Message-ID: <29113asstr$983139002@assm.asstr.org>
From: dweller planet <pdweller@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} The Body Worker, Chapters 1-14 (MF. MFF, MFM, MMFFFFF, Mf, Mg, FF, Ff, Fg, FFFFF, groups in all combinations, sex therapy, sex surrogacy, incest, pedo, family group sex, therapist/patient, oral, anal, mast., light BDSM, hospice sex, sex therapist training, sex surrogate training, menstrual sex)
Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2001 17:10:02 -0500
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   <1st attachment, "bwor1_14.txt" begin>



   (file contains parts 1-14)

   The Body Worker

   by

   PlanetDweller

   (MF.  MFF, MFM, MMFFFFF, Mf, Mg, FF, Ff, Fg, FFFFF, groups in all
combinations, sex therapy, sex surrogacy, incest, pedo, family group sex,
therapist/patient, oral, anal, mast., light BDSM, hospice sex, sex
therapist training, sex surrogate training, menstrual sex)

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Standard Disclaimer & Legal Stuff: The following story is adult fiction
intended for private reading by adults over eighteen (18) years of age ONLY
or a higher age if required by the political jurisdiction where you
reside...if you are under eighteen years of age, you are required to exit
now from your browser if accessing through a communications network or
delete this file if accessing it through a local disk system...the
following story depicts sexual acts which if they were perpetrated in real
life would be against the law in all countries and localities; if merely
possessing descriptions of sexual acts which would be against the law if
committed in "real life" is against the law in the political jurisdiction
where you live, you are required to exit access from this story and/or
delete this story immediately...the following story is a work entirely
fictitious and the characters, names, places, dates, acts depicted etc. 
bear no resemblance to any persons living or dead or events and acts which
may or may not have taken place at some point in time....the author who is
using the pseudonym above retains all rights of publication to this
story...individual readers of legal age my freely possess this story and
distribute it to other readers of legal age on a strict non-commercial
basis...storage of this story on any commercial website or by any other
means of storage and retrieval for commercial purposes is strictly
prohibited without written consent of the originating author.

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Chapter 1: my short bio., and how I fell into the profession (MF, FMF,
sex therapy, sensual massage, sexual massage, oral, anal, mast., etc.)

   I have to admit it, I'm one of the luckiest guys in the world.  I have
one of the best jobs in the world, make a great living at it, and get to
have sex with women on a daily basis as part of my job.  But the reason I
feel so lucky as that, more than anything else, I get to help people, 99%+
of the time women specifically.  As a bodywork professional, my job is to
help women heal the scars of past and current sexual trauma and embedded
negative reflective sexual actions, through application of positive
bodywork principles.  Don't assume I'm a male hooker or anything close to
that; I'm a trained professional, and all my patients are referred to me
through my employer, which happens to be a professional psychiatric group
practice.  Every single action I take is within the law, and every single
moment of therapy is reviewed by my bosses, who are licensed M.D. 
psychiatrists or psychotherapy professionals.

   I will admit that certain bodywork sexual therapy regimens are just
barely within the confines of the law and/or the canons of medical ethics,
but not one finger is laid upon a given patient without the expressed
orders of one my supervising doctors, and all actions I take call to the
highest order of medical ethics which was the granddaddy of them all, the
Hippocratic Oath.  And I will admit also that professional sexual bodywork
therapy might be considered the psychiatric profession's, mainly the family
and sex therapy subgroup profession's, dirty little secret.  Bodywork
for/on a patient is used on a patient when talk therapy or drug therapy
either alone or in combination simply doesn't work, doesn't cure or hold
out a reasonable expectation for a patient's probable cure.  The bottom
line is, is that sexualized bodywork therapy, for certain patients which
have certain gross sexual dysfunction(s) that can't be treated by drugs or
talk therapy, works.

   That's why I am such a huge proponent of my profession, however
borderline legitimate it may seem to the more mainstream medical society or
society at-large.  In the two years I've been a bodywork professional, I've
come to believe in it more and more.  I have to admit that, at first, I got
into it because of the money, the opportunity it presented, that and to be
honest the fact I saw it as a way of getting laid more than any guy could
possibly imagine.  My profession has become so much more to me now, but
those more selfish motivations are what initially nudged me towards
considering it.  Perhaps a short bio would be helpful in understanding the
how and why of the past, before I get into the how, who, and where of the
present.

   ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

   I grew up in a happy but lower class family in central North Carolina,
mother and father and one younger sister at home.  We weren't rich and
weren't poor, and because my parents didn't have the money to send me to
college, in retrospect we were more lower than middle-class.  After
graduating from Broughton High, I just bummed around from job to job, when
I wasn't slacking.  I flipped burgers, worked construction, ran a cash
register at a gift shop at Crabtree Valley Mall, did all sorts of normal
jobs a teen-ager with a high school diploma but not much else would do.  I
tried to get some scholarship money to go to 'State, but didn't have the
grades for any, and didn't feel like getting on the treadmill of debt by
taking out student loans I'd owe for the next half of my life whether I
could get a decent job after college or not.

   One Sunday I saw an ad for a nurse's aide at Rex Hospital in town, which
said the job had potential for advancement, with a starting salary of $8 an
hour with a potential to make $12 an hour or more.  Quitting my job as a
parts clerk at a car dealership the next day, I applied for and got the
job. Being six-three and two-hundred-twenty and nineteen, I got the job, no
problem.  Being a nurse's aide as opposed to a nurse, especially when
you're a male, is every bit as hard, dirty, nasty, and difficult a job as
you might imagine.  When ever a large patient needed to be moved, whenever
there was a task they didn't want to give to a female, I or one my
compatriotes was stuck with it.  Still, I enjoyed the work, I enjoyed
helping people, and I enjoyed the money.  Eventually, I went to night
school at Wake Tech, and became an LPN.  After six years of that and no
chance of advancing without a earning my RN which I didn't want to take the
two years off work and go to nursing college to earn, I became tired of it,
and decided to change careers.

   A chance ad in a local weekly freebie arts and entertainment paper lead
to me attending the Carolus School Of Massage Therapy.  After getting some
credit for some of my previous LPN coursework, and after a year of night
and weekend classes at Carolus in nearby Durham, I finally earned my LMT
(Licensed Massage Therapist) certificate and got my State license.

   Because I was a guy, and female massage therapists simply have an easier
time getting jobs, that's just the way it is, I'm not complaining, it took
me another six months before I finally found someone who would give me a
full-time job as an LMT, a group of sports medicine and physical therapy
physicians.  Of course they used me in much the same capacities as I was
employed at Rex doing, moving and positioning large patients and such, but
I also was given a fairly busy workload actually doing therapeutic massage
on patients, "apprenticing" under the PT's (Licensed Physical Therapists)
and orthopedic physicians there.  It was a great group of co-workers there,
even the doctors treated me and all other lower-level employees with
respect, and I loved working with "my" patients, both male and female.  The
positive feedback I received from my patients, how I knew my healing hands
made them feel and helped them heal, really made my job worthwhile.  The
money, while it didn't suck per se, wasn't anything to brag about, was a
little but not much more than I made when I left Rex Hospital, especially
when I would have a slack month of bookings, fifty percent of my salary
being commission-based on the number of therapeutic massages given during a
given pay period.  But I made enough to pay bills and have somewhat of a
life, and that was good enough for me.

   Two years and a bit into my tenure with the Raleigh Sports Injury
Clinic, I had another chance encounter, another stop of the wheel of my
life's synchronicity, which would change my life forever, and put me in the
where and when that I am at now.

   On a fateful day in February of that year, two years and some time ago
now, a certain Dr.  Carol Stein came to see me as a massage therapy
patient. While shoveling snow a few weeks back, she had blown a knee out
badly, and had also twisted her lower back and pulled a couple of muscles
in her thighs pretty badly.  Dr.  Mike, our chief surgeon, had ortho'd her
knee and that had healed very quickly, but she still was bothered by the
menu of pulled and strained muscles she had inflicted in herself while
shoveling snow that day some weeks back, mainly because (and she admitted
to as much) she kept doing too much, wouldn't follow Dr.  Mike's orders. 
And she knew better, she was a physician, if a mind physician, a
psychiatrist, after all.  It was on her fifth visit to me, which was to be
her last, that she dropped a bombshell on me.

   She was lying on my massage table face up, nude but a towel covering her
from breasts to just below her pubis.  I was working the DCL thigh muscle
she had pulled and which was still spasming from time to time, trying to
restore enough flexibility in it so it wouldn't tighten up and make her
double over in pain.  As I felt it relax underneath my fingers, Dr.  Carol
opened her eyes up just enough (it's common for my patients to doze off
while being massaged) to make eye contact with me, and asked me sweetly
"would you mind giving me a labial massage, too?"

   The one thing they drill into to you at massage therapy school, the one
thing my senior instructor, Pam, drilled into me while I attended there,
was that while all massage is a very intimate act, the only thing that
keeps State-licensed therapeutic massage from being considered on the same
level as illegal prostitution is the fact that a massage therapist can
never touch a client in a selfish, sexual way.  Doing so is the highest
breach of professional ethics.  That said, it was unstated knowledge sexual
contact does happen in therapeutic massage settings, sometimes, in certain
circumstances, with certain patients.  Rarely such sexual massage is by
verbal or written doctor's orders, more often it is simply a courtesy to
the patient.  Admitted, I had sexually massaged maybe a couple of dozen guy
patients who had requested it during my time at Raleigh Sports, and a
greater number of women patients.  My sexual massage with my women patients
were all longer-term patients, like Dr.  Carol, who I had a sense of, who I
thought wouldn't scream rape or inappropriate contact or try to get my LMT
license revoked.

   So, I went through my usual of protestations, about how doing so would
be the highest possible breach of professional ethics, how I could lose my
license if I did so, etc.  Dr.  Carol just looked at me and said "relax,
Eric, and I know the drill, and I also know that all massage therapists
selectively sexual massage certain patients who request it...if you want,
I'll get a prescription pad from my purse, and write myself a prescription
for a labial massage, which will protect you from all future liability..."

   "No, that's okay, Dr.  Stein, that won't be necessary"

   I massaged her outer and inner labia, then her clit, then gently frigged
her, then massaged her inner thighs some and went back to her labia and
clit.  She only had ten minutes left in her appointment block, and I
politely suggest she might want to hurry.  Plus, none of the treatment
rooms had locks on the doors, and while unlikely, it was possible someone
could burst in without warning and catch me doing something requested but
which could get me fired.

   "Would you mind doing a deep anal massage, Eric?"

   "No, not at all" I answered "but you only have a few minutes left...but,
sure..."

   I slipped a latex exam glove on, lubricated it with some massage oil,
and massaged two fingers deeply into her anus.

   She came twice that I could tell.  Getting dressed, she fished a
business card from her purse, asking me if I could drop by her office
sometime soon.  I replied honestly that the only time I could do so would
be after work, after normal business hours, one weekday.  She asked if
later that day would be convenient.  Seeing her office was way the heck out
in north Raleigh, traffic would be a bear during rush hour then, would make
a ten mile trip take fifty minutes to drive.  "Six-ish?" I asked.

   The smallish parking lot at her office condo complex off Millbrook was
empty, save a Porsche and an old '70 AMX with fading gold paint.  The drive
from Raleigh Sports' office in Cameron Village had taken an hour and
fifteen minutes, thanks to two wrecks on Wake Forest and Six Forks Road,
and I was agitated.  Taking some deep breaths, it occurred to me that I was
clueless as to why I was there.  She had simply asked me to come to her
office, and I had said yes.

   Usually, a situation like this is where a client asks me to work off the
clock, away from the office, thinking they can hire me cheaper than what
they're paying Raleigh Sports for my services, which I never do, insisting
they make their appointments through RSIC.  Focus.  Shaking my shoulders
and doing some jumping jacks to loosen up, my irritation with the traffic
faded enough to where my eyes and face looked calm, at least.

   The entire office condo complex was deserted.  The main door to Wake
Family Therapy, PLC, was locked.  Knocking, the sound of a key turning was
heard, and Dr.  Stein let me in.

   "Please, Eric, come on back to my office."

   "Why did you want to see me, Dr.  Stein?"

   "Please call me Carol, Eric"

   "Why did you want to see me...would you like a massage now, away from my
office, is that why you wanted to see me?" I asked politely.

   "Yes, partially, that and other reasons...would you like a softdrink?"

   She sat down beside me on the slightly worn dark-red leatherette couch
in her office, handing me a Pepsi as she sipped on a Diet Coke.

   "Eric, over the short course of you treating me as therapist to patient,
I've become very impressed with you...you're a true professional, and as a
medical professional myself, I appreciate the quality of care when given by
others...I'll...I'll get right to the point...when you gave me that anal
massage earlier today, that was the very best one I've ever had, no
question, you really do have a special talent, have special healing
hands..."

   "Thank you, Carol, I appreciate it...but I need to tell you, I don't see
clients off the clock, you'll need to call the office and make an
appointment to see me, I can't and won't breech my agreement with Raleigh
Sports."

   "Well, technically, Eric, since today was my last appointment for you to
massage my damaged muscles, we're no longer therapist and patient, which is
why I wanted you to come see me this afternoon."

   She turned her body more towards me, and her posture relaxed.  Her
facial muscles relaxed, she smiled a bigger smile while talking, her pupils
dilated noticeably.  Patients in the past had propositioned me enough to
where I recognized what was coming next.  Considering I hadn't gotten laid
in a three or four months, that was fine.

   "As an potential friend, Eric, I'm asking if you'd like to have sex with
me...please understand, first, that I'm basically a lesbian, have been
since my first husband divorced me many years back while I was still in med
school, and that my professional practice partner, Jean Forberg, and I have
been lovers for the past ten years...it's a committed relationship, we're
married, so to speak...but, I have to confess, the one thing I miss about a
hetero relationship is having a man's cock, not a dildo or tongue, up my
ass..." leaning in to kiss me, she whispered "Eric, will you assfuck me,
one friend to another?"

