~Sage~
The third session was when the towel slipped. Or the third session was when he let it.
Either way, it was on my back, halfway down, and his hand went on oiling right past where a towel should have been, down over the top of my ass, and I lay there with my cheek on the face cradle and my eyes open and my heart going like a bird.
He'd had three sessions to get here. Three weeks of a legitimate shoulder problem and a legitimate man in a grey polo shirt saying roll onto your front, arm down, breathe out, and hands that had done nothing wrong at all. Almond oil, warm from the bottle in a bowl of hot water. Vinyl table with a paper sheet. A radio on low in the corner.
Today the sheet had gone under my hips when he'd had me roll, and he hadn't fixed it, and the towel was folded small,
