The best erotic masseuses in barcelona
14 April, 2016
Barcelona Massage Parlors
17 April, 2016

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The best and hottest massage in Barcelona is in Shiva Massage in Barcelona.

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The second dance was even more boring than the first.  The music
switched from rock to reggae, but her dancing hardly changed at
all.  He started counting beer cups in people hands, while he
danced, just for something to do.  He had counted 112 by the time
the dance ended.  “Great, only one more dance to go, he thought.”

The next dance was a slow dance.  A lot of parties never put on
slow dances, but this one did, and Jack was very happy, because
he didn’t think he could take a third fast dance with her monoto-
nous rhythm.

He looked at her, when the slow music started, wondering if she
was ready for slow dancing.  She had that same look in her eyes
that he had seen hundreds of times before, that look that says
“Go ahead, put your arms around me and start dancing.  Have I got
something better to do?”  So he did.  And her rhythm was defi-
nitely different this time, finally.  Now, she basically just
stood there, kind of wobbling back and forth a little.  And now
he realized how much he hated slow songs, because they just went
on, and on.  It was a slow love song, just like so many love
songs he had heard before.  This one was worse than many, howev-
er, because it was one of the ones that was currently getting too
much play on the radio.

Finally, the song ended, and, holding her hand, he led her off
the dance floor.  He tried to think of a clever line, but then
decided he didn’t need one.  “Hey, what’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m Jill,” she said.

“Yah, and I’m Jack.”  They would have laughed, but both of them
had heard so many Jack and Jill jokes in their lives, that nei-
ther even found this real life coincidence at all funny.

‘So, I bet now he’s going to ask me to go for a walk with him.
Why do guys always use the same lines?’ she thought to herself.

“So, Jill, want to go for a walk?  It’s a beautiful evening.”

‘Well,’ she thought, ‘at least a walk will be more fun than this
party.  I wonder why all parties seem alike?  The only thing
which wasn’t totally average about this party was the slow dance,
and I don’t even like to slow dance.’  “Sure,” she said, “where
are we going to walk to?  Your place, I suppose, right?”  She’d
been asked on too many walks not to already know the destination.

“Yah,” he said.

Now that she was pretty sure he wanted to seduce her, she decided
to appraise him.  5′ 9″, brown hair, brown eyes, not particularly
athletic or well dressed; but no body odor, no zits, and his hair
was combed.  She would take what she could get.  “Let’s go.”

The walk to Jack’s place was too long.  The party had been at one
of the river houses, but both Jack and Jill lived in the Quad,
away from the main campus.  They had gone up to the river houses
because, as usual, the quad was dead that weekend: only one
party, and it was lame.  They walked up Garden Street, back to
Currier House.  It was a walk both of them took every day, at
least twice a day, and both of them found it pretty wearying by
now.  They went through the standard conversation about majors,
year of graduation, etc.  but neither was really paying atten-
tion; they had asked and answered the questions so many times

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