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About Recife

I’ve seen it, ya know—shady parlors off Route 66, neon buzzin’ like flies on a corpse. Once knew a guy, Tony, greasy little mechanic—swore he got “enlightened” by some chick’s “magic hands.” Bullshit! Looked more like he’d been wrestled by a trucker. Made me laugh so hard I nearly choked on my chianti. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d quip—Tony’d just stare, clueless(\'cept he didn’t get it, the dumb lug).

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I am a licensed massage therapist and it is my goal to provide you with the ultimate FBSM experience. Along with a skilled and relaxing massage, enjoy a fine cocktail, a highly visual .

Then there's o Parque do Álamo, a green haven tucked between the neighborhoods of Santa Rita and Beco Velho. I remember one day, massaging a fella who started cryin' like he’d seen somethin’ so raw – real Shame, y'know what I mean? Like a line from that movie, "Shame." It hit hard an’ real, no bullshit. I always thought that park was like a hidden slice of heaven, if you can believe it.

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