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Subject: The Body Worker 1-14 (Sex therapy, MM, MF, MFFgg, young sister/sister, pedo)
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The Body Worker 1-14 (Sex therapy, MM, MF, MFFgg, young sister/sister, pedo)

  by

  PlanetDweller

                                                     
                      Therapist   &   Bodyworking   Patient
                      by Alfredo Lopez, Jr., of www.lopezstudios.com
                      {Please click on this link to visit his website

                      where you can see more of his very talented
                      work, thanks!}

Chapters 1-14



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.

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

As published on the website of The Society For The
Scientific Study Of Sexuality

Ethics Statement

Section VI. The Use of Sex Surrogates

The use of a sex surrogate is ethical when it is not
proscribed by law. The sexuality professional should
ensure that the surrogate and client participate
freely with informed consent, especially with regard
to risk of possible sexually transmitted diseases.
When a sex therapist uses a surrogate partner as a
part of therapy, the surrogate has the same
responsibility to the client's welfare as does the
therapist and the same responsibility to keep
information about the client confidential. It should
also be understood that the partner surrogate,
WHEN ACTING IN THAT CAPACITY, is not a sexual
therapist and functions only in an adjunctive role
under the supervision of the sex therapist. It is the
responsibility of the sex therapist to see that the
surrogate is aware of these obligations.
Inclusion of a sexual surrogate in the therapy
process should be in conformity with the
appropriate professional surrogates association
codes of ethics. Surrogate-assisted therapy should
also be consistent with the SSSS Admissions policy,
which requires that surrogates work only under the
supervision of a licensed clinician.

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



Chapter 1: My short bio., and how I fell into
the profession (MF, FMF, MM, FF, Mm, Mf, Fm,
Ff, Mb, Fb, sex therapy, sensual massage,
sexual massage, oral, group, all combinations,
clinical sex, 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 a  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 Wake
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 Wake 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, Wake 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 Wake
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.


The Body Worker
by
PlanetDweller

Chapter 4: 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 whiff-in our scope of knowledge, anywhere from
25% to 50%+ of a typical clientele calendar is for
women . . . "
" . . . over the years, we have documented that
while most straight women prefer to deal with a
man in a bodyworking therapy situation, alllffftho
that's not always the case, almost all women clients
seeking bodywork therapy are not affffverss to
working with a fffwoman bodyworker, mainly, I
fffink, because they don't see bodywork contact
with a female bodyworker as sexual, they see it as
therapeutic, much as fffaay don't see contact from a
woman gynnie-cologist as being sexual, either,
efffen though obviously bodywork is sexual in
nature, perceptions aside . . . also, many practices
are uncomfortable in having a male bodyworker on
their staff, because of their own mmmffisgivings or
prejudices . . . "

" . . . when you are a bodyworker dealing with such
a large percentage of female clients, one can not be
averse to embracing the feminine, to working with
fffwwemales of all ages, bodytypes, appearances,
et-cet-era . . . and, a wwffact of life is that women
have periods, and as a bodyworker, one can not
pick and choose not to work with a woman-client on
her pwwweeriod . . . .
. . . now, according to your test results, every single
one of you, except Surawan . . . " (we all turned to
look at 'Surry) " . . . has at least some menstrual
aversion, and this is unacceptable, and we're going
to work on this in a moment . . . "
" . . . keep in mind, too, that besides working with
women on ffftheir periods who are seeking
treatment for whatever else, some of your cases
will be where you'll be removing a personal taboo of
menstrual sex from their pppersonalities, at their
request."

Miz Doc patted Libby's head as Libby leaned further
back to her, sipped on a foamcup of something,
thought for a second, then continued.
"Some of the models this week will be having their
periods . . . . we call any non-staff twweem-member
who is here for purposes of demonstrating one or
more aspects of bodywork pwwwinciples to you
students 'models', by the way . . . in order to more
realistically train you for your lives after school . . .
"
" . . . now, the only student this moment hafffing
her period is Fwwwooo, correct? . . . " no one else
speaking, especially myself or Nick " . . . although I
do think Gwen will start later this week, and maybe
Kaaa-khooo this Saturday or Sunday, correct? . . . "
Gwen and K. nodding affirmatively.
"Fwwo, please come here, stand in front of me . . . "
Ms. Doc ordered, as Libby scooted to one side.

