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Yo, so I’m a cashier, right? Scanning beep-beep shit all day. Sexual-massage pops in my head. Like, who’s payin’ for that? Weirdos, probly. I’m standin’ there, thinkin’—hands on necks, oil everywhere. Sounds messy as hell. I’d be pissed if it spilled on my register. “The truth is out there,” like Spotlight says. Diggin’ deep, man, it’s wild. Some parlors? Shady as fuck. Little fact—ancient Rome had ‘em too. Called it “massage with benefits.” Freaky senators, toga and all. I’m like, damn, history’s nasty!