"Just hold that happy thought, Peter." She said with a sly smile as she made her way out of the little cubicle, dressed in a skimpy, fake nurse's uniform.

Peter felt sleepy and comfortable after the great massage. Surely, though, there was more to come, right? The sign said, 'HAPPY ENDINGS'. The pretty young masseuse had ground out the knot between his shoulder blades with her talented elbows and soothed his aching neck with her magical hands.

He kept urging her, "Lower, lower.", hoping she would get the hint. "Much lower, baby." She ran her oil-slicked fingers down his spine and buffed out the muscles on either side with the heels of her hands. It felt heavenly. But, but, what about the 'HAPPY ENDING'? Even the butt rub wasn't exactly what he was searching for. It was nice. It just wasn't- oh, come on. What was she waiting for?

Peter's ship had been docked at Norfolk for two days and he wanted some action before they headed back out to sea. He had stopped at the first massage parlor he could find on a dirty side street of that dismal town. He wasn't about to waste his money on buying drinks for local chicks with questionable outcomes. Pros usually were clean and he wasn't planning on another shot of penicillin anytime soon. He had bid his buddies farewell at the gritty bar they all piled into and was sure they were making a big mistake.

Almost asleep, Peter heard the door of the cubicle open up again and he rolled over, in anticipation of that finishing touch from the little blonde. The towel just barely covered him as he leaned up on his elbows. When he opened his eyes he couldn't believe what he saw. There was an entire Mariachi band in Mexican garb playing

La Cucaracha for him. How they all fit into that tiny space was beyond him. Someone was tossing confetti into the air with abandon and naked dancing girls circled the massage bed he was laying on, singing along with the music.

His pretty little masseuse arrived last, naked, holding a birthday cake with a candle, which she blew out seductively for him.

At that point, the manager of the parlor, an aged woman who filled out her size 22 dress fully walked in and said, "There, sailor. That's your happy ending. Now get outta here."