The Massage Trap

My name is Emma Roscente, and I had just given birth to a daughter.

Everyone around me was offering congratulations, but only I knew my own suffering.

My milk ducts were blocked, leaving me unable to nurse my child.

When my best friend Olivia Lopez learned of this, she recommended a massage therapist.

She claimed she had visited him before, praising his exceptional technique.

Olivia sent me his contact information, and I immediately scheduled a home appointment.

Two days later, the therapist finally arrived for his home visit.

My appointment was for three in the afternoon, and the doorbell rang precisely on time.

When I opened the door, I was utterly astonished to see the therapist was a man.

He appeared to be in his early thirties, with refined and handsome features, dressed in white linen clothes, looking much younger than I had imagined.

I suddenly felt hesitant. Could someone so young, and a man at that, truly possess skilled hands?

Moreover, word getting out would certainly raise eyebrows.

The man seemed to sense my hesitation and spoke gently, "Madam, rest assured, I am a professional. I trained under my master for over twenty years and guarantee to resolve your issue."

"If you have concerns, we completely understand. However, the deposit is non-refundable. I hope you can appreciate that."

Hearing him mention the deposit, I gritted my teeth and let him in.

The fee for a private therapist's home visit wasn't cheap, and even the deposit represented a significant sum.

When Olivia recommended him, she had praised his skills to the heavens.

If there were any real issues, she wouldn't have recommended him so enthusiastically.

Thinking this, my tense nerves gradually relaxed.

It seemed that since giving birth, I had become increasingly anxious. No wonder my husband Benjamin often said I had been acting overly cautious lately.

The man introduced himself as Caleb Evans. Upon entering, he conscientiously changed into disposable slippers.

He then turned to me and asked, "Madam, where would you prefer?"

He didn't finish his sentence, but I understood his meaning.

Although I had convinced myself to trust him earlier, actually reaching this step still made me somewhat uneasy.

My husband was still at work, and only my child and I were home.