Most Valuable Masseuse

Glen's team just crushed the league championship in that cutthroat local softball setup. They nailed it after a brutal three-game slog, and hell yeah, the boys voted him MVP. Pocketed $500 in prize cash for the trouble, too. But damn, his body's screaming—every muscle throbs like it got pummeled by a drunk umpire. Aches everywhere from swinging for the fences and diving for those game-saving plays. Teammate claps him on the back, whispers about Rayveness's massage spot like it's the holy grail of rubdowns. Glen smirks, grabs his keys, and hauls ass over there for some serious unwind, ready to let those magic hands melt the pain away.