Working my way through Monday Magazine massage, it was time to see Leah, "Oriental beauty." Search showed me that she's garnered some unflattering response here, but I have a fondness of Asian masseuses that transcends Lucy's earthy warmth and Kalla's careful ministrations.
Arriving at a Quadra St. apartment, I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a genuine beauty, a waif with a gorgeous oval face, large dark eyes, dazzling smile, and becoming blonde streaks in her hair. Beauty goes a long way indeed. My heart did the pitter-patter as I mentally undressed her. When you look like Leah, you can do a whole lot less and make it seem like more. Which she did.
Young, cheerful and friendly--but with a pronounced business-only timbre-- Leah led me to a small massage room and asked me to "get naked."
I'd signed on for a 45-minute massage. At $100--50 browns if you have a supply of two-dollar bills--this seemed a tad steep to me. But watching Leah's lithe, naked body, small firm breasts and sweetly rounded bum in the strategically positioned mirror, I wasn't about to bitch.
Leah's massage proved surprisingly deft for a self-taught Chinese girl from Montreal. No question, she has the gift of touch, even when her treatment became increasingly mechanical and perfunctory. Leah likes to chat, and with the enthusiasm of a college girl, which didn't bother me in the slightest. She responded to my touch preferences, but any sense of abandon proved too much to hope for. Although light touching is permitted, Leah keeps her distance, her aloofness. She reminded me of someone making a hamburger, me being the burger.
By the time we rolled around to the happy ending, I was compelled to ask her to slow down three times. Again, her striking beauty kicked in: In the critical moments, that face, that sudden certain smile and flawlessly fake rapt attention took me clear across the finish line.
Once I had a lover from Oz and her smile was such that all she had to do was flash it, and I'd cum. Well, Leah's sort of like that.
She finished with a hot towel, everything bang on time. A lesson from easygoing Lucy might do wonders here. If Lucy dances to the chemistry between two people in extremely intimate circumstances, Leah's rhythm is set by the clock and cash register.
This doesn't mean it's over. Leah has brains to compliment the beauty, and can certainly learn to put more of herself into it, warm it up and maybe justify the heavier-than-average tab. Let's hope.
Arriving at a Quadra St. apartment, I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a genuine beauty, a waif with a gorgeous oval face, large dark eyes, dazzling smile, and becoming blonde streaks in her hair. Beauty goes a long way indeed. My heart did the pitter-patter as I mentally undressed her. When you look like Leah, you can do a whole lot less and make it seem like more. Which she did.
Young, cheerful and friendly--but with a pronounced business-only timbre-- Leah led me to a small massage room and asked me to "get naked."
I'd signed on for a 45-minute massage. At $100--50 browns if you have a supply of two-dollar bills--this seemed a tad steep to me. But watching Leah's lithe, naked body, small firm breasts and sweetly rounded bum in the strategically positioned mirror, I wasn't about to bitch.
Leah's massage proved surprisingly deft for a self-taught Chinese girl from Montreal. No question, she has the gift of touch, even when her treatment became increasingly mechanical and perfunctory. Leah likes to chat, and with the enthusiasm of a college girl, which didn't bother me in the slightest. She responded to my touch preferences, but any sense of abandon proved too much to hope for. Although light touching is permitted, Leah keeps her distance, her aloofness. She reminded me of someone making a hamburger, me being the burger.
By the time we rolled around to the happy ending, I was compelled to ask her to slow down three times. Again, her striking beauty kicked in: In the critical moments, that face, that sudden certain smile and flawlessly fake rapt attention took me clear across the finish line.
Once I had a lover from Oz and her smile was such that all she had to do was flash it, and I'd cum. Well, Leah's sort of like that.
She finished with a hot towel, everything bang on time. A lesson from easygoing Lucy might do wonders here. If Lucy dances to the chemistry between two people in extremely intimate circumstances, Leah's rhythm is set by the clock and cash register.
This doesn't mean it's over. Leah has brains to compliment the beauty, and can certainly learn to put more of herself into it, warm it up and maybe justify the heavier-than-average tab. Let's hope.
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