Silky hands slid from working his spine to massaging his left side. Natasha moved up the table to McNulty’s right and leaned forward. Her hands built up a rhythm, one hand sliding forward and then pulling back, drawing the skintight over his rib cage, sliding forward again as the other hand pulled back. Forward and back. Forward and back. Moving down his body from ribs to hip. The force of her pull back raised his left side off the table slightly with each stroke. The rocking motion teased the pulse throbbing beneath him. Three more circuits and then she turned her hands on their sides, performing gentle karate chops along the area she’d just worked. The pounding brought blood to the surface like an embarrassed blush. She moved round the table and did the same along his right side.

Somewhere in the background he heard the front door close. A few minutes later a female voice escorted another punter upstairs to the lounge. McNulty could picture him being offered tea or coffee or a soft drink; alcohol wasn’t encouraged, since it could lead to problems later. The remaining girls would make small talk as the punter took his time drinking whatever he chose to drink. The delay was built into the service. It allowed the customer to choose his masseuse without being so obvious. None of that line-’em-up-like-a-cattle-market stuff while you made your selection at the Sauna Kabin. That was for the more low-rent establishments. Not for the Northern X chain.

A deep voice sounded from the lounge above him.

The downside of having a communal lounge was that you sometimes came face to face with the next customer. That didn’t bother McNulty, but some punters found it intimidating. The shy type of punter. The cheating-on-their-wives type of customer. Single men on the prowl didn’t mind. It was no more embarrassing than taking a leak at the next stall. All part of being a man.

Natasha finished his right side and went to the foot of the table. McNulty forgot about the lounge as she spread his legs, carefully moving his feet to the corners. More oil dribbled along the back of each leg. Cold and sensual. Firm hands worked his right foot, careful not to tickle. They did each toe and then slid up the back of his calf muscle. She kneaded and caressed it half a dozen times. Same with the left foot and calf. She was dragging this out. As her hands reached the back of his knee, McNulty felt a surge of electricity run up his thighs.

Muffled words from upstairs. Something banged on the bar.