(This premise is as simple as the title makes it sound, don't be fooled by the longer text below :P)

I am also open to a reversal, if a fellow lady reads this and wants to take over my part - I can write a man without issues!

Celebs: Unlike most people on this sub, I only want to use our celebrity as a visual reference, not for the actual character. My heroine will still be a minor celebrity in our story as well - a model/influencer.

Most of the looks I would prefer here are along the lines of these ladies: Frida Aasen, Cindy Mello, Carlota Burch - ask me for more suggestions if you aren't into one of them :)

**

It was a good time all around. Not the longest date, not the most intense experience either one ever had, but there was a vibe simply immaculate. It was giving will-eventually-propose-at-the-same-time energy, and who wouldn't be into that? It's what most people crave, that connection with a special someone.

If only the date could have lasted longer. The two of them met the way God intended: Trapped in an overcrowded subway for an hour with nothing to do but to talk to strangers in pitch-black darkness. By the time they got out, the two of them wanted to exchange numbers... Promptly deciding not to wait till one of them texted the other. Our exhausted protagonists sat down in the first coffee shop they came across, and talked about everything that came to mind.

Surprisingly, they clicked rather well despite their different backgrounds. She had just finished a semester abroad in Milan, some prestigious fashion school there was apparently quite fond of her artistic sensibilities. Now she was back at NYU, working on her degree in Fashion restoration while hustling as a model on the side. Of course, she was - how else could she afford a proper condo in New York without rich parents to back her up?

Her date? A few years her senior, he'd gotten his degree as a nutrition specialist and kinesiologist, recently added his AMTA certificate. That last one, making him a proper massage therapist, had allowed him to add yet another venture to the spa he co-owned. High arts and a proper, useful education - a match often seen, rarely one that works too well, especially not in these younger years.

But the two of them were hopeful. Glances, smiles - holding hands near the end of it, all daring and stuff. Unfortunately, as they were on their way to her apartment, both a little confused as to why they were both so perfectly content jumping onto each other two hours after meeting, she got a call. Models in New York... have a pretty shit schedule. When the agency calls, they often have just a few minutes to get to a gig. With that, they bid their farewells... and later that day, they both realized they actually forgot to exchange numbers.

Fuck.

FUCK!

It should not need to be clarified, but neither one of them slept well that night, digging through social media to try and find the other without much luck at all. Mostly because she had the most basic name in existence, Anna, and he didn't even use his name on any of his accounts.

Shit out of luck, those two... until Anna got an idea.

A great one. The next morning, she called her agency, told them she got sick - just to make sure she got nothing to distract her. Then, she went ballistic on google, digging up every last massage parlor in New York... of which there were hundreds. Most of them she could disregard immediately, erotic places, Chinatown locations... those didn't fit what he had described. The others? She could not figure it out, most websites did not list the owners, nor did they have pictures of the staff readily available. Exclusive places usually required a paid membership before one could see anything at all.

But there was another way: Ricciarda. Her date had mentioned the receptionist - because she went to NYU as well! Now, all Anna had to do was to scour Instagram for a Ricciarda that tagged her University from time to time (and really, which student wouldn't brag a little there). It took her one hour to find the right woman - and a lot of her pictures were geotagged too! Anna had back pain by now, crouching over her MacBook, drawing a pattern between the spaces Ricciarda frequented. Oh, how much time she could have saved if she just sent her a DM - but that seemed way too unprofessional.

After she knew Ricciarda's usual routes, she could cut down the spas to those in Tribeca... and if she looked at the coffee shops Ricciarda frequented... yes, there was a pattern! There was one coffee shop she visited too frequently... it couldn't just be because it was close to her university. The times matched up with the hours a college student likely had to work. Closer again - and only four spas remained. Four phone calls tops, and three times the charm - she set up a membership once she had all the intel she needed.

Hey, it had only taken her five over-caffeinated hours, that's all fair in the name of love!

To make it a bit more interesting, she booked the appointment under her middle name. Her date didn't know that one, nor her last name - oh what fun it would be. Anna was well-prepared. Showered, groomed, an appointment at her salon crammed in just before her improvised date night. The last spot at the spa for the day, 8 PM in the evening... Sunglasses, hoodie, anything to make sure he couldn't see her too early. A baseball cap too, Anna felt like an FBI agent ready to catch a predator. Which, given how she got here, certainly had some irony to it.

After Ricciarda (a lovely girl Anna knew entirely too much about at this point) led her to the private (soundproof) room, she was left to her own devices. Her masseur would be with her any moment, she said, told Anna to get comfortable. Well, that she did - slipping out of all that concealing fabric, layer by layer, folding it up neatly on a leather seat next to one of the deep brown walls. The lights were dimmed in the room, and a faint scent of citrus filled the air - it matched the perfume she wore quite well, Anna figured. Just a minute later, no layer left to cover her slender frame, the beauty climbed onto the table. She was facing the door, her chin propped onto a wrist, a giddy smile on her lips as she waited, a white towel covering her waist-down... hopefully not for too long. The door opened, he entered, so deliciously oblivious, then so charmingly shocked in the best of ways.

"The timing was pretty poor, but the gig did pay for this date, so...", Anna greeted him with a proud grin - without a hint of pain or regret, not a concern at all to her that she spent 250$ on this appointment.

Do not jump right in. If you do, I will ignore your message, thank you very much :) I'd like to discuss the fineprint first - kinks you want to explore in this singular scene (within reason), why you think they work here, and what your limits are. Tell me about your character, if there's anything you want to change about him to make him more tailored to your usual protagonists. Tell me what kind of personalities you are into, what kind of looks you favor from those I mentioned above. You can also just ask me to show you some other looks I am into, but you don't need to ask whether I am going to use actress/singer xyz as a reference: I won't.

Notes: Limited 3rd narrators; Consensual stories only; Visual references for characters/outfits and places appreciated; longer (4-8para) format preferred; PM only

Let's have fun :)

I am 18 and all participants and characters must be 18