Search Your PostCode - Join free now!
Search Your PostCode
Discover millions of locals at no cost!
It was a cool, drizzly evening as I browsed through the cobblestone streets of the ancient Eastern European city. I was shivering, both from the extreme weather condition and the anticipation of what awaited. My consultant had recommended an unique massage parlour nestled amidst the historical centre; an establishment renowned for its art, as much as its indulgence.
I had been taking a trip for weeks, exploring the large expanse of the mystical continent. My body hurt from the constant motion and the cold that had begun to embed in; I needed revitalization.
As I pushed open the heavy oak door, a gust of warm, aromatic air engulfed me. The mellow noise of sitar music combined with the soft citrusy-woodsy fragrance offered the place an unusual, trance-like aura.
adult massage North End, asian massage North End, body to body massage North End, chinese massage North End, erotic massage North End, happy ending North End, massage parlours North End, massage therapist North End, nude massage North End, nuru massage North End, oriental massage North End, sensual massage North End, sex massage North End, tantra massage North End, tantric massage North End, thai massage North End
The receptionist, a small woman with dove-like eyes, invited me with a warm smile, ushering me towards a little, dimly lit space where I was to await my masseur.
As I waited, I unraveled the heavy layers of clothes, letting the warmth of the room seep into my skin. I closed my eyes attempting to savor the moment. Amidst the relaxing oriental music, I could construct out the soft trickling noise of water from a close-by fountain. It offered out a freshness, a sense of relief.
After what looked like a heavenly time out, the door creaked open. A high, lean figure stepped in, presenting himself as Dimitri, my masseur. He had a calm, soothing voice that added to the relaxing ambiance.
As I put down on the table, a sheet hardly concealing my modesty, Dimitri began with his magic. His hands were warm and company, a stark contrast to the biting cold exterior. The dim, warm candlelight cast shadows on the rustic stone walls, making it a surreal world, far away from the ordinary.
He started my massage slowly, working his method through my wearied shoulders to my hurting back. His hands worked in rhythm, exerting pressure, launching, moving - it seemed like an integrated dance of his fingers on my back. I sighed audibly, and Dimitri whispered, "Relax.".
An hour passed, perhaps two, I might hardly inform. The space was so warm, the music so lulling, his touch so relaxing, and the really air tasted like tranquility. It recovered, relaxed, and liberated me more than I 'd ever believed possible.
Bell-like chimes stirred me awake. Dimitri gently notified me that my session was over. He left the room, enabling me a few personal minutes to relish the consequences of a remarkable experience.
As I ignored 'The Healing Place,' I carried with me a sense of fulfillment, a newly found regard for the art of massage. It was magic; it was an intimate dance, a poetry of touch that can change a tired tourist into an invigorated soul.
This is my memory of an evocative night that led me to taste a piece of sensual harmony. I welcome you to open your mind to explore the sensual realm of massage parlours and allow yourself the indulgence of a life time. After all, we're tourists in this vast expanse of life, aren't we all seeking some recovery?
The Peacefulness of Serendipity - A Thai Massage Tale.
Long years of laboring behind a desk had actually left a long-term crescent-shaped curve on my spinal column. A little into my thirties, stiff neck, and back aches were becoming a better companion than any family pet could ever be. Hence, on the suggestion of a well-meaning pal, and conquering my hesitation, I discovered myself in front of the humble wood façade of the prominent "Bangkok Sanctuary", a Thai massage parlor stashed in the busy heart of the city.
As I stepped in through the ornately carved entrance, I was enveloped in a calm wave of lemongrass-scented air. It cushioned the city's brusque behavior, making method for the tranquility that Thai facilities are understood for. I was welcomed by Sayuri, her silver-kissed hair nicely bound, a radiant smile used her lips and her eyes shimmered with the knowledge only experience brings.
Assisted into a dimly lit room ornamented with faintly flickering candle lights and the relaxing murmur of a bamboo waterfall, I was paralleled into another world. The air was ripe with the earthy fragrance of vital oils, and soft crucial music feathered through the silence, lulling my senses to peace.
Decked in a loose set of thick cotton trousers and a t-shirt, as is popular for a Thai massage, I lay down on the mat, looking at the elaborate Asian artwork on the ceiling. A ripple of anxiety munched at me, however Sayuri's essential Thai amiability alleviated my chaos.
As the massage began, I could feel professional hands working their magic. Fingers pushing and kneading into tight muscles, occasionally satisfying a knot where all the tension coagulated. My breath hitched as those tender knots were kneaded until they dissipated into nothingness.
She was a storyteller-- each pull, twist, and turn felt like a page torn from a tale, launching its secrets. I was caught off guard when she began utilizing her elbows and feet too, extending my body with the precision so characteristic of Thai massages. The pressing of her feet against my back split open the concealed vaults of repressed tension, and each fracture brought forth a wave of relief.
The heat of the oils seeping into my skin, the rhythmic pressure alternating in between soothing and intense, in addition to the asian music that played in the background-- everything co-existed in orchestrated harmony. Each movement of Sayuri's hands shook loose a bevy of suppressed memories, emotions, and crises, making my physical body feel lighter and my soul feel unburdened.
And then, the grand finale. Sayuri moved to abrade my scalp with vigor and vitality. It was as if every staying worry, every lingering thought, 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 stress dogging my life, one knead at a time. The tightness in my neck that was an undesirable occupant for many years, made a quiet exit, leaving in its wake, newly found flexibility and relief.
The noise of sand trickling in an hourglass snapped me back to reality. I rose from the mat, my body humming its appreciation, my mind cleared of its fog. Gratitude welling up in my heart, I thanked Sayuri, her eyes showing understanding and complete satisfaction.
Accidental as it was-- my foray into that Thai massage parlor left me an altered person -an intro to an alternative measurement 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 seek solace, and sometimes it can be found in the unlikeliest of places, like the Bangkok Sanctuary - an easy, yet fascinating Thai massage parlor in the heart of an energetic city.
My consultant had suggested a distinct massage parlour nestled amidst the historical centre; a facility renowned for its art, as much as its indulgence.
I welcome you to open your mind to check out the sensual world of massage parlours and allow yourself the indulgence of a lifetime. On the recommendation of a well-meaning pal, and conquering 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 busy heart of the city.
I was captured off guard when she began utilizing her feet and elbows too, extending my body with the precision so particular of Thai massages. Accidental as it was-- my venture 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.
|northmoor green moorland