A Massage....But From Who?

“What do you have setup for me?” asked Vicky.

I just winked, saying only that dinner that night would be memorable.

That evening I ordered dinner in our room. Vicky was dressed in a tight white sundress. As the steward filled our wine glasses, Vicky made a motion with her head as if to say “is that him, is that who you have setup for tonight? I was noncommittal.

“We’ll be finished with dinner at 8,” I told him, and asked if he could arrange a massage for Vicky. He said certainly and would have the masseuse here precisely at 8.

During dinner Vicky downed several glasses of red wine, and was feeling no pain at all. All through dinner I was peppered with questions about the identity of the masseuse. I refused to answer, keeping her on pins and needles.

At precisely 8 there was a knock on the door. I went to let the masseuse in.