I’m no stranger to massages. I’ve had more than a handful in the last two years. Normally, I lay on the table wondering if I should have established a safe word. The answer is usually “yes.” No need this time; she knew exactly the way I like it… maybe even a little too much. Admittedly, I was turned on by the female masseuse at ESPA, Riga. I left thinking if this is what massages are suppose to feel like, Darren is not allowed to go anymore.

Even when she walked into the room, it created a sense of power or control as she asked me to sit in the seat and she knelt on the floor in front of me. She said, “Do you like it soft, medium, or hard?” “Soft,” I replied.

She then gave me a choice of scents and a pair of black, mesh-like, disposable underwear to put on and left the room. I’d never been given underwear before during a massage. It seemed naughty even though I was putting on more clothes.

When she returned to the room, she began massaging my back. She was like an octopus, in a good way, with arms everywhere. She used her entire arm, starting from my neck and down to my lower back. Totally aware of her hand, arm, and elbow movements, it felt like a group of people where massaging me at once. Maybe this is a typical massage in Europe, but if it is, I’ve been missing out.

The oils were used freely, heated perfectly, and sometimes made noises against my legs when she rubbed quickly. There isn’t even a clean way to describe it. I feel like I’m writing an erotic novel.

I turned over and she massaged the front of my body. I just kept thinking how are you covering so much of my leg with your little arm?

It was the most unusual massage I’ve experienced. Quicker, softer movements with copious amounts of oil created a euphoric state. Is this what a massage is suppose to be like? Why is it the first time I’m experiencing this? It was worth the 24-hour flight to Latvia just to visit ESPA Riga.

Dear ESPA Riga Masseuse: Call me. (Obviously meant in a joking manner… sort of.)