My Wife’s Two Faces

That night, a colleague introduced me to a high-end massage parlor I had never visited before. But when I opened the door, I couldn't believe my eyes: my wife, Zhang Jiating, was inside. She wore a tight black leather outfit that clung to her body, its snug fit accentuating her curves. Two red marks stood out against her snowy-white skin. A strip of black cloth was tied over her eyes, so she couldn't see who had come in. I was still reeling from the shock when she called out softly, “Master.”