HandsomeRichard
16-03-2017, 08:48 PM
nnnnGents Gents Gents
An exquisite blast to the past in a modern luxe setting being lovingly tended to by a luxuriant bombshell.
"My gift's my song, and this one's for you..."
Seeking a momentary escape from the weight of world-weariness, I was transported to memories of a time when the Labour Party (amongst other seats of power) was filled with charm, charisma and inspiring leadership -- when women dressed and acted like ladies, and men respected and pampered them like gentlemen.
However, 'twas I that was in for an unimaginable pampering beyond what I could've dreamt of. I deliberated at length whether to write this review, mostly out of selfish reasons, as I'd already been turned away the day before. But in the spirit of free-enterprise, paying it forward, and believing that good service must not go uncomplimented, this experience deserves two personal accolades: for the establishment and the lady, individually.
First off, the mamasan was always welcome reassuring. There were silver-lined (hehe Silver Fox) menus describing what was on offer, and payment was arranged in advance with the mamasan, avoiding the indelicacy of banal financial exchange with my chosen lady. I was blown away by how well the proprietress had outfitted the interior of this non-descript building. Throughout, the decor was tastefully classy -- fancy without being garish, with discreet.
The room, one of my hostess' favourites, was palatial -- spacious without being spartan, impeccably lit with warm lighting, a large central massage table with comfortable face holes (so many aren't). Having been to many "luxury" 5-star hotel & boutique spas across the globe, I can only say that this room is not far behind.
Now as for my choice, which I'd deliberated upon for months since I caught wind of Silver Fox not too long after its reopening. My my, what can I say. As Katy stunning photographs and style had set my heart pounding weeks before, I was as anxious as a schoolboy on his first prom date and could hardly vocalize a word, but she was warm, welcoming and kindly gentle with this nervous wreck.
In many senses (pun intended -- as there were senses opened that I never knew I had), it was my "first time" with this kind of experience, as my infrequent "happy-ending" massages over the decades have left me with a sense of weltschmerz, almost dread, even, at having to ingest the sensual equivalent of a Happy Meal -- knowing it's junk and bad for you, but ordering one anyway because you're so darned hungry, with the childish reassurance of having a cheap plastic toy at the end.
Having groaned (2nd pun) up into a lazy undesirable Jabba the Hutt on these Maccas, pizzas and generic asian takeouts, I knew I needed a healing detox (and possibly a lapband), hence this (ad)venture. What I'd stumbled upon, instead, in the form Katy, was a gourmet omikase gastronomic Heston Blumenthal-beating exquisite degustation experience, that, without going into details as a gentleman shouldn't, leaves my heart pounding, throughout the whole sweetly reminiscent sleepless night, and does still, almost a full day afterwards. If I could try to find words to describe her, it would be the sublimation of beauty, sensuality and sensitivity only vaguely personified in Christina Hendricks' flaming locks & gentle yet piercing eyes, Dita von Teese's impeccable get-up, Jessica Rabbit's otherworldly figure, Danaerys' daring confidence, and Marilyn Monroe's coquettish presence. Sheepishly whispered when her skilled fingers began their dance: "I feel like I'm in heaven". Needless to say I was grinning like an idiot from ear to ear the remainder of the day, and was spurred and invigorated enough to win a competitive match later that evening against an opponent I'd been easily whupped by a few times before.
Thank you, KATY. Mind + heart + senses = blown. Exhilaratingly annihilated & can't get you out of my head
HR
43913
An exquisite blast to the past in a modern luxe setting being lovingly tended to by a luxuriant bombshell.
"My gift's my song, and this one's for you..."
Seeking a momentary escape from the weight of world-weariness, I was transported to memories of a time when the Labour Party (amongst other seats of power) was filled with charm, charisma and inspiring leadership -- when women dressed and acted like ladies, and men respected and pampered them like gentlemen.
However, 'twas I that was in for an unimaginable pampering beyond what I could've dreamt of. I deliberated at length whether to write this review, mostly out of selfish reasons, as I'd already been turned away the day before. But in the spirit of free-enterprise, paying it forward, and believing that good service must not go uncomplimented, this experience deserves two personal accolades: for the establishment and the lady, individually.
First off, the mamasan was always welcome reassuring. There were silver-lined (hehe Silver Fox) menus describing what was on offer, and payment was arranged in advance with the mamasan, avoiding the indelicacy of banal financial exchange with my chosen lady. I was blown away by how well the proprietress had outfitted the interior of this non-descript building. Throughout, the decor was tastefully classy -- fancy without being garish, with discreet.
The room, one of my hostess' favourites, was palatial -- spacious without being spartan, impeccably lit with warm lighting, a large central massage table with comfortable face holes (so many aren't). Having been to many "luxury" 5-star hotel & boutique spas across the globe, I can only say that this room is not far behind.
Now as for my choice, which I'd deliberated upon for months since I caught wind of Silver Fox not too long after its reopening. My my, what can I say. As Katy stunning photographs and style had set my heart pounding weeks before, I was as anxious as a schoolboy on his first prom date and could hardly vocalize a word, but she was warm, welcoming and kindly gentle with this nervous wreck.
In many senses (pun intended -- as there were senses opened that I never knew I had), it was my "first time" with this kind of experience, as my infrequent "happy-ending" massages over the decades have left me with a sense of weltschmerz, almost dread, even, at having to ingest the sensual equivalent of a Happy Meal -- knowing it's junk and bad for you, but ordering one anyway because you're so darned hungry, with the childish reassurance of having a cheap plastic toy at the end.
Having groaned (2nd pun) up into a lazy undesirable Jabba the Hutt on these Maccas, pizzas and generic asian takeouts, I knew I needed a healing detox (and possibly a lapband), hence this (ad)venture. What I'd stumbled upon, instead, in the form Katy, was a gourmet omikase gastronomic Heston Blumenthal-beating exquisite degustation experience, that, without going into details as a gentleman shouldn't, leaves my heart pounding, throughout the whole sweetly reminiscent sleepless night, and does still, almost a full day afterwards. If I could try to find words to describe her, it would be the sublimation of beauty, sensuality and sensitivity only vaguely personified in Christina Hendricks' flaming locks & gentle yet piercing eyes, Dita von Teese's impeccable get-up, Jessica Rabbit's otherworldly figure, Danaerys' daring confidence, and Marilyn Monroe's coquettish presence. Sheepishly whispered when her skilled fingers began their dance: "I feel like I'm in heaven". Needless to say I was grinning like an idiot from ear to ear the remainder of the day, and was spurred and invigorated enough to win a competitive match later that evening against an opponent I'd been easily whupped by a few times before.
Thank you, KATY. Mind + heart + senses = blown. Exhilaratingly annihilated & can't get you out of my head
HR
43913