Thursday afternoons always dragged. Three clients back to back, and by the time four o’clock rolled around, my hands ached, and my shoulders burned from the repetitive work. But Thursdays also meant Nancy. My last appointment. The one I spent all week thinking about. I smoothed the fresh sheet over the massage table for the third time, adjusted the bolster, and checked the oil warmer. The apartment was quiet except for th...

Lucy stared at the hotel room ceiling, her body a map of pleasant ruin. The memory of the previous night played on a relentless loop behind her eyes. The feeling of being utterly filled, the violent pleasure that had torn through her, the shocking intimacy of Ms. Quinn grinding against her, their shared wetness mingling. It was, without question, the most profound sexual experience of her life. She’d been remade. Lucy’s j...

Ms. Quinn slowly pulled her fingers free from Lucy’s clenching heat. A soft, wet sound echoed in the quiet bedroom, and Lucy’s body gave a pathetic, empty shudder. She watched, dazed, as Ms. Quinn lifted her glistening hand. “Open,” Ms. Quinn commanded, her voice still thick with her own satisfaction. Lucy’s lips parted automatically. Two slick fingers pressed past them, settling on her tongue. Her own taste exploded in h...