The “Fake” Massage Turns Into a Moan-Fest

Ivy

The morning sun filtered through gauzy curtains as Ivy and Lake walked hand in hand—strictly for show, of course—into the Retreat’s wellness pavilion. The room smelled of lavender and sandalwood, with soft instrumental music playing in the background. Candles flickered, mats were lined up in rows, and a neatly dressed instructor named Soleil stood beaming at the front.

“Today’s focus,” she announced, “is on non-verbal ...