Mrs. Doc forced her hand between Flo's legs, and
pulled her tampon out. Courtney, who had left the
room and come back, handed a pair of Flo's panties
to her, evidently having pilfered them from her
room.
"Dwwwering class, Flo, girls, we simply can't make
allowances for your periods . . . soon, in your
practices, in won't make any dwwwiffeence, anyway
. . . so, during class exercises, all contact shall be
as if you weren't on your periods, understood? . . . "
we all verbalizing a soft "yes", " . . . for ease of
conffwwenience during class, you'll need to wear a
napkin, Fwwlo, not a tampon, there's a selection
over there (pointing to the wirerack full of medical
supplies to the right side of the room) if you don't
have any wwwiff you . . . come closer, Fwwllo".

Siiiwwee Doc began a slow frig of Flo, her hand
stained red as it came into view from her in-out
motion.
"Re-wax, Child, re-wax, we are all pwoofessionals,
here, Flo-wence . . . " as Libby stood up and moved
to around to play with Flo's breasts from behind.
Stopping, Mrs. Doc licked a bloody finger, did
another few frigs, then offered to Flo's mouth, Flo
licking her own feminine essence off the wrinkled
index finger of Dr. Helena Chaim like she was
sucking a cock, closing her eyes, trying to take the
experience in, trying, I think, not to show any
revulsion, trying to be a good student. Misrez Doc
got up and went down the line of us students, she
leading Flo as they stood consecutively in front of
each of us in turn, sticking a finger up Flo's cunt,
then offering us each a bloodwarm vampire popsicle
to suck on, we taking it in stride as part of our
training.

"You'll have more period sex later today with some
models, but now it's time for another step in your
training first . . . . Wweeebbie will be in charge for
the rest of the day . . . good luck . . . Dr. Chaim and
I will be around if we're needed" she concluded as
she left the room.

Libby barked her spiel. "Class, please take your
seats for a moment . . . one item . . . during times
where there will just two points of focus, as in two
models for the group to work with, the group shall
be divided this way: Group Number One . . . Margot,
Flo, Maddy, Eric; Group Number Two . . . Gwen,
Surawan, Keiko, Nick . . . please remember this,
and remember, this is when we need two
sub-groups only . . . any questions? . . . no, good . .
. "
" . . . now comes the first real core part of your
training, the first of many, many more to come in
the days ahead . . . we're going to now break your
sexuality down, and begin to rebuild it . . . each of
us staff will first 'do' each of you, then you will in
turn parrot what we do to you to us, in turn, then,
with us, you will each have sex with each other . . .
with eight of you and five of us, it'll require a little
juggling, but nothing we haven't done before,
hehehe.." not one of us laughing at her joke " . . .
you may freely have orgasms as you wish during
bodywork contact, but allowing for time constraints,
when you're doing something to one of us or
yourselves, and we say 'stop' or go on to the next
item in sequence, you must do so . . . any
questions?"

"Yes, Libby . . . " I spoke up.
"Exactly what will you do to us, we to you, we to
each other . . . exactly, what?"
"Good question, Eric . . . good question . . .
everything sexual, and I do mean everything that
can happen between a man and a woman, two
women, or two men, and some standard bodywork
combinations such as typical MFF and MFM
threesomes, except that you and Nick will not be
required to have anal sex with each other, unless
you both express a desire to do so . . . ", Nick and I
both making immediate eye contact with each
other, both shaking our heads "no" at each other.
"Nick and I won't be doing that" I respond.
Laughing aloud, the girls laughing at not with us
too, Libby continued " . . . I didn't think you and
Nick would, Eric . . . now, follow our leads" Libby
finished.

Hollis and Jerry piled the exercise mats, I just now
realizing exactly what kind of exercise they were
for, sometimes I am a little slow on the uptick, out
in the middle of the room in a large, rough circle,
the chairs being places around them, a bunch of
hotel pillows being fetched from a storage closet
adjacent to the room and thrown onto the pile of
mats at random.

The staff concentrated on the women first. Libby
picked Gwen, Jerry picked Flo, Courtney picked
Maddy, Hollis picked Keiko, and Ferrum picked
Surawan. Piling on to the matpile, it initially looked
like total chaos, like an orgy gone out of control,
but as I and Margot and Nick watched everyone
else, an order arose from seeming randomness. But
at first, we were just observing to observe, it was
our job.

Jerry flung Flo's napkin'd panties to one side of the
room. She wouldn't wear them any more that day,
until all the exercises were through. XY Dox hadn't
been kidding. Standing face-to-face, Jerry felt her
up. Nudging her down, he gave her some head, then
fucked her pussy for a moment. Ferrum broke
Surawan for a second to retrieve and distribute
tubes of KY and condoms and latex gloves like she
was throwing Christmas candy off the caboose of a
Santa Train.
"By the way, L-A-D-I-E-S !!! . . . " Libby breaking
away from Gwen for a moment, standing up " . . .
the only reason the men will be using condoms
when assfucking you is to save time, which we
don't have a lot of . . . if they didn't use condoms,
they'd have to stop and wash their genitals off
before proceeding to their next partner . . . we're all
certified squeak-eee clean and safe here, condoms
are not needed for anything but common courtesy .
. . " she intoned, as she jumped back down to
groping up Gwen, then licking her pussy, then
sticking a condom-covered finger up her ass.

