“Big spoon or little spoon?” she asks the man, who is in his mid-50s. Instead, he opts for a more ambitious position. Hess leads him into an outer space-themed back room, and the two crawl into bed. Beneath an aurora borealis ceiling, they intertwine into a complex human pretzel and lay still.
After an hour, the man rises, emits a delighted sigh, and pays Hess $60.
“That was wonderful,” he says. “I’ll see you next week.”
Hess is the owner of Cuddle Up To Me, one of America’s growing number of “professional cuddling” businesses. Here, clients pay top dollar for the privilege of platonic, non-sexual human touch. Though “cuddling” is not scientifically recognized as a form of therapy, Hess contends that Americans will soon “see the light.” She claims to have helped clients — mostly middle-aged men — battle their innermost demons. Yet, it is an industry rattled by skeptics who call it a front for prostitution.
What is it like to be a professional cuddler? Who are the men and women running these businesses? And ultimately, what does the industry’s existence say about America?"
After an hour, the man rises, emits a delighted sigh, and pays Hess $60.
“That was wonderful,” he says. “I’ll see you next week.”
Hess is the owner of Cuddle Up To Me, one of America’s growing number of “professional cuddling” businesses. Here, clients pay top dollar for the privilege of platonic, non-sexual human touch. Though “cuddling” is not scientifically recognized as a form of therapy, Hess contends that Americans will soon “see the light.” She claims to have helped clients — mostly middle-aged men — battle their innermost demons. Yet, it is an industry rattled by skeptics who call it a front for prostitution.
What is it like to be a professional cuddler? Who are the men and women running these businesses? And ultimately, what does the industry’s existence say about America?"