Chapter 4
Chapter 4
I must have forgotten to check the almanac before leaving the house today. Running into this pair of psychos has my poor heart hammering against my ribs.
The man helped me over to the bedside, looking quite eager to watch me massage a corpse.
This time, I ‘accidentally’ poured out way too much essential oil. After all, if I left fingerprints on a dead body, I’d never be able to wash my hands clean of the suspicion, no matter how hard I tried.
The moment my hands touched the female corpse’s breasts, my heart sank completely.
They were professionals, alright. The body was still warm, and the breasts were still soft.
The woman stared at my hands and said, “Master, why does it feel different from before?”
Can you even feel it right now?
*You’re* the one who’s different, okay?
I really wanted to reach out and slap some sense into her.
“Is the pressure too hard, or too light?” I asked.
“It just doesn’t feel as comfortable as before. It feels like there’s something hard inside.”
No kidding!
I didn’t even need my eyes to know it was different. The tactile sensation was worlds apart.
“That’s normal. Have you ever experienced a let-down reflex while breastfeeding?”
The woman nodded with a hum.
I explained, “When the let-down subsides, it’s soft. When it hits, it feels hard.”
This time, the woman was just making small talk for the sake of it.
For me, every second of that half-hour was pure torture.
When it finally ended, I breathed a sigh of relief. The man and woman seemed to relax as well.
Out of professional ethics-and to dispel any lingering suspicions they might have-I packed my things and deliberately asked, “Ma’am, when would you like to schedule the next appointment?”
“Based on my experience, once every two days is best.”
“Five sessions make up one full course of treatment.”
The woman hesitated, thinking it over, but the man spoke up. “We’ll call you when the time comes.”
“Then I’ll take my leave. I wish you and your wife a happy life together.”
The woman beamed, practically glowing at the way I kept calling her “Ma’am.”
I had to admit, looking strictly at appearances, I would have chosen her too. She was young, beautiful, and had a great figure.
It’s already a difficult time for a man when his wife is pregnant; when a bombshell like this appears by his side, he’d have to be a true saint not to stray or make a mistake.
But to escalate things to murder… that was beyond psychotic.
The moment I stepped out of that room, I felt like I could breathe again.
I had never felt so suffocated in my entire life.
To hell with it-I was calling the police.
However, before I could even pull out my phone, the man chased after me. “Where do you live? Let me drive you back. My wife really enjoyed your service.”
I went numb.
Seriously? There’s no need for that!