Gentleman,
In my quest for the hidden gem in a prof. MP, I decided to try Spa Plush situated in the heart of the Prince Arthur resturant strip. Place is hair beauty and body. Very nicely decorated place, three floors, bright. Place was dead though. I was greeted at the reception by two knockouts, sexily dressed, which fueled my testosterone, as we walked up the stairs to the third floor to the massage rooms. I was asked to disrobe behind a stall. The sexy attendant then lead me to a room with a flat screen TV where I was to wait for my therapist, Katia. In she walks, OK looking, mid-30's, eurasian. I am the ask to slip myself between the sheets. Testatosterone flow interrupted. She had walked out of the room as not to see my sultry body I guess.
Here I was covered by two sheets. She would only flap up the sheet ever so dicreetly to massage a zone. The zone's she ommitted were: butt, uper leg, chest and yes, dick. The massage was OK, nothing spectacular. The only purpose I guess the sheets could have had, is that well, I felt discomfort in my stomach going in, with a mounting pressure of gas building up from days of feasting on broccoli, cauliflower, prunes and cabbage, and the sheet could have muzzled any sudden gastrick escape.
The massage had no hint of sensuality, nothing.
Repeat?
No!
Cost: 1 hour $55 + tax + tip = $70
The other attendants that greeted me are nail trimmers and varnishers and just plain receptionnist, so don't dream...
Alfie
In my quest for the hidden gem in a prof. MP, I decided to try Spa Plush situated in the heart of the Prince Arthur resturant strip. Place is hair beauty and body. Very nicely decorated place, three floors, bright. Place was dead though. I was greeted at the reception by two knockouts, sexily dressed, which fueled my testosterone, as we walked up the stairs to the third floor to the massage rooms. I was asked to disrobe behind a stall. The sexy attendant then lead me to a room with a flat screen TV where I was to wait for my therapist, Katia. In she walks, OK looking, mid-30's, eurasian. I am the ask to slip myself between the sheets. Testatosterone flow interrupted. She had walked out of the room as not to see my sultry body I guess.
Here I was covered by two sheets. She would only flap up the sheet ever so dicreetly to massage a zone. The zone's she ommitted were: butt, uper leg, chest and yes, dick. The massage was OK, nothing spectacular. The only purpose I guess the sheets could have had, is that well, I felt discomfort in my stomach going in, with a mounting pressure of gas building up from days of feasting on broccoli, cauliflower, prunes and cabbage, and the sheet could have muzzled any sudden gastrick escape.
The massage had no hint of sensuality, nothing.
Repeat?
No!
Cost: 1 hour $55 + tax + tip = $70
The other attendants that greeted me are nail trimmers and varnishers and just plain receptionnist, so don't dream...
Alfie