Massage lovers are open to manipulation. Generally willing to give anything a try, I’ve experienced Shiatsu, Swedish, trigger-point, Reiki and chair massage. I’ve had acupressure in Burlington, deep tissue massage in Tucson and reflexology in Beijing. And my boyfriend rubs my back before I ask.

So it was with a savvy spine that I trekked to Stephen and Burns Salon and Spa in Burlington for the newest therapy in their feel-good arsenal – Hydrotherm. Developed by a massage therapist in England, Hydrotherm treatment has been licensed exclusively to Aveda “concept salons” for the next three years — which means you can give it a go at Stephen and Burns in Burlington or Williston.

Which is exactly what I did on a gray, foreboding day last week when the temperature hovered around a frigid 15 degrees. As I crabbily negotiated the slushy sidewalks the City of Burlington deems unnecessary to clear, my body stiffened against the cold. All I knew about Hydrotherm was that it involved a water mattress. “It’s like getting a massage on a really warm waterbed,” Spa Director Dorothy Stone had explained over the phone. I’ve never liked waterbeds, but the word “warm” in her description overruled my reservations. At the moment, the prospect of regaining feeling in my extremities was a delicious enticement.

A petite and serene-looking woman, Stone greeted me at Stephen and Burns’ bustling hair salon in Burlington. She led me downstairs to the spa, or what I like to call the “pleasure dungeon” — a duskily lit, aromatic paradise where muscles are unknotted, facial pores steamed and hydrated, fingers and toes polished and pampered. Here various other treatments are administered to men and women with the time and money to lavish on themselves — or, in my case, who succumb to the occasional credit-card splurge.

As we entered the cozy massage room, Stone explained that the Hydrotherm technique is not much different than a traditional massage, with one exception: The entire treatment is conducted while the client reclines on his or her back. “This eliminates the need to turn over and disturb your relaxation,” she said. Did that mean only my frontal regions would be massaged? “No,” Stone assured in a softly modulated voice. “The mattress provides the flexibility to get underneath you.” The thermal effect of the warm water, she added, “helps muscle tension to dissolve, soothes joints and softens fascial tissue.”

Turning my attention to the massage table, I suspiciously eyed the water mattress. Although I wouldn’t hesitate to float on it in a swimming pool, was I really going to lie on that thing indoors? I had hoped to avoid plastic bedding until my twilight years, when I pray I’ll be in an oblivious fog. Tentatively, I reached a hand toward the mattress and touched. It exuded heavenly heat.

“The mattress should be about 95 degrees Fahrenheit,” Stone said, checking the built-in thermometer. She removed a fluffy lavender towel from the towel oven, then left the room to allow me to undress. Although a counter laden with perfumed lotions and oils beckoned from the far wall, I promptly stripped and arranged myself on the table. The mattress beneath me felt squishy and exquisitely warm. I got my knees into a comfortable position over the bolster that propped the mattress about two-thirds of the way down, and draped the towel over my body. Soft, New Age music wafted in the air. A scented candle flickered.

After a minute, I was ready to put to rest all my negative experiences on waterbeds during the ’80s — those nights spent flopping around like a dying fish and being sloshed out of sleep when the other person moved. I began to wonder if that English masseur might be willing to fashion a similar contraption to fit my bed.

My reverie was interrupted by Stone’s return. She checked my position on the mattress, slid a cushion under my head and began rubbing fragrant oil between her palms. “I should warn you that it’s going to get a bit slippery,” she said. Briefly, I felt like I was in a porn film. “You’ll find yourself sliding around on the mattress,” she explained, “but I promise you won’t fall off.”

“That would really break the mood,” I offered, and closed my eyes.

She began with my legs, easily slipping her fingers under the mattress to knead tight hamstring muscles and my frozen feet. Meanwhile, my back was luxuriously melting under its heated cushion. By the time she reached my neck and shoulders — which usually take several minutes of deep massage to uncoil — the muscles were already unraveling.

I gave myself over to the experience, allowing Stone to move my limbs and manipulate my muscles, imagining the blood and lymph circulating in healthful ways, bolstering my immune system. I didn’t know where the now-greasy mattress ended and I began. Breathing deeply, I let go of thoughts concerning the boring tasks awaiting me that afternoon. The dull headache that seems to be my constant companion this winter began to ebb.

But I was getting a bit scorched on that mattress. Stone’s hands, which had been warm at first, now felt refreshingly cool against my skin. Was I supposed to toast like a Pop-tart? I wondered. Maybe the goal was, as in Ashtanga yoga, to let heat flush toxins from the body. Just go with it, I told myself, dreaming of a tall glass of iced tea. All too soon, my hour was up.

“When you get up, do it slowly,” Stone suggested gently, and unnecessarily, as she laid out slippers and a fleecy robe. Gradually, I coaxed myself to rise, shower and dress. Once I had kicked my brain back into thinking mode, Stone and I sat in chairs near the pleasure dungeon’s fountain to chat.

A practitioner of Esalen massage, Jin Shin Do acupressure, Reiki and stone therapy, she views Hydrotherm as another way to accommodate each client’s particular needs. “It’s important to fit the therapy to the person,” she vowed, explaining that Hydrotherm eliminates some of the problems associated with other types of massage. It is ideal for clients who have trouble lying on their stomachs, for instance, or who find a face rest uncomfortable.

“Because heat aids in the process of loosening and soothing muscles,” Stone said, “Hydrotherm is great for people with arthritis, fibromyalgia or joint pain.” However, like other thermal therapies, she noted that Hydrotherm is not recommended for pregnant women or people with high blood pressure, diabetes or heart conditions. The rest of us can get Hydrothermed whenever we have an hour and $65 to spare.

The caveat is that one’s spa treatment may not stop with a massage. Relaxed patrons may be tempted to keep the bliss buzz going with a new coif, a cosmetics makeover or armloads of Aveda products. Not that this is a bad thing. In my case, I was able to face the cold only after investing in rosemary mint shampoo and conditioner, two travel candles, moisturizer samples and a bottle of very hot, vampy red nail polish.