Mar. 18th, 2014

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What should I do? What should I do?
Still at home, I took some special paper, which gave me the opportunity to be treated during my stay abroad. But where should I go with it? That was the question!
I went to the reception and asked them. “We could call you a private doctor“, - they said. “One visit, without treatment, will cost 40 euros for you. (Later, I have known, that there was a doctor in the hotel, who was on duty every day from 10 to 18 hours. I learned it accidentally from Martina – German. We did morning exercises and danced together.) Yes, and how the doctor's visit could help me? Well, he can only put a cauterized. That's all. How long it will be able to act? No, I need a good physiotherapist .
I waited for the arrival of the representative of my travel agency. For some reason she said, that German health insurance would not help me, and took me to the Spa-salon at the hotel. Fuck off this Spa-salon, I thought. My arm hurts terribly and falls off, and they would offer me insanely expensive beauty treatments.
But at first, I have a soft and malleable nature. It's very easy to persuade me. And secondly, there was no other way. Either accept the procedure, or go home by ambulance.
A guy on the Spa reception grabbed a stranglehold on me, tried to convince that he was an experienced physiotherapist, that certainly would help me and offered cryotherapy, i.e. ointment with eucalyptus and menthol, with seaweed and subsequent half-hour back massage. All this gorgeous pleasure would cost for me about one sixth of the amount of my entire holiday all inklusive.
But I felt so bad that I agreed. Аnd all the money intended for excursions into the wilderness and the cities I boomed in these three sessions. At the same time I have clarified:"Will you personally treat me?" "Yes, yes, of course! I am very experienced physiotherapist!"
And then I layed down on a massage table face into the hole and waited for what would happened. I felt my back walking two pairs of hands, and under the table saw two pairs of legs. A few minutes later a pair of legs and arms were avaporated and only stayed another ones. These legs weared white pants and flip flops on bare feet. And these legs with narrow feet and quite beautiful fingers didn't obviously belong to the type I'd spoken befor.
Someone dropped some odorous liquid on my back, then smeared it all over the surface of the back, imposed cheesecloth, then began to smear with a brush. After that procedures he covered my back with rustling paper and two layers of towels, a good crimp on all sides and so left me to lie for 20 minutes. After a while I felt like back got cold and some healing substances penetrated inside. It was quite nice to lie so, if not the arm! I did not know where to put it. I made it so, and arrange so. It still hurt! All these twenty minutes lying with meditative music in a bouquet of pleasant smells I prayed all possible gods, that these procedures would have helped me.
But here cаme the beautiful legs, and hands, belonged to them, delicately began to remove from me all that it was imposed before. Carefully and gently rubbed my back and the great mystery began.
No, I was doing a back massage many times, when my loin were madly aching. It was very painful and unpleasant. But now, these gentle hands just loved all my back, with her sick spine and muscle tension. They stroked the skin, going deeper and deeper into my body, goes around all vertebrae from the neck ending to the deep lumbar. They kneaded, stroked, smoothed out, goes around all the curves and hollows of my brightly decorated body. Half an hour of kaif absolute. I wanted time to stop and these hands massaged my back for the rest of my life. Frankly speaking, few men could give me such a pleasure .:) I did not know who owned these hands. Clearly, it was not the person who I'd spoken befor. And I would, for sure, gave him a big scandal for his lying, but I was so pleased with the session.
Of course I was burning curiosity to know who owned these hands. But the reality has surpassed all expectations. When I finally took a vertical position and looked up at the owner of these magic hands I could not breathe.

To be continued .
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There was a young man, standing in front of me. He was of such unearthly beauty, that I was even speechless for a moment. It was a real, alive arabian prince from the fairy tales of 1001 nights. Long, curly black hair, fine face, beautifully outlined mouth, wide black eyebrows. But the most important thing on this face - huge almond-shaped eyes with long lashes curling up. And thereby he had some soft, even shy glance. He asked me how I feel, and I could hear his voice. This voice was so soft, gentle and penetrating into the soul.
That's where I inwardly cried:" Where are my 17 years!" Then I would, I would...!
No, nothing I would. In my 17 I could not be near to such a fairy-tale prince. And even could, I did not dare to look at him. Well, why such injustice! That's when you know the saying:"If the youth knew, if the age could."
I just had to, like any old aunt, pay for the services of a young man. Do not think bad. I paid for the physiotherapy.:) The rest was free, namely for nothing. It was a joke! And, frankly speaking, that time I was not interesting in flirting. When you're in danger of losing your arm, it is no fun for the youth games.
By the third session sore arm decreased, but still remained weak and I still could not keep it up, bowed down. That is why, hoping that the heat could have a positive impact on the healing process, I'd decided to add a hamam ( Turkish bath) to cryotherapy. Of course, that was not the same hamam as in Turkey. I was invited to a regular steam room, and then there was a body peeling . Fortunately, it did still the same handsome man, that met all costs.:) I must say that he did it very delicately, without touching the area bounded by my swimsuit. But I got away from the skin quite a lot. And how my erotic fantasy was played after this hamam!:)
Because my arm was not yet completely recovered, and I did not want to leave a young handsome man, who regularly stroked my body, I had to extend the sessions. Since I have no more cash, that guy at the reception offered to take me to the bank by his own car. So I happened to be in Mahdia, the small city not far from hotel. On the way I asked him, why he lied to me and he is not engaged in the practice of physical therapy, but sits at the reception, like a half-taught girl. He proudly replied that once he worked with clients, and now he has a lot of different kind of job, because he has several Spa-salons throughout Tunesia. Well, yes, clear, he need to collect dibs from all. It is very importent job! For the entire two weeks of my stay in a hotel, I always saw him sticking out in the lobby or in the gallery. Big boss, ha!
Giving this vampire more money, almost the price of a plane ticket to St.-Petersburg, I had the opportunity to continue treatment and to have the joy of communication with the "Arabian Prince". I went to him evenings, every other day, till my departure. What a shame that I had to be to him with the wrong side of my body. I could not enjoy looking at the beauty of his face. It was hard to look away from him. But, unfortunately, I have no eyes at the nape. I only had to admire his beautiful feet. By the way, when he was doing massage, he always shot slippers. I asked him, why he did that, and he replied to the rustling steps not to interfere. Like so.
From the fourth session, when I said that the arm has not yet recovered, he began to work with it in his own initiative. After imposed on my back this seaweed wrap, he pulled my sore arm very gently, neatly smear it with analgesic ointment, gently wrap in warming paper then in a towel and cautiously tuck it up.
And what movements he unbuttoned and removed the bra straps from my shoulders! And at the end of the session he buttoned back so gently and corrected to all kept well. Every time I was dizzy. I could not even get out of the couche and come down. He should to maintain me. You may think that it was from long lying and neck and nape massage. But I think, not only from this.:)

His name is Jalel. The last day I thanked him warmly and asked to take a picture. Unfortunately, the pictures turned out unsuccessful, but he gave me the address of his Facebook and there I dug this photo. In reallity he is even more handsome!

This young man plows for his boss, that man on the reception, every day, 10 hours a day, tirelessly treating tourists' backs. I could assume that his salary was not so great. But when I found out how much he gets for his work, my indignation knew no bounds. He earns, regardless of the number of customers and the high cost of procedures, 400 dinars, i.e. around 200 euros per month. And he works only six months a year. The rest of the time, when hotels are closed - off season. And how to live? And so all the hotel staff. And probably half of the country.:(

March 2014

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