Yuliana was a fake name that Yamilet had used two years ago.
"Yuliana" was a conservative and traditional 32-year-old divorcee who worked as a low-level employee in the logistics department of a company.
During the day, she kept to herself and never participated in any of the activities with her colleagues. But at night and on weekends, she had a completely different personality and lifestyle. This contradiction made Yamilet happy that year.
For a while, Yamilet had a shoulder injury, and "Glimmer" was introduced to her by Dorian. The blind masseur had the right amount of strength, precise acupressure, and most importantly, couldn't see her appearance.
Later, the small employee who "switched tracks" became a sexy little anchor with a new name, Mary - a very common name.
But when Yamilet came to "Glimmer" to find Thirteen, Yamilet didn't tell him that she had changed her name.
"Miss, does your left shoulder still dislocate?"
The warm palms rubbed the essential oil into the creamy skin, and the scent of geranium mixed with bergamot seeped into her spine.
The man's voice was deep and lingered in Yamilet's ear like a vintage plum wine - soft, sweet, and intoxicating.
"Mmm... not as often lately." Her murmured voice was as soft as maltose that had been simmering in a small pot for a long time.
The man frowned in a place she couldn't see. "So it still dislocates, right?"
He stood up and walked two steps to the left, feeling for the essential oil bottle and selecting one of the designs on the bottle with his fingertips.
He dropped some oil into his palm, rubbed his hands together until they were warm, and then applied it to Yamilet's back.
He reached for her left shoulder blade. "Can I apply a little more pressure?"
"Sure," she replied.
He pressed down on her left shoulder blade, and there was a slight sound of bone joints rubbing together.
The spot where Luis had bruised her not long ago didn't really hurt anymore, but with Thirteen, those scars that had been festering and bleeding would always be exposed again.
Yamilet could expose her bare back to him and act coquettishly because Thirteen couldn't see her. He couldn't see her real appearance or the old scars on her body.
Even if she had just killed someone and her hands were covered in blood, Thirteen couldn't see it. So, she cried out in pain.
"Hold on, I need to rub the oil in," he said, but he still used less pressure.
After a while, he felt something unusual and touched a piece of her skin. "Miss, this place is a bit hot. Did you bump into something?"
Yamilet giggled. "Thirteen, there's another place that's even hotter. Do you want to touch it?"
His ears turned red.
He was sometimes flirted with by customers, but no one was as bold as Miss Yamilet. After all, "Glimmer" was a legitimate place, and they never offered vulgar transactions.
"Don't tease me all the time, Miss." He continued his action, but with less pressure, afraid of accidentally pinching the cotton ball in his hand.
"Oh, Thirteen, are you thinking dirty thoughts?" Yamilet laughed, and her shoulders shook. "I meant my face, it's really hot."
Thirteen's face turned hot too, so he pursed his lips and stopped speaking.
After the oil was fully absorbed, he turned around to get a new bottle of oil. The massage bed made a rustling noise, and he thought Yamilet was moving around for being tired.
He rubbed his hands together and walked back to the bed. "This essential oil contains jojoba seed and bay leaf oil, which are great for repairing and moisturizing the skin…" he said.
But his words got stuck in his throat and his hands froze in place.
Although he couldn't see anything, in the darkness before him, he could almost make out the image of Medusa.
The enchantress had a stunning figure and a face that could turn kingdoms on their heads. But now her lovely short hair had transformed into a mass of serpents with red, slithering eyes.
Her beautiful, mesmerizing eyes shimmered with a dazzling light, and the silver glow was so alluring that it was impossible to look away.
Although he couldn't see anything, he was like the men who had been turned to stone by Medusa's gaze. His entire body had turned to stone, from his fingers to his toes, from his head to his tailbone, and he was completely out of control.
If the massage he had just given was like lanolin ointment, then what were the two warm, soft lumps he was holding now?
