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About London

Ok, story time—last week, I’m getting this massage, right? Dude’s hands were magic, like, “I’m not alone anymore” energy from the movie. I’m giggling, moaning, probs too loud—oops! He’s kneading my back, then bam, goes lower—sexual-massage realness! I’m like, “Yaaas, touch me there!” Felt so naughty but so good, ugh, obsessed.

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First off, there's Station Road, where the trains rumble like hungry beasts. "Stupid, fat hobbit!" I once joked to a client as we bumped past the old Waterbeach Chapel on Mill Road. It's a quirky place. I still remember massaging a chap who swore the creek near the chapel sang like it had feelings—like, “Oh, dear master, the water calls.” Reminds me of that film, The Master, yess, precious, like all else in life feels profound and messy.

Plans for Waterbeach and Cambridge will overhaul travel in the area