I've been booking Lucian Blake for four, almost five, months now. Weekly, and sometimes more frequently. It's comfortable, but with a frisson that keeps synapses firing... -Claws sparking the senses. -The smooth, sweeping pressure of massage. -Upon request, marking this otherwise-vanilla client. (Unconventional art on an unusual canvas...) -Subtle cycling through acceleration and easing. Memory is not my strong suit, but thankfully I've been able to easily recall: -When, after our bookings, I've left the building with a strong in my step. -My utter delight at the aesthetic of black rope around my wrist. -Seeing a tense in their thigh, and realising I may have caused that (hopefully in a good way). Unless our circumstances change, I'll return for Lucian's skill, peace, expertise, consideration, and camaraderie. And the infinite patience with my random thoughts for bookings texted, as well my behavioural quirks in sessions themselves. My suggestions are merely that as I'm more than happy - I'm absolutely encouraging and insisting - to defer to the expert. They haven't steered me wrong with their mix of massage, light kink, and a damn good dalliance. I've had a number of self-discoveries, and I wouldn't be surprised if there are more on the way. I'm not yet the spirited companion I want to be - or at least I haven't been on a consistent basis. But I'm pretty sure there's a marked (so to speak) difference between first booking Lucian and now.