Perv Masseur Assaults Innocent Clients

You know, I was telling my friend the other day that pervert masseur behavior is one of those things you never expect until it’s happening right under your skin, and mine started off so innocent—I booked a routine deep tissue session and lay face down in that cradle, telling myself the pressure was normal, but then his fingers started gliding lower, tracing the curve of my hip in a way that made my stomach flip, and I could feel his knuckles brush against the waistband of my underwear like it was an accident at first, except he lingered there, pressing just enough to make my thighs clench, and his breath hitched behind me as he whispered about tight muscles, pretending it was all professional while his thumb hooked the fabric just a fraction, sending this hot, confusing pulse through me because part of me wanted to freeze and part of me felt this shameful thrill at how far he’d push, and then he leaned in closer, his chest almost against my back, and I knew I had to sit up before I lost myself in that moment entirely.