The hour bled into seventy minutes. Natasha lost track of time. She wasn't checking the clock anymore; she was focused entirely on the rhythm of his breathing and the pliability of his tissue.
The massage ended with a flourish, Natasha's hands lingering on Emily's skin for a moment before she stepped back. "And now," she said, her voice low and husky, "we'll move on to the rest of your treatment." DirtyMasseur - Natasha Nice - Private Treatment
"I feel like I should pay you double," he said, reaching for his wallet on the chair. The hour bled into seventy minutes