It looked like Hollis was really enjoying Keiko as
they fucked. You can't fake a look of sheer pleasure
like that, and why would he want to? "Keiko must
have one tight pussy . . . " I thought silently to
myself. Jerry's crotch and upper thighs became
blood-red with Flo's menstrual fluid. He covered his
cock with a condom, fucked her pussy some for
effect, added some KY atop it, then penetrated her
ass, sharing her blood back to her hin-o-l-a. Yes, it
was damnably erotic site.

The sequence of events became clear. If it was
woman-to-woman, an instructor would normally
stand or kneel in front of a student, feel them up,
feel their breasts and pussy as they stood or
kneeled passively, maybe kiss them but usually not,
then they'd lay them down on the mat and give
them some head, then cover an index finger with a
condom, and frig their student-partner's asshole for
just a very short while, not much, more as an act of
"possession", I think. If it was
man-instructor-to-woman-student, the guy would
similarly feel them up and frig them, then have
them suck them hard a bit, then lay 'em down and
give 'em head in return, then get on top or have
them get on all fours or some other position and
pussy fuck them, and then roll them on all fours if
they weren't in that position already, put a condom
on, and assfuck them.

Margot and I and Nick sat together and watched the
rest of the group. Margot and I held hands. She and
I kissed for a moment, then just looked into each
other's eyes, as friends and lovers. I had to ask her.
"Is what Doc said this morning . . . about what
happened to you and all when you were a little girl .
. . true?"
Margot broke eye contact, looking at the floor.
"Every word, Eric . . . every frigging word . . . "
"But I could see in your look at him a look of total
disbelief that he knew . . . you didn't put any of that
down in your prelims?"
"Uh-uh?"
"Then how did he know, Margot?"
"You've got me" she replied.
I kissed her for a second, then broke the kiss,
turning her head to face me. "I've simply got to ask
you this . . . is what you told him this morning . . .
true? . . . I mean about how much you enjoyed it,
being assfucked . . . it looked like you were
climbing out of your skin with pleasure . . . was that
real, or was some of that just show, just a show for
Doc?"
"Everything you saw this morning with Doc, Eric,
came from my heart, nothing was faked, nothing at
all" she whispered to me.
"I'll be damned" I replied, as I turned my own eyes
to stare at a point on the floor front of me for a
moment, my eyes returning to the body pile on the
mats.

As if a silent dog whistle signal had been blown, the
staff members switched partners. Libby went to Flo,
Jerry went to Gwen , Courtney went to Keiko, ,
Hollis went to  Maddy , and Ferrum came over to
Margot and pulled her to the mats with her for her
first bit of bodywork indoctrination, Surawan coming
over to sit with me and Nick, her turn in the current
rotation evidently being through for the moment.
Nick and I both had hards, couldn't help but be
affected by the sight in front of our eyes for sore
eyes. We both felt up Surry as she easily played
with our cocks, sitting between us. Every five
minutes, another partner switch. Nick and I worked
through rotation, then Surry was brought back in. It
would require a chart the size of a large wall to
show  the total rotations, but suffice to say, every
instructor in turn "indoctrinated" every one of us
students.

My turns with Jerry and Hollis weren't too bad. I
mean, I'm not a homophobe, I'm just not attracted
sexually let alone romantically to men. When they
masturbated me, it was boring. Jerry gave better
head than Hollis. Nick's
still-gut-level-but-moderating-as-time-went-on
revulsion of being played with and sucked off by the
twin pricks was fairly obvious still, but he was
trying to relax and go with it, he knew how
important letting the program happen was. J&H did
seem to be enjoying themselves just a little too
much playing with us. I don't think it would a
stretch to believe that on a horizontal homo-hetero
scale, that they both would be pretty far to the left,
and little further past the "Bi" marker.

My time with our cunt instructors was of course
nicer. They all gave great head, but Libby was best.
Courtney's larger pussy lips than the other two
enveloped my cock like a silken fog when she
fucked me. They didn't assride Nick or myself, I
mean, they didn't let us assfuck them, this was an
exercise series in passivity on our, the students,
parts. The clock read eleven-twenty. A uniformed
hotel employee finally walked into the room with a
handful of bluepaper lunch-menu-request cards, like
yesterday. I was starved and wanted to eat lunch
right then, but evidently it was going to take a
while. The skinny little oriental guy with chef's hat
seemed totally oblivious to our state of group
nudity. He finally got around to all as our
instructors huddle at the desk, Libby making a
phone call and whispering low into the handset.

