The therapist's touch is feather-light, her fingers kneading his flesh with practiced ease. She leans over, her breath warm on his skin, and he feels a stirring in his loins. She notices, her eyes flicking to his growing bulge, a small smile playing on her lips. She leans in closer, her tongue flicking out to lick a bead of sweat from his neck. He shudders, his breath coming in short gasps. She grins, her hands slipping lower, her fingers brushing against his hardness. He moans, his body arching into her touch, his world narrowing to the sensation of her hands on his skin.