The massage was supposed to stay professional until he asked if I wanted him to go lower. I’d booked the late slot because my back had been tight for weeks. He worked the knots out of my shoulders and lower back with steady pressure, thumbs digging in just right. When he reached my hips he paused, hands resting on the sheet. “This is usually where I stop,” he said. “Unless you want more.” I told him yes. He folded the sheet down past my ass and kept going, palms spreading me, thumbs working the muscles right at the crease. Then lower. He didn’t ask again. Just slicked his fingers and slid two into me while his other hand stayed on my lower back, holding me in place. Slow. Deep. Curling until my hips started lifting off the table. He fucked me with his hand for a long time. No rush. Every time I got close he eased off, then started again. When he finally let me come it was with three fingers buried and his thumb on my clit, my face pressed into the cradle, moaning into the padding.