Free Web NovelChapter 35: Tentacle Massage
Nacho approached the table and placed his actual hands on her shoulders, starting with the physical techniques he’d picked up from watching professional massages online in his previous life. Her muscles were tense, knotted from years of running what was essentially a criminal enterprise under constant threat of exposure.
"You carry a lot of stress here," he said, digging his thumbs into the meat of her trapezius.
"Running a business like mine tends to do that."
He worked her shoulders for a few minutes, letting her relax into the sensation of skilled human hands. Then, once her breathing had slowed and her guard had lowered just slightly, he extended his invisible tentacle.
It crept across the table surface, thin and warm, and made contact with the sole of her left foot.
She twitched. "What..."
"Reflexology," Nacho said smoothly, having learned that term from one of the people he had massaged. "It enhances the effects of traditional massage. Just relax."
The tentacle pressed into the pressure point at the center of her foot, and Charm flooded through the contact. freёwebnovel.com
[First Tentacle effect activated. Charm multiplied by 10x. Current effective Charm: 470.]
Madame Corsica let out a sound that was half gasp, half moan. Her entire body shuddered once, then went limp against the table.
"What... what is that?" Her voice had lost its commanding edge, replaced by something breathy and unfocused.
"Trade secret."
The tentacle crept up her calf, applying warmth and pressure in rolling waves. His hands continued working her shoulders, creating that same dual sensation that had been so effective on his clients in Lumen. Top and bottom. Two points of overwhelming pleasure that made it impossible to focus on either one.
"Gods above," she whispered into her hands. "I’ve had massages before. This isn’t... this isn’t..."
"Normal? No. It’s not."
The tentacle reached her thigh and paused, waiting for permission that came in the form of her legs parting slightly. Not much. Just an inch. But it was enough.
He worked her for twenty minutes. Not the full treatment, not yet, but enough to demonstrate what he was capable of. By the end, Madame Corsica was a trembling mess on the table, her carefully maintained composure reduced to scattered pieces.
[Target’s receptivity: 78%. Charm effect stabilizing.]
[Lewd Act Performed: Tentacle Massage]
[Talent Stolen from Madame Corsica: Scent Reading (Rare)]
Nice. That could be useful.
He withdrew the tentacle and stepped back from the table, giving her space to collect herself. It took her nearly a minute to roll over, and when she did, her eyes were wet and her makeup was ruined.
"Well," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "That was certainly... educational."
"Satisfied?"
She laughed, a wild sound completely different from her earlier controlled amusement. "Satisfied. Gods. That’s not the word I’d use." She sat up slowly, making no move to cover herself. "How much do you want?"
"Seventy percent of whatever you charge clients. I provide my own supplies. I set my own hours."
"Sixty."
"Sixty-five, and I get a room here. Nothing fancy. Just a place to sleep."
She stared at him for a long moment, her newly-read scent probably telling her all sorts of things about his emotional state. Then she extended her hand.
"Welcome to the Velvet House, pretty Siren. I think you and I are going to do very well together."
[Charm: 47 → 52]
Nacho shook her hand and allowed himself a small smile.
Not even one day in the Mortal World, and I’ve already got a job, a place to stay, and a new Talent.
This was going to work out just fine.
***
The first week at the Velvet House passed without incident.
Nacho fell into a routine that felt almost disturbingly normal. Wake up in his cramped room on the third floor. Head downstairs for whatever breakfast the kitchen staff had scrounged together. Spend the morning wandering the city in various disguises, mapping out Valdris block by block. Return to the Velvet House by early afternoon. Work until midnight. Sleep. Repeat.
His client list grew faster than he’d expected. Madame Corsica had connections everywhere, and word of the mysterious Siren masseuse spread through the noble district’s bored wives and restless daughters like wildfire through dry grass. They came to him wrapped in cloaks and false names, seeking something they couldn’t find in their gilded cages.
He gave them what they wanted and took what he needed.
[Talent Absorbed: Minor Illusion (Common)]
[Talent Absorbed: Enhanced Hearing (Uncommon)]
[Talent Absorbed: Poison Resistance (Common)]
[Poison Resistance (Common) + Toxic Resistance (Common) = No change. Talent absorbed into existing roster.]
[Charm: 52 → 58]
Nothing spectacular, but steady progress. The Charm gains alone made it worth his while.
On the eighth day, everything changed.
Nacho was walking through the market district in his "Tomas" form when his Apex Senses screamed a warning so loud it nearly made him stumble. He stopped dead in the middle of the street, ignoring the merchant who cursed at him for blocking traffic.
What the hell was that?
The warning came again. A pulse of danger radiating from somewhere to his left, powerful enough to make his skin crawl. Combat Precognition kicked in half a second later, flooding his mind with fragmented images of violence and death.
He turned slowly, scanning the crowd.
There.
A woman in black armor was pushing through the mass of shoppers, her movements too quick and too purposeful to be casual. She had a face like a hawk and eyes that swept the crowd with the intensity of a hunter tracking wounded prey. The emblem on her shoulder was a stylized eye surrounded by flames.
Inquisitor.
Pip had warned him about them. The magic hunters. The ones who could sense hidden power.
She wasn’t looking at him. Not yet. Her attention was fixed on something else, someone else, a young man three stalls down who was selling what looked like enchanted trinkets from a rickety cart.
The vendor hadn’t noticed her yet. He was laughing at something a customer had said, completely oblivious to the predator closing in.
Nacho’s instincts told him to walk away. This wasn’t his problem. Getting involved with Inquisitors was the exact opposite of lying low.
But then the vendor turned, and Nacho saw his face clearly for the first time.
It was Pip.
Oh for fuck’s sake.
