In Desperate Times - Sex Stories

In Desperate Times

"Ten thousand dollars." "I told you: my parlor is not for sale." "I don't want to buy your parlor," the thin man said. "I want to franchise your parlor." " And own it. And staff it. And run it. No?" "Well, yes. To open new branches of--what do you call it? Courtesan something?--I'll need control of the business." "So you want to buy it." "Listen, Amy," he said, sitting down on the massage bed and crossing his legs, careful not to wrinkle his business suit. "Your massage parlor has had as much success as mine and I have three locations with six masseuses working at each. I don't know what you're doing but it's working." I sat down in the chair across from him, conscious of my naked body beneath my robe, what had happened so many times on the table he was sitting on, and what the secret of my success was: I'd been fucking my clients. "What I want," the thin man continued, "is to rebrand be parlors to match yours. I want you to teach my employees your techniques. And I want to make both of us very wealthy." "Ten thousand doesn't sound 'very wealthy' to me." The man smiled. "A keen negotiator," he said. "Very well. Ten thousand and you're the boss--a forty sixty split of all future profits. You take care of the employees and I take care of the financials." "I like the sound of sixty per cent." I liked the sound of ten thousand too, but I knew that I could get more. Besides, wrangling over money makes me horny. "Sixty for me," he said, almost nervously. "No. Face it. You need me ...

... more than I need you. I can do everything you want to do for myself. Why do I need you?" I had never felt so alive. My pussy was dampening. I was worried the wet would run down my naked leg. "You could be charging so much more for your massages and you could do more to attract a female clientele. But you don't have the manpower or the locations to expand and if you can't expand you can't charge extra. Your customers will go somewhere else." No they won't . "I appreciate the free advice, Mr. Hardy, but forty per cent still isn't enough. You can't charge any extra without what I can do." I knew the minute he had walked in with a briefcase to his appointment that I would make the deal. I also knew that it was a bad idea. I could never tell him or my future employees why I had become so profitable. My customers would still only come to me. I would be found out and my carnal sin of massage therapy would be revealed. I would be disgraced, striped of my licence, and left to prostitute myself. "I can't do any better than sixty-forty. Thirteen thousand?" "Twenty." "Fifteen." "Twenty." "Help me out here, Amy!" "Seventeen and a cut of the profits. That's as low as I'll go." I could feel my face flush, the muscles between my legs throbbing to open to someone. But not now. Not him. I have another appointment in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. That's all I need. "Done," he said. We both stood and shook hands. "My lawyer will bring you the paper work in a few days. It's been a pleasure, Amy. ...