Whooo Waaants A Ruuub Doooowwwn?

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I racked my brain trying to come up with a way to say this that doesn't sound sleazy...I think I have it:

I know this place where, for twenty bucks, you get naked, they oil you up, rub your glistening flesh for thirty minutes, and send you out of the building smiling. Yes, I'm talking of course about the Saint Charles School of Massage Therapy, a little stress-reducing gem hidden on the west side that I've frequented for a few years. While other spas charge a small fortune for a halfway decent massage, the folks here will send you on your way with more cash in your wallet and less tension in those muscles. Why so cheap? It's like this...

To legitimately be recognized as a massage therapist, one must attend a massage therapy school accredited by the state. There is, of course, The less-legal route seen in my recent CraigsList post (can't wait to check my inbox!) However, the Saint Charles School of Massage Therapy is one of those "by the book" schools that finds it necessary to "obey the law" and blah blah blah. As you might imagine, it's a hands-on kind of education. That's where you come in... Students need people to rub, and people need students to rub them. It's uber-cheap ($20 for a half hour, $30 for an hour,) and they're good at what they do. They even have gift certificates! So, with Christmakwanzaramadanukkah coming up, you have the option of sharing the rub-love with those closest to you. Here's how to order.