In the beauty parlour

She sinks into the warm table, bare skin glowing after the salt scrub. Oil pours over her back in thick ribbons, sliding between the cheeks of her ass before strong hands spread it out. The masseuse works slowly—kneading her shoulders, then lower, until fingertips brush the soft lips between her thighs. She parts her legs without a word. The oil glistens there now, catching the light every time she lifts her hips for more. Long, deliberate strokes turn her sighs into low, needy sounds. By the time the hands reach her inner thighs, she’s rocking against them, blonde hair spilling over the edge of the table.