The Special Massage Service
"Just for today, I'll give you a massage service and only charge you for the scrub."
"I'm… sorry, what?"
Hearing the scrubber lady's proposal while she licked her lips in a distinctly suggestive way, I couldn't help but be flustered, having no idea what was going on.
A young female scrubber working in the men's bath of a public bathhouse was one thing—but now there was a special massage service too?
And she could offer something like that, dead calm, to a customer whose cock was standing straight up in full view?
If such an absurd situation was happening this naturally, there was only one possible explanation.
It's not like the world just naturally became like this… what the hell is going on?
Suddenly, something I'd heard in a general history elective back at university came to mind. Apparently, in the Roman era, people's attitudes toward sex were far more open, and prostitution in public bathhouses was considered perfectly normal.
I didn't know the details, but it seemed people's common sense had been completely inverted to match those times—so much so that offering sexual services at the bathhouse felt unremarkable.
"Sir? Are you all right?"
"Ah, uh… yes. I mean, I'd be a fool to turn down the service."
"Hehe, then let's get started right away."
The scrubber lady smiled with a nod, set down the Italy towel she'd been holding, and headed toward the wash basin.
Right, sure—let's just call it an anomaly that the bathhouse provides sleazy little services like this.
But what was with this generosity, offering a service I never even asked for?
This has to be… because of that anomaly, right?
The anomaly that made every woman around me develop feelings for me. Having confirmed its effects beyond all doubt through Kwon Yuri, that strange phenomenon seemed to be working on this scrubber lady as well.
In that case, I could just sit back and enjoy it, right?
It would be a little awkward if she said otherwise later, but I decided to worry about that later.
A metallic clattering came from the direction of the wash basin, and soon she approached carrying something. In her hands were a transparent squeeze bottle of slick-looking massage gel and a pair of white latex gloves of unknown purpose.
Gloves and everything? She's a total professional.
With thoroughly practiced movements, she worked the latex gloves onto both hands. The rubber snapped sharply against her skin, the sound echoing through the humid scrubbing room—and a strange tension and anticipation ran down my spine.
"Now, relax and just lie back."
"Yes…."
When she squeezed the bottle firmly, cold, slippery massage gel poured liberally over my stomach and chest. Then her latex-gloved hands began to glide smoothly across my bare body.
Starting at my head, working down to the nape of my neck, then kneading firmly into my broad shoulders and chest muscles—her grip was no joke.
Whoa, this actually feels amazing?
At first I'd been wound tight, wondering if this was just glorified foreplay, but her touch was far more professional than I'd expected.
My whole body had been stiff from pulling night shifts, and on top of that, my muscles were sore from using ones I'd never touched before during my first actual experience with Kwon Yuri the other night. As the knots of fatigue melted away, the tension drained from me and I sank into a languid pleasure.
But that pure bliss of a proper massage didn't last long. Every time she leaned her weight in to press into my shoulders and chest, the enormous masses of her breasts—swaying heavily beneath her thin tank top—slapped wetly against my forearms and bare chest.
Squelch, squelch.
"Nngh, hahh… li-like this…."
This is driving me crazy…. How does she even make sounds that hot?
If it had only been visual stimulation, maybe I could have held it together. But with the auditory assault piled on top, my mind was well and truly going blank. Through the water-soaked scrap of fabric, her plump, luscious breasts and rigid nipples were on shameless display—and with every stroke of the massage, those colossal mounds pressed blatantly against my body.
Staying still in a situation like this was easier said than done.
Eventually, I tried to redirect my attention by carefully striking up a conversation.
"Your massage technique is incredible. It feels like all my fatigue is just washing away."
"Oh my, that's a relief. I may not look it, but I've got quite a few years of experience in this field."
"Really? How long have you been doing it…?"
"Massage, quite a while. But I've only been at this bathhouse a short time. Ah, actually, I just got hired two days ago."
"Oh, really? That's not long at all."
I'd worried she might find me a nuisance for chatting, but as expected, she received my small talk in an easy, unhurried voice.
Come to think of it, I had a game-breaking passive skill that made every woman on Earth fond of me—what was there to be nervous about?