   A look of surprise came over me, and I couldn't help it.  My face even
blushed a little.

   "I'll suck you nice and hard if you'd like, and you can even fuck my
pussy some, if you'll spend most of your energy fucking my ass" she
continued.

   "Sure..Carol, s-s-sh-sure...how would you like to do this?" I
half-stammered.

   Dr.  Carol was a 40-ish, middle-aged-ish, slightly plump, but not
unattractive woman, large breasts that looked to be in the "D" cup range, a
somewhat large but not fat ass, slightly chubby arms and small hands and
small feet.  She stood up and turned her back to me.  I unzipped the seam
zipper in her somewhat matronly business skirt, she pulling her blouse
loose from the confines of its waistband.

   Flicking the hooks from her bra as she stepped from her panties, I stood
up as she sat down on the couch and help me undress.

   "Friends...I'm doing this as a favor to a friend, some one I like...a
friend" I reiterated.

   "Friends" she cooed back.

   I plopped back down on the couch and she leaned quickly to my cock,
slurping away.  My hard was immediate and powerful.

   "Everything you need is in the bottom file cabinet drawer, my Eric Dear"
she whispered, pointing to a four-drawer cabinet in the corner.  My hard-on
standing at attention, I waddled over to it, and fished three or four
condoms and a half-filled tube of KY from the assortment of sex toys and
samples of every conceivable contraceptive device and drug known to
mankind. Standing in front of her face, she resumed her sucking, opening
one of the condoms with one quick tear between teeth and manicured nails
like a pro, and rolled it onto my cock with her lips and tongue, something
no one had ever done to me before.  My hard was like iron.  My hands gently
groped her breasts as she sucked my rubberized dick.

   As she rolled up on the couch to present her butt to me, I asked as a
lover if she was sure she didn't mind a short pussy-fuck, before our anal
sex.

   "No, Eric, Dear, whatever you'd like is fine...just concentrate on my
ass."

   My hard being okay for the moment, my tongue found her pussy first as
she kneeled into the back of the couch, lashing her clit and labial lips
some.  Working my way up, my tongue then rimmed her anal pucker, then
penetrated her dark rose, as my fingers gently massaged her pussy and clit.
Scooting up to straddle behind her, my dick penetrated inside her, as I
grabbed one asscheek with one hand and pushed a lubricated thumb up her
ass, my short digit pressing through her Douglas Pouch tissue to where my
longer cock was one with it.  She bucked some and seemed to come.

   Pulling my thumb out and pushing my cock in, she moaned so loud with
unfetered passion that her office condo neighbors would have easily heard,
had it been business hours.  My right hand pushed forward for balance, my
left hand reached around to find and rub her clit, my neck leaned in and
our lips meet and tongues wrestled, a perfect passionate kiss.

   The grind continued for another fifteen minutes or more, but she didn't
want to lay flat down on the couch, and it was an acrobatic act to maintain
my balance on the six to twelve inches of couch space that my knees had to
work with, so, I picked up my pace for three or four minutes, and came.

   "That was incredible, Eric, simply fucking incredible...!!!" my Dr. 
Carol Stein-lover exclaimed.

   I shot her a sweet and polite but slightly cynical "yeah, right, you
probably say that to all the straight guys who fuck you in the ass" look.

   She kissed me full on the lips, playing with my still semi-hard cock as
she sat-lay in my lap, with a "no, silly Eric, I mean it!...thank you,
friend...Thank You...you were incredible, you have something, you gave me
something very special, something I haven't had in years...thank you.." her
voice trailing off as she leaned her face into my neck to snuggle a bit.

   Then, out of the silence save the whisper of traffic noise out on
Millbrook Road, came a slightly sarcastic clap-clap-clap-clap of someone's
hands in mock salute.  Standing in the slightly ajarred doorway between
Carol's office and Jean's office next door, was Carol's partner Jean.  She
didn't look mad, but she didn't look happy, either.  Her face didn't
register much at all.  Her hand between her legs, her fingers playing with
her cunt as she stood naked in the doorway, said quite a bit.  It shouted
that a threesome with the two of them was next, lesbians or not.  But it
wasn't to be.

   "Did he perform as good as he looked like he was doing?" Jean asked
Carol with deadpanned nonchalance.

   "Oh, yeah...Oh, YEAH...he handled me, the situation perfectly."

   "Do you think he'll do...do you think he's the one?..." Jean mumbled to
her with dispassionate indifference, talking to Carol as if I wasn't in the
room at all, her intended rudeness making me a little pissed-off at her
"...have you asked him yet?"

   "Asked me what, yet?" I interjected with concern.  Was this a set-up? 
Was this some sort of blackmail scam?  What the fuck was going on?

   "About a little business proposition we might have for you, that's what"
Carol responded as she pried herself from our embrace and Jean went back to
her office to get dressed again, as I and Carol did.

   I was unsure of what to do.  I knew I had been used.  But I had gotten
my own rocks off, I had used Carol, so I figured what the hell.  Getting
dressed, Carol sat in her executive chair behind her antique walnut desk,
as Jean came back in, dressed, her long and shapely legs stilting her thin
and shapely five foot nine fashion model frame.  Talk about an odd couple.
Jean pulled a chair around to next to Carol, as they motioned me to sit in
a chair in front of the desk.

   "I know you're a bit anxious and more than a bit curious, and maybe even
feel a bit used, Eric, but what we did was mutual, you wanted to assfuck me
as much as I wanted you to do it, or we wouldn't have, agreed?..." I
nodding my head yes in agreement "...but, I have to admit, Jean and I did
have a greater motive than just you and I having great sex this
afternoon...Eric, have you ever heard of the term 'bodyworker'?"

   I nodded my head "no".

   "Have you ever heard of the term 'sex surrogate'?"

   "Yes, I have heard of that term, Dr.  Stein" my language dropping a gear
to the more formal, as an expression of irritation and slight feelings of
betrayal.

   "I feel you have a special empathy for patients, for women in
particular, Eric, a special empathy and set of talents that could be put to
much better use as a bodyworker, as a sex surrogate if you will, than what
you're doing now as a massage therapist...interested...maybe?"

   "Possibly...what did you have in mind?"

   "Eric, Jean and I, along with our other partner Dr.  Kim Johnson, have
built up a thriving family and marital therapy practice in our 13-14 years
in business...we counsel mainly male-female couples in all aspects of
family, marital, and sex therapy...but, what we don't advertise, but which
the rest of the psychiatric community knows and which we bill probably
fifty percent of our billings from from outside referrals from other
practices, is that we have also have a thriving bodywork, sexual surrogacy
practice, a greater percentage of which has become female in the nine or
ten years that we've been doing this...what no one knows is that a couple
of weeks ago, two of our three professional bodyworkers quit at the same
time...yes, they were both women, and they fell in love, and left us to go
out West, just giving us two weeks notice, not even finishing out their
patient calendars...this has left in a real lurch, and a real potential
crisis concerning cash-flow...we need two bodyworkers, and we need them
now...but since the American Psychiatric Association doesn't recognize
fully the legitimacy of sexual surrogacy, actually frowns on most forms of
bodywork let alone some of the cutting edge stuff we do here in our
practice, it's not like we can put an ad in the classifieds for experienced
bodyworkers..."

   I nodded my head and mumbled some "uh-hu's" in acknowledgment, my eyes
not wavering from Carol's.  They may have been great psychiatrists, but
they were lousy businesspeople, Carol was laying all her cards on the table
upfront, not a terribly bright negotiating stance.

   "...I honestly do feel you have a special gift for relating to patients,
especially women patients...would you consider becoming a bodyworker in our
practice, Eric?"

   "And exactly what would be my duties, what would be my responsibilities,
and what would be my compensation, Carol?" I replied with a smile.

   "The crux of bodyworking, Eric, is that you would have sex in
therapeutic modes with women patients that would be within the aegis of our
practice...mostly women, and some couples, mostly male-female and some
female-female couples, and maybe one patient out of a hundred being a man
but you'd see the odd man only in a setting with another woman bodyworker
as a team...we'd send you to a special school for bodyworkers, we'd pay you
for attending it and pay all your expenses there and back, the proviso
being that if we had to fire you for just cause within the first year you
would owe use what we spent on your training or if you somehow flunked out
of the school either then you would owe what we spent on sending you
there...but we're not worried about that...after attending bodywork school,
you'd be in our sole employ...we'll offer you a great base salary, plus
non-expensible commissions on each patient you would see...we'll give you,
no, we'll insist on you living in a very nice apartment that's just a
quarter mile from here, where you'd live and where you would see all your
patients at as your professional therapeutic bodywork office too, an
apartment which will be 100% no-cost to you, except for your phone and
cable tv...and, you'll have delivery accounts at several local deli and
pizza places, where you can order whatever you'd like, your food bill will
be minimal...but more than anything else, Eric...friend, Eric...you'll be
helping many women who need a firm, strong, but gentle and empathetic
healing hand to overcome the gamut of sexual problems that society
dismisses women as generally having, let alone needing to have therapeutic
measures to cure...whad'ya say?"

   Jean came around and handed me a sheaf of papers and a videotape.  The
papers were a collection of non-disclosure, non-compete, non-prosecutorial,
indemnification, limitation of liability, personal services contract forms,
the whole nine yards.

   "Just standard forms that all our bodyworkers and other contract
employees have to sign.  For your protection and ours..." Jean spoke as she
walked back to her chair "...I'm sure you're curious about
compensation...that's on the first personal services contract, if you're
curious."

   Seven hundred dollars a week base salary, plus a commission based on
forty percent of total gross billings.

   "Just 40%?"

   "We are giving you a thousand-dollar per month apartment rent-free, plus
you'll see in the table below that paragraph that depending on total
year-end billings, you'll be eligible for bonuses that could add another
ten percent, for a possible total of fifty percent of billings...the
commission is addition to your base salary, it's not playable against that,
don't forget that" Carol intoned.

   "Ohhhh...I see" I mumbled as I read further.  It was obvious they would
be making money but not a fortune off my labors.

   "And.." Jean interjected "...even though you can never repeat this, and
will only be touched on but lightly in B-school, you'll basically have
unlimited pussy in this job...even though it can never be stated bluntly
like I'm doing now, as long as you accomplish the therapeutic objectives
for a patient that you are given by Carol or myself, there will be nothing
wrong with you enjoying yourself too, with you getting your own rocks off,
Eric...you're single...think about...unlimited pussy, limitless sex,
hundreds of women....in fact, the bodywork profession has learned over the
years that due to the beyond intimate nature of the job, that if you don't
partake of your own desires and pleasures, again within the therapy context
and making sure that whatever you do enhances the therapy and heals the
patient quicker, if you don't relieve yourself of the continuing sexual
tension with your patients, you'll blow a gasket, Eric, you'll simply go
bonkers and quit, to use a psychiatric term" Jean said with her first
pleasant smile and half-laugh.

   "Keep in mind too, Eric, that the average career life-span of a
bodyworker is just five years...fifty percent quit before their third year,
almost none last past seven..." Carol quipped "...that, and the sometimes
emotional turmoil you'll experience, you'll be in bi-weekly or weekly
therapy sessions with one of us as our way of monitoring your mental
attitude in health....a short career and an empathetic sinkhole of emotions
are the two greatest negatives of the job."

   "What about disease?"

   "With all the precautions taken with each patient before they are
allowed to participate in bodywork therapy, that's really a non-issue, but
prophylaxis modalities will be covered as part of your training in any
case..."

   "Well, Eric, what'dya say, you interested?" Jean half-sneered, bitch.

   "I really would like for you to seriously consider joining our practice,
Eric, my friend..." Carol smiled saying much sweeter "...we do need you,
too, no BS...if we don't get someone, actually two, within the next sixty
days, preferably the next thirty days, half our practice will be
irrevocably damaged, business-wise...we need your help...I honestly feel
you'd be perfect for this job...will you join our team, Eric?"

   "Can I see the apartment?" I asked with little-boy tone.

   "Just make sure you watch the videotape when you get home...you do have
a VCR, don't you?...." Jean asked sarcastically, bitch, I nodding "yes",
"...and read over the paperwork carefully, even have a lawyer read over
everything if you want, everything's above board with us, Eric."

   "But we will need a decision within 48 hours from now, or we'll have to
try to find someone else..." Carol cautioned "and, Eric, one other thing,
that's not in the paperwork...you'll...ahhheemmmm....cough...you'll also be
expected to 'service' me like you did tonight, usually about once per week,
as a friend, not billable...that's non-negotiable, Eric...is that okay?"

   "Sure, I don't have a problem with that, Carol...it was fun with
you...can we go see my new apartment now?"

   We drove in Jean's Porsche, leaving Carol's old AMX in the parking lot,
to the brick triplex down Woodland Ave.  and around to a cul-de-sac, where
it sat amongst a small collection of duplexes and triplexes.  The three
units curved around the lot, parking spaces in front of each one.

   Opening the front door, Jean flicked on the lights, and walked to the
sliding patio doors to shove them open and let some fresh air in.  A large
bedroom was to my left, a small kitchen with half-height counter to my
right at the far end, and a small anteroom, not much bigger than a large
broom closet which Carol said was intended for us as an in-home office,
tucked up under the steps to the second floor and extending to beside the
front door, a computer sitting atop a cheap desk next to a small window
which faced the parking spaces.  A small but working fireplace with gas
logs sat squatty in the back left corner.

