The air in the massage room was filled with a light scent of lavender and Opium, the perfume by Yves Saint Laurent, which gently rose from a bottle of warm massage oil. The curtains were half-closed, allowing a soft, diffused light to enter the room. The summer warmth hung around them like a blanket, and the subtle sounds of soothing music filled the silence. Adèle lay relaxed on her stomach on the massage table, her eyes closed. Her breathing was calm, as if her body was already prepared for the gentle rhythm of Herman’s hands.

Herman stood beside her, his hands resting on the edge of the table. He took a moment to take her in – her gentle curves, the relaxed tension in her shoulders, the faint smile on her lips. He knew how special this moment was for both of them. Today was the day they would finally allow what had been hanging between them for so long, a desire that had built up during their previous encounters. He warmed his hands with the oil and began slowly, his fingers gently gliding over her shoulders and neck.

Adèle sighed softly as he began to ease the tension out of her muscles. His touches were firm and familiar, but today they seemed a bit more charged. Every contact point seemed to tingle more than before, an unspoken promise in each movement. He worked carefully, his hands gliding over her back, along her sides, warming the oil on her skin while allowing her body to relax further and further.