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He said as an expert, ‘Well, who else would Marilyn sing to… actually, it’s not my music. My sister borrowed my phone for one night, well, me with the phone, for her jazz party, cuz her phone had got broken. Good that I kept the music. It appears quite handy tonight.’

As the procedure was close to an end, Alexander placed his palms on Katya’s back and held them still. Then he took Katya’s T-shirt to cover her back.

‘That’s it. Lay still for a couple of minutes and only then get up,’ he instructed.

‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ she exclaimed turning over on her back, her T-shirt flying over. She held herself on her elbows demanding, ‘I would also like a massage on my front side, please,’ her no-longer-firm breasts exposed and her eyes boring into his pupils surrounded by light grey.

He stared steadily at her for a whole minute. Never losing eye contact, the masseur silently placed his right knee and right hand close to the opposite side of her body and sat on her like on a horse. He gave her a gliding but confident kiss. Was he still in the massaging mode? Or could it be simply his style? His feature? Confidence all around him as his aura?