   Outside through the patio doors was a large, wraparound deck that
extended a good ten or fifteen feet beyond the doors, a waist-high
semi-privacy fence on either side offering minimal but possible privacy
from the other two units, especially when the four-person outside Jacuzzi
at each porch area was in use.  Back inside, Carol took me upstairs to the
second floor.  Three rooms, again, one large bedroom, one small one, and a
smaller anteroom.

   "The downstairs is intended for use as your professional treatment
area...the bedroom downstairs is to be your treatment bedroom area...this
area is to be your private space...you can keep this furniture to use, or
bring your own, as you wish, but everything in the professional bedroom
stays as is..." Carol whispered, as she kissed me on the lips and grabbed
my crotch in a friendly but erotic way "...I really want to you to join our
practice, Eric, my friend."

   Jean was pacing as we walked back down the stairs.  I went inside the
"professional treatment area" bedroom, noticing a screen.  Peeking behind
it, lay a high-tech gynecological exam table, along with a stainless steel
coatrack and some stainless steel cabinets.  I couldn't help but laugh
aloud a light guffaw.

   "This place is for professional bodywork practice, Eric" Jean sneered.

   "Well, Eric, my friend...are you in or out?" Carol asked.

   "You said I could have two days to decide."

   "48 hours, kiddo" Jean shot back.

   "Two days..." I sidelipped.

   They drove me back to my car, and I went home.  I stayed up most of the
night, watching the tape about bodywork practices and methodologies, four
times.  The tape was fairly generic and really non-sexual in most ways, but
I picked up the subrosa text within the portrayals of female and male sex
surrogates, errrr, bodyworkers, working with female and male patients,
though they discounted and didn't talk much about male therapist-female
patient bodywork.

   My mind kept going back to what Jean said, about the job also having the
main side benefit of unlimited pussy, but most strikingly, what Carol said
about what I would be doing would be healing, would be healing women,
patients, and whatever slightly selfish pleasure I would receive would
simply be a side benefit.

   The next morning, I went into Raleigh Sport Injury and tendered my
resignation, offering them sixty days, so my calendar could be cleared and
I wouldn't leave them in a lurch.  They said sixty days wasn't needed, that
thirty or even just two weeks would be fine.  They implied but didn't come
right and say that they could replace me with a single phone call.  Pushing
it, I asked if they would still give me a good reference if I was to want
to quit right then, that I had a fantastic new job offer, not saying who
what or where, stressing that I didn't want to leave them hanging with
patients who wouldn't receive massage therapy because of my leaving.  Dr.
Mike told me that I had been an excellent employee, and they would really
hate to lose me, but if I had such a great offer, they wouldn't hold me
back, and they would be glad to give me an excellent employment reference.

   I shook his hand, thanked him profusely, then drove over to Wake Family
Therapy to personally tell Carol and Jean that I had accepted their offer.
They were both busy, but Dr.  Johnson, Kim, came out to talk to me.  She
said she was privy to everything, everything that had gone on last night,
and she was glad I had decided to come aboard.

   Walking me back to her office, she handed me the usual tax forms and
such to fill out, and then I spent the next hour signing all the legal
stuff and having it notarized by Mariva, the receptionist.  Once all that
was done, Carol and Jean came back to Kim's, Dr.  Johnson's, office, and
much to my surprise, all gave me a polite but sincere group hug, Carol
again kissing me on the lips in a more-than-friendly kiss.

   Reaching under a pile of papers on her desk, Kim handed me a plane
ticket to New York City, an itinerary, a company credit card that she said
had a five-hundred limit and was meant for emergency expenses, and a bank
envelope with five one-hundred-dollar bills inside it, Carol cautioning to
spend what I wanted on whatever I wanted, but to get receipts for
everything, and call if that wasn't enough.

   The itinerary showed me leaving for JFK Airport that Friday night, and
coming back Sunday night week.  I kissed Carol on the lips and Kim and even
Jean on the cheek, thanking them again and again.  Carol handed me two
thick three-ring binders of material, the covers of which were labeled
"Manual Of Therapeutic Bodywork", warning me not to let anyone see these
under any circumstances for any reason and to take them with me to my
bodywork school, then patted me on the butt and told me to scoot, that they
all had patients to see, and they'd see me when I got back.  I left their
office high on life, my feet fractionally inches off the ground.







   The Body Worker

   by

   PlanetDweller

   Chapter 2: Prep, and the trip up to New York (MF, mast., oral, straight,
sex therapy)

   The phone rudely awakened me at 6:30 the next morning.  It was Kim.

   "Uhhhhh...ohhh...uggghhh....hell....hellooo?" I mumbled into the
receiver.

   "Eric, this is Dr.  Johnson...."

   Cough...hack...clearing my throat...trying to wake up...

   "uhh...yes, Kim...Dr.  Johnson...what do you want?" I spake with sleepy
unintentional mild rudeness.

   "Eric, you darted out yesterday before I could finish telling you about
the rest of what you'll have to do before going up to your school...please
come by my office at eight this morning..."

   "I thought you, errrrr, we, didn't open up until nine?"

   "We don't, I won't be there, but Mariva will...you've got more tests to
take of all kinds, we need to have you do a complete physical, get blood
and fluid samples drawn, a ton of stuff, and it needs to be done today, if
you're going to make the class starting this weekend...otherwise, you won't
have time, and we'll have to find someone else..." she continued.

   "Uh...Oh...okay...no problem....I'll be there at eight".

   "Oh, and uh, Eric..."

   "Uh-hu"

   "Have you gone to the bathroom yet this morning, or eaten anything yet?"

   "No, I haven't, why?"

   "Please don't if you haven't....don't eat, or go to the bathroom at all,
if you can possibly hold it...it's for the tests...and if you have any
questions during the day, please call me directly, don't bother Dr.  Stein
or Jean, okay?"

   "Yeah, sure, 'talk to you later today" I finished.

   Mariva was waiting for me when I got to Raleigh Family Therapy's office
five minutes before eight.  She took me into the conference room and handed
me a stack of pre-printed tests.  One was a standard Meyers-Briggs
personality profile test, plus another one of some name I didn't recognize,
then a sexuality scale test to determine where on the homo-hetero line I
was, and a test for all the world was like one of those online "purity
tests", except this one was much more comprehensive, over a thousand
questions and scenarios, and was much more formalized in structure.

   Handing me a plastic brown bottle full of little white pills, Mariva
continued "Eric, these are MascuStat pills, they're the first clinically
proven oral male contraceptive hormone pills..."

   I shot Mariva an unvarnished look of disbelief, a look which didn't hide
what I was thinking, "you've got to fucking putting me on".

   "...don't give me that look, Eric, I'm serious..."

   "There's no such thing" I replied.

   "Yes, there is, and these are it...they've been available in certain
European countries for over twenty years now, and have shown to have
virtually zero side effects with 99.9% efficacy...the only side effects are
a small increase in libido, and a propensity to grow deeper and thicker
facial and body hair, that, and once in a while with a few men, some mild
headaches and stomach upset...anyway, after you finish your tests this
morning, take one at lunch, and every single day for as long as you're
employed here at Raleigh Family in your capacity as a bodyworker, you'll
need to take one per day, the very last thing before you go to bed...here's
a copy of the page about them from the EC (European Community) PDR
(Physician's Desk Reference, a guide to prescription drugs, Eric)...if you
have further questions about them, talk to Dr.  Johnson, OK?" Mariva
continued, I nodding my head silently in agreement.



   "And..." she started again, giving me several pre-printed forms
"...here's your authorizations for all the tests you'll need to take and
other errands you'll need to run...please look them over, ask if you have
questions, and ask especially ask if you don't know how to get to any of
the addresses where they're located, okay?"

   I looked them over, and replied "no, Mariva, everything looks fine, I
know where all these offices are, 'can find them at least".

   I really had to take a shit really bad and a piss even worse, but almost
busting with pressure, I made it over quickly to my first stop, MedFacts
Corp.  over on Computer Drive off Six Forks Road.  Damn near running in, I
handed the receptionist my paperwork, told her I couldn't hold my urine or
bowel movements much longer, and she quickly hustled me back to an exam
room.  A nurse darted in quickly behind her, handing me a urine specimen
bottle and a wax-paper bucket with lid for my stool sample, pointing me to
the bathroom in the corner of the exam room without saying a word.  Ahhhh,
it felt so good, to finally get some relief!  And, I had done what Dr.  Kim
asked me to do, held it all in until asked for it.  No way I was going to
screw the pooch on this opportunity of a lifetime.

   Coming from the bathroom, this nurse that really looked like a nurse,
early middle age with short hair and white posture shoes and a bit frumpy,
had a vampire table next to an exam chair all ready for me.

   She took two tubes of blood from my right arm, then two more from the
left.  The receptionist brought in a small cup of orange juice for me to
sip on, the nurse stopping me with a "not yet, not until I get a sample
first", swabbing the inside of my mouth in three different places with
three different sterile swabs, tossing them into separate sterile specimen
tubes.  Reaching in to retrieve an old x-rated porn magazine from the exam
table's instrument drawer, she busily labeled all the recovered specimens
while looking away from me with a "Mr.  Woods, please get undressed, and
masturbate yourself to a firm but not hard erection, and please, do not
orgasm while doing so..." she said as if talking to an appliance repairman
about her broken toaster "...I'll be back to collect the last specimens
needed in three or four minutes, thank you" she concluded, as she took the
other specimens out to the outer office.

   The porn was boring, and while I can always get an erection, even while
reading the newspaper, I just didn't feel like it.  I was playing with
myself, looking at the nastymag, when Nurse Ice came back in.  She gave me
a look of unbridled disappointment.  My erection was between half and three
quarters.  Motioning me back on to the exam table, she began masturbating
me herself.  Harder, but still not hard.

   "Would additional visual and other stimuli help you, Mr.  Woods?...this
is an important test, your employer is totally insistent upon it..." Nurse
Iceberg continued.

   "Sure...I guess, 'guess so..." I answered a bit shyly, unsure what I was
slightly embarrassed about.

   Getting up and locking the exam room door behind her, she quickly undid
her white nurse's blouse and scooted out of her bra, her gargantuan tits
with saucer-size nipples flopping onto her chest.  Cradling my cock between
them, she got me into a tit-fuck with a practiced ease.  That did feel
good. It finally got hard after a few minutes of this.

   "I can't give you oral stimulation without ruining the test, Mr.  Woods,
and you do need to come, and I need a sample of both your pre-cum and your
come...you're excited but not obviously sufficiently so...is there anything
I can do to expedite this process?" she asked friendly but professionally.

   "May feel your breasts and pussy, Nurse?" I asked with attempted equal
professional detachment.

   "Yes, you may".

   I played with her actually not-too-bad mounds of round while she stood
in front of me.  Standing up, I shoved my hand down her pants, and found
her cunt, beginning a slow frig.  She noticed a drop of pre-cum forming on
my urethral opening, and patted the exam table, motioning for me to scoot
back up there.  Masturbating me a little more, she got her sample of
pre-cum on a sterile swab, and then with both hands, managed to bring me to
orgasm, catching that specimen in another clear glass specimen jar.

   "Thank you, Mr.  Woods, you've been very cooperative" she said as she
got re-dressed and unlocked the exam room door.

   My next appointment was with a GP I didn't know and had never been to at
10:30AM.  Having a ton of personality and sexuality tests to fill out
before five that afternoon, I bided my time productively, filling them out
while waiting to see the doctor.  Finally, at a little past eleven a.m., I
was called back into an exam room.  I had expected an old fart of a
physician, but was treated to be examined by a very attractive lady doctor.
I know it was all clinical, but her looks didn't hurt, especially when she
was working my butt with that ol' fingerwag.  She pronounced me fit as any
sixty-year-old man she's seen lately, laughing at her own joke, as I got
dressed and headed for some lunch, stopping at the Arby's on Hillsboro St.

   I continued filling out the tests with my trusty number two pencils as I
scarfed down some roast beef and cheese sandwiches.  I hadn't even eaten a
single bite of anything for breakfast, per Dr.  Kim's admonition, and was
hungry.

   My next appointment, my last for the day, was at a photographer's, which
I didn't understand, but really didn't care, at 1:30.

   My session at the photographer's was bizarre, but harmless, I guess my
new employers had their reasons.  Basically, I was lead to a backroom at
the studio where there was a black backdrop with the thin white borders of
thin white lines forming one-inch or so squares on it.  While I was
completely naked, they made me stand, turn, squat, and pose in a wide
variety of stances and poses, while in front of the backdrop.  Damned if I
know why.  Like I say, though, unimportant.

   Finishing my photo shoot, I just drove around some to clear my head a
little, and ended up parking in the parking lot of Lake Johnson City Park
and finished filling out the tests at a covered picnic shelter area.  For a
February day, it was a perfect North Carolina winter day, no humidity, high
around sixty.

   Heading back to my new office, I dropped all the paperwork copies and
receipts from the tests and all and the personality tests and all off. 
While making small talk with Mariva, she is nicer than maybe I've indicated
so far, Carol, Dr.  Stein, popped around the corner of the hallway and said
"hi" to me.  I asked if she had a minute, and she said yes, just a minute.
We went back to her office, and I asked her about this MascuStat male
contraceptive pill, told I hadn't heard of such a thing, and had some real
concerns.  She asked if I had taken one at lunch yet per Mariva's earlier
instructions, and admitted that I hadn't.

   "Eric, my friend, my employee, you've done real well so far, but it's
important to always do exactly as I, Jean, or Kim tell you to do... 
otherwise, this arrangement is not going to work out...  I'm not scolding,
just reiterating...do you understand?"

   "Yes, Carol, I understand"

   "Good...take one of those pills right now, and from now on, you must
take one each night last thing before bed, okay?"

   I went out to the bottled water cooler to get a cup of Le Bleu, and
walked back in to her office to let her see I was indeed taking a pill
right then.  She was on the phone, but still motioned me in.  I had another
couple of questions.  I wanted to ask her about this Polykinetic Bodywork
School, especially me being put on the hook for right over $10,000 to the
practice, if I was fired or quit during the first year.

