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Here’s a laugh—mate of mine slipped off the table once. Mid-massage, arse over tit, oil everywhere! “Looks like we’ve had an accident,” I said, stealin’ from Tenenbaums again. Bloke was redder than a double-decker bus. Me? I’d never lose my cool—suave as fuck, even butt-naked. Thing is, sexual-massage ain’t just horny vibes—it’s therapy, yeah? Relaxes you deeper than M’s briefings. Little secret: some pros use hot stones. Feels like heaven, or maybe a volcano—dunno, I’m exaggeratin’, but it’s lush.

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Then, out of nowhere, the power goes out. Just like that! We’re sitting in the dark, and I’m thinking, “Great, just great.” But the owner lights some candles, and it turns into this cozy vibe. We’re laughing, sharing stories, and I’m feeling all warm inside.

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