Prepping for the Big Day
Time passed quickly. Tomorrow would be Leo’s first real day on the job—as an actual gangster.
He walked alone under the night sky, the streets washed in a calm, quiet glow. His legs were sore from all the running. Thighs, calves… everything ached.
Then he remembered the free massage coupon from that weird gangster interview.
He pulled it out of his pocket. “Might as well use it before things get serious,” he muttered. “My legs could use the break.”
He followed the address printed on the coupon and eventually found the place.
It was called Brooklyn Rose Spa. From the outside, it looked a little shady—pink sign, bright neon “OPEN,” and a handwritten note taped to the glass:
“Legit Massage Only. No funny business. Keep your pants on at all times.”
Leo read it and nodded. “Good. I’m not here for funny business. Just need a proper massage.”
The Receptionist
Right then, the door opened. A young woman stepped out to greet him.
She had long, straight black hair, big eyes, and lips with a soft, natural pout. Her pink spaghetti-strap top clung to her in all the right places, and that white mini skirt barely covered a pair of legs so beautiful they didn’t seem real—long, smooth, and curved in a way that messed with physics.
Leo blinked. Legit or not, whatever kind of massage she was offering—he was already into it.
She led him into a small, dimly lit room.
Leo nodded. “Oh yeah, baby. Totally got it.” He was way too excited—and trying hard not to show it.
“Please take off all your clothes except your underwear,” she said. “Call me when you’re ready.”
He undressed quickly, leaving just his underwear. But she was so attractive that… well, his underwear started reacting on its own.
He looked down and muttered, “Come on, behave. Show some discipline.”
He gave the front of his briefs a quick tap, like calming down a jumpy pet.
Then he lay face-down on the massage table, cheeks pressed into the headrest, waiting for her to come back.
Meanwhile, his imagination had already started playing out a dozen R-rated scenarios.
The Switcheroo
“I’m ready,” he called out.
He heard footsteps. Someone walked in, closed the curtain, and gently placed two hands on his shoulders. The massage started. His whole body eased up, like he could actually feel some kind of heavenly touch working its way through him.
The hands moved slow and steady. Strong, confident. His whole body melted.
Leo sighed. “This is exactly what I needed.”
The masseuse reached for the pillow to help him turn over. As she did, Leo cracked one eye open for a quick peek.
Wait. What?
It wasn’t the pretty girl at all. Maybe it never was. Now, standing there in the same outfit, the woman looked like a cruel joke—the pink top and white mini skirt just felt ridiculous on her, like a prank played on the wrong body.
Leo froze.
“Uh… where’s the other girl?” he asked.
She smiled gently. “Oh, she’s just the receptionist. I’m your actual masseuse.”
Leo blinked. He wanted to bolt—but reminded himself, you’re here for a legit massage. Doesn’t matter who she is or how old she looks.
He took a breath and tried to reset his expectations.
“Could you focus more on the thighs and calves?” he asked. “Been running around all week. My legs are killing me.”
Crossing the Line
The woman placed her hands on his thighs and started working up and down. Simple movements. But his body reacted like something electric had touched him.
Goosebumps. “Okay… this is weird,” Leo thought.
Then she asked, “You mean the inner thighs? Like… the inner-inner part?”
Leo tensed up. “No, no, no—just the outside. Outer thighs only.”
But her hands started drifting inward anyway.
Closer. And closer. Like they were ignoring everything he just said—getting dangerously close to the forbidden zone.
Leo shot his hands down to block her.
“Hey—no. I meant below that. Maybe work on the shins instead?”
She paused for a second, then casually moved her hands up to his abs and pecs—real gentle, brushing over them with a slow, flirty touch.
Leo winced. He felt his whole body retreating.
Then she said, “You’re actually my type, you know. We don’t earn much doing regular massages. A lot of us offer extras to make a living.”
Leo raised a hand like he was drawing the line. “I came here for a legit massage. Nothing else. Please… keep it professional.”
She leaned in, lowered her voice, and whispered, “Oh, I am professional. I’m a real pro when it comes to erotic massage. I can take you from heaven all the way back to earth.”
Exit Plan
That was the final straw.
Leo leapt off the table, grabbed his shirt, and in one motion, jumped out the second-floor window to the street below.
“Oh, I can’t take this anymore. I’m done. I need to get out of here while I still can,” Leo muttered. He walked down the block, pulling his pink T-shirt over his head as fast as he could.
Then he stopped cold. He had forgotten his pants.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
There was no way he was going back in there. He looked around. The street was dead quiet. Too quiet.
That’s when he saw them. A few headless bodies dumped near the curb like garbage.
Leo stopped breathing for a second. “What the hell is going on…”
The Man in the Street
He kept walking, more cautious now. Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the street. White dress shirt, black slacks, leather shoes polished to a shine. Golden-rimmed glasses. Holding a sleek black briefcase.
The man looked up and spoke calmly.
“This is as far as you go.”
Leo squinted, confused. “Say what?”
The man replied calmly, “I’m the higher-up executioner from the Humble Organization. My name is Michael. I’m here to execute you.”
Leo’s eyes widened. A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead. “What the… Execute me? For what?!”