   "Eric..friend, it's real simple..." she said with sweet face as she
reached across the table motioning me to extend my arm and hold her
outstretched hand "...trained bodyworkers are in such high demand all over
the country, it's such an exclusive occupational category that you're
becoming a member of, that once you become trained and get a little
experience and learn the business part of the business, learn who's who and
where's what, that you'll probably be headhunted by other practices in
other States, particularly in the major metro areas, you'll probably get
offers that will be much higher than what our modest practice can afford to
pay you here...that indemnification agreement is simply our way of
protecting ourselves from getting stuck for the ten or eleven thousand
dollars, should you decide to leave us...we're making a commitment, and we
feel you're making one to us...this just puts it in black-and-white, that's
all".

   Made perfect sense, what Carol was saying, so I bought it at face-value.
Leaning over her desk to kiss her a friendly good-bye one, she grasped me
behind my head and firmly lip-locked me for a minute or more, her tongue
finding mine inside my mouth.  I smiled as I pulled away to leave, she
mirroring one back to me.  Then she handed me a sealed business-size
envelope, telling me not to open it under any circumstances, until I was
actually on the plane heading to school that following Friday, I nodding in
agreement.  Another mystery, but again, I didn't care.  I simply didn't
care.

   "See you when I get back" I whispered as I blew her a friendly kiss as I
turned to head out.  I thought to myself that she would make a really nice
girlfriend, even if she was probably fifteen years older than me, that,
that and the fact she wasn't already married to another lesbian.

   The next day was a total slack day.  I studied my bodywork handbooks as
best I could, but a lot of the concepts presented were so far-out, so
cutting-edge, that a lot of them didn't make a whole lot of sense to me.  I
figured everything would be explained to me at the bodywork school.  Mariva
called about lunch and told me the lab had screwed up and they needed to
re-swab the inside of my mouth.  I asked what on earth that test was for,
and she replied "honestly, I haven't the foggiest".

   I ran by MedFacts and they did another series of swabs on my tongue and
gums and roof of my mouth, and I was flat out of there in five minutes.  My
life was changing, certainly, hopefully for the better.  My salary had been
increased twenty-five percent plus just on base alone that week.  I felt
like treating myself.  I went to Sam's Steakhouse since I was in the part
of town anyway, had myself one of their perfect prime ribs, washing it down
with a couple of Heinnies-on-draughts, and went home and to bed early.

   Friday-day was just a blur.  I remember trying to study my manuals some,
but couldn't concentrate, so I just cat-napped away most of the day in my
easy chair, ESPN creating a drone of white noise on the tube.  A siren off
in the distance woke me up from my shallow slumber around three, lucky for
me.  My plane for NYC was due to leave in about two hours, and with the
traffic on '40 and all, and all the incoming business people coming home
for the weekend from out-of-state, I knew I had better skee-daddle on, so I
wouldn't miss my flight, and screw up my life.

   I have to admit that this was only the second or third time I had ever
flown anywhere.  Somehow, I got in my head that the practice was going to
fly me up first-class.  Yeah, right, fat fucking chance.  My USAir 737
heading to JFK Airport in NYC stunk like a week's worth of mixed body odors
and stale food and alcohol witch's brew of smells.

   The odor of burned kerosene fumes from the idling engines outside also
mixed in with the other bitch's brew fumes, rolling in from the open cabin
door at the front.  I felt I was going to be airsick soon, and we hadn't
even begun to taxi for takeoff.  My seat, my narrow-assed coach set, was
all the way in the back, the back of it pressed against the bulkhead next
to the toilet.  At least they had booked me an aisle seat, where I could
stretch out my six-three frame.

   The plane was nearly empty, five or six passengers total.  The RDU
terminals had been nearly full of the herd of human cattle returning from
their business foraging expeditions the week before, but my flight heading
up, away from the destination that most of the rest of the traffic was
seeking, was nearly empty.  A short, plumpish, but well-groomed woman made
her way down the aisle with two carry-ons dragging.  Opening the overhead
compartment above me, she saw it was full of my bags, and opened the one
next to it, asking if I minded helping her put her things in the overhead,
since she was a little vertically challenged, making a harmless joke at her
own expense.  I told her I didn't mind at all, 'happy to help.  She sat
down in the middle seat of the three abreast row next to me.  I suggested
she might want to move up to one of the empty rows where she could have a
whole row to herself, that the flight crew didn't care.  She smiled, and
moved one over to the window seat instead, settling in for takeoff.

   The plane glided out above Umstead State Park next to the airport,
turning a one-eighty to head north to Naw Yawk.

   The setting sun pierced the window, lighting my seatrow companion's face
like a painting.  A few minutes of silence, then I introduced myself.  I
told her my name was "Eric", and that I was heading to NYC to attend a
week-long training conference that my employer was paying me to attend. 
She introduced herself as "Margot", and said she was also heading that way
for something similar, asking me where I was staying when I got to town,
just making friendly smalltalk.  Absentmindedly, I replied "at the Roslyn
Harbour Inn, in a little town just outside New York City called Roslyn, I
think it's out on Long Island somewhere".

   Her mouth visibly dropped.  "Eric...it is Eric, right?"

   "Yes, Margot, call me Eric" I smiled back.

   "Eric...Eric, you by chance wouldn't be going to attend a workshop that
has the word Polykinetic in the name of it, would you?"

   My own mouth then dropped, too.  "Margot, is your employer, by sheer
chance, Raleigh Family Therapy on Millbrook Road in Raleigh, are you a
recent hire, and by chance, do you have a sealed envelope in your
possession that Dr.  Carol or one the doctors told you not to open until
you were in the air?"

   "Yes, Eric...to everything".

   Total silence for ten or more minutes.  Carol, for some bizarre
reason(s), had played another one of her byzantine games on me.  I stood
up, opened the overhead, fished my sealed envelope out of my jacket, and
sat back down to read it.  As I began reading mine, Margot got hers out of
her purse, and began reading her own letter to her from our new bosses. 
The letter to me basically introduced me to Margot, giving me a short bio
of her, said that she was their other new employee that they had hired to
replace the other employees that had left, and that she and I would be
apprenticing under Connie, the long-standing bodywork employee of Raleigh
Family, once we got back from our training.  Connie was burned out, having
hit the old five-year brickwall of being a professional, full-time
bodyworker that Jean and Carol had mention during my recruitment, but had
agreed to stay on until Margot and I or whoever had completed the rest of
their apprenticeship under her.  It went on to say that we two were to be
the core of their bodywork team, that we would be working extremely closely
as a team once we got back, and that eventually, we would also mentor any
new bodywork employee-recruits they might hire in the future.  It concluded
by telling us that we would partnered together during our classes soon to
come, and since we would literally be having sex in every conceivable way
hundreds if not thousands of times in the future, it was within the
"rules", it was okay for us to go ahead and have sex tonight if we wished,
just for fun.

   I was stunned, and by the look on Margot's face, she was equally
stunned. Silently, I handed her my letter, and she mine.  Her letter read
boilerplate identical to mine, except hers contained my bio of course
instead of hers, and the possessive presence was changed to me and not her,
if you know what I mean.  Stunned.  Fucking stunned.  Carol and them had
played matchmaker to Margot and myself, without ever asking us let alone
introducing us, they had fucking basically "married" us without ever
letting us meet first and say yeah or neigh, married us at least in the
professional, the health professional slash professional bodyworker sense
of the word.  Fuck them.  My blood immediately boiled inside at this gross
deception, then fell back to a simmer, then to a bearable warmth.

   I looked over at Margot Kendra Knight sitting in her window seat.  My
eyes took her in, totally.  4'11", 125 lb.s or so, pageboy-cut deep
brunette hair, thick-lensed glasses inside a plain dark frame, green eyes,
shapely 34D or slightly larger tits, a reasonably narrow waist and hips
that were in proportion to her height and weight, wearing enough jewelry to
be an Arab bride but tastefully so in the right places, small hands with
delicate fingers, small feet, her package fitting nicely in her solid black
off-the-rack Stein-Mart dress.  Not bad, really.  Considering that my
bridges were burned and that, apparently, Margot and I would be sexual
partners for the next some years many times more than any similar married
couple would be in the same time frame, if so in a professional not
passionate sexual way, I, I mean Carol and them, could have done a lot
worse to or for me.  And, Margot seemed to have a high sense of
self-confidence and self-assurance that just radiated her basic niceness
and decency and empathy and yes, raw sexuality just under the surface.  She
projected a sense that she liked everyone and most everyone liked her, and
that she could handle herself in most any situation.  Truly feminine. 
That's the feeling I'm looking to express.  All woman.  Velvet dynamite
inside a healing and nurturing package.  Yep, I could have done a lot
worse.

   Margot was similarly scoping me out, probably, hopefully thinking along
the same lines I was.  She smiled at me, and I smiled back, genuinely.  She
got up and sat back down in her original seat assignment, next to me.  I
took her hand, intertwined our fingers, kissed her on the forehead, and
asked "Margot, 'everything okay?".

   Looking deep into my eyes for reassurance, finding it, she replied "Yes,
Eric, everything's fine", smiling a most sincere smile back to me still.

   Our plane slid through the star and street-lit darkness of New York
City, bumpily touching down on an empty outer runway at JFK.  We two being
at the rear, being last off the plane, I put my arm around Margot's waist
as a sign of trust and friendship, she returning the gesture.  Exiting into
the New York City piss-smell from USAir's passenger enclosure, three older
black guys in dark uniforms waited as a group together, one holding up a
sign that read "Woods", another that read "Knight".  We walked up to them,
and said who we were.

   "Have any checked baggage?"

   "Just one piece" I replied.

   "I had two" Margot chimed in.

   "Let me have your baggage claim stubs, so we can fetch them for you."

   I shot him a puzzled look, like it might be some sort of big-city scam
to steal my luggage, but he quickly pulled a letter of introduction out
from his pocket, a short two line letter on a Polykinetic Bodywork
Institute letterhead and signed by one Dr.  Hugo Chaim, telling to whom it
may concern who his employees were.

   One of his helpers took our claim checks and went off to get our luggage
for us.

   "We've got three more coming..." "Mac" said, "...and their plane won't
be in for another two hours, they're flying in from the west coast, we'll
all have to wait together...would you like something to eat or drink?"

   I looked at Margot and she nodded her head "yes".  We started to wander
off to one of the clipjoint restaurants down the terminal's hallway, but
Mac caught up quickly to us, with a "Mr.  Woods, Ms.  Knight, we need to
stay together as a group...burgers okay?...let's go to that restaurant over
there", pointing to a semi-fancy for an airport terminal sitdown restaurant
with semi-open seating.

   As we walked, I couldn't help but notice a somewhat plump but
nice-looking and nicely-built middle-aged 40-ish white lady, and a late
20's, tall and rather thin but shapely with small breasts light-skinned
black chick with straightened hair and huge eyes also fall in behind us, as
part of our little group.

   "Oh, my manners..." Mac chirped "Eric, Margot, this is Gwen..." our
hands reaching to shake hers, our middle-age lady friend "...and this is
Maddy", a round of continued handshakes and pleased-to-meet you's being
exchanged.  "Everyone here..." Mac continued "...is to be attending the
seminar together."

   "You say there's three more coming?" I interjected.

   "Yes, I said that..." Mac replied toastily "...but they're coming in
from the west coast, they'll get together on a connecting flight at Lambert
Field, errr, St.  Louis, and their flight won't be in for another two hours
or so...I'm hungry too, let's eat."

   Since Mac said the Institute was paying, we all splurged a little.  I
had a $40-some dollar filet mignon, and Margot had a nearly equally
expensive grilled swordfish.  For an airport hole-in-the-wall restaurant,
the food wasn't bad at all.  Mac sat a separate table with his two helpers
away from us, the other one having come back, telling us our luggage was in
the hotel shuttle van already, as we four ate together, sharing
conversation and harmless tidbits about our lives with each other.

   Gwen was fascinating.  It turned out she was a former RCMP (i.e.,
Mountie) officer, and having been shot in the line of duty during her
sixteenth year on the force, was offered an early retirement package at
full half-salary and benes, which she took.  Her thick middle Canadian
accent amused all of us, and I told her so, she noticing that I didn't lack
for my own accent, my flat North Carolinian one, said with a smile.  Maddy
was a NYC native, Brooklyn born, who had left when young, her parents
moving frequently, and had lived all over since, living "upstate"
currently. Gwen was an RN, having taken nursing up as a second career after
retiring from the RCMP, and mainly had been a private duty nurse, where she
could set her own hours, not needing a full-time job with her RCMP pension.
Maddy was a PT, a licensed physical therapist with licenses in New York
State and California and a handful of other states.  Margot mentioned to
the them that she was an EMT, had been one since after high school, but was
tired of the discrimination she faced daily on the basis on her height and
gender, and was tired of having to wear a flakjacket all the time because
of the constant daily danger she faced in her job when called to rescue
OD'ing crackheads and such.

   Both Gwen and Maddy were also going to work for psychiatric practice
groups after the school, much like Margot's and mine Wake Family Therapy
group.  I asked them all if they really had any idea what to expect, other
than apparently we'd be having a ton of clinical-based sexual bodywork
training of some sort next week, admitting I didn't, and felt a little
anxious because of the uncertainty of it all, they amen'ing me.

