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Rated: 13+ · Letter/Memo · Holiday · #1057564
The pamphlet promised 2 hours of bliss. Instead it was an itchy, slimy experience....
On the 19th floor of our hotel we walked into a suite modified for maximum peacefulness. The only furniture in the room consisted of 2 massage tables side by side. Magnificent view. It’s a shame about having your head in a hole facing the floor most of the time. 2 uniformed women stood ready to relax us. We weren’t entirely sure what the 2 hours involved, apart from lots of pampering. It began with a pair of paper undies similar to what you wear in hospital. Only these were paper g-strings. Can you imagine it? Hee, hee! We retired to the bathroom, stripped off, and put on our new attire. Not exactly glamorous. Next, out to the table and our 2 therapists begin. Luckily I had time to depilate immediately before coming up to the suite. Used my ‘epilady’ to rip those bastard leg hairs out by the roots. No stubble or bristles for the therapists to have to cope with on these legs, I thought smugly.

So. First comes the salt scrub. Salt + freshly epilated legs = ouch! Not just saxa-style salt. Rock salt. Big crystals of it. Rubbed in hard. Wondering when we start having fun. Oww! That seriously stings! Getting pretty cold, too. Can see Brett checking out my nipples. They appear to be trying to escape my body and reach the ceiling. It’s over. Phew! Sure to feel all glowy soon, sure I am. Time for the mud. Mud whacked on top of the salt. Thought they’d take it off first. Hmm. Bloody cold, white mud. Since when is mud white? Sheesh, do they refrigerate this stuff or what? My teeth have begun to chatter loudly enough to be heard over the ambient music. Body is shivering in spasms. The therapist asks “Are you cold?” Must be related to Dave. “Not to worry love, you’ll be warm soon,” she smiles. Bloody better be because I’m about to bolt off this table into a hot shower any minute now. Could be problematic though, as I’ve become as slippery as a bar of soap on the plastic lined table. Movement could see me slipping, whoosh, in a most undignified manner. Grit teeth and cope.

Aaaah….now wrapped in plastic and covered in warm towels. Oh, the bliss of being warm again, and……slimy. Very, very slimy. It’s ok. Now I’m going to get a 30 minute head massage. Head massages are my favourite. Just love them. Oops, a bit hard to concentrate. Must be a bit of salt inflaming my thigh. Very ticklish. Mustn’t move and disrupt head massage. It’s the rules. I could also slide off table dramatically if I move even a tiny bit, because I’m so, so slippery. With salt lumps. Should start to enjoy the whole thing real soon, I’m sure. 25 minutes later I’ve gnawed a hole in my cheek. Scratched the be-Jesus out of my leg. Oops. Broke the rules.

Not good. Finally, I understand the process. It’s when it stops that you can appreciate it all. It’s the relief factor!

We shower together. How naughty with 2 people in the room next door and all. Much to Brett’s disappointment, I insist on keeping it quick in case they think we’re having sex or something. Brett wants to have sex or something. Men. Sheesh. Then it’s back on the table for an hours massage, what with all the previous hours stress, I fell fast asleep. Aaaah, skin feels wonderful. All glowing and soft. It was almost worth the pain.

So, that concludes the Island paradise holiday saga. Still wish I could have missed the flight home……
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