to be handwashed with hot towels, terry-clothe, which are only used once and then thrown away, by six women of varying races and ethnicities, all beautiful. These women do not need to be naked, in fact I prefer that they are clothed, but dressed in such a manner that when they lean over me, a piece clothe might occasionally fall away to reveal a hint of creamy thigh, or the gentle curve of the back where it meets the buttocks, or a voluptous breast which cannot entirely be contained.
The soap must be expensive and have an aloe base(my skin is naturally dry) with a slight hint of jasmine scent. I also prefer that they moan quietly in a sensual manner while they wash me, allowing for the impression that bathing me is as pleasurable for them as it is for me.
After I have air-dried, another set of two women must apply the talcum powder to my feet and sensitive areas (to prevent sweating and chafing) while to the rest of my body is applied the finest oils of Mesopotamia and the Far East.
And finally, before dressing, one final beautiful woman is required to massage my buttocks, to prepare for the hours of sitting in front of this damnable machine while I create my masterpieces.
Failing all this (and if I must be honest, I have never succeeded) I am a shower man, with hot water. I'm one of those who feel that baths make me feel like I'm sitting in my own filth.