The Pressure Point
When an innocent massage turns sinful
I didn’t go there expecting anything more than a massage. I had tension in my shoulders, stress deep in my lower back, and something heavier I couldn’t quite name coiled low in my belly. The spa was quiet, clean, and dimly lit—soft instrumental music floating through the air. I filled out the short form at the front desk and waited, my robe tied loosely at the waist, heart already beating a little faster than I cared to a...
