Nuru's Corrupting Influence

Masseuse Nickey Huntsman lounges behind the lobby desk, eyeing the door like she's waiting for trouble. In struts Charles Dera, face twisted in a scowl that could curdle milk. She flashes him a sly grin. 'Hey there, handsome. What brings you in?' Charles doesn't bite. He leans over the counter, voice like gravel. 'I just found out my son got one of these... NURU massages here. What the hell is that?' Nickey's eyes sparkle with mischief. She leans in close. 'Oh, it's this slippery, erotic gel massage that gets you all slick and turned on.' Charles's eyes bug out like he's seen a ghost. 'No way! My boy's a straight-arrow kid. He'd never go for something that filthy.' Nickey smirks, unfazed. 'Sorry, daddy, but he asked for it himself. Specifically picked NURU.' Charles stammers, red-faced. 'Some temptress must've talked him into it! Swayed the poor kid.' Nickey arches a brow, all cocky charm. 'Why don't I give you one? See exactly what your boy's been missing.' Charles huffs, but you can see the hook's set. He grumbles a reluctant 'Fine.' She leads him to the private room, dim lights and that naughty vibe thick in the air. 'Strip down, big guy. Everything off.' They both shed their clothes, bare skin humming with anticipation. Nickey slathers on the gel, her hands gliding over every inch of him—chest, abs, down to that throbbing cock she works with expert strokes. Charles freezes at first, shocked as hell. 'How the fuck does my kid even know about this? It's too damn hot for words.' But resistance crumbles fast. His breaths turn ragged, hips bucking into her touch. He might've stormed in pissed as hell, but hell yeah, he's leaving with a grin and a skip in his step—dripping with satisfaction.