Search Your PostCode - Join free now!
Search Your PostCode
Discover millions of locals at no cost!
It was a cool, drizzly night as I browsed through the cobblestone streets of the ancient Eastern European city. I was shivering, both from the severe weather condition and the anticipation of what awaited. My advisor had advised a distinct massage parlour nestled amidst the historic centre; an establishment renowned for its art, as much as its extravagance.
I had been taking a trip for weeks, exploring the huge stretch of the mystical continent. My body ached from the consistent motion and the cold that had actually begun to set in; I needed revitalization.
As I pressed open the heavy oak door, a gust of warm, fragrant air engulfed me. The mellow noise of sitar music combined with the soft citrusy-woodsy aroma offered the place an uncommon, trance-like aura.
adult massage Comeytrowe, asian massage Comeytrowe, body to body massage Comeytrowe, chinese massage Comeytrowe, erotic massage Comeytrowe, happy ending Comeytrowe, massage parlours Comeytrowe, massage therapist Comeytrowe, nude massage Comeytrowe, nuru massage Comeytrowe, oriental massage Comeytrowe, sensual massage Comeytrowe, sex massage Comeytrowe, tantra massage Comeytrowe, tantric massage Comeytrowe, thai massage Comeytrowe
The receptionist, a small woman with dove-like eyes, invited me with a warm smile, ushering me towards a small, dimly lit room where I was to wait for my masseur.
As I waited, I unwinded the heavy layers of clothing, letting the warmth of the space seep into my skin. I closed my eyes trying to enjoy the minute. In the middle of the relaxing oriental music, I could make out the soft dripping sound of water from a close-by fountain. It offered a freshness, a sense of relief.
After what looked like an ethereal time out, the door creaked open. A tall, lean figure stepped in, presenting himself as Dimitri, my masseur. He had a calm, calming voice that contributed to the peaceful atmosphere.
As I put down on the table, a sheet hardly concealing my modesty, Dimitri started with his magic. His hands were warm and firm, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. The dim, warm candlelight cast shadows on the rustic stone walls, making it a surreal world, far from the mundane.
He began my massage gradually, working his method through my wearied shoulders to my aching back. His hands operated in rhythm, putting in pressure, releasing, moving - it seemed like a synchronized dance of his fingers on my back. I sighed audibly, and Dimitri whispered, "Unwind.".
An hour passed, maybe 2, I could barely tell. The room was so warm, the music so lulling, his touch so soothing, and the really air tasted like tranquility. It healed, relaxed, and liberated me more than I 'd ever believed possible.
Bell-like chimes stirred me awake. Dimitri gently informed me that my session was over. He left the room, allowing me a few personal moments to relish the consequences of a remarkable experience.
As I ignored 'The Recovery Place,' I carried with me a sense of fulfillment, a newly found respect for the art of massage. It was magic; it was an intimate dance, a poetry of touch that can transform a tired traveler into an invigorated soul.
This is my memory of an evocative evening that led me to taste a piece of sensuous harmony. I invite you to open your mind to explore the sensual realm of massage parlours and allow yourself the extravagance of a lifetime. After all, we're travelers in this large area of life, aren't all of us looking for some healing?
The Serenity of Serendipity - A Thai Massage Tale.
Long years of laboring behind a desk had left a long-term crescent-shaped curve on my spine. A little into my thirties, stiff neck, and back aches were becoming a closer buddy than any family pet could ever be. For this reason, on the suggestion of a well-meaning buddy, and overcoming my doubt, I discovered myself in front of the simple wood façade of the popular "Bangkok Sanctuary", a Thai massage parlor stashed in the busy heart of the city.
As I actioned in through the ornately carved entranceway, I was covered in a calm wave of lemongrass-scented air. It cushioned the city's brusque temperament, giving way for the harmony that Thai facilities are known for. I was greeted by Sayuri, her silver-kissed hair neatly connected up, a glowing smile used her lips and her eyes shimmered with the understanding only experience brings.
Assisted into a poorly lit space ornamented with faintly flickering candles and the calming whispering of a bamboo waterfall, I was paralleled into another world. The air was ripe with the earthy aroma of important oils, and soft important music feathered through the silence, lulling my senses to calmness.
Decked in a loose pair of thick cotton pants and a shirt, as is popular for a Thai massage, I put down on the mat, staring at the ornate Asian artwork on the ceiling. A ripple of anxiety chomped at me, however Sayuri's quintessential Thai amiability eased my turmoil.
As the massage began, I could feel skilled hands working their magic. Fingers pushing and kneading into tight muscles, sometimes meeting a knot where all the tension coagulated. My breath hitched as those tender knots were kneaded until they dissipated into nothingness.
She was a writer-- each pull, twist, and turn felt like a page torn from a tale, releasing its tricks. I was caught off guard when she began utilizing her feet and elbows too, extending my body with the accuracy so particular of Thai massages. The pressing of her feet versus my back broken open the covert vaults of quelched stress, and each fracture came up with a wave of relief.
The heat of the oils leaking into my skin, the balanced pressure alternating between extreme and soothing, in addition to the oriental music that played in the background-- whatever co-existed in managed harmony. Each movement of Sayuri's hands shook loose a bunch of pent-up memories, feelings, and crises, making my physical body feel lighter and my soul feel unburdened.
And then, the grand finale. Sayuri relocated to abrade my scalp with vigor and vigor. It was as if every staying concern, every remaining idea, was unknotted from my head, floating into the ether to oblivion.
As those hauntingly ordinary ninety minutes etched to an end, I was a new man, purified of the tension dogging my life, one knead at a time. The stiffness in my neck that was an unwanted occupant for many years, made a peaceful exit, leaving in its wake, newfound versatility and relief.
The noise of sand trickling in an hourglass snapped me back to reality. I rose from the mat, my body humming its thankfulness, my mind cleared of its fog. Thankfulness welling up in my heart, I thanked Sayuri, her eyes reflecting understanding and satisfaction.
Unintentional as it was-- my foray into that Thai massage parlor left me an altered individual -an intro to an alternative dimension of relaxation that neither wealth nor materialism might match. It became my escape, my journey toward self-discovery, and a testimony to the restorative power of touch. An extraordinary experience!
Keep in mind - We all look for solace, and sometimes it comes in the unlikeliest of places, like the Bangkok Sanctuary - an easy, yet fascinating Thai massage parlor in the heart of a lively city.
My advisor had actually suggested a distinct massage parlour nestled in the middle of the historic centre; an establishment renowned for its art, as much as its extravagance.
I invite you to open your mind to explore the sensual realm of massage parlours and permit yourself the indulgence of a life time. On the suggestion of a well-meaning buddy, and overcoming my hesitation, I discovered myself in front of the humble wooden façade of the renowned "Bangkok Sanctuary", a Thai massage parlor tucked away in the dynamic heart of the city.
I was captured off guard when she started using her feet and elbows too, stretching my body with the accuracy so particular of Thai massages. Unexpected as it was-- my foray into that Thai massage parlor left me an altered individual -an intro to an alternative dimension of relaxation that neither wealth nor materialism might match.