To the lady breathing her warm, sticky breath right up against me, I feigned nonchalance and tossed out a sly remark.
"So why did you take a job at a bathhouse?"
"I'm sorry, sir? Why do you ask?"
"It's just… you seem far too pretty to be a scrubber."
"Oh my, stop it. Did I really look that pretty to you?"
Well, honestly, her face was pretty average. But her body was absolutely broken. A woman built like this, oiled up and grinding around in a bathhouse—it was genuinely bizarre.
Could this be another anomaly too?
"It's not just about being pretty, you know. If you don't graduate from a good university with a good major, it's hard to land a good position in this line of work."
"Really? Still, this hardly seems like something you'd need a degree for…."
"Oh my, sir. I think you don't know something you should. You're not aware of that?"
"I'm… sorry, what?"
"Never mind. You don't really need to know, sir."
What was that? Was there something I was missing? It felt a bit dismissive of the profession to say so, but still—it made no sense that you couldn't do well in sexual work just because you didn't have a university degree. If anything, the more common prejudice ran the other direction: that people without degrees drifted into sex work.
So was this an anomaly too?
Just as my head was starting to spin, the scrubber lady burst into a hearty laugh and resumed kneading my muscles.
"So, sir—is the massage feeling good?"
"Yes, it's incredible. Ah, is it okay if I call you noona?"
"Oh my, noona?"
"Yeah. You just remind me of an older sister, you take such good care of me. I have a noona who used to give me massages like this too."
At my brazen lines, her eyes went wide—then she broke into a delighted, nasal laugh. Her affection passive was clearly working overtime; she seemed to be taking my shameless flirting as the most charming thing in the world.
"You're a lot cheekier and cuter than you look, you know. You're the first customer who's ever called me noona."
"Really? I'm glad I'm your first, noona."
"Oh my, stop it. I don't do this for just anyone, you know. Today you caught my eye especially, so count yourself lucky and just take it."
At the sultry whisper she breathed into my ear, her cheeks flushed pink, heat coiled tight in my lower belly.
Her hands, meanwhile, had moved past my knotted shoulders and were gliding slowly down along my gel-slicked stomach. The slippery latex brushed across the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, feather-light and maddening.
God, if she touches any lower than this….
My junior, which had been rocketing skyward since earlier, was now pulsing hot and angry, ready to burst at any moment. And then, at last—
"Oh my."
"Nngh—!"
Her two slick hands, which had been kneading my thighs, wrapped themselves directly around my throbbing cock.
As the smooth friction of latex and massage gel gripped the entire length of my shaft, an electric jolt shot up my spine and seemed to blow straight out the top of my skull. When I flinched in surprise, she leaned her face in between my legs and grinned wetly.
"This thing's still full of energy, I see."
"Ah, haah… that's, because your hands feel so good, noona…."
"Excuses, excuses. Anyway, you're this worked up—I'll have to take care of this side too, or your body won't feel fully refreshed, right?"
With her latex-gloved hand, she stroked gently up and down my thick shaft. Because it was coated so generously with clear gel, each pump made a lewd, squelching sound, exactly like a cunt overflowing with arousal being fingered—filling the scrubbing room completely.
Just from her hand alone, the pleasure crashing into me was enough to white out my vision. She circled the tip of my furious glans with her thumb, then swept her wet hair back and asked:
"How would you like me to relieve it? Should I use my hand, nice and soft like this… or…"
She poked out her red, glistening tongue and slowly, sensuously licked up her own lips.
"Should I warm it up for you with my mouth?"
Was that seriously framed as a question?
Between the overwhelming visual stimulation and the dirty voice tickling my ear, whatever scraps of reason I had left had long since evaporated. The memory of Kwon Yuri servicing me with her mouth yesterday flashed through my mind, and my junior only grew harder still.
Refusing in a situation like this was not a real option.
"Your… your mouth. Please use your mouth, noona."
I swallowed hard and answered as if in a trance, and she gave a satisfied smile with her eyes.
"Hehe, I thought you'd say that."
That short reply was all she gave before, without a moment's hesitation, she bowed her head down between my legs.
And then her big, damp mouth swallowed my bursting cock whole in a single gulp.