Pompal 09.
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Feb 9, 2011
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I may be the Methusaleh of the "hobby." Nobody would have called it a "hobby" 40 years ago when I walked into my first MP and was startled--pleasantly--to discover the "tug."
One of my favorites later on was the studio run by Sheila Williamson in various locations in the city. And my favorite masseuse was a woman named Lorna Parker, although in latter days, Christie was a dream. Christie was still there when the studio moved to Etobicoke--and disappeared from my urban map--about a decade ago.
I'm simply wondering if anyone remembers these people, or knows what came of them. This was long before the era of the swank suburban palaces and long before the blossoming of Asian rub-and-tuggers that eventually forced prices down to less than I was paying, at age 20, 40 years ago.
I've never lost the pleasure I found in a good massage or a skilled release. And on my better days, I do send some seed a few feet in the air (does anyone remember the mocha-skinned Jasmine of a few years ago?). In fact, it's one of the few real assets of this frightfully declining city, although the rancid municipal, suburban and provincial politicians behind the decline would probably consider it part of the decline, which it ain't. Toronto's rot is between their ears, not between our legs, mates.
One of my favorites later on was the studio run by Sheila Williamson in various locations in the city. And my favorite masseuse was a woman named Lorna Parker, although in latter days, Christie was a dream. Christie was still there when the studio moved to Etobicoke--and disappeared from my urban map--about a decade ago.
I'm simply wondering if anyone remembers these people, or knows what came of them. This was long before the era of the swank suburban palaces and long before the blossoming of Asian rub-and-tuggers that eventually forced prices down to less than I was paying, at age 20, 40 years ago.
I've never lost the pleasure I found in a good massage or a skilled release. And on my better days, I do send some seed a few feet in the air (does anyone remember the mocha-skinned Jasmine of a few years ago?). In fact, it's one of the few real assets of this frightfully declining city, although the rancid municipal, suburban and provincial politicians behind the decline would probably consider it part of the decline, which it ain't. Toronto's rot is between their ears, not between our legs, mates.