"All-right . . . " she barked " . . . whose butthole is a
little sore? . . . ", six of the eight possible arms of
identification flying upwards " . . . well, I have
some good news, and some bad news . . . first, the
good news . . . we're not going to do anything more
with anal penetration again until after we eat lunch
. . . the bad news is, cunts and cocks, is that the
first of the menstrual aversion remediation
exercises is next, which means lunch won't be for
another couple of hours . . . look at this way, guys
and gulls, especially gulls . . . that's longer for your
analpuckers to recover" Lib The Commandant
finished, smiling.

Hollis and Jerry moved two the beds in the middle
of the pack again, moving them a little further
apart. Two naked high-school cheerleaders,
cheerleaders who looked like sisters, I don't how
else to describe them, tall and shapely and
obviously barely a day over eighteen, came in with
labcoats on, dropping them at their feet as one of
them stood at the foot of each respective middle
bed, slipping out of panties that each had a bloody
maxipad affixed to its crotch.

"Students, this is Angelica . . . " Libby touching her
on the shoulder as she stood between them " . . .
and this is Tina . . . " doing similarly " . . . these are
the first two of many models that you'll work with
this week, for specific situation educational needs .
. . "

" . . . here's the drill . . . you'll split into your
four-person groups as I mentioned earlier, everyone
remember?, good, and each group will do one and
then the other in turn, in the following exercise:
each team member will manually penetrate the
model's vagina, you'll frig them, for approximately
two to three minutes . . . then you'll taste the fluid
on your hand, and offer them a taste, which they
will accept . . . then, you will lick their clit, then the
entire length of their labial lips, lick them clean of
menstrual fluid, then you will tongue-fuck them for
at least a couple of minutes or until an instructor
says 'stop', your tongue must penetrate their vagina
as far inside as possible, then you will french-kiss
the model with your still-bloody tongue . . .
understood? . . . any questions?"

Even though Mrs. Doc had done her menstrual bit
earlier with Flo's fluid being used as an
after-breakfast mint with us, and even though I had
given head to a couple of girlfriends before while
they were having their periods, this was getting a
little gross to me even, and I could see all our lady
compatriots' faces look a tiny bit sick for a second.
What the hell, right? In for a penny, in for ten
thousand dollars.

The models lay down on their assigned beds, the
instructors putting hotel towels under the butts, and
we gathered together in our assigned groups next to
them. Flo and Margot did Angelica before me, and
after the first minute or so, they seemed to settle
down, seemed to mind less and less as the exercise
progressed. Angelica told Ferrum, who was
monitoring the exercise standing with our group,
that Margot wasn't pushing her tongue in deep
enough, Ferrum joining Margot at Angelica's cunt,
feeling the depth of Margot's tongue in Angie's cunt,
pronouncing to no one in particular that Margot had
a short-ish tongue. Myself, I kind of enjoyed it.
Sharing the kiss-franco with Angelica was nice, she
seemed to really get off kissing my blood-soaked
tongue and mouth, she honestly kissed me back.
Our group finished with Angelica as the other group
finished with Tina, and we switched places. Tina's
flow was heavier than Angie's and tasted different,
as Angie's had tasted different from Flo's earlier
sample that morning. We completed our rounds and
I thought that was it, but no dice. "Nick, Eric . . .
girls . . . one last exercise before lunch . . . Nick,
you'll begin to fuck Angelica, whatever position you
want is fine, and Eric, you Tina . . . after a few
moments, after you get good and sloppy, stop, and
one of your fellow team members at a time will in
turn suck your bloody cock clean, you refreshing its
blood-covering with a short fuck between cleansings
. . . then, boys and girls, team members will switch
male partners, then male partners will switch
models, and we'll repeat everything until each team
member has sucked Nick and Eric both after they've
fucked each model . . . everyone understand?"

The emotion of the day catching up with us a little,
no, I don't think we all comprehended the minutiae
exactly, but that wasn't important, Libby would
certainly juggle these hundred fine china plates in
the air. A couple of us, including myself, looked at
her funny, but really, it was just another circlejerk
sequence like we had done a couple of times
already that morning. If Libby ever retires from
professional teaching of bodywork students, I'm
sure she could find a second career as a Captain on
a Chinese-Fire-Drill Team. My stomach was
growling, I just wanted some lunch, a bloody
hamburger or two to eat, not a bloody pussy or
more to fuck.

