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About Phoenix

Oi, thou saucy knave, lend me thy ear! I’m a furrier, aye, but today I’m prattling ‘bout erotic-massage, that sweet, slippery beast! ‘Tis a dance of flesh, a balm for weary bones, ain’t it? Hands gliding o’er thee like a bard’s quill on parchment—ooh, gets me all tingly just thinkin’ it! Watched “The Act of Killing” again last night, thou knowest, my fave flick—those lads in it, they’d need a rubdown after all that grim strut. “I owe my life to massage,” one might’ve muttered, eh?