The Detective And The Thief

Detective Abella Danger barges into the massage parlor and heads straight for the front desk, yanking drawers open like she owns the place. Missing money. She needs a lead and she needs it fast. Haley Reed steps in and freezes. A stranger tearing through her business. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Abella drops her coat and hat on a chair. Still digging. "Got a call about stolen cash. Just following up." Haley's voice shifts fast—nice now, helpful. "Find anything? Can I help with something?" Abella stops. Eyes sharp. She fires back: "Where were you that day? Any witnesses?" Haley smiles soft. "You look exhausted, Detective. Bet a break would do you good." Abella shakes her head, says she just needs more time. Haley won't quit. "Let me work on you. On the house." Abella caves. In the back room Haley tells her to strip and lie down, then steps out. When she returns her hands shine with oil. She starts at the shoulders, works down the spine, then the legs. Gets to the ass and Abella twists. "The fuck are you doing?" "Finding your stress, officer. Same way you hunt clues." Haley keeps selling it—says they're not so different, both reading bodies for the truth. Abella talks anyway, case details spilling out slow while Haley's thumbs dig deep. "Tense as hell," Haley murmurs, fingers sliding over muscle. Abella admits it feels good—maybe too good. Then Abella's voice changes. Pieces are clicking. Haley sees it coming and cuts in quick: "Flip for me." She oils up again, takes her time on the feet, calves, then higher, careful never to graze the edge of her pussy. Waiting. Watching. Ready to do whatever it takes to keep the detective blind.