His first love had left him after he went blind, and as a male therapist, when serving female clients, he only gave massages on the back and neck. So touching flesh to flesh, holding soft, bouncy breasts like this, seemed like something from a past life.
Yamilet's lips curled up into an uncontrollable smile as she lay back and watched Thirteen's jaw tighten and his Adam's apple bob up and down.
Before Thirteen could react, she grabbed his hand and guided his fingers to knead her breasts, teasingly saying, "Well, this is perfect. I really need some moisturizing here."
Thirteen's hands were large, with prominent knuckles and clean, smooth nails. After just a few rubs, the slick, fragrant oil had coated her soft flesh, making them shine like two freshly peeled and juicy lychee fruits.
Yamilet moaned in pleasure, "Mmm, Thirteen, you're so good at this... feels so nice... mmm..."
Thirteen's mind went blank.
He had given Yamilet a facial and head massage before, and as he explored her face inch by inch, her features slowly began to take shape in his mind.
Her eyebrows had a gentle curve, her eyelids were thin and delicate like flower petals, and her eyelashes were long and curled.
There was a small, slightly raised bone on her nose, and the tip of her nose was fleshy and moist like Debussy's nose - Debussy was his guide dog.
Her lips were plump and soft, with a slightly upturned shape, like a smiling little cat.
Her face was about the size of his palm, with hair cut to ear length, and coupled with her quirky way of speaking, he estimated that Yamilet was a young girl who had just entered the workforce not long ago, with a mischievous personality.
The part of her neck and below had previously only been a vague silhouette in his mind, but now what he was feeling far exceeded his imagination.
The soft and smooth flesh that couldn't be fully grasped with one hand overflowed from his fingers, like butter that had melted from the elevated temperature, changing shape in his hands.
There was something else, small and hard, like a mature hawthorn fruit in autumn.
The color? It should also be red, as he scraped and rubbed his middle finger back and forth at the base of his index finger.
Seeing the man frozen like a block of wood, Yamilet snorted and suddenly tightened his index and middle fingers, making him pinch the two already erect nipples.
She lifted them even higher, squeezing the flesh into a small peach-shaped tip.
"Ah--"
A strong tingling sensation made her frown, and a long moan escaped her mouth, finally releasing all the anger she had felt towards Luis.
At the same time, Thirteen came back to his senses.
He wanted to pull his hand out with force, but instead, he grabbed the two small fruits and pulled even harder.
Another sweet and tender moan, like a sudden thunderstorm in the darkness, made his scalp tingle and set a fire in his belly.
The nipples were slippery with oil, and with the help of the lubrication, Thirteen finally managed to escape, but he used too much force and stumbled back two steps.
The glass jar of aged plum fell to the ground and shattered with a clatter.
He was furious and no longer calm, "Miss Yamilet, what are you trying to do?!"
Yamilet glanced at the bulge in his pants and saw his clenched, white-knuckled fist.
She sneered in her heart, feeling like she was being portrayed as a lecherous man forcing himself on a woman.
It seemed like she wouldn't be able to be naughty tonight.
"I didn't have any intentions," she said coldly.
Lying face down on the bed, she didn't care that the large bath towel covering her lower body had fallen to one side. "I've turned over, you can finish the rest of the massage and leave me alone to sleep."
The sudden drop in temperature in her voice made Thirteen's throat tighten, and a strong surge of acid rose to his forehead.
And the erection in his lower body made him feel like a ridiculous monster!
He bit down hard on his lower lip, not wanting his heart to be like a tender persimmon that falls off the branch at the slightest touch and splits open, leaving a sticky mess on the ground.
He returned to the massage bed, trying to control the trembling of his hands, and attempted to finish the remaining work.
However, he knocked over the oil bottle at last, and the oil spilled all over the massage table, filling the room with the scent of cedarwood.
He fumbled around and picked up the bottle, but there was only a little oil left inside.
Yamilet decided to call it a night, "Forget it, let's stop here. Thirteen, you can leave now."