McNally's Dare [antikvár]

ONE I am lying facedown on the leather-padded massage table clad immodestly in my heather-gray briefs while a curvaceous masseuse in a rather abbreviated nurse's uniform strokes my left hand, one finger at a time. Seductive music—^Ravel's Bolero, I believe—floats on the jasmine-scented air. Lest you think you walked in on an opiate-induced pipe dream, let me state that I am in the offices of Touch Therapy—^A New-Age Approach to Subliminal Relaxation and Human Bonding. This enterprising establishment is located on a pricey stretch of Via Bethesda in pricey Pahn Beach, Florida. My auburn-tressed bonding therapist is called Bunny. Probably no relation to Mr. Hefner's crew, but iij her Florence Nightingale attire she looks ready to join the warren.