end private body rub get you? Essentially, if you can afford it, you get massaged by a college-aged naked girl of your choice of any color and then you flip over and get a hand job at the end. Depending on how much time and cash you have you can spend as much time as you want with your body rub girl, but there’s never any sex or any kind of penetration. It’s not a brothel. It’s a body rub studio. No full service. Period.
Who gets these body rubs?! What kinds of girls give these body rubs?!
I didn’t know anything about any of this either, but now I do. I’d joked in the Big Brother 4 house that if I won I’d “open a brothel, but a classy one.” I was 1000% joking, but then I did win. I returned home and spent the last year of my dad’s life together with him, and relied on some of my BB winnings as a cushion. After taxes what’s left of $500,000 is more like $270,000, and there’s no clever CPA loophole around it.
My father died a year later and by then I’d invested most of what was left of my prize money, in a condo near the Grand Central. My mother was broken and terrified and my brother was still in college. I had a good salary and bonus that year, at a global bank on Park Avenue, but I needed more money. My mother wasn’t all of a sudden going to sprout full-time working panties overnight, and her mental state wasn’t good enough to work anyway.
I put on my Cancer crab shell, and focused on making money so my mother would never worry. I turned to Craigslist, which I’d done before. I clicked on random “gigs” ads but none of them paid enough of anything. So I roamed over to “Services” and further to “Erotic Services” which doesn’t exist anymore, by the way. I called a number listed for a job called “phone girl” assuming it was phone sex stuff, which I’d done once before for Christmas money. A woman answered, and I assumed a woman would answer. No more assuming anything from that point on.
It turned out phone girl was really “just a receptionist who books body rubs for clients on the telephone.” If I booked appointments I got a percentage of the cash coming in. I was asked if I’d ever done this before and if I had a problem with it and I said no and no, and I was basically hired. The next day, after working on client presentations and sitting in on quarterly investment meetings, I packed up and headed to the “body rub studio” to meet with Craigslist Woman.
I was so calm walking into a random apartment in a random midtown high rise, in my long wool coat clutching my LV Luco bag on my shoulder, and I was calm introducing myself to two very clean but suspicious looking people. One was Craigslist Woman, and the other was a slim Asian guy (Craigslist Woman’s “assistant”).
I got a lot of information, and had to regurgitate as much as I could for them. They asked me if I wanted to be a body rub girl, and not a phone girl, and I stupidly asked if they meant I’d have to give body rubs. That’s what body rub girls do they’d replied, laughing, but I wasn’t offended. I was flattered, but I said no thank you I just want to make some quick cash answering phones and booking appointments.
I had no fear. I had not mourned my father. I had not confronted my mother about her mental illness. I slept a few hours a day every day and threw myself into some mourning craze through making money. I kept it all a secret.
When I wasn’t working or putting in overtime at the bank, I was giving my sexy voice and booking appointment after jerked-off-penis-appointment. The sex underground in New York City is open 24 hours a day, and we worked in 8 hours shifts just like any other 24-hour business. I made good money. My mother didn’t question my financial support because she thought I was just doing better off than I really was.
Just a month later I was a body rub girl, and voluntarily. I wanted to open my own place, and I couldn’t do that without knowing what each girl goes through in that compact room identical to every other body rub room in the studio. I needed to touch and smell what the hell was going on, and how girls managed to cheat the house out of money. I studied and slowly built an infrastructure of my own.
I got to know all the girls, from having been a phone girl and then as one of them, and I hand-picked the girls who’d come with me when I left to open my own place. I had no fear. I didn’t care. My father was gone and I did not accept it, and instead I threw myself into something he would tell me to stop doing.
I did end up opening my own body rub service.
I had no fear.