Nervously flipping the business card over and over, Brett walked down 8th Avenue. He looked at the card again, just to make sure nothing had changed from thirty seconds earlier when he’d last looked. It still said, Aaron James, Himeros massage.
The address and phone number of the place was still scrawled in Leo’s handwriting on the back. Seeing the untidy penmanship reminded Brett that he was a little annoyed with his friend. Leo had refused to explain what the massage would entail or why it was called “Himeros.” The only thing he would say was, “I can’t explain it. You have to experience it. Just go with an open mind.”
And one never knows with Leo. He gets off on some pretty crazy stuff.
Brett stopped walking, allowing the rush of people to pass around him. He pulled a wad of paper tow
