Aching for the Lumbersnack

When I arrived at my first massage appointment, I didn’t expect the masseuse to turn my insides to mush. One look and she had me hooked.
But she didn’t get involved with clients. Totally understandable.
Yet when I was there for her after a nasty fall, feelings grew stronger.
Feelings we couldn’t ignore.
After I bandaged her wounds, she kissed me.
There was no going back now. I claimed her as mine.
From now until eternity, I’d always be her client.
In more ways than one.