He fell back into a doze, waking only long enough to turn over at her request. She put some sort of bean bag over his eyes as he turned, then he resettled the towel in the appropriate place and began to doze again. She rubbed his neck and his face, then began working her way down his body. She lingered over his nipples, which he thought was a little odd, but he was too comfortable to protest. Then he felt her remove the towel. Oh, well, he thought, if she doesn’t mind, I don’t.

She rubbed his belly, then his upper thighs, and, occasionally, her hand would touch his penis, as if by accident. Then it began to be clear that it was no accident. What kind of service is the hotel running? He heard her squirt some lotion on her hands and rub them vigorously together, then she touched him in a very deliberate way. In a moment, she was massaging more than he had counted on.

He opened his eyes, but the bean bag still covered them, and he closed them again. She went at her work gently, but firmly, and in seconds he was fully erect. His instinct was to reach out for her; he resisted that, but nothing else. Within a couple of minutes she brought him to a climax, then caressed him gently as his breathing returned to normal. Then she wiped him dry and kissed him gently on the lips.

“I’m going to wash my hands,” she whispered. “You relax, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

He heard her close the bathroom door. He sat up and slipped into his robe. What was going on here? He’d never experienced anything quite like this. He supposed she would expect a very generous tip, and it seemed the least he could do. He got down from the table to get his wallet; then the bathroom door opened, and she came out.

His jaw dropped, and he was unable to say anything. Dolce Bianchi stood there, smiling at him.

“Did you enjoy your massage, sir?” she asked.

“I…I…”

“Oh, I believe you did,” she said. “I’d like a drink; may I fix you something?”

“In the kitchenette,” he said. “Whatever you’re having.”

She walked back into the living room as he tried to get his brain in gear, and he followed her. She returned with half a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

“Sit down and relax,” she said, setting down the glasses and drawing the cork from the bottle. “You shouldn’t exert yourself too soon after a massage.”

Stone sat down, and she handed him a flute of champagne. “How did you…?”

“I got your message, and I came right over,” she said. “I didn’t bother with the desk, just came right up, and when the masseuse came to the door, a couple of hundred persuaded her to leave early.”