The near-sisters-because-of-looks were actually
good lays. Even with their fluid flow, especially
Tina's heavier one than Angelica's, providing
excessive lubrication, their pussies both were so
tight that neither I nor Nick had any trouble
maintaining our hards during the fucks. We'd go a
little soft but not much during our suck-offs from
our fellow female-type-classmates as they lay
between our legs, licking us clean per instructions,
but our highschool sweethearts would get us back
firm just as soon as they jumped back on top of us.
Just as Keiko, my last of my last go'round, was
finishing licking me clean, the clock read two-forty
and the sound of clanging china and moving food
trays was heard . . . lunch, finally!

Strange, isn't it, wasn't it? In a sea of limitless
pussy, all I could think about was food. It reminded
me of Midas, deluged in a sea of limitless gold
because all he touched turned to same, all he could
think about also was food, because his food turned
into gold, too. Okay, maybe not a perfect analogy,
but I was batshit hungry.
"One hour, people! . . . exactly one hour, no more!"
Libby shouted at the top of her lungs, as the staff
left us to our own devices.

Nick and I got up take a quick shower, we both
being covered knees-to-navel in mixed menstrual
fluids. Tina and Angelica joined us in the communal
shower, they also being knees-to-nipples red in
their femininity. I had withheld my orgasms during
the last part of the exercise for the benefit of the
class. Now, I wanted some relief. I fucked Tina from
behind while we knelt on the cold, hard, tiled
shower floor, Nick doing the same with Angelica. It
didn't take us long. My stomach saw to that. I filled
Tina's bloody pussy with my come, did one more
quick wash of the red, and headed for the grub.

Lib had done us nice, without asking. Besides what
we had ordered, the staff had also brought up both
a full salad bar and hot bar on wheels, the hot bar
having soups and chilis and even
country-styled-steak, another cart sporting actual
plates and silverware, not just paper plates and
plastic forks, like yesterday.

Flo was sitting with Gwen and Margot at a couple of
our classroom tables they had pulled out from the
wall, sitting on a folded towel placed in the seat of
the chair for obvious reasons. I kissed them all and
they kissed me friendly back as I sat down next to
Flo with my cheese and chili and turkey club and
chips, a waiter bringing my drink to me, blind as a
bat to a bunch of naked people-types in front of his
eyes. We made small talk, genuine smalltalk. They
each had, moments before, licked two different
respective menstrual fluids from my cock. We all
seemed at a loss for words. The weather. Shopping.
The fact that it was so late already. Smalltalk.

Finishing lunch, Flo got up to go to the bathroom.
Keiko sat down at her previous seat, taking her
place at our roundtable. I apologized to all of them
for what had just happened, without knowing why.
They each shook their heads, warbling about how it
was okay, I was just doing as I was told to do, as
were they. I kissed Keiko as she sat next to me,
then reached across the table to motion to and hold
Margot's and Gwen's hands, simultaneously.
Lightbulb idea hit me.

Standing up and moving to Margot's chair,
whispering my idea, she nodding yes, I asked Gwen
and K. if they'd like to move in with us for the rest
of the week, that obviously our room like their room
had more than enough room for their bed and their
stuff. G&K looked at each other, whispered back and
forth a bit in each other's ears, and replied " . . .
sure, guys, we'd love to . . . we'll push our beds
together, to make one giant bed, okay?", we
agreeing. My gut said that from here on out,
though, more sleeping than fucking would be done
in any bed in any student's room on the ninth floor
of the Roslyn Harbour Hotel.

Libby walked back in with Jerry by themselves. I
walked over to Lib and made my plea.
"Libby?"
"Yes, Eric . . . what is it, what do you want?"
"Dr. Chaim said that while we were here, we could
have anything we wanted to make our stay here,
our tenure during school, more comfortable, right? .
. . right?"
"Yes, Eric, that's our policy, as long as the demands
aren't too expensive or outrageous, we try to make
you feel as comfortable as possible".
"Well, Margot, Gwen, K. and myself talked about it,
and we'd like to live together for the rest of the
week . . . could you move their bed and stuff to our
room, so we could be together after class more?"
"I don't see why that would be a problem, sure,
Eric".
"Oh, and one other thing . . . " a flash of food flood
thought still being on my mind from the extended
nutritional deprivation of this morning " . . . could
you fill up the 'frig in our room with some canned
soft drinks, and maybe scrounge up some chips and
dip and maybe a couple of frozen microwave pizzas
to have handy in the freezer compartment, pretty
please, Teach'?"
"Since you asked so nice, certainly, Student Eric . .
. I'll make a call right now . . . everything will be
ready when we get through today, okay?"
"Thanks, you're a doll" I answered.
"I am, aren't I . . . five more minutes, then another
class, stud . . . go finish your lunch, you foodaholic"
she playfully popping me on my rear with her bare
hand hard enough to feel as I turned to walk back
to my Dears.


