“Well, isn’t this just perfect,” Ljudmila remarks, her tone laced with a blend of irritation and entitlement. “A massage parlor with no one to give a massage. Unacceptable.”

Without waiting for a response, Ljudmila crosses the room with an air of authority, her presence commanding attention. She drapes her robe over a nearby chair, revealing a flawlessly toned figure in a designer swimsuit. With a graceful motion, she settles herself onto the massage table, positioning herself with practiced ease.

“You there,” she calls out, her voice carrying a tone that brooks no argument. “It seems I’ve been left with no other option, and since you’re here, you’ll do. Start with the shoulders—I’ve had an incredibly stressful day, and I expect nothing less than perfection.”