CHAPTER 9: CHAPTER 9

Back home, I tossed my bag down by the door and let myself breathe. The apartment was quiet, dim, the only sound the hum of the fridge.

I picked up the half-empty oil bottle, turning it between my fingers. The liquid shimmered faintly, catching the light like liquid gold. Magic in a bottle, huh...

I slipped it into my pocket, grabbed my keys, and headed out before I could overthink it.

I walked up to Jasmine’s door. My heart hammered as I knocked, each second stretching out. Then the door swung open.

She leaned against the frame, wearing nothing but a lacy black bra and matching panties, her curves framed perfectly in the soft glow of her hallway light. Her hair spilled down over her shoulders, and she gave me that teasing little smirk that always left my throat dry.

"Hey, stranger," she said, tilting her head.

I tried to keep my voice even. "What, no pajamas tonight?"

She chuckled. "Didn’t feel like it. You’re here to make me melt again, right?"

I held up my hands. "Professional service, you know. Strictly above-board."

Her laugh rang out soft and warm. "Uh-huh. Sure." She turned and padded inside, hips swaying just enough to make me swallow hard.

The living room was the same as yesterday, a little messy but cozy. She flopped down onto the couch, lying back with her head on the armrest and her long legs stretched out.

"Well?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t just stand there."

I slipped the vial of Sensual Massage Oil from my pocket, rolling it in my hand as I stepped closer. My pulse was already racing. I stood by the couch, hands hovering just over her thigh. "Alright," I murmured, more to myself than her. "Let’s get started."

I began with her legs, the motion of my thumbs working down her thigh and up her calf. The oil was warm, slick between my fingers. She sighed, a low, contented sound. "You know," she began, her voice a little softer than before, "it’s weird, you doing this. Most of the guys... they just want the job done. In and out. No talking."

I kept my hands moving, feeling the smooth skin of her leg. "I get it. People are in a hurry."

"No," she said, her voice dropping. "It’s not a hurry thing. It’s... they don’t want to know. They just want the fantasy. The quiet hooker. The one without a past or a life outside of this room."

"Hmm..."

She paused, and I could feel the shift in her body language, a subtle tension replacing the relaxation. "I lost a lot of male friends when I started. It was like I was contaminated or something. Like suddenly, I was just a walking set of holes, and anything else about me didn’t matter." She paused again, then continued after an exhale. "I just... I didn’t want to become this. It wasn’t the plan. It was just supposed to be a side thing for a while, just to get by. But it’s so hard to get out of it, you know? Once you start, it’s all people see you as."

I didn’t say anything. I just listened.

Jasmine’s head turned to face me. "What is it? You’re quiet. You want it too, don’t you?" she said, her voice laced with bitterness. "You wanna fuck me as well."

I shook my head, my hands finally stilling on her thigh. "No. Not today. Today, I’m just your masseur. I’m here to serve you."

I poured the remaining Sensual Massage Oil, all of it, into my hand. It was a golden, glistening puddle in my palm. Slowly, I let my hand slide down her leg, inch by inch, until my fingers found the edge of her panties. Her breath hitched. The elastic was slick with oil as I pushed it to the side, my fingers finding the wet heat of her pussy.

Jasmine let out a gasp, her back arching off the couch. Her head fell back, and a low, guttural moan escaped her lips as I slid one finger inside. The muscle there was tight, but I felt it relax almost instantly as I started to stroke it. She started to whimper, a small, pained sound that quickly turned into a soft, breathless plea.

"God, Evan..." she whispered, her voice strained.

I added a second finger, and then a third, her wetness making it easy. She began to writhe on the couch, her hips bucking up to meet my hand. Her whimpers turned into a low hum, a continuous string of soft moans as my fingers worked her, teasing her clit with the pad of my thumb.

I kept going. My fingers worked a steady rhythm against her wet pussy. Jasmine’s hips moved, a silent ask for more. Her back arched, and she let out a low, breathless whimper as I felt her clit swell under my thumb. A second wave of pleasure hit her, so hard she could only moan my name, her body shaking with the force of it.

"Don’t stop... please," she begged, her voice a desperate pant.

I pulled my hand out, but only for a second. With her panting, I used the chance to turn her onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open for a brief second, unfocused and glazed over with pleasure. She lay there, breathing hard, and I knelt between her legs, my fingers finding her pussy again. It was slick and swollen. She let out a small cry as I slid a finger inside.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, her voice raspy. "Evan, you’re... a miracle worker."

I kept going, a steady, fast pace. The Sensual Massage Oil had her so sensitive, so ready, that she kept coming, over and over. Her body was twitching, and her massive tits bounced with every thrust of my fingers. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her head rolling back and forth on the couch.

"Fuck me, Evan! Fuck me with your fingers!" she moaned, her hips bucking up to meet my hand.

I didn’t count, but she was spent after ten times, at least. Her body was twitching, her breathing still ragged. Her body ached, but the Sensual Massage Oil was too strong. She came and came and came, a beautiful mess of moans and shudders.

"I need to... tell my friends about you," she panted, her voice slurred. "Seriously. You are the best."

I smiled, my hand still working her, still feeling her clit pulse under my thumb. A thought came to me. "You know," I said, my voice low. "I needed this. I’ve been so... I’ve been so insecure around women. You’ve really helped my confidence. You’re a real friend."

Jasmine’s eyes, which had been closed, snapped open. She flushed a deep red. "Sheesh. Not the time, Evan. Not while you’re fingering the shit out of me."

I chuckled. "Yeah, you’re right, I guess."

With that, I brought my thumb down on her clit one last time. Her body seized. She screamed my name, a long, drawn-out cry of pure bliss. She went completely limp, spent, and silent.

She lay there, a mess. Her thighs and the couch were stained with her juice, a sticky sign of how much she’d come. She couldn’t even move.

"Well," I said, with a soft smile. "Let me clean this place. You rest."

Jasmine groaned, but it was a happy sound. "Wow," she said, her voice faint. "I never came this much. Your fingers are something else."