   Mac fetched and paid our tabs, then motioned us to follow him.  We
walked down and to a horizontal escalator between concourses, then up some
stairs and made a long walk to a gate near the very end of a concourse.  In
a few minutes, a TWA jet pulled up to our gate, and a handful of passengers
disembarked.  Mac held up a sign that read "Rogers", another helper held up
one that said "Patel", and the third "Garingoko".  A very young and
attractive Indian as in India the country woman walked up to the Patel
sign, an even younger, she couldn't have been much over 18, Japanese beauty
walked over to the Garingoko sign, and someone who looked to be a
world-class runway model, mid-20's or so, perfectly cwoff'd medium blond
hair, perfect medium fashion model build with small but not tiny tits, who
carried herself with the ease of a trained model, walked over to the Rogers
sign that Mac was holding.

   "Florence, Surawan, Keiko, this is..." Mac continued as he completed all
the introductions.  "By the way, there's one more to be in your group, a
Nick Black, but he's a local, and is already checked into the
hotel...Florence, Surawan, Keiko, we've already eaten...would you like to
stop and eat before we leave?...it's on the Institute", all of them shaking
their heads "no", mumbling something about a rough flight and going through
a thunderstorm and all feeling queasy.

   Mac lead his merry band of professional sex bodywork wannabes through
the airport to baggage claim to pick up Keiko's and Surawan's and Flo's
("please don't call me 'Florence', she had gently scolded Mac) luggage,
Mac's helpers putting it on a chart and lugging it behind them, as we made
our way to the parking deck.

   I had expected a real limo, not a van, but Mac had said "hotel shuttle
van", and that's what it was, looked close to an airport car rental shuttle
van.  At least it had room enough for all and luggage and then some. 
Margot and I sat together on one of the bench seats and made small talk,
holding hands.  The rest initially sat apart and kind of ignored each
other. As our longish trip continued, one hour then longer, the other girls
finally moved around the van some, sitting together briefly in twos and
threes and making small talk.  A rolling chick party, haha.

   Even though it was dark, what we could see of the Roslyn Harbor Hotel
was impressive.  Concierge service out the ass.

   You couldn't pick your nose without a hotel employee asking if they
could do for you.  Lavishly furnished lobby.  Nine story tall rooms-area
stack.  Smelled like money, old money.

   Mac lead us into the bar off the main lobby, telling the bartender that
whatever we wanted was to be on Dr.  Chaim's account, and went to get our
keys.  Margot sipped on a red wine, I on a Michelob on draught, and the
rest of our hen party on wine coolers or light cocktails, as we sat at a
large round table together, kind of all snuggled together close, realizing
this was "it", that we were where we were for what and when and why we were
there.  The rest of the girls began playing hand-s's a little, as mock
PDA's, even though there were a few people drinking at the bar or eating at
tables near us.  Realizing the people were turning to look, the public
displays of fake but nice affection quickly died down.  I kissed Margot on
the lips, though, and she kissed back.

   Mac brought our room keys over.  They were a thick paper square, 2"x3"
or so, with punched holes in them, a kind I had never seen before. 
"Everyone know how to use these keys?" Mac asked the group, we all nodding
or mumbling "yes".  The keys were on a large, thin metal ring, to which a
standard key was also attached.  "The metal key is for the lock mechanism
in the lobby elevators for the ninth floor, which is the only way to access
the ninth floor...please, please don't lose that ninth floor elevator key,
or there'll be hell to pay...I'll show you how to use it when we go up
shortly" Mac finished.

   His helpers taking our luggage up on large flat carts via the freight
elevator to our rooms, we all piled into one of the main lobby elevators,
Mac pushing his ninth floor key in and turning it to the right.  "You can
only turn it to the right...at the lobby, it takes you directly to the
ninth floor...at the ninth floor, it takes you directly to the lobby....if
you are on the ninth floor and want to go to any other floor, and there
shouldn't be any reason this week that you should, you'll need to go to the
lobby, then hit a button for floors one through eight, just like you
normally would...any questions?" he finished, we nodding our heads "no".

   Our luggage was already in our room when we opened it up, and the heat
had been just turned up.  One giant, king-sized bed.  I'll give Carol and
them credit, they're not bashful or subtle, not at all.  Margot and I
filled the bed with our luggage, and pulled out a few things, mainly
toiletries and such for our own use that week, my razor and Margot's
feminine things and such, ferrying them to the bathroom, then pulling some
but not all clothes out from our bags and hanging them up on the standard
hotel theft-proof clothesrack.

   "Feel like a shower, together?" I nicely asked Margot.

   "Sure"

   The wall of high pressure and very hot water melted away our trip grime.
I shampooed her hair, and she mine, I having to kneel and hold my knees so
she could reach the top of my head.  We kissed, a long time, not as lovers
since we hardly knew each other, but as beginning friends, friends who soon
would be bodywork professionals working together.

   We kissed and groped each other as the cleansing pure hot water washed
our future sins away.  We knelt down together in the shower, she pressed
against the wall and me to her back, and my cock entered her.  We craned
our necks and kissed as we fucked.  She felt so warm and wonderful and
all-woman-ly in my arms.  Our partnership was going to be great, that was
obvious.  My knees were starting to hurt, and I asked if her knees were
hurting too, against the cold hard tile shower floor, she nodding "yes".

   We stood up, and I forced my hand between her legs as we kissed, Margot
coming within a couple of minutes from my frig.  She dropped to her knees
for just a moment, took my member in her mouth, and put my hands on either
side of her head, in a gesture that it was okay to fuck her mouth.  I held
her head tightly as I fucked her sweet womanly oral opening, just letting
go and coming within a minute, knowing her knees would start hurting soon
if I didn't.  Finishing rinsing off, we toweled each other dry, then headed
to bed, and our future.

   As I pulled back the cover, there was a big, red posterboard sign with
the words "Eric, take your damn pill!, talk to you and Margot next week,
Love, Carol".  Damned if Carol wasn't as relentlessly mother-hen-ish as she
was non-subtle.  I stumbled back to the bathroom to find a waterglass and
take my damn MascuStat fucking male fucking oral contraceptive pill, fuck
Carol, if she was my boss and basically a decent person.  I have to admit,
though, that without the note, I was so tired from the trip I would have
forgotten.  Margot was already under the covers when I got back to bed just
a moment later.  I pulled her back close to my chest and snuggled with her
as we fell asleep together.  The next conscious memory was some hours
later, the phone ringing an un-asked-for wake-up call at 7AM, courtesy Dr.
Chaim & Co.

   "Please assemble in the training room for your first orientation in one
hour please...just look to the left out your door and you'll see the sign
in front of the training room out in the hall...thank you, and good
morning, and welcome to Roslyn and The Polykinetic Bodywork Institute",
then, "click".

   I gently shook Margot awake, and the second step of our journey together
began.

   The Body Worker

   by

   PlanetDweller

   Chapter Three: Day 1, or, The Journey Begins

   I took a quick rinse-off taking a soap-less shower as Margot got in a
quick doze, not wanting to get up.  Getting out of the shower, I walked
over to bed and kissed her awake, telling her she really needed to get on
up, or we'd be late.  I was finished shaving and dressing by the time she
was finally out of the shower.  Waiting a little impatiently while sitting
at the foot of bed, watching a local tv channel on the hotel's cable
system, I began pacing a little around the room, and noticed a door toward
the glass backwall of our large, expansive room I hadn't noticed earlier,
which lead to a room with bookshelves full of books and a nice-looking
executive desk and a nice couch and all.  I had never heard of a hotel room
having a study in it before.  Leaving the study, I glanced at Margot
finally finishing getting dressed, and noticed another door across the room
from the study, which lead to a kitchenette area, complete with fridge and
oven and stove and microwave, the whole bit.  "Must be what they call one
of those 'suite' hotels", I thought to myself.  Nice.

   Margot and I friendly-kissed silently and walked out of the room
arms-on-waist, looking to the left per instructions.

   Along the hall's wallspace between the two elevators was a desk with a
uniformed hotel employee behind it which hadn't been there the night
before. A little further past that, Gwen and Keiko popped out of one of the
rooms we walked past, joining our short hike to the classroom, we noticing
a hotel lobby-type sign on a chrome stand with movable white letters that I
couldn't read another fifty feet or more down down this long corridor. 
Politely, I asked the uniformed hotel guy if that was our classroom,
assuming he knew who we were and why we were there, pointing to the sign in
front of the double doors, and he nodded yes, the walkie-talkie in a stand
on his desk softly crackling with unintelligible gibberish.

   Maddy, Surawan, Flo, and a tall, well-built Italian-looking guy who I
assumed was Nick our other classmate, were already in the classroom,
milling around making small talk, eating bagels and fruit and Danish and
such from the open breakfast bar which had been set out for us.  Gwen and
Keiko and Margot and I grabbed some grub from the table, another uniformed
hotel employee behind the table spread preparing our orange juice or coffee
or whatever we wanted to drink.

   We walked over and introduced ourselves to Nick.  He seemed like a nice
guy.  Thick, heavy New York-Brooklyn-Queens accent.  Curly dark brown hair,
much like my own, except even curlier.  Looked like an exercise freak.  A
little shorter than me, six foot even or so.  He shook my hand and kissed
my lady companion's hands, a real smoother.  But he didn't have what I
would consider to be a New Yorker's attitude.  He seemed more relaxed, not
wired at all, pleasant.

   The clock on the wall read ten 'till eight.  I scoped the room.  Large.
Maybe thirty feet deep or deeper, maybe a hundred feet wide or better. 
Slideable accordion partitions every thirty feet or so, standard hotel
practice, to make the room bigger or smaller as needed.  Large projection
tv in towards the back, a projection screen behind it.  In front of that, a
short lecturn, and in front of that, a couple of office desks and chairs,
an overhead projector to one side.  A phone on one desk.  I notice things
like that.  A Dry-Erase board on an easel.  In front of all that, a row of
smallish, maybe four feet by two feet, small conference-style plain tables,
two chairs at each one.  Small stacks of papers atop each one, pens beside
the papers, along with some folded paper signs with our names on them in
large block letters.  To the left far side, doors for men's and women's
bathrooms, and a room which was labeled "showers"...curious.

   To the right, a pile of old junky equipment and stuff, stacked beside
four gyn exam tables which had lockable caster-wheels underneath each
corner of each respective one.  Four beds on coasterwheels also pushed into
a glump.

   Near that, another random pile of curious stuff, what looked like
partial human anatomy "dolls" (I don't know of any other way to describe
them), full-size navel-to-knees anatomy dolls, both male and female, some
360-dimensional, some 180-sideview-cutaways, some of them having what
looked like electronic display panels attached to them.  Stainless steel
medical tables and carts in random order.  A wire rack full of boxes of
exam gloves and other medical supplies.  Nick came up behind me and touched
me on the shoulder, breaking my concentration.  The girls were sitting down
at the desks near the lecturn near us, their chairs pulled around to a
semi-circle.

   "It is good to meet you, Eric..." Nick chatted "I'm glad that you are
here...I've been waiting a couple of months for this to happen...up until
last week, it looked like I was going to be the only guy in class...it's
good that you're here, Eric...you wanna go get a beer by ourselves sometime
this week?"

   "Sure, Nick, that'll be great, I'll be looking forward to it...hey Nick,
they got you taking this MascuStat shit too?"

   "Yeah...I never heard of such a free-king thing in my life"

   "I hadn't either, until my bosses told me I had to take it as a
condition of employment"

   "I figure, from the sheet they showed me, that it's harmless
enough...they told me it was either that, or a vasectomy..."

   "My bitch bosses didn't mention that option to me...hey Nick, you know
what to expect in this class?"

   "Well, kinda, kinda not...basically, I think we're going to be trained
by what is in 'the book'...you got your manuals already, doncha?"

   "Yeah...I've been trying to study them, but a lot of that shit in there
makes no sense"

   "Yeah, I know..."

   We chatted for another two or three minutes.  I give Nick my long and
short, he mentioning that he had been trained as a combat medic while
serving in the Army, but that soon after his MOS school they assigned him
to different base hospitals, where basically all he did was grunt shit
work, much like I had done initially at Rex early in my career.

   He had quit, didn't re-enlist, and had fallen into a New Age-ish health
career, where he had been making a decent living doing reflexology (feet
and hand massage), iridology (using examination of the eye to diagnose body
illnesses), colonic irrigation therapy (like it sounds), before being
recruited a few months back by Mrs.  Dr.  Chaim herself to be trained as a
bodyworker and work within her and Dr.  Chaim's professional marital and
family sex therapy group.

   The clock read eight-twenty-one.  A seriously looking wrinkled skin
almost diseased-in-appearance balding old man with scraggly white goatee
beard and wrinkled old clothes and scuffed shoes walked into the room like
he owned the place, a plump woman stuffed into a cheap print dress two
sizes too small wearing orthopedic prescription shoes trailing behind him.
He went up to the DryBoard and wrote his and her names in large letters. 
Turned out he actually did own the place.  Clapping his hands several times
to call the class to order, he bellowed "welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to
my hotel, to my institute, and to my class, my Polykinetic Bodywork
Institute class, Class Of February 1997...please, stop your conversations,
and take your seats."

   Margot and I moved to sit at our assigned table, and began shuffling
through the pile of papers in front of us.  Everyone else quietly sat and
did the same, as Dr.  and Mrs.  Chaim whispered to each other for a moment,
Dr.  Chaim taking a seat on a tall stool behind the lecturn stand.

   "I see that everyone is here, and appears to be wide awake and
ready....good..."

   "...I am Dr.  Hugo Chaim, and this is my wife and partner in all ways
for the past four decades, Mrs.  Dr.  Helena Chaim..."

   "...You may or may not remember us, many of you are too young, from some
of pioneering sexology studies we did and published our results about some
decades back, a couple of which became best sellers in the early 70's,
especially in our early work in further identifying the morphology of and
promoting awareness of the human female 'G-spot'..."

