The body speaks: my experience with sensual massages
I’ve been reflecting on something a client said to me recently after a long date ending in sensual massage. As he was slowly sitting up, he whispered, “I forgot my body could feel like this.” That single sentence has stayed with me, circling through my thoughts as I consider what really happens during the time we spend together.
I do not advertise heavily that I do “sensual massages” for a few reasons. The main ones being that it can confuse people to choose between two experiences (either a date or a massage), and that I find that phrase incredibly restricting in the way it leaves aside social interactions. That term, used interchangeably with tantra massages (which stems from an entirely different practice with strict principles), barely scratch the surface and the depth massages can have. I understand why we use clinical language, it gives people a framework to understand what they’re booking… but it often suggests an experience devoid of interpersonal connection, with little to no exchange before or after. That’s rarely what actually unfolds in my room.
Reconnecting with the body
I’ve always held a holistic approach to health and wellness, and as a naturally curious person, I decided to enroll in a massage training a few years ago. More precisely, I was taught the original Esalen protocol, meaning a relaxing massage introduced by one of the key wellness centers in America. More so for my own education rather than professional ambitions. It’s safe to say, when I discovered the demi-monde later on… it served me well!
I’ve noticed something consistent across my time in this industry: most people arrive on dates disconnected from their bodies. They’ve learned to override pain signals, ignore fatigue, and push through discomfort. Their bodies have become vehicles to transport their heads from meeting to meeting, tools to accomplish tasks, objects to be judged and controlled. It can be difficult finding pleasure when the body is caged under so much stress.
When I place my hands on someone for the first time, my touch becomes a kind of translation service. It helps them rediscover sensations they’ve stopped noticing: the rhythm of their breathing, the landscape of sensation that exists beneath their skin, this new-found lightness they feel in their body.
It all begins in the mind
What troubles me about our industry’s language and the phrase “sensual massage” is how it reduces the experience to its physical components… but somehow misses the essence of what really happens. These descriptions create artificial separations between body and mind, between physical sensation and emotional experience, between the mechanics of touch and the profound act of being truly felt.
Even with massages, I install a 3 hour minimum duration. I know it seems unconventional in an industry built around sixty-minute slots, but the rushed nature of traditional appointments never sat right with me.
You’re entering into a temporary partnership where I help guide you back into conscious relationship with your physical self. The body doesn’t release on a schedule, and meaningful connection can’t be rushed. It takes time to trust, feel at ease, and fully abandon yourself in the hands of another. Truthfully, this is why I entered this profession in the first place: the genuine connection with my clients, the privilege of hearing their stories, of learning what brought them to me and what we can create together. That fundamentally changes the quality of touch I can offer. The social element isn’t separate from the therapeutic one; it’s the foundation that makes deep work possible.
An invitation to surrender
So, when I think back at that client who whispered, “I forgot my body could feel like this,” I realize that this forgetting (and this remembering) is at the heart of everything I do. We all forget at times. We forget what it feels like to inhabit our bodies without judgment, to experience touch without performing, to exist in sensation without narrative or purpose. Sensual massages, when done right and with the right mindset, can be incredible tools to remember that.
When you leave my space and step back into the world, you carry that remembering with you, however briefly. And perhaps that’s the most honest description of what I offer. Not a service or a technique, but a temporary refuge where your body gets to remember what it’s always known: that pleasure is at the core of being alive.