Arabian Instrument Spa: A Curious Little Adventure in the Monkey Area
Picture this: it’s a Sunday, I’ve got a few hours to burn before catching a flight, and I find myself wandering through the charmingly named
Monkey Area (yes, that’s really a place). Rather than twiddling my thumbs at a café or pretending to enjoy overpriced airport snacks, I remembered something—a recommendation I’d seen ages ago about the
Arabian Instrument Spa. Seemed like as good a time as any to put this so-called hidden gem to the test.
Naturally, I did the polite thing and rang ahead to ensure that "everything" (wink wink) was available. The gentleman on the other end enthusiastically said, "Yes, yes, everything!"—which was all the confirmation I needed. A quick appointment was made.
Success! It was a Sunday, mind you, so I counted myself rather lucky.
The Arrival: So Far, So Good
Arrived five minutes early—because being punctual is classy—and waltzed in. The counter charge? A not-too-shabby 3k for an hour. I was offered a choice between a soft massage or a hard one, and since I wasn’t in the mood to be pummelled like a stubborn piece of dough, I opted for the soft option.
Paid up, and off went my phone and wallet into a locker, which felt a bit like sending your kids off to boarding school, but I digress.
The Warm Welcome... Sort Of
I was soon escorted to what I
think was the first room, just past the reception. Felt like I was being led into Narnia—minus the magical creatures, although that would’ve been a twist. Once inside, I was given another crucial choice: local or Thai masseuse? Naturally, I went for Thai, because when in doubt, always go exotic.
Now, I donned the infamous disposable briefs—those flimsy things that make you feel like you’re auditioning for a budget superhero film—and waited. And waited. The AC was on full blast, turning the room into something akin to an Arctic research station, which wasn’t helping matters.
At long last, my therapist appeared. A lovely Thai woman, no older than 27 or 28. However, there was a catch—this one was as sensitive as a dormouse with a migraine. Even my whispering was deemed too loud. I’ve never been shushed so much in my life!
The Massage: Magic Fingers, Frozen Toes
Despite her aversion to sound, the massage was
fantastic. Her fingers were nothing short of magical, working out knots in my back I didn’t even know I had. Weeks of terrible mattresses were undone in half an hour. Just as I was wondering whether I’d drift off entirely, she popped the all-important question.
“Would you like... extra service?” (Cue dramatic music.)
The Negotiations: A Bit of Haggling, As One Does
Naturally, I inquired about FS (full service, for the uninitiated). She quoted me 8k, but I managed to whittle it down to a more reasonable 6k. Feeling rather pleased with my haggling, I handed over my locker key, and one of the staff members fetched my wallet like a dutiful valet. Transaction complete, and then... off went her clothes.
Now, let’s not be crass. She looked quite decent—not the type to turn heads on the runway, but certainly well put together. A perky rack, a firm derrière, and an all-around pleasant demeanor.
Once Jonny was suitably wrapped up, she got down to business. She started on top, then graciously allowed me to switch to the classic missionary. The entire experience was rather engaging—not the usual robotic fare one sometimes encounters in these establishments. My only complaint? She enforced a strict no-grunting policy. Imagine trying to reach the finish line while barely breathing! She must moonlight as a librarian, I swear.
The Shower: A Comedy of Errors
Once the main event was over, she invited me to join her in the shower. A charming touch, I thought. The shower itself, though, was an adventure. The temperature controls were clearly on strike, giving us two options:
scalding inferno or
Arctic plunge. We spent a good few minutes battling the knobs (no pun intended) and laughing like school kids.
It was the closest thing to a GFE (Girlfriend Experience) moment I’ve had in a massage parlour, and oddly endearing. If only the water had been more cooperative!
The Exit: A Slight Oversight
After our unsuccessful tryst with the shower, we dressed, exchanged polite farewells, and off I went. It wasn’t until five minutes later that I realised I’d completely forgotten to ask for her name. Oh well, the nameless Thai enchantress will remain a fond, anonymous memory.
Yes, the whole thing was a tad on the pricey side—9k in total—but honestly, I had a grand time. Between the charming therapist and the bizarrely entertaining shower, it was worth it. Would I go back? Oh, absolutely.
Until next time, stay hydrated, stay quiet, and may your showers always be warm!
Cheers!
I’m talking life-changing, jaw-dropping, "I-can’t-believe-this-is-actually-happening" kind of magic. It's not just the best in India; it’s the kind of encounter that will haunt your dreams—in a good way.
I guarantee it'll be the best story you never tell.
Bangalore escorts interview is a true confession of an escort. Bangalore escorts interview is to bring the trueness in escorting world.
www.bangaloregirlfriendsexperience.com