I had a massage once, years ago, in what it looked like a storage room on an upper floor. The masseur was a stocky, muscled, almost shaved head, tattooed Russianin in his mid thirties who looked like a KGB torturer. The massage was exactly that, a torture, immense pressure, I screamed several times and he muttered things in Russian which I understood to be " you need this or that", rough, little oil, horrible. When it finished, he said "tip", I replied "my wallet is downstairs, later". Looked at myself in the mirror and my back and legs were blotched. However, I felt great! What an experience. Did not tip the beast.