Chapter 62

Chapter 62: Chapter 62

I sat down on the edge of the massage table, exhaling hard. My hands shook slightly as I reached for my cigarettes. The lighter clicked, the flame caught, and I drew in a long drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs before blowing it out.

The ceiling above me blurred through the haze. Maybe I should’ve used more oil...? No. Shit, no. I need something stronger for her. Stronger than that. But what?

I tapped ash onto the floor, dragged again, and leaned back. The room smelled of perfume and oil, sweat and smoke. My head spun with it.

Two minutes later, I heard footsteps again. Sharp, quick, echoing down the hall. High-heels. Lighter than Anotov’s, faster.

I cocked an eyebrow, took another drag, and sure enough, the door burst open.

Susan stormed in, all fire and energy, but her voice was nothing like before. Not the cold receptionist bark I’d gotten earlier. Now she was practically glowing.

"You beautiful perverted bastard!" she cried, grinning wide. "She liked the massage a lot! A LOT!"

I blinked, cigarette halfway to my lips. "She did?"

"She tipped you," Susan said, rushing toward me. "Five thousand. And she tipped me double that for recommending you. Ten thousand total."

I choked on the smoke, coughing it out. "Ten thousand? Holy fucking shit."

"Yes!" she squealed, bouncing on her heels. "God, if she shares this on her social media, we’ll get soooo many customers!"

"Yaaay," I deadpanned, flicking ash onto the floor. "I’m so happy for the company I don’t even work for. Truly, I’m overjoyed."

"Don’t be such a dick," she said, smacking me lightly on the shoulder. "Give me a cigarette."

I dug into my pack and slid one out, handing it to her. She stuck it between her lips, and I leaned forward with my lighter. The flame touched the tip, and she inhaled, her eyes closing briefly as the smoke curled upward.

For a moment, it was just the two of us sitting there, side by side, smoke drifting in the air, both thinking about the same woman who’d just walked out.

"I should get a massage from you sometime," Susan said, lips curling into a sly smirk as she held her cigarette between two painted nails. She tilted her head back, exhaling smoke like she was trying to fog up the whole damn ceiling.

I gave a half-shrug, leaning on the table beside her.

"How can you be so good at this?" she added, her eyes narrowing, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to praise me or interrogate me.

"I’m self-taught," I said. "Watched some videos, read some articles..."

She squinted at me, then barked a laugh. "Watched a lot of porn, too."

I grinned, flicking ash into the tray. "And that. Maybe. I’m not confirming nor denying."

We both chuckled—short, sharp little laughs that fizzled out just as fast as they came. When the sound died, the silence crept in, heavy and awkward. The only noise left in the room was the faint hiss of our cigarettes and the occasional pop from the wax candles burning low. Funny thing was, it didn’t feel bad. For once, the tension wasn’t choking me. Almost... soothing.

"So," I finally said, breaking the stillness. "I massaged her. Got her to post this parlor on her social media. That’s a win for the place, right?"

Susan took a slow drag, then leaned in and blew the smoke right into my face. My eyes watered as I waved it away. She smiled like she enjoyed watching me squirm.

"Yeah?" she said, voice airy.

"Do I... get a reward?" I asked, grinning, but my tone was half-serious.

Her smirk widened. "A reward?"

"I mean," I coughed once, still batting the smoke away, "you know, something extra. Like... I don’t know."

Her eyes sharpened, her lips curling with amusement. "I’m not going to fuck you."

"Damn," I muttered, pretending to pout. Then I cleared my throat and leaned in with mock seriousness. "How about a quickie, though?"

Her brow arched, cigarette dangling dangerously close to the edge of her lips. "You really want a quickie as a reward? Not money? Not another fat tip?"

"Yep."

"Why?" She leaned forward now, her elbows on her knees, studying me like I was some kind of lab rat that had just done a trick.

I dragged hard on my cigarette, let the smoke curl between us, and said, "I like... women like you."

