She clung to that justification as if it alone could steady the storm stirring inside her, as if repeating it in her own mind would somehow drown out the unfamiliar heat pooling low in her stomach.

Whether she realized it or not, her body had not remained a passive observer to what had just happened, and the subtle, traitorous throb of her own lower half made that painfully clear.

Unbeknownst to her, beneath the surface of all that flustered reasoning and denial, her body had already begun to crave the same kind of touch, the same firm, deliberate pressure that had drawn those sounds from Irene so effortlessly.

"Too good? He groped your ass, Irene! That’s not a massage—that’s assault!" Penelope’s voice came out sharper than she intended, laced with disbelief, yet even as the words left her lips, a flicker of hesitation crept in.

The expression on Irene’s face, that lingering softness, that hazy satisfaction, told a completely different story than the outrage she was trying to cling to.

Irene’s blush deepened as she pushed herself up slightly, the movement careless in a way she normally would never allow, and the towel slipped just enough to expose the smooth curve of one full breast, though she made no immediate move to fix it, too lost in the lingering aftershocks of sensation to even notice.

"It was... intense," she murmured, her voice softer now, almost reluctant, as if putting it into words would somehow diminish it, yet she couldn’t stop herself, "the pressure, the warmth, the way his fingers moved, it felt like sparks running through me, and my backside is a little... sensitive, you know that, but he found it perfectly, like he knew exactly where to touch, and I haven’t felt anything like that in so long."

Her words trailed off as her gaze drifted, unfocused, and despite the embarrassment coloring her cheeks, a small, involuntary smile curved her lips, betraying just how deeply the experience had affected her.

Penelope stopped pacing, her steps halting mid-motion as she stared at her employee, her thoughts colliding in a chaotic mess, because part of her burned with the urge to storm out, to drag that man out by the collar and throw him into the street without a second thought, yet another part, a quieter, colder part, had already begun calculating.

If what she had just witnessed was real, and there was no denying it was, then his skill alone could turn her establishment into something far more profitable than it already was, and that realization refused to be ignored, no matter how much she wanted to dismiss it.

Being the money grabber that she was, giving him a chance was the most obvious choice. She shook her head sharply, as if she could physically dislodge the thought before it took root.

"Clean up. We’re done with recruitment for today," she said finally, her tone clipped, though her mind was anything but settled.

Irene simply nodded, reaching for another towel as Penelope turned away, her thoughts spiraling despite her efforts to regain control.

Maybe... just maybe... she would give him another chance.

Or maybe she would throw him out for good.

The fact that the second option felt harder to commit to than it should have unsettled her more than anything else.

Outside, Roy shifted from one foot to the other, the seconds dragging into something that felt far longer, his mind replaying the earlier moment whether he wanted it to or not, the memory of Irene beneath his hands lingering vividly, the softness, the subtle firmness, the way her body had responded, it all burned in his thoughts.

And the sounds she had made, those breathless, unguarded reactions, only fed the quiet fire now simmering in his chest.

Yet alongside that, a thread of unease wound through him.

Had he crossed a line?

Probably.

But in a line of work like this, weren’t those lines meant to blur?

He couldn’t quite understand it, the intensity of both reactions, the way Irene had unraveled so quickly despite his thinking he had barely done anything, and the way her boss had nearly exploded right after.

Sigh...

The sound left him heavy, dragging from his chest as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Fucking unlucky as always, and here I thought I was about to get a break," he muttered under his breath, the frustration slipping out before he could stop it.

The curtain shifted suddenly, and the door opened with a sharp motion.

Roy’s head snapped up immediately.

Penelope stood there, her gaze locking onto him, and for a moment, it looked like a storm was about to break across her expression.

He straightened instinctively, his spine going rigid as his pulse jumped.

"You," she snapped, pointing directly at him, her voice cutting through the space, "get back in here! I’m not done with you!"

There was heat in her tone, sharp and commanding, yet beneath it, just barely, a faint flush colored her cheeks.

Roy blinked, surprise flashing across his face.

Hadn’t he been thrown out?

Relief and something dangerously close to excitement surged through him as he pushed himself forward, a bright, eager smile spreading across his face despite everything.

"Yes, Ma’am!"

...

Roy followed closely behind Penelope, his steps just a fraction too eager to be called composed.

The moment he stepped back into the room, the atmosphere hit him immediately, thick, awkward, and heavy in a way that made even him pause for half a second as his gaze landed on Irene.

She was no longer lying down, but sitting upright now and clothed, though that hardly made her look any more put together.

Her posture was tense, and her thighs pressed together, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her shirt skirt as if she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

The moment her eyes flickered up and met his, even for the briefest instant, her entire face flushed a deeper shade of red before she quickly looked away again.

’Cute.’

She couldn’t even hold his gaze.

And more telling than that, her body shifted slightly, almost involuntarily, a small, restless movement that she tried, and failed, to suppress.

Roy blinked.

Penelope did not miss it.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, though whether it was at Irene’s reaction or Roy’s presence was unclear.

She stepped forward, placing herself squarely between the two of them as if drawing a clear line, her posture straightening as she folded her arms beneath her chest, raising those milkers up and drawing Roy’s gaze to them.

He gulped.

She forced her expression into something stern, controlled, and authoritative.

Or at least, that’s what she was trying to project.

"You," she started, her tone sharp, controlled, though there was a slight tension beneath it that betrayed just how much effort she was putting into maintaining it, "before anything else, we need to make something very clear."

Roy straightened instinctively, nodding quickly. "Yes, Ma’am."

Penelope held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to gauge whether he would take her seriously, and then she continued, "What you did earlier," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully, "was inappropriate, but it was... effective."

There was the faintest pause before that word, almost like it had cost her something to admit it.

Behind her, Irene shifted again, her lips pressing together as her blush deepened even further.

Penelope continued, "I will admit that your technique is... impressive," she added, her voice tightening slightly, "but this is a professional establishment, not some back-alley den where you can do whatever you please with clients, do you understand me?"

Roy nodded again, a little more cautiously this time. "Yes, Ma’am."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, not entirely convinced, but she pressed on regardless.