The Body Worker
by
PlanetDweller

Chapter 5: Day 2, Or, The Wiring Of Jericho,
Pt.2, The P.M. Session

My Dears had scooted away from our lunch table. I
finished my bites alone. Everyone was milling
around, mostly just walking slowly around the
room, not really saying much of anything to anyone
else. I tried to at least get Margot to come back
over and sit with me, but she made an excuse
gesture of pointing the bathroom all of a sudden,
heading that way. The smell of spent sex filled the
room. Hollis sprayed some sort of
thickly-orange-scented spray all over the room,
hiding some of the odor of non-passions spent. The
rest of our "faculty" huddled together at Doc's desk
against the back wall, talking softly so no one else
could hear. Hollis left the room for a moment, and
came back shortly with a CD boombox and some
CD's. He plugged it in at a wall outlet, put some
Enya on, and cut up the volume just enough to hear
without stepping on non-existent friendly
conversations taking place.

Libby rapped her knuckles on the desk to draw our
attention. She hadn't done that before, using
instead her foghorn of a set of vocal cords. In a
voice calmer and softer than she had yet used
before, she asked, not barked, us to sit in a circle
together on the mats. I couldn't help but wonder
what was next, German Shephard Love Lessons?
Margot was no where to be found. I told them to
look in the bathroom, and Ferrum towed her out
from her hiding place.

Lib told us with calmer demeanor to kneel upright,
and snuggle together in a circle,
buttcheek-to-buttcheek as close as possible.
Whatever. Then Courtney, who was standing behind
our circle as were the other faculty, began singing
along, soft and sweetly and in tune, with the Enya
CD playing in the background. Most of us shot "what
the hell?" looks around our circle.

Lib kneeled behind Surawan, and spoke to the
group.
"Before we get back to our bodywork exercises,
we're going to take a moment to meditate.
Meditate, think, and talk. Meditate on the
implications of what we've all done today. Think
about the here and now, and your futures. Talk
about anything, anything, that comes to mind.
Anything.

Five minutes of dead silence. We all just knelt as in
prayer to our Polykinetic gods, Zenning a hole in
the floor in the middle of our circle. Then Keiko
spoke.
"May I say what I feel, Miss Libby? . . . " she
meekly asked.
"Yes, anything . . . whatever is in your mind or
heart, share it with the group, please" Libby replied
in assured but calm voice.
"I . . . I . . . I feel like I've been raped, raped
repeatedly, this morning . . . I feel totally violated
and used . . . "
"I do too!" said Flo.
"I do too!" said Margot.
"I do too!" said Gwen.
"I do too!" said Maddy.
"I do too!" said Surawan.

Flo began crying, sobbing like child, first, then it
spread to all our class. Even I and Nick almost got
caught up with the emotion of the moment. I got up
and moved around to be next to Margot, so I could
hold her, give her support. Soon, the group circle
collapsed into one big group hug, tears and wails
flowing like a Sicilian funeral procession. Libby just
let the moment be itself. She didn't intervene.
Courtney had quit her singing along with Enya, but
no one noticed. I kissed Margot on the lips, then
Gwen, then Keiko, then the rest, even gave Nick a
kiss on the cheek, telling them all as I did that I
loved them, loved them all so much. That sparked a
round of supportive kisses and more supportive
looks and words. Suddenly, it felt like a giant
weight had been lifted collectively from our
shoulders. Still kneeling close, our staff snuggled
around us, around our perimeter at our backs,
extending their arms to join in an outer circle of
supportive hugs.
"That was excellent, class . . . now, let's all talk
about why everyone perceived their lessons this
morning as rape."

Surry, Keiko, and Gwen all tried to immediately
take back their words, try to tell Libby they didn't
mean it that way, that it was the moment only, that
they really didn't feel that way, I think out of
cultural conditioning, a sense of societal politeness.
Libby wouldn't have it. She insisted on validating,
not discounting, their feelings.

In a nutshell, the root cause of most the feelings of
rape was that they had been forced to do things
which they had never done before, things which
would have seemed gross as hell to them just
seventy-two hours before, things they would have
never done at gunpoint voluntarily, they did within
the class just an hour or so before. Libby reminded
us all that we were volunteers here, that we were
here of our own free will, and we always had
choices. A choice might have unintended negative
consequences, but there was always choice, and
this only a school, not life or death. She also went
on about how we would be healing those who had
been raped soon after finishing this school, and how
much we were needed by those in our practices we
would go to. Then she capped it all by saying that
the reaction we had was common, and expected,
that "mostly, it was the shock of the breaking down
your old walls of what is and isn't sex, what is and
isn't therapy, etc."

