Having recently sampled Leicester's other two main parlours, with mixed results, I decided to try the third. It's a seedy looking place on a busy street in an old part of the city. Plenty of pot-luck parking on the street with a big Tesco car park nearby.
Like the other two, its website does a lousy job of promoting the girls who work there. Either they need a better photographer or most of them are pretty rough. I liked the look of Lara, though.
External Link/Members OnlyI imagined someone petite and elfin, a bit Audrey Hepburn, which would make a nice change.
The entrance is down a gloomy side entry to a litter-strewn rear yard, and then through a cluttered kitchen/laundry room and upstairs to a reception desk. Madame/receptionist was straight out of central casting as the blousy old tart who'd recently hung up her boots, and by now I was wondering what I'd walked into. She took my £10 door fee and directed me upstairs to the room.
Which was a typical massage parlour room, which is to say, not bad at all. A decent size, it seemed clean and tidy, with some feminine nick-nacks to give it a nice, homely feel, with a good size bed and a mirrored wall to the side of it, which is always nice. Things were looking up a bit.
But I'm afraid that when Lara came in, my heart sank. She was wearing a skimpy see-through top and a tiny leather skirt, and she's not unattractive by any means, but I could see she was way, way too thin for me. She was like one of those extreme fashion models, 'heroin-chic' I think they call it, almost anorexic looking. Some guys like really fat women, so I suppose some like really thin ones, too, but I didn't fancy her one bit.
So. To pay or not to pay, that was the question. The thing is, if I'd just turned up on spec, I'd have happily just told her I'd got cold feet and left. But I'd booked an appointment, so felt obliged to pay her anyway, since she could have been earning money in that half hour with someone else. So I thought, well, let's go through with it.
She was quietly assertive at that point, and told me to lie down for a massage. "It'll relax you, and it'll relax me, and I need to feel relaxed". Either she'd had a quick spliff for elevenses or it was just her slightly away-with-the-fairies personality, but her conversation was all a bit flower power. "So....what's your favourite season?". Eh? And later on, "So....what's your best ever dream?". I'd had enough of that by then, so I turned over to chivvy things along, and things didn't look promising at all. I'd shrivelled up to practically nothing, which wasn't very flattering for either of us, in the circumstances.
But it didn't faze her, and some skilful handiwork perked it up to the point where at least she could roll a condom on and begin her oral work. It struck me as I lay there watching her do her stuff that she was really rather pretty; a bit of good dental work and she'd be very pretty indeed. Anyway, she soon had me fully primed and a good, hard rattle missionary-style in front of the mirror brought things to a satisfactory conclusion.
So all in all; £60 including door fee is cheap enough. As it turned out she wasn't my cup of tea at all, but that's always the chance you take, and for anyone who likes pretty, extremely thin women, she might be just the thing.
