Happy ending massage in Amsterdam, answered without the shuffling

What a happy ending massage booking in Amsterdam settles, and what it leaves alone

Four items in an opening message are enough. The building or the street with a room number once you hold one, the hour written in Amsterdam time, the length you would like, and whether that is one therapist or two. Back comes a name, the whole figure and an arrival window rather than a single minute on the clock. One word from you fixes all three, and until that word nothing is held and nothing at all is asked of you.

Everything in that exchange is arithmetic and logistics, which is why it can be put in writing. The hour itself cannot be. The woman who knocks decides what her session holds, says so in her own words before it begins, and holds to that for the whole of the visit. She may decline a booking and she may end one. Naming a format is a fair thing to do and it speeds the thread up; asking what lies past a format gets a courteous reply that moves on without addressing it, from everyone, every time. The page on what the thread does and does not settle takes the reasoning apart properly.

The wait, measured honestly

Forty to sixty minutes from a fixed hour to a knock at a central address, counted from the moment the booking is agreed rather than from your first message. The window does not shift between districts, because her journey is absorbed into the hourly figure instead of added on top of it. Plan against the far end and nothing catches you unready. Rooms at the airport hotels lie outside that window and are arranged on their own terms, with the driving time each way written down and accepted before an hour is fixed. Wherever in the centre you happen to be staying, the answer that comes back is the same one.

Figures, and the half that travels first

Sixty minutes of one therapist's time comes to 180 euros. Ninety runs to 270, a pair of hours to 360, a third hour brings the total to 540, and the block of eight is a flat 1,250. Put a second therapist in the room, or a second guest beside you, and the hourly figure becomes 360; a therapist each for the two of you is 720. On most bookings half of the total goes across before she sets out, and the remainder is dealt with upstairs. The exception runs the other way about: a guest the house already knows, taking sixty or ninety minutes at a city address on the day itself, owes nothing until the door opens. The booking page lists the seven cases where half goes ahead, and what becomes of it if the evening is called off.

Who is on the books

Twenty-three women keep hours with the house, and each of them is twenty-one or over, as is every guest who books one. Each keeps the diary she wrote for herself, so whether a particular name is free at nine on a Thursday is a genuine question with a genuine answer rather than a formality. Put her name on the first line and the reply says whether that hour of hers is open. If it is not, the reply says who else is, and it stops there.

Courtesy, which is practical rather than moral

A guest who is on time, clear headed and pleasant to deal with is a guest whose next booking is easy to make, and that mechanism is worth more than any phrasing anybody could put in a first message. A message built on speculation takes longer to answer than one built on an address and an hour, and a thread that keeps at it is closed rather than argued with. Nobody is lectured here. The booking simply does not happen, and you are told so plainly rather than left waiting for a reply that is never coming. Five courtesies covers the rest of it in ordinary words.