He smiled, shook his head approvingly and climbed the stairs beckoning for me to follow. He showed me into a room with a massage table. He said clothe... there, you on table. I asked how much and he said, give card, and was off. In America you receive a massage nude, so I put my clothes there. And climbed on the table, face down and covered with a sheet. I had visions of a brute of a man or a burly woman giving me a firm massage. The door opened and a tall, dark haired woman greeted me with. ”“Well, I had to do something. My agent insists on me having insurance and recommended your firm. And, please, call me Madur, everyone else does,”Her voice was deep and dark and husky. It flowed through the room like warm chocolate, and I could detect her singing buried behind it.“Of course, Madur, that’s much more informal, and please call me Joss,” I managed to reply and smile at the same time. “I’ve read your previous contract and although it's rather basic it seems to cover everything. Is. More

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