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Sexual-massage joints—half of ‘em are fronts. Rubdowns turnin’ into somethin’ else, real quick. I hate it. Makes my skin crawl, not cause I’m prude—nah, I’m a man’s man—but the lies? Disgustin’. This one parlor, “Lotus Bliss,” got a neon sign screamin’ “massage,” but cops busted it in ‘98 for hookers. Little known fact—owner paid off the mayor, stayed open. Slimeballs. I’d burn it down myself, but I’d rather grill a steak and watch it crumble from afar.

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Love Spa is based on the concept of the Five Еnergies. You don't just get a massage, but a unique experience in one of the rooms: Fire, Water, Wood, Metal or Earth. And our manicure .

Finally, the clock hits 5 PM. I’m outta there! I meet Marco at Da Michele’s. We order a couple of pizzas and a beer. I’m telling him about my day, and he’s cracking up. “Dude, you should’ve just called in sick!” he says. I’m like, “Nah, I needed the drama.”

Eva Marie Barr