Heaven is a Hamam

8 Oct


As a hamam virgin with only the vaguest of ideas what to expect, I couldn’t help but be anxious. When I’m anxious I have a tendency to grin rather inanely. Thus I was smiling when I entered the nearby Turkish Baths, when I stripped down to my bikini and paraded thus scantily clad to the low-lit wet room. The grin held firm at the site of the dark, mono-browed, young Adonis who asked me to lie back on the expanse of marble slab. “Your first time?” he asked. “Yes” I breathed.


The stone was surprisingly warm although I still struggled to get comfortable. I didn’t dare look at Neil as he also lay down alongside me. When Adonis started pouring great scoops of warm water over my body, I fought the desire to giggle but the grin remained in place. Gradually, as the water was followed by a rough-gloved hand working its way from feet to neck, it occurred to me that this was really quite pleasant. My complacency faltered slightly when asked to turn over, move closer and a stranger’s hand undid my bikini top. But no, there was the sisal glove again, its long strokes making my skin tingle. An oily concoction of Dead Sea salt discretely massaged from tip to toe changed the sensation and my smile became more genuine. By the time the clouds of warm foam were poured around my neck my facial expression probably resembled Saint Teresa’s.


A little lie down in a darkened room accompanied by a glass of sweet apple tea definitely seemed like a good idea. The chilled out atmosphere was rather marred by the snoring Turk in the adjacent bed, however. We tried our hardest to relax into the mood but the suppressed chuckles at each snorting grunt was the best we could manage until we were summoned to the massage room and the curtains closed.
This was not unadulterated pleasure either, it has to be said. Pain was definitely inflicted. Christian Grey would have approved. With face stuck through a hole in the couch, each limb exposed in sequence, it began to feel like all the blood was being pushed into my head. I felt forced to breath through my mouth as my sinuses congested and concentrated on trying not to dribble on the floor. When both sides had been thoroughly pummelled, a soothing, rose-scented cold cream to the face was followed by a painting of some sort of clay mask. This was left to harden as I did my best to relax to the strains of Enya, struggling because the resulting constriction of the skin left my lips feeling as bloated as a puffer fish.
The sight obviously tickled Adonis on his return. He was the one giggling now!


I didn’t take my camera for obvious reasons but someone was obviously brave enough to have their photo in the brochure!


2 Responses to “Heaven is a Hamam”

  1. chitchatandpics October 8, 2015 at 1:04 pm #

    Sounds fabulous

    • lamputts October 8, 2015 at 1:52 pm #

      Quite an experience and probably not too different from centuries ago.

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