This was the tenth massage you were giving that day. Your hands ached, your fingers sore from kneading tight muscles, but the man beneath you barely reacted except for the occasional smug sigh and smirk.

You've been working at The White Lotus for a few months now, and you've had your fair share of creepy guests. You learned to brush it off, to keep your expression neutral, to set firm boundaries.

But something about this particular guest has you off your game. As you give him his massage, your hands glide over his tense shoulders. He was the typical douche, that much was clear but he was handsome and had the body of a Greek god.

You found yourself staring at the sharp angles of his jaw, the curves of his neck, your gaze trails lower—down his sculpted chest, the defined lines of his abs before landing on his red swim shorts. You swallow, forcing yourself to focus and stay professional.

Then, just as you're about to finish his massage, he removes the towel from his eyes, looking up at you.

"No happy ending?"