The Tamesis
I can tell almost instantly if a person is attuned to tantra or has the ability to enter a tantric experience: it’s always in the eyes. It is a gaze that is deeply present, yet wild and free at the same time. It’s like a giant permission slip that allows me to be all of me without holding anything back, and it has the power to make me feel alive and broken at the same time. As I emerged from the kitchen of my Mediterranean villa – where my four girlfriends had gathered around the hilltop pool about 20 feet away, completely oblivious to what I was experiencing below – I knew the masseuse with a 2pm appointment at my door had got it.
A few days ago, a friend of mine arranged for us to have massages for the week. I commented that I don’t care when I got a massage, just the one I wanted. Of course, that meant I was the last one. While my other girlfriends all received massages from women, I was the lone wolf of that man (who we have now renamed Tantra Daddy). What was supposed to be an hour-long massage turned into nearly three hours of deep tantric awakening—completely consensual, yet erotic.
Tantric massage is a body-based therapy rooted in the principles of Tantra, an ancient spiritual tradition that views the body as a sacred vessel of connection and transformation. Unlike traditional massage, which focuses on relieving muscle tension or body pain, tantric massage is designed to awaken the body’s sensations, presence, and movement of emotions and energy patterns. This technique treats the body as a sacred map of consciousness, using slow, conscious, and voluntary touch to access subtle energy points. If done correctly, it triggers deeper awareness and helps release stored tension—not just in the muscles, but in the nervous system, activating joy and restoring the flow of energy through the body.
That day at Villa Mediterraneo, I had no idea that I was about to receive the best tantric massage of my life, but I was more than willing to experience it. Of course, it starts with staring. Not in a creepy or predatory way, but in that tantric way I learned to find out – I felt like the masseuse saw all of me and asked for more. First he asked if he could take his shirt off and I said yes thinking we were just creating a more comfortable environment. The summer in Europe is very hot, right? Who doesn’t want to take off their shirt?
But then he asked me if he could move the towel to my hips and if I could be completely naked. He was always asking for my permission step by step, and I found myself wanting to say yes all the time. Before I knew it, I was completely naked and I could feel him activating erogenous energy points that most of us ignore or fear because they are associated with shame rather than pleasure. He moved with the kind of deliberate, intuitive touch common in tantric massage, where connection is as important as technique. He carefully massaged my breasts and used sweeping, open strokes on my pelvis and inner thighs, bringing me to a deeper level of relaxation and awareness. It was intimate, but not aggressive, sensual, not sexual, and as he continued, I noticed what was really happening: I was being guided back into my body.
When it was all over—somehow nearly three hours had passed—I felt as if I had been plugged into some kind of cosmic porn charger. He wasn’t even touching me in a sexual way, but my body felt bright, alive, and completely aroused. But not necessarily for him, for me – I felt all my energy and I was speechless.
