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I sat nervously in the reception area of our local physiotherapist. She was smoking hot and I was paying good money just to see her under false pretenses. A few minutes past before she breezed into the room looking at her board. She looked straight at me and called my name out. Not hard to do as I was the only one there, but I liked the idea that she knows who I am. I followed her down the passage, my nose picking up the sweet scent of her perfume, lightly applied, yet it had control of me instantly. As we reached the room, she stood aside and let me in first.

“Please sit” she said beckoning to the high bed. “What can I do for you today?”

I sat there not sure of what to say. I desperately needed to lie about having some injury or pain somewhere, but found it very difficult. “Well,” I stammered “I’m supposed to tell you I hurt my back or leg or something, but I can’t. The truth is….you are drop dead gorgeous and I just had to see you. So I recon, if you’re not going to call me a sick stalker and kick me out, please feel free to practice any procedure on me that you don’t normally get a chance to do. Call me your cadaver if you want.”

“That’s very flattering” she replied, clearly taken by surprise “I’m not sure what to say. But I suppose you are paying for a session, so you are entitled to be here, no matter your intentions. Let us figure out how to treat the situation in a way that’s beneficial to us both.”

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