We chose an abbreviation for a name because the work itself is an abbreviation, the space between two people shortened until nothing fits into it. Everything else about the house follows from taking that seriously.
B2B Massage Amsterdam is run the way a small literary review is run: a limited masthead, a fixed table of contents, a recognisable voice, and a standing refusal to pad any of the three. Fourteen women carry the byline. Five chapters, body to body, nuru, erotic oil, sensual, naked, make up the whole of what we print, and a sixth would mean we had stopped believing in the first five. Each photograph shows the woman whose profile carries it, taken with her agreement; when a woman leaves the masthead, her page and her pictures come down with her.
There is no salon to visit and no door with our name on it, and this is a position rather than a gap in the budget. The women live scattered across the districts they work from, which is what lets forty to sixty minutes hold true across the whole centre instead of radiating from one postcode. A reader never navigates an unfamiliar staircase in a foreign city; the only threshold in the arrangement is his own. And a session held in your room answers to your terms, your locks, your lighting, your idea of quiet.
Body to body work is easy to advertise and difficult to do honestly, because the instrument is the practitioner herself and instruments drift out of tune. So the chapters are narrow on purpose: they are written for women trained in slow oil work or in the Japanese gel, who hold attention through a second hour as steadily as through a first, and who are content to be described accurately rather than flatteringly. Vanessa's hour does not resemble Nora's, and the difference is the product.
A masthead is not a chain of command. Each of the fourteen decides for herself which bookings she takes and which hours she keeps. She may turn down a request without giving a reason. She sets the limits of her own session and tells you what they are. She is free to work elsewhere, and she may end a visit at any point. The house takes your message, agrees the hour with you, arranges the visit and publishes the rates, and there its part of the evening stops.
Spread matters too. The women live in different quarters rather than around a single base, which is why a door in the Jordaan and a door near the museums can both be reached inside the same half hour. The roster page shows who sets out from where, and it is worth a glance before you write if speed is the thing you care about most tonight.
Most of the people who book us are a long way from their own front door. Some are in town for three days of meetings and have exactly one free evening; some have landed from another continent and find themselves wide awake at local midnight; some came for a weekend and want the city's quietest luxury rather than its loudest. A smaller group lives here and simply prefers a familiar flat to anybody's salon. What they have in common is a wish for an hour that is private, unhurried and described without exaggeration, and that reader is the only one this house writes for.
Hotel rooms account for the largest part of the work and apartments for most of what remains. The airport hotels out at Schiphol make up a smaller share and are by arrangement, with the journey time agreed on the thread before anything is fixed, instead of the forty to sixty minutes that holds in town.
The pages of this site and the replies on the thread come from the same small house, so the tone you are reading now is the tone of the answer you will get. We describe each woman in sentences that should still read true when she walks in, and we would sooner undersell an evening than embroider one. If a profile calls someone quiet, expect quiet. If it says she chats easily through the first minutes, expect conversation before the room goes still.
Photographs reward the same careful reading, and how to read them is set out in the journal issue on plates and portraits.
A business shows its character in its habits as much as in its promises, so here are ours. We never ask for money before a booking has been confirmed in the thread, and never by bank transfer, PayPal or gift card, so nobody is hurried into paying for an hour nobody has agreed. We keep no studio, no waiting room and no side entrance. The tariff stays where it is for weekends, holidays and the lateness of the hour. The woman confirmed is the woman who knocks; if she cannot come, you hear it before she would have set out, and you either choose again or take the deposit back. Every booking is for people who are twenty-one or over, and the last word at the door is hers: if she cannot satisfy herself about the room, she does not go in, and a room shared with someone outside the booking is worth mentioning when you write so the hour can be moved.
Discretion is less a promise than a routine kept every night. She dresses for the street rather than for the appointment and carries a single plain bag. Messages on the thread stay confined to logistics and end with the confirmation. The room number can wait until she writes to say she is close. She arrives like any visitor, and if your building asks guests to meet visitors in the lobby, say so in your first message and that is how the evening begins. Readers who are new to all of this will find the guide to what the initials mean the gentlest place to begin, and every figure is printed in the rates table of each profile before a single word is sent.
Two facts close the note. The rate on a profile is the same at three in the morning as at three in the afternoon, whichever woman on the masthead is free at that hour. And the readership is adult by rule, twenty-one or over, with Schiphol's hotels by arrangement whenever a journey begins or ends out there.