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Kanon’s massage technique was flawless.

Her glistening body was bathed in warm sunlight as she danced across Ruby’s like a wave pleasure, incense smoke parting to make way for her every little sinuous motion. Push, pull, release and again. Press, rub, release and again. Their bodies tangled in unified bliss.

It felt good. Too good ... and with every passing minute Ruby began wondering if it was alright to give in to such pleasures. What had she done to deserve this heavenly reward? Had her last mission not ended in outright failure?

Slowly, her mind drifted sideways into uncertainty as dark memories came knocking at the door in the deepest corner of her mind, and with every knock came a flash: The image of a yacht. The mention of the Flying Dutchman. The voice of a close friend screaming for help. The sight of a petite blonde riding her. Then louder. An explosion … followed by the coldest darkest water.

Ruby screamed as she clawed her way out of the nightmare. “Get off me you bitch!” she yelled at the befuddled masseuse. Fists and legs swinging wild, striking Kanon in the face repeatedly.

(To be continued.)

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