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You may not believe this, but there's an erotic enchantment in the room with just two people and a massage table. It's not about desires crass or coarse, but something more sublime, an exploration of sensory curiosity, of teasing out tension and watching vulnerability unfurl like a shy, night-time blossom.

You see, I'm a massage therapist. Call me Jack, a 49-year-old Canadian chap with a dash of salt-and-pepper hair, a quiet sense that belies my predisposition to the unexpected, and hands, strong hands, I'm told, that understand more than they should.

One afternoon, a lady walked into my clinic, a woman who broke the mould. She wasn't my usual clientele, the gym-bros nursing injuries or the stressed-out corporate types seeking relief. No, she was different. Elegant, poised - words that, while accurate, couldn't truly capture her allure. Let's call her Ruby. Ruby had a knot in her shoulder she needed working out, said she was referred by a friend who, and I quote, "swears by your gift, Jack". It wasn't the first time I'd been talked up, but something about Ruby's words, the way she looked at me when she said them, light dancing in her whiskey-coloured eyes, it captivated me. It wasn't lust, but a sense of intrigue, like picking up a book devoid of blurb, yet calling to you from the others. Besides, there was no paywall – just a simple exchange of services.

As our session began, I felt my palms gingerly touch her skin, my mind fixed on maintaining professionalism while my curious heart dove into unchartered waters. Her back was a landscape of goosebumps that rose under my attention, a delicious canvas that my fingers would trace. Her soft gasps echoed in the silent room, mingling with the subtle melody playing softly in the background. Some might call it a symphony of seduction, but to me, it was a ballet of trust - her giving her vulnerability over to me and me painting relief across her body.

The room was warm, but her skin felt like inferno under my touch. Working over her shoulder, my hands travelled across her neck, down her spine, lulling her into a neck-arching, lip-biting surrender. Every stroke of my palm, every knead offered a gateway into that sacred territory - mind and sensation. It was as though we were dancing, her every sigh and shiver a cue, my every touch a reply, escalating in murmured harmony.

There was an exchange that afternoon, something potent and indescribable. It was in the way her body relaxed under my hands, the way she exhaled as I worked on her tension, a soft "God, Jack" escaping her lips. And there was a moment, as her eyes met mine in the mirror's reflection, where our mutual understanding bridged the gap of client-therapist. Our session was an understated dance of primal, suppressed longings, delicious and unfulfilled, a symphony of tension and release. That stirring left us in silent reverence when my fingers drew their last caress across her skin.

Our paths crossed only once after that day. "You've quite the gift, Jack," she said, her lips curved in that cryptic smile of hers. Strangely, the roles seemed to have reversed - the professional rendered amateur, caught in Ruby's grip that lingered, teasingly, a reminder of that one curious afternoon as a massage therapist. And to this day, when whiskey-eyed strangers walk through my door, I can't shake off Ruby's memory and the magical dance of curiosity, tension, and tease. It's a tangible echo that has stayed with me, pushing the boundaries of my craft. <a href=https://anussy.com/><img src="https://san2.ru/smiles/smile.gif"></a>

It all started back in March, when dozens of surfers at beaches outside Gulf St Vincent, about an hour south of state capital Adelaide, reported experiencing a sore throat, dry cough and blurred vision after emerging from the sea.
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Shortly after, a mysterious yellow foam appeared in the surf. Then, dead marine animals started washing up.

Scientists at the University of Technology Sydney soon confirmed the culprit: a buildup of a tiny planktonic algae called Karenia mikimotoi. And it was spreading.
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In early May, the government of Kangaroo Island, a popular eco-tourism destination, said the algal bloom had reached its coastline. A storm at the end of May pushed the algae down the coast into the Coorong lagoon. By July, it had reached the beaches of Adelaide.

Diverse algae are essential to healthy marine ecosystems, converting carbon dioxide into oxygen and benefiting organisms all the way up the food chain, from sea sponges and crabs to whales.

But too much of one specific type of algae can be toxic, causing a harmful algal bloom, also sometimes known as a red tide.

While Karenia mikimotoi does not cause long-term harm to humans, it can damage the gills of fish and shellfish, preventing them from breathing. Algal blooms can also cause discoloration in the water and block sunlight from coming in, harming ecosystems.

The Great Southern Reef is a haven for “really unique” biodiversity, said Bennett, a researcher at the University of Tasmania, who coined the name for the interconnected reef system which spans Australia’s south coast.

About 70% of the species that live there are endemic to the area, he said, meaning they are found nowhere else in the world.

“For these species, once they’re gone, they’re gone.”