Once she had gotten over her embarrassment, Penelope's patience snapped like a taut string.
She uncrossed her arms and planted her hands on her hips, thrusting her chest forward. "What the hell are you waiting for, boy?" she shouted, her voice echoing off the partitioned walls, sharp and commanding.
"You think sweet talk gets you a job here? No. Massage the lady on the table. Right now. I'll examine every damn stroke you make. If your skills are adequate—hell, if they're even close to good—you're hired. But if you fuck this up, get your ass out of my establishment and don't come back. Move!"
Roy swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper.
He gulped again, his eyes darting to the woman on the table.
Up close, it dawned on him that she was really completely naked under those towels.
The white fabric draped over her upper back and shoulders hid her breasts at the sides, but her bare arms and the curve of her sides showed skin flushed from the steam.
The lower towel barely covered her ass, ending just after the swell of her cheeks, leaving her calves and feet exposed.
Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder, and when she glanced back at him, her green eyes sparkled with shock.
His mind raced with the implications, heat flooding his groin as he imagined peeling those towels away.
He nodded jerkily, stepping to the side table where bottles of oil waited.
His hands trembled as he selected a vial of warmed lavender-infused oil, pouring a generous amount into his palms.
Some of the techniques' uses flashed in his mind, uses that could heal or... arouse, depending on how he wielded them. He'd start light, in a more conventional way, to prove his basics. No need to scare them off immediately.
Roy approached the table, positioning himself at Irene's head.
"Just relax," he murmured, his voice steadier than he felt. He placed his oiled hands on her shoulders, his fingers splaying wide.
He pressed down gently at first, using his thumbs to circle the base of her neck where tension knotted tight.
Mana trickled in like a warm stream, subtle and healing, easing the muscles without a hint of perversion.
Irene let out a soft sigh, her body sinking deeper into the leather padding. "Mmm, that's nice," she whispered in a sultry voice.
He worked methodically, sliding his palms down her upper back, and his fingers kneading along her shoulder blades.
The oil made her skin slippery, making it gleam under the lantern light.
Before this, he had never known a thing about giving massages, but now, with a single glance, he immediately knew what to do and where. It was easy for him to spot her most stiff and sensitive area.
Using that knowledge, Roy focused the mana into steady pulses in his fingers, releasing knots with precise pressure, right at the trapezius, then lower to the rhomboids.
Irene's breathing deepened, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. She arched her neck slightly, exposing the line of her spine, and Roy followed it down, his thumbs tracing vertebrae one by one.
Penelope circled to the other side of the table, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny.
She leaned in close, watching his hands like a hawk. At first, her expression was skeptical, and her lips pursed.
But as Roy hit a particularly stubborn knot near Irene's mid-back, applying a rotational press that sent mana flowing deep, Irene moaned low. "Oh... right there." Her body shivered, muscles unclenching visibly.
Penelope's brow furrowed.
She knew that spot—it was tricky for most amateur masseurs.
Roy handled it effortlessly; his movements were fluid, almost mirroring her own renowned technique.
She was the best in the whole establishment, and she usually served only special clients who paid top coin for discretion and skill. No one matched her.
Yet this newcomer... his fingers danced with precision, and mana-infused touches warming Irene's flesh from within. Penelope felt a flicker of shock ripple through her.
"Not bad," she muttered, but her voice held a note of surprise.
She shifted her weight, thighs pressing together as a faint dampness built between her legs.
Watching him work stirred something unwelcome; was it envy? Arousal?
Roy continued downward.
He oiled his hands again, gliding over the small of Irene's back, where the towel began.
His fingers dipped just under the edge, loosening the lumbar muscles with long, sweeping strokes.
He still kept his hand movements conventional still, easing her hips and sacrum. Irene's ass cheeks clenched briefly under the towel, then relaxed, the fabric tenting slightly as she spread her legs a fraction for better access.
"Deeper," she breathed, her voice turning breathy.
Roy obliged, his thumbs pressing into the dimples above her ass, circling to release built-up tension. The room filled with the soft sounds of skin on skin, as the oil squelched faintly.
'How is he so good at this?' Penelope hovered closer with her eyes narrowed.
Roy's skill was on par—hell, nearly surpassing hers in fluidity. But how?
He'd barely stepped in the door.
Her nipples hardened as she watched his hands start to hover around Irene's ass, poking insistently against her top, and she crossed her arms to hide them, but the motion only pushed her breasts higher.
"You're... adequate so far," Penelope felt that she needed to comment. But inside, shock bloomed.
She only took elite clients who craved her expert hands, and now, it seemed her own body craved to be touched as well.
Roy's touches rivaled that, making Irene melt like butter. Unbeknownst to her, juices began to seep into her panties. She bit her lip as she felt discomfort in her groin, forcing focus.
Roy sensed the shift in Irene's movements; she was responding well.
'Time to test the waters.'
He moved to Irene's legs, starting at her calves.
His hands wrapped around the muscle, squeezing upward in firm pulls, his lacklustre mana targeting nerves sensually. Irene's toes flexed, a soft hum escaping her lips.
"Mmmmmm!"