Bad luck OP. I've been having problems with browsers and devices that means I can never remember if I've posted or not. Your post gives me another chance to share my experience from a few months back.
You've saved me finding current URLs but to be honest, I don't recognise them from the words on both VS and GT. The VS ad has pretty accurate photos of the interior, albeit random shot selections. For what it's worth, here's my experience;
Decided on Patchara in Bury for the aches and somewhere else for the urges and to try somewhere other than Siam.
Searched VS and GT favourites without conclusion but decided to try Body Balance by Heaton Park again. Struggled for VFM last time but thought I'd try again.
So many mobile numbers, including the one that I used previously. Turns out that it's no longer connected to Pinky's so that number was no good and uses a different name.
Got an acknowledgement and made a booking. Parking up was again tricky but I was better prepared this time and got there a smidgeon early.
The door was ajar but I still rang the bell before stepping through. A delightful damsel called me up from the top of the stairs. Five foot nothing, dark hair, not longer than shoulder length, Chinese features and colouring. The highlight was the fact that she's dressed in a dusky pink baby doll nightie that reveals red panties underneath. This bodes well.
In a smaller room than last time, it doesn't feel like the massage is being done in a living room. It's more typically set up with a cabinet for towels, oils and whatnots. An hour's booking is confirmed for £40. Her name is Angela and she giggles a lot which makes up for her poor English. She asks if I've been there before to which I say yes but under the previous name and she offers a drink then leaves me to undress. I opt for water and there are sealed bottles on the counter.
I'm down to the boxers when she comes back and reminds me that I haven't paid. Cash passed over and I start to climb on the paper covered massage table. She tells me to take off the boxers.
With my head in the cutout of the table, she asks how hard I want the massage. I tell her slow and soft please and she covers me with a soft towel to warm up the muscle groups.
There is some structure and decent pressure for a medium massage as she goes neck, shoulders, arms, back, thighs, calves and feet before the towel is removed.
The towel is rolled and placed on top of a portable radiator, probably oil filled, next to the table and she takes a bottle of oil, also from on top of the radiator and pours on my lower back.
Roughly ten minutes of stroking shoulders and back, then arms and hands. Never standing completely out of reach but not giving the impression that touching would be encouraged.
Then she hops on the table, between my legs to massage them and buttocks. The touch around the cleft and Biffin is confident, sensual but not probing.
She responds to my lifting of the hips by rubbing around the top of my thighs with a few reach unders that miss the tackle. Just as I'm getting in to it, she starts talking about the weather. Mood killed.
So a bit of chat. She's from Guangxi province. Not in the UK long and always worked up North, in Doncaster and Manchester. Age is always tricky. It would be easy to say mid to late twenties but there was something about her hair and facial features when not smiling that makes me think 30+. .
She pulls off paper towel to start rubbing the oil off. It itches as well as scratches but it's not uncomfortable. I'm expecting the turnover at this point but she climbs between my legs again to do some fingertip/fingernail tickling/stroking of my back, crack and thighs.
Maybe she sees the sap has wilted as this doesn't last long or maybe it's always a brief part of her massage.
Anyway, on the twenty minute mark, around half an hour since walking in, it's the turnover and I ask for a drink. Whilst I'm sat up, her phone rings and she steps outside to answer. There's definitely someone else out the back, taking the money off her but I get the sense that she manages the bookings herself. Incidentally, there was another call later that she took in the room and appeared to take a booking immediately after mine. I suspect that she's a clock watcher.
We both remark that it's warm and she uses the door to try and let cooler air in. I suspect at one point that she intends to leave it open, which would leave me exposed. She doesn't and I breathe a sigh of relief.
She starts with hot oil on the stomach and rubs all over the torso and shoulders. There are a few new techniques but none I'd rave about and go back just to repeat. The pressure steps up closer to medium a few times and when there's structure and precision, that's fine. When it's random and misses the muscles, it's annoying and uncomfortable.
There's a Facetime call that she ignores but rings for ten seconds or so and then ten minutes into the front massage, "hand job?"
I ask for slow and teasing and she agrees for £20. There's already a fair amount of oil but she adds more and gets to work. It's not bad and I remind her about slow and teasing when she starts to build up steam and spread my legs to encourage wider attentions.
She gets the hint and whilst there is nothing below the Biffin, there's confident ball juggling and stroking around the base and lower.
Because she's stood to the side of me, I start fondling the back of her thigh and lower back. She doesn't protest or move away so I spend more time on her cheeks, over the top of her knickers. The hem of which is risque, without being revealing but the waist of which goes up past her hips. Not skimpy by any means.
She's murmuring so I manoeuvre between her thighs to press my thumb to her crease and palm to the bikini line. Again, no protest and the murmurs appear to become soft moans.
My fingers stray below the edge of the knicker line and without being admonished, I press between her thighs again and the moans get a little deeper. I don't try and get a thumb to her back door but my fingers press her labia. There's some arousal there but the angle doesn't quite work without making it more obvious what I'm trying to do.
There's some muttering under her breath that I don't catch and she seems to enjoy the attention, judging by her breathing. I slow her down again as we approach the 15 minute mark and she steps out of reach to focus on what she's doing.
When she's finished, she offers a shower that I decline, then uses paper towel to wipe up and remove the oil, both rubbing and patting me me with it before the Wet Wipes come out. She tries to send me on my way but in a rare moment of standing up for myself (no pun intended), I look at the clock to tell her that I'm ten minutes short of the hour.
A message comes through on her phone and she appears genuine in mistaking the time so gives a head and shoulder massage. I'd normally enjoy this but her fingers are too aggressive and at one point, on my neck I tell her it's too hard and she goes more gently.
Her English is limited but she goes through her script of complimenting my body and muscles and whether I go to the gym. This lightens the mood because I'm a couch potato. My body's a temple in as much as my stomach resembles the dome of St Paul's Cathedral. As she sits me up, she checks if I drive and how far I've traveled whilst she finishes the massage then signals the end with claps on my back.
Another message on her phone and time's up. I'm still a little shy on the hour but not outrageously so. She steps out as I start to dress, but only briefly, I'm still gathering my personals when she comes back so she hands me them. After putting my glasses on for me, I wonder if she'll put my keys and wallet back in my pockets as well. But no. There's a peck on the lips and a hug and she shows me out.
I check my watch and it's an hour and five minutes since I rang the bell, so just over a pound a minute for the actual massage, which is cheaper than 0898 numbers but neither the massage, nor the extras were worth rushing back for.
6/10
