Our community members are treated to special offers, promotions and adverts from us and our partners. You can check out at any time. More info. An undercover reporter recently went to Bubbles - a well-known Derby massage parlour - to discover exactly what goes on behind closed doors. Derbyshire Live reporter Nick Reid had previously visited the establishment described as "part of Derby folklore" to speak to the owner and have a guided tour. A pair of women's eyes give you the once-over through a little hatch in the door when you ring the bell.
It feels secretive, as if you're entering a mysterious, clandestine world. In a vestibule, a woman asks for a name and I give her the name of a friend - the first that came into my head. She has clocked me as a Bubbles virgin and explains the tariffs. Then you have to pay for the actual massage.
In the waiting room, there is a woman sitting on a settee wearing a part-unbuttoned short black tunic, fishnet stockings plus a lacy bra and pants set. Given her attire, you would perhaps expect a pair of heels but she's wearing what look like black trainers - if you work on your feet, it makes sense to wear flats however out of place they appear. Now in the massage room, I take a shower and wrap a towel around myself.
The place is clean, if a little shabby. I opt for oil - which gets into your muscles more easily - rather than lotion and confirm that I am required to be naked. I am now naked in front of a woman I met just minutes earlier - a first, for what it's worth. I lie face down on the massage table, feeling very exposed. A mirror on the wall reveals her tunic is too short to cover her buttocks so I can see her underwear as she bends over to work her hands across my legs. I concoct a dreary back story about work while she says it's been quiet because we're approaching Christmas.
It is like a conversation with a hairdresser, only naked. She talks about her worries for her family and the future. She's self-employed so if the clients dry up, so does her income.
