Amy and Mia. My first duo.
I walked in there, a sack of bones and muscle, knotted with the world’s bullshit, and they looked at me with those eyes, not the kind that judges, but the kind that sees through the layers of crap.
Amy led me to the back room around the right. I noticed the clean floor and the fresh towels. Signs that they care about the little things. I entered the large shower, thinking two or more could fit.
They walked in the room and smiled, pretty in ways that made the large room feel a little less clinical, like flowers in a doctor’s office.
Amy was famous from her days at Suko, while Mia was the cherry on top of Sentosa.
Their bodies were slender and their hands were small, delicate but they had power, like a quiet storm.
They worked their magic, Mia on my shoulders and Amy on my glutes, fingers dancing across and down, releasing the demons of the day. There was not much talk, just the sound of muscles unknotting, a symphony of relief. They talked to each other, laughing in Mandarin.
Their touch was like poetry, each press and stroke a line from an unwritten book. I left feeling less like the old dog I am, more like I could maybe face another round with life.
Not a high mileage place and I won’t detail how I completed my session. But if you understand how to be attractive to women, you know that in a world full of phonies, Amy and Mia were real, with beauty not just in their faces and forms but in their quiet understanding of how to make a man feel relief.
If you’re lost in the haze, go see Amy or Mia, or both. They might not save your soul, but they’ll sure as hell give your body a fighting chance.