You Look Familiar

Claire Roos chills on the massage table, buck-ass naked except for that flimsy towel draped over her sweet cheeks. In struts Charlie Forde, all business but eyeing her up. They lock eyes, and Charlie smirks, 'Damn, you look familiar, babe.' Claire shoots back, 'Right? You ring a bell too, but hell if I know why.' They shrug it off—no point in overthinking—and dive right in. Charlie leans in, voice low: 'Any spots screaming for my magic touch?' Claire grins, 'Just wanna melt away the stress, but hit my lower back and those killer legs extra hard, yeah?' Charlie gets to work, hands gliding slow and teasing over Claire's skin, building that electric heat between them. Tension's thicker than fog in a steam room. But what's this déjà vu vibe hanging in the air? These two know each other from somewhere...