Forbidden Spa Secrets

"That G-string is seriously sexy." My husband was sprawled across the bed, watching me bend over to pull up the lacy underwear.

"What's the matter? Don't you want your wife to look hot?" I turned and threw myself into his arms, tracing his jawline with my tongue.

He shook his head with a wry grin. "Do you really need to get dressed up like that just to go sell some aromatherapy oils?"

"You just don't get it. Women are competitive. Dressed like this? I'll probably move a few more sets today..."

My name is Phoebe Anderson, and I'm a schoolteacher.

Last month, to help make ends meet, I started an online boutique selling women's lingerie.

Online sales were crawling, but the female teachers at my school went crazy for it—some dropping over a thousand bucks in one go.

As a thank you to my best customers, I treated the top spenders to a day at the spa.

The massage room was dim, lit in soft pink, with three tables set up.

We were lying face down, bare from the waist up, nothing but thin white towels draped over our hips. Our bodies rose and fell like gentle hills.

A staff member stood in the middle, pitching us on the idea of a male masseur.

"They're strong, skilled. Their technique boosts circulation, helps detox the skin."

Then Tiffany Roland, on the far table, spoke up. "How old are these guys?"

"All ages. Whatever you're in the mood for." The attendant flashed a knowing smile. "We've got some young, handsome ones. Want me to bring a few in for you to see?"

"Sure. Send one in."

The attendant—clearly working on commission—happily made a call. A minute later, a shirtless young man knocked and stepped inside.

"How old are you?" I kept my face pressed into the table, too shy to lift my head and really look.

"Nineteen, sis. And there's another part of me that's nineteen centimeters, too."

"Oh please. Every guy says that."

"You're welcome to check. For the full experience, I'll be taking the rest off too."

Just like that, he slipped out of his uniform pants, standing there in nothing but his boxer briefs.

"Oh my god."

This was the first time I'd ever seen another man's body besides my husband's. Flustered, I buried my face deeper into the massage table.

All around me, I could hear soft gulps and shallow breaths.

"Kids these days—boys and girls—they develop so well," Tiffany purred, her voice slick with playful judgment.

"Want me to lose the briefs? See for yourself?"

"That won't be necessary. It's just meat. Nothing I haven't seen." She waved him over to her table.