The instructors broke their arms-around embrace of
our group, and left us to just be with each other and
share strength and support. Slowly, smiles and
happy faces and pleasant tones in voices returned.
Everyone seemed to be recovering. Flo asked who
was going to clean up her puddle of stuff that was
accumulating at the base of her knees, as it ran
down her legs. We all answered, almost in perfect
unison, that "you are!", laughter filling the group.
Libby and Courtney came over to us, and asked if
we all were ready to get back to work, all of us
standing up as a signal of "yes". We sat back down
in our semi-circle of chairs at the back of the room.
Courtney spoke as the rest of her staffmates
listened with us.

"That was wonderful, guys, I'm glad that happened .
. . like Dr. Chaim said, you all are a special group .
. . . next will be the mirror of what we did before
the menstrual workshop, the mirror being you'll do
us and we'll be passive, as you were passive and we
active first time around . . . each of you will make
love with each of us, in an active way . . . after
that, you'll circle bodywork each other, then we'll
do a short group session . . . any questions?" she
chirped.

The got up and stood before us. They didn't tell us
what to do next. Finally, Gwen and Nick and
Surawan all stood up together, and picked a
partner, Gwen with Jerry, Nick with Libby, and
Surawan with Courtney. A moment passed, no else
got up, so I picked Ferrum, and lead her over to the
matpile, my arm around her waist. Flo choose
Hollis, while Margot, Keiko, and Maddy turned their
chairs around to observe us.

I tried to mimic pretty close to what Ferrum and her
cuntfriends had done to me earlier, except that
being in the active role now, after the obligatory
feel-up and pussylick and frig and fuck, I pushed
her flat on her stomach, covered my cock in latex,
and fucked her in the ass, she accepting. Nick
seeing my cock in Ferrum's pucker, he moved Lib
around from his fuck and did the same to her. From
there, things continued on like it was in the earlier
rotation, Margot and K. and Maddy being worked
into the linecard, taking their turns with each
instructor in the active role and so on.

When my turn came with Jerry, after I had
masturbated him and sucked him some, he looked
at me with his cock in my mouth still and asked if
I'd like to fuck him in the ass, since I had fucked
his three female coworkers that way just moments
earlier. I ignored the cocksucker. He asked me
again, and again. I was waiting for Libby to give the
"all switch" signal, but she was busy having her
asshole tongue-fucked by Margot. I stopped my
suck of him, and got the group's attention.

"Ladies, Nick, my classmates . . . " they all turning
to look my way " . . . Jerry here has asked me three
times if I wanted to assfuck him, and I haven't
replied yet . . . I'll leave it up to you, my peers . . .
if you'd think it would help you understand
bodywork polykinetic principles better, or if you'd
just like to see me do him, I will, but if you don't
want me to, I won't", all of them murmuring "no's"
and going back to their respective partners at hand.

The tension that had been building between us and
"them" seemed to more or less be gone. Mostly,
99%, but not totally. Still, the level of acceptance
and yes, mutual "possession" had increased
dramatically.

After we had finished our rotations in the active
mode with our instructors, Libby assumed control of
the group once more, again, with less
heavy-handed-ness and more respect for us.

"Now, the next exercise is a bonding exercise with
each other . . . this one will go quicker, because it'll
just be you eight . . . this is your assignment . . .
you'll either stand or kneel before each other, no
more than eighteen inches apart or less . . . before
touching, you'll tell your partner what you like most
about him or her, and what you like least . . . then,
touching each other while still looking in each
other's eyes, you'll tell them what you really feel
about them, as a person, as a classmate, etcetera,
and no holding back . . . then, you'll have sex with
them in every way possible, again you two studs
you don't have to assfuck each other . . . "
"Gee, thanks a fucking ton, 'Teach!" Nick yelled but
not screamed out, cracking everyone up.
" . . . but otherwise, total encompassment . . . in
the interest of time, it's already after four, we'll be
whispering in ears to switch focuses and switch
partners, like we've been doing, to facilitate time.

