"Mr. Veil, is the pressure too much?"
"Does this feel okay on your shoulders?"
"How about this on your legs—does it feel good?"
Inside the VIP lounge of the Floral Spring Club.
Veil lounged back on a sofa while a girl in a sailor uniform—barely twenty, with a baby-faced charm—stood behind him, bending low to whisper in his ear as she massaged his shoulders. Whether intentional or not, her soft side bangs kept brushing against his ear, flirtatiously teasing.
To either side of Veil knelt two women of truly elite beauty—far beyond your average socialite. Any one of them would be the center of attention in any room. Yet here, they were kneeling at his feet, massaging his legs with practiced ease.
Occasionally, one of them would "accidentally" lose her balance, tumbling into Veil's lap. With a flushed face and stammered apology, she would slowly sit herself upright again, trying to regain composure.