   "...We were never as famous to the outside world as Masters & Johnson or
Kinsey, but we had our fifteen minutes...we have always been more respected
within the inner core of the psychiatric community than those people, and
have a better reputation for doing leading, cutting edge sexological
research, and developing concurrent modalities to implement the desired
product from that research..."

   He took a moment to sip his coffee, as we mimicked him, finishing our
breakfast rolls and such and swig on our own juice or coffee, he pausing,
almost closing his eyes for a second, as if to attempting to gather his
thoughts.

   "First things first...you may call me Dr.  Chaim, Dr., or Mr.  Chaim, or
Teacher, but do not address either myself or Mrs.  Chaim by our familiar
names...second, there several forms in front of you that you need to
sign...these forms should be similar to some of the pre-employment forms
you recently signed, limitation of liability forms, indemnifications forms,
non-disclosure and non-compete documents, etc.,...take a moment to look
them over, then sign them all...an instructor will be around in a moment to
pick them up...we'll have them notarized, then fax a copy to your
employers...if you'd like a copy for your own records as well, ask an
instructor later...third, let me reiterate the nature of this course and
need for absolute confidentiality..."

   "...This is a course designed to teach the basic of polykinetic bodywork
principles, which is a way of healing the wounded psyche of a given
patient, by application of kinetic application of sexual focus
therapies...what you will learn this week, and in the near future from your
apprenticeships, is an outgrowth from the old sexual surrogacy practices of
decades back, which worked, to a point...over the past decades and years,
we have further refined the paradigm of using ritualized sexual therapeutic
contact between therapist and patient to enable healing soma-to-soma,
body-to-body, that situationally can't be accomplished by conventional
psychiatric or pharmacological means...because this approach would be so
offensive to the public at-large, and is still suspect by some in the
psychiatric establishment who are not trained sexologists, though daily it
is being used by more and more mainstream psychiatrists, the need for
absolute confidentiality in all aspects of your soon-to-be professional
career is a must and should be obvious to you..."

   Two men and two women, all in their mid to late 20's looking like
college students and wearing labcoats, came up behind us all as we were
sitting at our desks, picking up our signed forms, looking them over,
taking them away to be notarized by another young female-type person, who
had come into the room and was sitting at the desk near Dr.  Chaim.

   "Forget every notion you've ever had about what is and is not sex, right
now, and forget every notion you've ever had about what is or isn't, might
or might not be appropriate treatment for promoting healing in a
patient...what we'll teach you, works, even though you might not initially
think so...Gwen and Nick have both been in boot-camp situations before, and
this is what you have volunteered for, a polykinetic sexual bodywork
bootcamp...and just like bootcamp, we're going to break you down, break
your past fears and hopes and dreams and dreads down, and rebuild you into
someone you won't recognize afterwards but who will more of actually who
you are, and do so in nine days..."



   "...Now, some basic groundrules...you must, I repeat, must comply with
every direction or instruction given to you by myself, Mrs.  Chaim, or one
of my instructors...you're not prisoners or even enlist-ees here, you're
free come and go as you please or even to go home at any time, but you've
all come here to learn the core skills of a new profession, and by God, in
nine days you will have learned those skills if I have any thing to say
about it...you may ask any question at any time to do so, but please be
courteous and wait for an appropriate moment to do so...your days will be
long and grueling, just like bootcamp, typically twelve hours or longer not
including lunch or meal breaks, but we do schedule other breaks and rest
periods enough to where you can relax and hopefully absorb what we're
trying to teach you..."

   A waiter brought around a tray of ice, cups, soft drinks, and carafes of
juice and coffee to our tables individually.

   The four people, two men and two women, apparently our instructors,
pulled up chairs behind and to one side of Dr.  and Mrs.  Chaim.  The
waiter refreshed Dr.  Chaim's coffee in his styrofoam cup and he continued.

   "Let me tell you some interesting facts about our society, my
students..."

   "...over fifty percent of the women in America suffer from one form of
sexual dysfunction or other pathology of condition that prevents them from
enjoying what most people would consider to be a normal and healthy sex
life, from conditions such as vaginismus, painful intercourse, reactions to
psychoterror crimes such as rape or incest, fatigued libido, etc. ..."

   "...forty percent plus of the men in America suffer from either a
correctable psychophysiological condition that negatively impacts their sex
life, such as premature ejaculation or erectile dysfunction, or a more
purely psychological pathology such as diminished libido..."

   "...over one new million cases of non-consensual incest against females
between the ages of three and fifteen and half a million similar cases to
the male gender happen each and every year..."

   "...four million women are victims of one degree of rape or another each
year..."

   "...millions of couples get divorced each year from a root cause of one
or both partners having one or more dysfunctional sexual pathologies..."

   "...it is to this frontier, is to this battlefield, that hopefully I
will send my newest crop of healers and nurturers to tend to the wounded,
to heal the sexually sick and injured, to make if not the world then a
handful of individual lives better, to bring rays of healing and goodness
to the world...now, that said, I'm an old man, and really must go let that
coffee I've been sipping on out..." Dr.  Chaim concluded as he walked from
the dais towards the men's room, all of us students standing and giving him
am impromptu round of sincere, heart-felt applause.

   We got up and mingled a bit around the buffet table.  I got into a
conversation with Gwen and Suruwan, Margot was talking with Nick and Flo
and Maddy.  One of the guy instructors fired up the VCR and tv, putting a
tape in but not beginning to play it yet.  The rest of the staff huddled
around the desk, intently studying something atop it, some papers or such.
Dr.  Chaim walked back in from the bathroom, and we all took our seats
without being told to do so, as he resumed his seat atop the stool behind
the podium.

   "I think....I truly believe that we have one of our very best classes
ever...ever....and I'm not just saying that to flatter you people...let me
give you some interesting facts about this group as a group..."

   "...your average age is 28, ranging from 18 to 43..."

   "...each and everyone one of you has a formalized medical background of
one sort or the other, from EMT to massage therapist to physical therapist
to medic to alternative medical provider to Native American healer to LPN
to RN to medical school student, and you all were recruited from a current
job in the medical profession..."

   "...more than half of you have bad credit, but you've all been paying
your bills on time for the past twelve months..."

   "...your average educational level is one and a half years beyond high
school..."

   "...your average IQ is 112..."

   "...each one of you comes from a normal, stable, two-parent family..."

   "...six of you are single and never have been married, Gwen has been
married to her husband for over twenty years, Maddy married last year, both
husbands know and approve of this new career path they've chosen..."

   "...none of you have psychological problems, in fact, your
pre-employment tests you took have all shown you all to be very empathetic,
strong healers in personality..."

   "....none of you has a history of illegal drug use, and none of you have
been in jail, ever...in fact, no one here has had anything worse than a
speeding ticket...none of you are smokers, or have ever been drunk more
than once or twice in your life..."

   "....and, lastly, the average number of paired sexual partners as in
dating you've had is approximately twenty over the course of your
respective lives..."

   "...oh, that reminds me...before we actually begin class, a note...each
of you has been thoroughly checked, and no one here has any contagious
disease of any sort, not sexual or otherwise, and every one here is
protected by a form of birth control, men as well as women...so, when we
get into the contact phase of your training, safer sex precautions are not
needed and will not be used, except in and for clinical demonstrations, but
that will all be explained more thoroughly shortly..."

   Dr.  Chaim waved his hand in a "come here" motion to the back of the
room, and the waiter at the buffet table brought him a fresh cup of coffee
in a new cup, Doc slightly bowing his head, looking intently at a point of
infinity atop the lecturn, then spoke once again.

   "Before we get to the very first act of your instruction, a tape you'll
see shortly, some clean-up business..."

   "...this floor of this hotel will be your home for the next nine days,
treat it as such..."

   "...you're free to come and go, as I mentioned, but because of time
constraints, only so many days to do so much, you must tell the security
guard at the desk between the elevators where you're going when you leave
the ninth floor and when you expect to be back, and call the front desk and
leave a message if you are delayed in coming back at time stated or have
problems otherwise..."

   "...there's an in-house health club adjacent to the lobby for hotel
guests only, feel free to use it during your breaks...there's also some
jogging trails on the property and down to the marina, but I think only
Nick is a jogger...feel free to walk them or whatever if you wish..."

   "...tomorrow you all will be nude for most of your classes, and for the
rest of the week...this floor is my private floor, Mrs.  Chaim and I live
in an apartment at the far end of the hall, but never knock on our door for
any reason...if you have problems, see an instructor, staff member, or the
security guard at the elevator desk...anyway, lost my train of thought,
sorry...since you'll be nude around each other soon for the rest of the
week, nudity in the halls is not only permitted but encouraged as well, we
have total privacy up here, but of course, please dress before leaving the
floor...also, since privacy will be minimal anyway soon, you're encouraged
but not mandated to leave your room doors open at all times, to further
promote social interaction between yourselves and your classmates..."

   "...anything you want or need to make your time here more comfortable or
satisfying, ask, ask any staff member or instructor...as long as it's not
outrageous, it will be provided, this is a full-service hotel, and your
employers have paid small fortunes to send you here, you will be pampered
and treated like honored guests as well as my favored students...any
questions?..."

   "...good...now, the drill is this...you have forgotten everything you
have ever learned about sex and human sexuality...therefor, it's our job to
teach you from scratch...once that is done, then we begin your polykinetic
bodywork training in earnest...take a five minute break if you need it,
your first instruction, a tape about the basics of human sexuality, begins
in approximately five minutes..."

   Coming back from my whizz, the tape was really boring.  It was about as
basic and non-explicit as something that would be shown in high school. 
Two hours of dreech.  After that, menu cards for lunch were passed around,
a staff member explaining that most days lunch would be brought in, some
days we could leave to eat in the hotel restaurant or bar or even a local
joint, but most days because of time constraints lunch would be brought up.
Next, flesh-colored half-section and full-section models of female and male
genitalia were distributed to us.

   A lot of what we had just seen on the tape was repeated, except that we
were to touch and play with and hold and poke and prod and look at this or
that aspect of the model organs as our instructors did the same and
directed us to mimic them.  Then, using overhead transparencies, more of
the same info was repeated again, in conjunction with touching of these
models.  Things were becoming pretty damn boring.  Like school children, we
all had to manipulate and verbally call out the names for the various
anatomical parts of the models we were touching, like every one of us
didn't already know all that and more.  Then, like being Mrs.  Hump's third
grade class, different instructors would fire out questions at random to
different students, Surawan and Keiko for some reason especially seeming to
catch the brunt of some of the questions, which they looked as bored as I
felt answering.

   Then from back of the room the sound of silverware and china clanging
was heard, with a gaggle of hotel employees pushing carts and carrying
trays, one of them yelling "Lunch, everyone!"

   Our instructors retreated from the room, scooting somewhere, not
speaking to any of us.  Mrs.  Chaim stuck her head in the room for a
second, then left.  We all pulled our mini-conference tables around to make
circle, and shared our lunchtime together.  Keiko said in a California not
Japanese accent that she felt especially singled out during the
instructors' questioning free-for-all, and we all agreed with her, same
with Surawan.  "A clit is a clit is a clit, damn them, and I have one and
know what's it for and what do with it, so I should know!" she fussed, we
laughing with her, not at her.  Gwen and Keiko snuggled together a little,
heads nudging sweetly together, light kisses exchanged.  Then Flo and
Maddy. Then Nick and Surawan, then Margot and me.  What the hell, right? 
We all were going to be having sex with each other soon anyway, right?

   I asked Gwen about her marriage and husband, what was his name, how did
they meet, etc..  She knew what I was really asking.  She replied that had
met through a mutual friend when she was 20, had gotten married three
months later, and that she had been totally faithful to her Bob, who also
was an RCMP officer, during the twenty-three years of their marriage.  I
didn't understand that, and my puzzlement must have shown.

   "Yes, Bob knows I will be having sex with strangers for money, Eric, men
and women, but he also knows how important this is to me, that it's an
extension of my basic healing and nurturing and caring and healing natures,
just like you have, Eric, just like we all have, or we wouldn't be here..."

   The group focused on our conversation.

   "I noticed you kissing Keiko just then...did you make love to Keiko last
night, and was that your first lesbian experience, Gwen, ma' pal?"

   "Yes, to both, Eric, my Southern charmer"

   "I'm...I'm bi!" Flo blurted out.

   We all without thinking blurted out if we were bi, gay or straight. 
Only Flo was bi, everyone else proclaimed they were straight.

   "I have masturbated select male clients off as favors in my massage
therapy practice, but since doing so is such a cardinal violation of
professional ethics, I never made a habit of it, it was always a favor to
them, and actually I masturbated more women clients by request than male
ones.." I admitted to the group, maybe trying to re-establish my
non-homo-is-ness a little.

   "Guys have chased me all me life, but since I'm a-hundred hetero, I'd'a
always decline the offer" Nick chirped in.

   "My husband and I have done some threesomes with other men and other
women while dating and since we've been married, we both enjoy the variety,
and while I did have some woman-to-woman contact in those situations, I've
never considered myself to be anything other than straight" Maddy added.

   "In high school, a best friend and I would feel each other up and kiss
sometimes, but never thought much about it...I've never felt what you'd
call lesbian feelings for another woman" Margot spoke up.

   "My parents raised me strict Hindu...what's in the Manual Of Therapeutic
Bodywork, what we're talking about now, all this is new to me...I was a
virgin until a few months ago" Surawan mentioned.

   "How did you find your way to this time and place?" Gwen asked Surawan.

   "Just lucky, I guess..." polite laughter from us all "...I was an LPN in
a group practice in my hometown that does a little bit of everything, it's
a small town east of LA, my parents moved there from India when I was
twelve, the group does ob-gyn, general medical practice, family therapy,
and sex therapy, though they don't put that in their Yellow Pages
ad...until one of the partners was introduced to the concept last year by a
psychiatrist friend of his, their sex therapy was all talk-therapy or
pharma-based...I'm going to be their first full-time bodyworker therapist,
though they did say I'd have to help grow the practice, I'd still have LPN
and receptionist work to do between seeing clients...anyway, to answer your
question, one day the senior partner just called me into his office, told
me about polykinetic bodywork, and asked if I'd be interested in being
trained in it...after he mentioned the potential compensation possible, I
said 'yes'", polite laughter of recognition being lauded by us all.