Her eyes flickered. "Tough. Stern."

I nodded. "Exactly. And I like—"

"You like breaking them," she cut in, her tone suddenly cold, sharp like glass.

My heart stopped.

The words punched me in the gut so hard I almost dropped my cigarette. "Wait, wait, wait..."

Susan leaned back against the table, her smirk returning but now darker, heavier, like she knew she had me cornered. "You rented a room here, right? I put a camera in the there. To make sure you weren’t raping anybody. And, secondly, to threaten you into massaging Mrs. Anotov if you didn’t agree."

"Ah, fuck," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. The smoke in my lungs turned sour.

"And," she added, stabbing the air with her cigarette, "your friend outside saw it, too."

My head snapped up. "What friend?"

"Kayla wasn’t alone. Apparently, she came with her friend. Ivy. She listened right outside the door. Heard everything."

The name dropped like a brick in my chest. "Ivy?" My cigarette suddenly weighed ten kilos in my fingers. "No, no, no, no. Shit."

Susan’s lips twitched into a victorious grin. "So no, Evan. You can take your reward and shove it up your ass. You should be happy I’m giving you the tip."

I didn’t even hear the rest. My head spun, the room shrinking around me. I muttered to myself, voice shaking, "I gotta talk to her... She heard everything... fuck. Fuuuck."

—

The next morning, I couldn’t drag myself to work. My head was still pounding from last night. Instead, I took a long walk into the heart of the city, clutching a cheap cup of coffee like it was the only thing keeping me alive.

By the time I reached Ivy’s place, my nerves were fried. Her building was one of those towering, polished complexes where the glass shined like it had something to prove. Busy streets swarmed with shoppers and businessmen, the kind of place I knew I couldn’t afford even if I sold my soul three times over.

I stopped at her door, took a breath, and knocked twice. My knuckles echoed like gunshots.

It wasn’t Ivy who answered.

The door swung open, and there she was—Delilah. Ivy’s mom.

And holy shit, if time had been kind to anyone, it was her.

She leaned on the frame, her short brown hair framing a face that was softer now but still stupidly beautiful. Kind eyes. Lips that always seemed on the edge of a smile. And her body? Fuck. Her tits were full, round, practically bouncing with the smallest movement. Her ass curved perfect under her house shorts, each step making it jiggle just enough to remind me she was dangerous territory.

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen. All the old memories came rushing back—the bathroom, the panties, the way she caught me staring when I was nineteen.

"Evan," she said finally, tilting her head like she wasn’t sure if she should smile or scold me. "What a surprise."

"Y-yeah," I stammered, shifting on my feet. "Hey."

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, amused. She crossed her arms under her chest, making them lift just slightly. "Been a long time."

I scratched my neck, suddenly feeling fifteen again. "Yeah. Long time."

The memory hit me hard: how she’d caught me back then, staring at her underwear like an idiot. I was in their bathroom—I had to be at least nineteen or twenty. After taking care of my business and about to wash my hands, I saw her panties... just lying there. Under the sink. I fucking stared at them for about two minutes. Imagining her under me, that kind of stuff.

Aaand, she caught me. Opened the door and saw me.

She didn’t shame me. She just... handed me those panties like it was nothing. Like she knew exactly what I’d do with them later.

And fuck me, I did. More times than I could count.

Now here she was, standing in front of me like no time had passed. Still gorgeous. Still dangerous. Still making me feel like my brain had short-circuited.

She gave me that little smile, tilting her head. "What brings you here?"

I swallowed hard, realizing my throat had gone dry. "I, uh... need to talk to Ivy."

Delilah leaned against the doorframe, one hip jutting out casually. Her movement was subtle, but my eyes betrayed me and dropped for half a second before snapping back up. She noticed. Of course she did.

Her lips curved into a knowing smirk, but she didn’t call me out. Instead, she stepped aside, gesturing toward the inside of the flat. "Come in."