I'm 34, and my name’s Lauren. Life’s been a grind lately—work, bills, a breakup that left me raw and lonely. My friend Jess swore a massage would fix me, melt the stress away, so here I am, walking into Serenity Spa, a small, women-only parlor tucked in a strip mall. The air smells like eucalyptus and lavender, calming my nerves as I check in. The receptionist, a perky blonde, hands me a form and points me to a changing room. “Your therapist, Mia, will be with you soon,” she says, smiling. I nod, my stomach fluttering. I’ve never been good at relaxing, but I’m desperate for a break.
In the changing room, I strip down, my clothes piling on a bench. Mia, a slim woman with dark hair pulled into a bun, pokes her head in. “Hey, Lauren, just get naked and wrap the towel around you,” she says, h