   Dr.  Chaim came back in, standing near our circle of desks.

   "Your main instructors for the day and the rest of the course haven't
been introduced to you yet, I'll do that shortly.  Please keep in mind that
in my or Mrs.  Chaim's absence, they are in charge, you need to follow
their instructions to the letter.  If a student has a problem, one of them
will come get the Mrs.  or myself.  Hopefully, there won't be any problems.
This course is not pass-fail, any exams are to help you spot your strengths
and weaknesses and work on strengthening them both, but you need to know,
that in many past classes, one or more students have dropped out or were
forced out, because they come to a stumbling block in the instructional
modality and can't or won't go around or under it.  But, I don't think that
will happen with this class.  Everyone here, each of you students, is
exceptional, you all have great potential to be excellent polykinetic
bodyworkers.  Now, let me introduce you to my core faculty."

   I have to admit, I hadn't been up until then and still wasn't
particularly impressed by them.  They all projected an attitude of
indifferent smugness, of old money core rudeness, of Ivy League privilege.
In other words, as physically attractive as a group as they were, all
lily-white with tanning-booth tans and perfect haircuts and unblemished
skin, even in their knee-length labcoats they looked like a bunch of aging
Young Republican Club members.

   But I and the group were going to be under them for the rest of the week
evidently, so I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt.  Dr.  Chaim
made a wave of his hand, and in unison as they stood in a line behind him
facing us, they dropped their labcoats simultaneously, and were all naked
underneath.  O-kee.  Perhaps not unexpectedly so.

   "This is Jerry..." Dr.  Chaim said, the first guy instructor bowing at
the waist to us, to indicate who he was "...and this is Courtney..." the
decent-looking brunette with pointy breasts and large nipples bowing to us
"...and Hollis...", "...and Ferrum...", "...and lastly but not leastly,
Libby, who will always be here in class with you even when some of the
other instructors won't and who has the title of Senior Instructor, she's
to be your go-to-girl for problems and concerns, especially if another
instructor and yourselves have a problem...understood?", Libby the
long-legged dirty blond with a medium tan pubic hair patch that didn't
match her hair color and large and pendulous and slightly dropping but
still shapely breasts with dark-red nipples bowing to us, smiling, doing a
mock-salute to us all.  Courtney, Hollis, Ferrum, Libby, Jerry...four out
of five prep names, yep, old preppies.

   The rest of the afternoon was are boringly non-erotic as you can have
looking at, observing, and touching a bunch of naked people.  Keeping our
clothes on, no one told us to undress, the instructors rolled out a couple
of gyn exam tables and bar stools and proceeded to do a virtually identical
show-and-tell as what we had gone through with the videotape and the
overhead transparencies and the life-size foamrubber models, except this
time our instructors became live coatracks that their genitalia models hung
from.  I would have never thought that feeling up three different sets of
breast and vaginas could be non-erotic, but as we all were being grilled
about function and form and gross anatomy while doing so, it was.  I could
tell Nick was a little bothered having to touch and feel the male
instructors while calling out answers to questions they shot to him, but my
turn doing it didn't bother me one way or the other.

   We took a short break around two for a few minutes, then back to it. 
This time, things were a little more interesting.  Our instructors had sex
with each other in various combinations, MF, FF, MFM, FMF, and yes, MM, in
every conceivable sex act.  When Nick saw the Jerry and Hollis such each
other off and then Hollis penetrate Jerry's ass, Nick turned blanche white,
and looked like he was going to puke.  I, we, all knew from reading our
manuals that even for male bodyworkers, some same-sex contact was
inevitable, though the manual made it very clear that in Dr.  Chaim's
theories and context, no male bodyworker would ever be expected to receive
anal penetration from another man, and only in very rare and exceptional
cases give such therapeutic action, and all MM contact within "the Chaim
system" was to be with female bodyworker partner, and virtually always when
giving therapy to a MF client-couple.  My gut told me that if anyone was
going to drop out of class, it would be probably be Nick.

   I could tell that the instructors had been together as a team for a good
while.  While demonstrating, while going through the menu of common sexual
human possible contacts, they didn't hide the fact that they were enjoying
themselves, most of the time at least.  Ferrum, Courtney, and Libby
especially seemed to enjoy live demo'ing the lesbian and bifemale branches
of the human sexual credo tree.  I could tell Flo wanted to jump right in
there with them, shoot, I think at times we all wanted to get naked and
jump right in on different scenes they were "performing" for us, but they
kept us too busy, peppering us with questions and digs for insights and
perspectives which they were repeating rote from the manual and trying to
drill in our heads.  "Doc Chaim wasn't kidding when he said this was going
to be like bootcamp", Nick commented.

   The clock now read five past six, the faculty was evidently through with
show-and-tell for the day having gone to take quick showers in the shower
area next to the bathrooms at the leftside of the room, and we were all
tired and wanted the day to end and get something to eat, but, but
nnoooooo. Coming back, they pulled out some thick, red-vinyl covered mats
from the pile of stuff over in the corner, and told us to sit in a
semi-circle together, as they squeezed between us in the circle.  For the
next two frigging hours, we had to talk about the day, what it was like,
was it what we expected, what liked and didn't like about, what could have
been done better, how we felt about being there, how we felt about this and
that and Mrs.  O'Malley's frigging cow.

   What a total bore.  I did vent some feelings of boredom I had felt
during the day.  I also commented that while we, the students, looked like
a United Nations Sex Therapy Class, they looked like a Jaycees Alumni
Reunion Sex Therapy Faculty.  Everyone laughed at that, including "them".
Nick also spoke of his queasiness about watching Hollis and Jerry do their
male-male stuff, and the group talked about that.  Every one of my women
classmates commented on the spectacular display of lesbian sexual practices
that the girl instructors had given us.  Then the conversation died to a
murmur or two, and Libby called it a night at eight p.m., telling us that
we could go eat in the hotel bar or restaurant and just show our room key
to charge it to the Institute or we could walk down to or have the van
driver drive us into Roslyn and eat at a restaurant in town if we wanted to
spend our own money on dinner, that we would all get wake-up calls at 7 the
next morning, and to be in the classroom by 8, and to, "by the way,
tomorrow we start in earnest, so no clothes on from tomorrow morning on
out...and, oh, Nick, Eric, don't forget to take your pills..." as if Carol
was using her as a ventriloquist dummy.

   Nick and Surwana and Flo and Maddy quickly peeled out of the room.  Gwen
and Keiko and Margot and myself hung back, making small talk for a moment.
I asked if we shouldn't all go out to dinner together, that Margot's and my
bosses were buying, that being the point of the five hundred in expense
money they had given us.  Gwen and Keiko jumped at my/our invitation.

   I asked the guy at the elevator guard desk where the best steak in town
was, and he gave me directions to some place outside of town, a thirty
minute van or cab ride.  Gwen said she wanted something French or
Continental, the guard mentioning that the restaurant at the marina served
several French dishes including a great escargot and they also had decent
steaks and seafood, too.  It was settled.  We told him we going there, and
wouldn't be back until midnight, to give ourselves some leeway.  House
rules, however dumb, and all.  It had been basically a good day.

   At the restaurant, the wait was only thirty minutes despite having no
reservations and it being Saturday night.  After fifteen minutes, I had
dropped Dr.  Chaim's name, and that seemed to help.

   Gwen had something covered in gravy and slime and costing a a fortune,
but I didn't care.  Keiko and Margot both ordered the grilled sea bass.  I
had my usual steak, an au jus primerib this time.  It melted on my fork and
in my mouth.  A reward for my first school day survived.

   Gwen and Keiko couldn't keep their hands off each other or their tongues
out of each other mouths while eating.  At least I had asked for a private
table with some privacy.

   They had given me that and more, having a short partition between us and
most of the restaurant and having a view overlooking the boat docks and the
Long Island Sound in the distance.

   Margot and I snuggled and smooched more than jumped each other's bones
like the newly-minted lesbian lovebirds were doing across the table from
us. Their rising passions were definitely affecting Margot and myself. 
Dinner passing into the night around ten-thirty, I paid the bill, a little
steep at two hundred plus but Carol did say use the money and don't be shy
about asking for more, stuffing the receipt in my wallet so not to lose it.
Walking the ten minute walk back to Roslyn Harbour Hotel from the marina,
we four walked abreast, arms around each other's waists and shoulders. 
"What the heck" I thought to myself "Gwen, Keiko, want to come back to
Margot's and my room?" I asked.

   I couldn't help but see Gwen as a virgin, her having made love to only
one man and one woman, Keiko, in her forty-three years on this planet.  I
wanted to be her "first", no denying that.

   I slipped to the bathroom to take my blankety-blank MascuStat pill
before I could forget, as the girls got undressed in the bedroom while I
did, quickly taking a piss and flossing and brushing my teeth as well.

   They hadn't waited on me at all.  Gwen, all hundred eighty or ninety
pounds of sexy Canadian matronly woman of her, was locked in a sixty-nine
with Keiko, Keiko looking almost like a small boy with no dick, her breasts
being smaller than champagne glasses.  Margot was roaming hands and tongue
all over them as her spirit moved her to do.  Gwen and Keiko were lost in
their passion, not evening noticing Margot's attentions, I think.  Keiko
bucked a little and knocked Margot's glasses accidentally off the
nightstand.  Picking them up and putting them away from the action on the
dresser, I nudged myself a little room to one side on the bed.

   I joined Gwen's tongue on Keiko's eighteen-year-old flawless cunt,
holding Gwen's head in the crook of my arm, sliding in between to kiss Gwen
on the lips.  She kissed back.  Margot joined our kiss, three tongues
screwing.  Keiko had begun a slow frig of Gwen, and she was beginning to
moan.  Scooting around, I whispered in Keiko's ear, and she slid off.  I
slid on top of Gwen as she lay under me, and Margot guided my prick to the
her pussy.  Her eyes eased open, and she smiled at me.  I had taken her
non-marital virginity, and she knew it and seemed pleased.  Margot licked
my cock and Gwen's cunt lips as I slowly pumped her.

   Keiko crawled up and began kissing her.  I felt Margot slip a finger in
Gwen's ass while I fucked her.  Margot and Keiko wedged between us, first
in a sixty-nine, then in a face-to-face thigh-to-cunt mutual grind.  Margot
later admitted to me that that moment was her first full-blown lesbian
experience, but she had said as much earlier in class that day, whatever, I
didn't care, I was fucking Gwen, taking "my" cherry.

   Gwen and I switch position, she getting on top.  Keiko began licking her
asshole while she fucked me, Margot joined her fingers to my cock inside
Gwen's cunt.  I knew I had a couple of comes in me or more, but things
seemed to be reaching a mutual climax.  I let my orgasm go in her.  I
grabbed her breasts and gently pulled on her nipples.

   Her cunt clamped down hard on my cock.  That was it.  A few strokes
later, and I came, filling a day's worth of unreleased hards out inside
her. Flopping down beside me, Gwen and I kissed, while Margot and Keiko
took turns licking my cock and the inside of Gwen's cunt clean.  Heaven. 
Sheer, unadulterated heaven.  "This might be a really fun week after all" I
thought.

   It was twelve-thirty a.m., damn the time.  Long day ahead tomorrow, and
we all knew it.  Gwen and Keiko shared kisses with us both thanking us for
the wonderful evening, walking out of room naked, holding their clothes and
shoes as the pattered out of room to go back to theirs just down the hall,
leaving our door open, per implied earlier instructions.

   Margot and I took a quick rinse-off together, and fell into bed,
exhausted but happy.  We kissed and smooched and my hard came back up.  It
was too late for another full-blown session, as much as I wanted.  Margot
got on all fours on the bed and I faced her face, holding her head in my
hands and fucking her mouth, as we had done in the shower last night.  She
seemed to really enjoy having a mouth-fuck.

   Rushing, I came within five minutes or so.  Wanting to repay the favor,
we lay facing each other and kissed, while my lubricated thumb and fingers
penetrated her, my thumb in her pussy and two fingers up her ass, I figured
my Margot would like that, and she did, coming quickly, bucking my hand.

   Sleep overtook us, my hand still in her cunt and ass.  The seven a.m. 
wakeup call rousted my digits free from their feminine prison some hours
later, we both licking and drawing her essence in from my hand to our
mouths and noses while we kissed and sucked on my hairy fingers.  We both
wanted to sleep in a little, but an annoying character, it looked like
Ferrum in the unlit room's twilight, appeared at the foot of our bed at
seven-fifteen, large spray can of something in her hand, rousting us up
from our innocent langour.

   Title Of Page

   The Body Worker by PlanetDweller

   Day 2, or, The Wiring Of Jericho, Pt.1, The A.M.  session (MF, FM, FMF,
MFM, light MM, oral, anal, vegetable, mineral, group, MMMMFFFFFFFF,
everything, sex therapy, menstrual sex)

   Our attractive little JP (Jewish Princess-looking) instructor, one of
our drill sergeants of new sex, Ferrum, tickled the bottoms of our feet
under the cover until we both cried "Uncle!" and rolled out of bed. 
"You've both got to lose all your body hair below your neck...this is an
industrial-strength depilatory spray, it won't sting but will feel a little
warm for about an hour...leave it on for no less than ten but no longer
than fifteen minutes, then shower it off with warm but not hot water and
don't use soap...who wants to go first?" "I'll volunteer..." I sleepily
replied.  "You want your facial hair beard area done too?...this lasts for
usually three or four weeks...it's up to you, Eric..." "Might as well..."
"Then cover your eyes firmly with your hands, you don't want this stuff in
your eyes" she cautioned.

