Chapter 3

Ivy's hands were impossibly soft, sending a jolt of goosebumps trailing across my skin.

I don't know where she learned her technique, but everywhere she pressed felt like a concentrated spark of fire. It was absolute torture—the good kind.

I shifted awkwardly on the table, trying desperately to hide my growing physical reaction.

Perhaps needing more leverage, Ivy leaned half her body weight against me. Feeling my sudden movement, her hands paused on my back.

"Is the pressure wrong, sir?" she asked, reaching blindly to her side for a bottle of essential oil.

Watching her slow, fumbling movements, I suddenly remembered: She’s blind! What am I so embarrassed for?

With that thought, I boldly flipped over, spreading my legs out comfortably.

Seeing her oblivious, reaching out to continue the massage, a thrill of dark satisfaction rushed through me.

Keeping my voice strictly professional, I said, "Hey, Ivy, my chest has been feeling a bit tight lately. Could you focus there for a bit?"

A faint blush crept up her ears, but she obediently moved her hands to my chest.

I held my breath, feeling her softness hovering just above me. It felt like I was floating.

She began to massage the warm oil smoothly over my pecs, whispering, "Is this pressure alright for you?"

I was too busy inhaling her intoxicating scent to give a proper answer.

She was bent over me, the corner of her towel slipping just enough to graze my chest. The sudden, breathtaking view left my mouth totally dry.

Meanwhile, her magic hands were wandering, drawing tiny fires all over my skin, making my breathing heavier and ragged.

I couldn't help but eagerly anticipate what would happen next.

But right at the peak of the tension... she stopped.

Left hanging right on the edge, practically burning up, I heard her gentle voice break the silence.

"Sir, the time for the basic package is up. Would you like to extend the session?"

At that moment, I would have agreed to anything. If she left me hanging like this, I was going to explode!

Without a second thought, I nodded eagerly. "Yes! Add time! Put me down for the max!"

She produced a small placard with a QR code. Before I knew it, $300 had transferred via Venmo.

And just like that, the waves of indescribable pleasure resumed. I sprawled out, completely losing myself in her kneading hands, internally declaring that this was the best $300 I'd ever spent.

By then, my noble quest to avenge Ron was dead and buried. My brain was completely hijacked by Ivy’s hands, desperately hoping they would drift to the areas that actually needed attention.

After the payment, her fingertips gradually started skipping into dangerous territory. But every time she got close, she would deliberately veer away at the last second, driving me absolutely insane.

Sensing exactly what she was doing to me, her fingers came to rest just a few inches below my waistline, pressing lightly.

As she worked, she began softly narrating her life story.

"Mr. Hank, you don't know how hard it's been. Ever since my parents died in a car crash, I’ve been trying to keep this parlor afloat by myself. But without my sight, everything is a struggle. If you hadn't come in today, I probably wouldn’t have had money for a sandwich tomorrow."

She spilled her tragic tale, even letting a few tears fall when she reached the sad parts.

Feeling the dampness on my bare chest, an overwhelming wave of good old American white knight syndrome washed over me. She’s had such a tragic life. I really need to help her out.

With all the "noble" intentions in the world—and a deeply unholy agenda in my head—I whipped out my iPhone and scanned the QR code again.

"Here, consider this a tip from me, or... an advance membership! Go buy yourself something nice to eat. Don't starve yourself!"

I sounded like a saint, but I knew exactly how dirty my thoughts were. Her hands were still lingering at my waistband, and the fire in my chest demanded to be put out. All I could think about was the silky touch of her skin.

After all, giving her $300 had made her a lot bolder. What if I gave her a lot more?

My imagination ran wild. The ding of a $3,000 Venmo transfer echoed sharply in the quiet room.

Right on cue, hearing the money hit the account, Ivy blossomed into a sweet, radiant smile.

"Oh, God! Thank you, Mr. Hank! You're such a wonderful man!"

Accompanied by her angelic voice, those magical hands went to work again. This time, she didn't just hover over the safe zones—her fingers started venturing lower, exploring freely.

A violent shiver ran down my spine, and I gasped.

I looked up to see her smiling warmly. Reaching out to steady herself, she bent her knee and climbed right onto the massage table with me!

"Don't worry, sir. I'll make sure you feel really good today."