Sex vs. Professionalism :: Who ya got?

I got a massage while on vacation. Trips to the parlor are always interesting. I feel like using the word parlor is super sketchy, too. It just gives the impression that the phrase "happy ending" is included. Not so in this case, sadly. My buddy had a spot on South Beach that he swore by. Before I digress, I want to state, for the record, that we were in separate rooms and no cialis-type bathtubs were harmed during our trip to the parlor.
My friend had set up appointments with two female masseuses. We arrived, got some water, and waited to see our rubdown rewards. Two females. Well, one and half. One was typical for Miami: Latin, dark skinned, voluptuous, and a sexy accent. The other was tall, huge frame, maybe of eastern-european descent, and could've competed for a job on the Dolphins offensive line.
They walk out, open two doors, and say, "whenever you're ready gentlemen."
My buddy jumps off the couch like he's getting timed in the 40-yard dash and beelines it into the Latin's room. I look around for shoulder-pads and think about how I'm going to avoid getting sacked. I smile and walk sheepishly into Helga's room.
Fast forward an hour.  My kinks are out. Olga's man-hands were magical. My buddy claims he was fighting a chub the whole time and couldn't really relax, counteracting the whole goal of a massage. I brought up Seinfeld, specifically when the Yankee's feel George needs a secretary. He decides to ignore all the male instincts in his brain and hire based on professionalism over sexuality. I thanked my buddy for being a typical pig and making the mistake 99% of us would've made. Sometimes it pays to be a little slow :)