   Ferrum sprayed me down like doing a disinfectant spray-down on a POW
prisoner.  Spraying a puddle on my chest next after she had covered me
head-to-toe in foam first, she sprayed my beard area under my chin, then
told me to remove my hands from my eyes, dabbing some foam from the puddle
on my upper lip/mustache area.  "On all fours at the foot of the bed,
please Eric, and reach and spread your asscheeks for me..."

   The foam sprayed over the rest of me felt like cinnamon oil had been
painted on me; it was becoming more than a little warm feeling.  Ferrum
coated my anal pucker and worked a spray of foam on my balls in with her
hand some, making sure all my ball and inside crotch hair was also covered.
"Okay, Margot, you're next..." Ferrum covering her similarly as she had
just done me.  "It's now 7:37...between 7:47 and 7:52, you must rinse off
as instructed, or it'll discolor and pickle your flesh...any
questions?...", we replying "no".  "...don't forgot, total nudity from now
on, on the floor and in class, see you in a bit...oh, class start time has
been moved to eight-thirty instead of eight, it appears that everyone else
also had a late night too...see ya' in a bit..."

   Nick also looked and appeared to have felt like I did, a friendly
sheepdog shorn of his coat.  He didn't have a bit of hair visible, either,
as we and everyone but Surawan and Flo milled around the breakfast buffet
table, checking each other's new nudity out, munching on pastries, sipping
juice and coffee.  Our desks and the projection tv and the lecturn and
other desk and all had been pushed to one side of the back of the room, and
the beds and gyn tables were front and center now.  The chairs had been
arranged into two semi-circles facing each other near the beds.

   Surawan wandered in, looking nice in her medium-melanined Indian
skincoating.  Flo pranced in a moment after her, and I think everyone of us
was distracted by her beauty.  Her perfectly precisioned short but with
body and style natural blond hair.  Her beautiful, runway model face.  Her
flawlessly tanned but still white but not pale skin.  Her perfect fashion
model 34B's, not Kate Moss-ish at all, but not half-melons either.  The
matched pair of almost sculpted nipples adorning them.  Yes, I was drawn
in.

   The clock read eight-two-five.  Dr.  and Mrs.  Chaim walked in next,
naked as we were.  Dr.  Chaim's body and skin had the pallor and texture of
a two-hundred-pound gunney sack full of irish potatoes, as wrinkled and
puckering'd and uggghhh and all.  Not meaning to be cruel, just honest,
while Mrs.  looked better than Doc, her nudity reminded me of a female
version of the Michelen Man, her thighs slightly rubbing together when she
walked, making a soft sound.  They went over to their desk pushed to the
back wall, talked in private, then Doc called the class to order.

   Our naked-as-we-were instructor corps trailed in behind, taking their
seats on either side of Doc and Mrs.  on the back semi-circle of
towel-draped chairs, we students sitting in our paired arrangements from
yesterday, four pairs of two chairs being slightly segregated by just
inches more from each other.  I notice things like that.  Margot and I held
hands as Doc stood up and began to speak.

   "Today, students, we begin in earnest.  No one hit an insurmountable
wall yesterday, so I think everyone here will make it through the week. 
That's what all that screening you went through at your employers was
for..." (polite laughter from the group).  "Today, we will begin to rip the
old hard wiring out from your psyche, and will start replacing it with
stronger, thicker wires that you'll need in your new profession...we'll
tear the walls of your inner Jericho, down to their very foundations, so
that we can begin to rebuild a much stronger structure in its place, using
the foundation of who you truly are as a base...any questions?" Slightly
puzzle silence.

   "Good...now, who can tell me what 'The Principle Of Possession' is?"
Seven right hands and one left hand shot up, like we were back in naked
junior high.  "Good...I see you all have been studying the Manuals on your
own...good...Maddy, please stand and tell me and the group what you think
the 'Principle Of Possession' is..."

   Maddy stood up, shivered for a second, cleared her throat, her nipples
tightened on her bare pert breasts, as she began: " 'The Principle Of
Possession' is where the professional bodyworker therapist, in a clinical
setting, accepts the voluntary surrender of will and causes of action from
a patient-client, in order to facilitate, by use of direct physical contact
means between therapist and patient, a series of combinations of
psychological, physiological, and pscyhophysiological breakthroughs and
healing modalities...doing so is called 'Principle Of Possession', because
the bodywork therapist literally assumes, through acts of trust offered by
the patient, temporary possession of the patient's will and consent...this
principle is no different from similarly surrendering our will and consent
temporarily in order to enable pathological conditional healing when we
would go to a general practitioner physician for a diagnosis and shot of
antibiotics when we have the flu, the surrendering of our will to the
physician being consensual but total because of the implied consent that
rests upon the assumption that our physician in that case will do no harm
and will probably help us with our problem."

   "Very good, Maddy, a very good explanation in-deed, even if it wasn't
precisely what I had written in 'The Manual'...", Doc commenting, the rest
of us politely applauding Maddy's effort.

   Speaking to the class, Doc continued "...your understanding 'The
Principle Of Possession' is most critical for you to be a success as a
bodyworker...if you don't live it emotionally as well as understand it
intellectually, you can not pass this course and can not become a
bodyworker...we will be recording how well you respond to this Principle,
in cases of offering and receiving Possession to and from others..."
"...Now, it's time for a demonstration of it...Margot, please sit on the
edge of the bed right behind me....class, gather around us, as I
demonstrate".

   Margot ungrasped my hand as she she stood up and went over to the bed.
Hollis and Jerry pulled the other beds and gyn tables a little further
apart to give the rest of us some room to stand around it.  Doc stood in
front of her, and began a slow facial massage, which lasted a couple of
minutes.  He then pulled her to him as she sat on the edge of the bed,
gently stroking and massaging her back, kissing her on the top of the head
a time or two as he did, which also lasted a couple of minutes.  Easing
back a little, he massaged and played with her breasts, massaging her
nipples with easy circular motions, working her muscles from breasts to
shoulder, rubbing underneath them, kissing her forehead as he gently
commanded, "up on the table, Margot".

   We all recognized he was going through the "Therapeutic Bodywork Bonding
Ritual", as outlined in our 'Manual.  Margot slid off the bed and onto the
gyn exam table next to it, putting her feet in the stirrups.  Standing to
one side, Doc ran his hands over her some more for a moment as she lay
face-up looking at the ceiling, before sitting down on a stool at the end
of the exam table, her spread legs wide to his view.  A plastic speculum
was inserted into her vagina and opened up, he peered inside for a second,
then closed and pulled it out and tossed it in a nearby trashcan.  He
rubbed her clit and cunt lips with unlubricated fingers for another moment,
then inserted two fingers inside her "face up", and judging by the look on
her face, immediately found and began manipulating her G-spot.  Within
thirty seconds, an obvious orgasm came over her, and a tiny squirt of
pressured come leaked from her cunt.  Doc may have been an ugly old fart,
but he knew what he was doing.  He had written "The Book", "The Manual",
after all.  We watched with focused intensity.  "Back on the edge of the
bed, Margot" Doc directed.

   "Fellate me to a firm erection, Margot", he nicely barked, as he stood
back in front of her face.  Margot sucked his crooked, wrinkled-skin old
dick until it popped up hard within a moment.  Not bad for an old man. 
"All fours, Margot, your knees as close to the edge of the bed as possible,
please", as she flipped over and around, horizontal to the bed.  Doc's cock
pointed more to the top of her butt than her cunt.  "Raise the bed a couple
of inches, please, Jerry", Doc motioned as Jerry came over and turned the
crank underneath the footboard that I hadn't even noticed before, the beds
must having been old surplus hospital beds of some sort, Doc pressing his
cock in her once the bed was at the right height to match up.

   Without words, without Margot seeing what was happening, her face
pressed down to the bed, Libby brought over a couple of condoms and tube of
KY to Doc.  "Tell me how much you enjoy being fucked, Margot" "I enjoy
being fucked by you, Dr.  Chaim, you fuck really well!" "Tell me how you
feel Margot, how does my cock inside your vagina, feeeelllll, Margot?" "It
feels great, Dr.  Chaim...GREAT!...please...please, fuck me all you
want..."

   Doc lubricated two fingers and slipped them into her anus.  Margot stuck
her ass back hard, trying to fuck his fingers as well as his cock.  "How do
my fingers, ffeeellll, Margot?" "They feel wonderful...wonderful..." she
whispered in low passion.  Fucking her while frigging her ass for two or
three moments, he pulled his fingers out, quickly opened and rolled a
condom on and pushed his cock inside her.  Margot freaked in a good way. 
She started waggling her tail at him, grasping the covers of the bed in her
fists, moaning loud enough to wake the dead, then started crying, real
tears, real fucking tears.  I had assfucked several women before, and none
had cried when I did it to them.  But then I realized that these were tears
of joy and passion, not pain or anguish.  Margot's body thrashed around as
Doc grabbed her ass and pushed as deep inside as he could.  She sobbed
uncontrollably into the sheets.  Doc picked up his pace, fucked her tail
even a little harder, then pulled back, pulled her back around to where she
was sitting upright again in front of him, flicked the condom off his cock,
and pushed his dick into her mouth, filling her mouth full of his jism, she
obviously swallowing every drop as he twitched in front of her.

   Doc sat down beside her, pulling her head to his shoulder, Margot still
sobbing a little.  I think she becoming embarrassed a tad, maybe having
forgotten momentarily where she was at while being assfucked, now realizing
again we all had watched everything.  She gently pulled at Doc's
now-shrunken littleman as she leaned into the nape of his neck.  Courtney
brought her a dampened warm washcloth and a handtowel so she could wipe the
salty eye brine from her face.

   "Margot, how did you like that?" "That was wonderful, Teacher...thank
you" "You're welcome...now, Margot, tell the class why you broke down and
cried while being given anal sex..." "I'm not sure why I did...it just...it
just happened".  "Was it because when you were between seven and eight, a
close male friend of the family who wasn't a relative anally raped you with
his finger in your bedroom at your home while your parents were there, but
you were too afraid to cry out because he threatened you, but you still up
until now have blamed your parents for not protecting you, as much as your
blame the perpetrator of that crime???" Doc's voice rising to a supportive
crescendo.

   Margot looked directly in his eyes, silently, deeply, with a "how the
kingdom come hell did you possibly know, could have possibly found that
out??!!!??"

   Doc read her silent message of protest, answering "Margot, a
psychiatrist can find out more than mere surface answers when analyzing
psychological tests like you took pre-employment, before you came to us..."

   "Eric..." "Uh-hu" I answered.  "You and Margot have had sex several
times the past couple of days, and you enjoy anal sex with women, but
haven't had anal sex with Margot, correct?" "Uh...yeah, that's right" "And
even though you two are to be bodywork practice partners, you never would
have, she would have never permitted you or any man to penetrate her
anally, not even for therapeutic benefit of a patient, isn't that correct,
Margot?...", Margot nodding "yes" as she still sat close to Doc on the edge
of the bed but pulled slightly away from him "...now, tell me and the
class, Margot, did you like being anally sexed?" "Yes, Dr.  Chaim, it felt
great".  "You've had this horrid fear of assfucking since you were a little
girl, but here, now, you enjoyed it...why?" "I'm not sure...I think
because...because I trusted...I trust you...I know you'd never hurt me,
only heal me, you're a doctor, a healer...like I am a healer...and in using
the safety of this time and place, you broke through my walls that
surrounded my fear of anal sex"

   "Correct, Margot...see, class?...'The Principle Of Possession' in
practice...my polykinetic bodywork principles in real-time practice...if I
hadn't been able to begin the healing process or removing emotional scar
tissue inside of Margot's mind through polykinetic means, she never would
have passed this course, or been able to become a professional
bodyworker...she gave possession of her trust and consent, and I used that
to enable polykinetic bodywork principles to free her from the enslavement
of a horrible memory that has kept a part of her sexuality chained in a
private dungeon since childhood... ...This, class, is what it's all about,
this is why you're here, to learn to, within a safe clinical setting,
enable healing within those who suffer from a variety of sexual
dysfunctions...now, take a five minute break, your own barriers will be
broken down shortly".

   When we got back from our bathroom breaks, everyone talking about what
just had happened in loud whispers while waiting for a stall or urinal to
open inside the now-designated unisex bathrooms the male and female signs
on the doors having been removed sometime last night or this morning, Doc
wasn't there, and Mrs.  Doc was sitting where Doc had been in the
semi-circle of staff chairs facing our chairs, Libby sitting cross-legged
in front of her, leaning back, making back-to-leg contact with Lady Doc. 
Mrs.  Chaim clapped her hands with a "everyone in back in their seats,
please", a slight but not-easily-identifiable accent, sounding a little
German but also a little something else, rolling the words out chirpingly.

   Sipping on our juice or soft drinks or coffee, we focused on the
prettier half of our ultimate bosses for this course, at least prettier
than Doc was.

   "Class, before we proceed to the next stages, a little background that
you need to know...." "...when there was only surrogacy before we came
along, it was all female surrogates working with a strictly male clientele,
mainly dealing with issues of premature ejaculation and performance, with
only the rarest female client, mainly lesbian clients..." "...how-e-v-e-r,
as the years have progressed, and women have become more truly empowered,
women have, at least a percentage of women in the population have, asserted
their Gofffddd-giben rights to medical treatments suited for them, for
their, our, my, sex, including the right to sexual therap-ooo-tic
modalities...women are no longer willing to accept substandard or
non-existent treatment, just because society sffttill at-large doesn't
accept women as sexual beings in all cases...  "...that is why, in most
bodywork practices that are