Looking for in town massage girl

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T hey were not run-of-the-mill whores. Anybody in Odessa would tell you that. Clients and investigators agree that you could have been in church and not have realized that you were sitting next to one of the Healing Touch massage parlor girls—they looked that wholesome. The madams, a lesbian couple named Kathy and Sharon Joyner, were experienced professionals. They chose a location between a revivalist ministry and a carpentry shop in a plain-as-toast strip mall, and they hired only three employees at a time, girls who worked steady hours and arrived on the job wearing conservative outfits.

Nobody who saw these girls walk in and out of the parlor could have guessed what was really going on inside, which was attracting a steady flow of satisfied customers. The year-old had walked in as a novice, like the other girls. But what she lacked in experience she made up for with a bubbly personality and the kind of girlish looks that made her irresistible to the grown men of Odessa. A consummate businesswoman, she treated clients with an unrestrained smile and animated charm, and unlike her colleagues, she could remember personal details that made each of them feel special.

And many did. By the spring of Lexus had clients flying in from Europe just to see her for an hour and dozens of the most prominent men in town competing for her attention. Her personality may have been the polar opposite of the icy Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss, but she attracted the same kinds of high-profile clients and kept the same kinds of secrets that could bring them all to their knees.

On May 27,as part of one of the biggest vice operations in recent West Texas history, more than a dozen Odessa officers raided the Healing Touch and accomplished just that. Husbands tiptoed around their wives, who in turn eyed them with suspicion. And in July, with Lexus and her co-workers having named names in exchange for lighter sentences, 68 men were in handcuffs. The roundup of former Healing Touch clients included an assistant district attorney, a city Looking for in town massage girl, the owner of an insurance company, several teachers, and a well-known rancher.

One could practically hear the champagne corks popping in the homes of local divorce lawyers. Looking for in town massage girl hullabaloo made even the La Grange Chicken Ranch bust seem quaint. As of December, Sharon and Kathy had already begun to serve prison time, and the remaining men and women were awaiting trials that should be wrapped up by the end of January. Odessa seems ready to put the whole affair behind it. But prostitution has long been a part of life in West Texas; it was only the of otherwise upstanding citizens involved that made the Healing Touch any different.

She was no longer working as a prostitute, but she was hardly ashamed of her past. She looked and acted like an excited kid, her ponytails bobbing as she nodded and laughed at almost everything we discussed. She was never a likely candidate for a job at the Healing Touch. A young, cheery wife and mother, Lexus was a born nurturer who had taken college classes after high school graduation in hopes of working in some form of physical therapy or nursing.

As recently as the fall ofshe was giving legitimate massages at an Odessa physical therapy center while her husband worked on an oil rig. But then her company downsized; she lost her job at the same time her husband, who became ill, was forced to quit his. For a while they relied on his parents for money, but Lexus wanted to prove her financial independence. They parked right outside a strip mall bearing s for the Higher Realm Ministries and the Trophy Den and stepped into the massage parlor, which had a small storefront and a shaded front window.

Inside was a spare waiting room with a gray couch, a love seat, and a stack of magazines. Scented candles burned and Native American flute music played over the speaker system. Behind the front lobby were an office area and two pressed-wood massage rooms. In the very back was a second waiting room, where the prostitutes read paperbacks and played Yahtzee. The man introduced Lexus to the Healing Touch madams: Sharon, a year-old spitfire with a quick wit, and Kathy, a year-old matronly redhead with a pierced tongue.

As her friend was serviced, she stood in the corner, trying to convince herself that the place was clean and friendly. Certainly, she thought, she could do this. Afterward, Sharon and Kathy told her how the operation worked. Sharon sat at a desk near the front waiting room, and she could be tough if a suspicious customer came in and asked for a massage. Her partner, Kathy, had maintained first-rate madam status in town for more than twenty years. Before running the Healing Touch she had opened a massage parlor called Middessa Therapy; before that she had run another parlor, Rockhill Therapy, with her ex-mother-in-law.

These were quietly tolerated in Odessa. But Kathy—who had been fined several times for prostitution at Middessa but never jailed—had been around long enough that she had a few lawyers among her finest clients, men for whom she felt an undeniable affection. It had been this way for as long as anybody could remember. Odessa has gone to great pains to upgrade its image. You got the picture show and the bars, unless you go to the topless ts.

No sooner had Kathy and Sharon gone over their business model and explained the kind of money a prostitute could make than Lexus was ready to give it a shot. No hard feelings. She showed up the next day, getting a few brief instructions before nervously ing Paige and Melinda in the back waiting room.

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The two veterans looked at the new girl and told her she needed a working name. A mother and former waitress who had been raised Pentecostal, Kelly had worked at the Healing Touch from the beginning and had established herself as a reliable moneymaker. But one day she recognized a customer in the lobby, and it hit a little too close to home.

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Then he asked for a massage, and Kelly led him into one of the private rooms. Everyone who worked at the Healing Touch was used to this kind of awkward overlap between the two worlds of Odessa.

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Day-to-day through restaurants or convenience stores was always risky for the prostitutes, who learned to politely ignore their customers outside of work. Encounters were even trickier for Kathy and Sharon, who were both social and knew many folks around town.

The next time he showed up, she passed him off to one of the other girls. Still, nightmares about her job at the Healing Touch began to wake her up at night. At work and at home, she started popping Xanax like potato chips. One day she was putting on her makeup at work when she decided to stop in next door at the Higher Realm Ministries, where she cried for hours and confessed her sins to the preacher, Kennith Hughes. She quit that afternoon and took the next bus back to her dad, in Arkansas. Hughes, meanwhile, called Crime Stoppers.

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For them, the Healing Touch was almost considered an errand, part of their routine. Men need to feel important. And sometimes family and pressure at work and aging takes that away from them. Duarte, a tattooed, soft-spoken cop with salt-and-pepper hair, and Tacker, a redhead with cropped hair and brown eyes, had met Kathy back when they had busted her during a drug raid at her house in the early nineties. They were aware that she was a madam by trade but generally left her alone.

You have to pick and choose. Tacker grinned with amused bewilderment. Duarte and Tacker sent an undercover agent in for a massage, but he was no match for Sharon. She deftly sent him away with instructions to get a referral, laughing into her sleeve as he walked out the door. And when a source accused the madams of dealing drugs, they knew just what to look for. In November, with the help of the FBI, the Odessa police installed a surveillance camera across the street from the parlor and began to man the monitor from the police station around the clock.

The officer on surveillance duty wrote down plate s and names of recognizable figures, zooming in on the Hummers, Jaguars, and Mercedes for a better look. Members of the narcotics crew would walk past the monitor on the way out of the office and shake their he and groan as they watched men who owned major businesses in town, men they knew well.

It was good enough money to keep her coming back. She drove the hour-and-a-half commute between Big Spring and Odessa, returning home each night to cook dinner, draw her kids their baths, and give her husband who believed she was working as a legitimate massage therapist a kiss good-night.

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And initially, at least, she took pride in her work. When they leave, their back should feel better. You have to use your elbows. And she understood that the job took more than physical labor.

Looking for in town massage girl

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