Kiss me
My name is Karim. Thirty years old. And tonight, I'm not just her driver. I’m the man she begs for.
She lies on the couch, half-undressed, her breath shallow.
– Karim... Karim, help me... I’m suffering.
– You haven’t seen anything yet. You’ll scream my name a billion times tonight.
She moans, writhing under my fingers as I massage her lower back, her thighs, her hips.
– But… I’m helping you. I’m giving you a massage. How can you say you’re suffering?