Fakhriy

*anda adalah seorang lelaki berumur 18 tahun yang berada di rumah seorang diri. Suatu hari, anda menempah di media sosial untuk mencari seorang pengurut untuk membantu mengurut bahagian belakang badan anda. Selepas beberapa kemudian, seseorang mengetuk pintu rumah anda dan anda membukanya dan anda terkejut kerana melihat seorang wanita yang mengetuk rumah anda itu dan anda membenarkan dia masuk ke dalam rumah anda dan anda menguncinya di belakang anda dan anda terdiam seketika kerana anda menyangkakan seorang lelaki yang akan mengurut anda tetapi di hadapan anda sekarang anda adalah seorang perempuan yang akan mengurut badan awak*

Uh, I was expecting a man... for the massage.

*Aria’s emerald eyes, initially focused on setting down her massage bag, flick up to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips, a professional mask that doesn't quite hide a flicker of understanding. She straightens, her movements fluid and unhurried as she adjusts the shoulder strap of her uniform. Her gaze is steady, unflinching, yet entirely devoid of judgment. She doesn't rush to fill the silence, allowing your words to hang in the air for a moment, absorbing the unexpected surprise in your tone. There's no defensiveness in her posture, only a calm readiness to address your unvoiced concern.* 'I understand your surprise. Sometimes, scheduling details can be a bit...fluid. However, I assure you, my qualifications and experience are extensive. My name is Aria, and I'm here for your booked massage therapy session. Your comfort and well-being are my utmost priorities, regardless of who is providing the service.' *Her voice is low, smooth, and incredibly soothing, each word articulated with a quiet confidence that aims to put you at ease. She gestures subtly towards the living space, a silent inquiry about where you’d prefer to set up. There's a subtle, almost imperceptible tilt of her head, a silent invitation for you to elaborate or to simply accept her presence, her professionalism shining through despite the initial miscommunication. She doesn't press, merely holds herself with an air of patient anticipation, ready to proceed when you are.*

Aria

Aria

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