Libby assigned me to Maddy, Gwen to Nick, Margot
to Flo, and Surawan to Keiko. I told Maddy I liked
her body and skin most, and her hair least . . . I
told her I really thought she is a great wife to her
husband, and that her husband is a lucky man, that
I'd be honored if I married someone like her. She
told me she liked my stamina and my sense of
humor most, that she disliked my flippant sarcasm
least, and that she wanted to make love, not just
have sex, with me sometime during the week, alone
she and I, that she thought I was a special man and
would make a wonderful healing bodyworker. I told
her we would definitely find some time alone, we
sharing a smile, then a happy kiss, before getting
down to business.

With Flo, I told her I was still awestruck by her
beauty, that her best personality trait was her
honest vulnerability, and that I liked her sometimes
unintentional aloofness least. I then poured my
heart out to her, telling her I felt honored to be
sharing sex, even in a clinical school setting, with
such a dazzling woman, some one who just isn't
beautiful physically but pure of heart on the inside.
She said she liked my willingness to be strong yet
compassionate most, disliked my impatience and
spurts of temper least, and that she, like Maddy,
really wanted some time along with me during the
week, again, where we could make love, not just
have sex, I promising, hoping they'd give us more
free time later in the week.

And so it went with Surawan, Keiko, Margot, et al,
all except Margot and Nick, though more
predictably, because I had bonded more with the
others privately.

When it came time for Nick and me to be together,
all the staff gathered around us, as if to make sure
we'd actually complete the sex part of the
assignment, and not fake any part of it, like they
didn't trust one or both of us completely. I didn't
care, as long as they didn't pop up and change the
rules and insist we assfuck each other to satisfy
their own bents. With five curious staffers around,
after I had masturbated Nick hard, I told him to go
ahead and come in my mouth if he wanted, that I
didn't mind. After having Jerry and Hollis work their
proclivities on me all day, it wasn't bad. Nick was
becoming a friend, anyway. I'm sure what I was
feeling, the mixed emotions, were being felt by our
women peers as they did each other as part of their
training even though they probably weren't getting
too excited doing each other, most of the time at
least. Nick let go and popped his cork in my mouth.
I stood up and french-kissed Libby and Courtney
and Ferrum who were still standing around us to
show I had tried to complete the lesson's objective.
Nick did the same. He didn't give bad head, it was
good enough to make me come, but I had six
female-type mouths or more afterhours to pick
from, when I wanted some head.

Margot and I kneeled on the mats before each
other. At least she was the perfect antidote to my
brush to the left with Nick. I told her that I liked her
smile and her sense of self-confidence most,
disliked her excessive wearing of jewelry out in
public least, and that I was so pleased that we'd be
sharing our professional mostly but also parts of our
private lives together, that I couldn't wait for our
journey to begin once we got back to Raleigh. She
said she like my no-nonsense approach to things
most, my insistence on nagging for some kind of
sex I wanted least, and that she thought I was
probably the most honest and wonderful man she
had ever met in her entire life, and when we got
back to Raleigh, she was going to propose to me. I
looked as hard-square in the eye as I could, and
she didn't blink . . . I couldn't tell to save me if she
was trying to pull my leg, or not.

Our circle exercise in bonding with each other
ended. Keiko's eighteen-year-old pussy was every
bit as tight as I thought it was going to be, it felt
like her muscles were so well-developed that she
could squeeze the lead out of a pencil, and her ass
was as tight. Surawan sucked my balls mostly
instead of my cock, and I still came. She also
tongue-fucked my ass, which I found surprisingly
pleasant.

The clock now read six-ten. If food and sex don't go
together, appetite and desire, you couldn't disprove
it by me that day. They allowed us a short bathroom
and drink break for ten minutes, then back to it.
Besides newly minted hunger, I was also getting a
bit tired, as they rest of the group was too, I think.

Courtney again took centerstage.
"Great . . . simply great, guys . . . I, we, saw some
real bonding and some real emotion out there just
then . . . and Eric's come was at least edible if not
tasty, wasn't it, Nick? . . . " the room now releasing
and roaring with laughter, even Nick bobbing his
head as we sat in our chairs near each other " . . .
now, the last round for today . . . "
"Amen!" Gwen shouting aloud, and more polite
laughter.
" . . . just a short round of FMF and MFM threesomes
. . . "
Someone mumbled under their breath that to them,
that building Rome would take just a couple of
hours, giggles rippling.
" . . . and after that, no more for today . . . because
the ratio is odd, six women and two men, we'll cut
the rotations short instead of making them longer,
especially after the great one-to-one sex bonding
sessions you just had . . . we're going to enforce a
timelimit of no more than five minutes per coupling,
and if you want to cut it quicker, do so, and if we
need to, we'll call you back to finish"
Court-and-Spark finished saying.

We began with FMF's. I started with Gwen and
Maddy, ended with Keiko and Flo in the rotation.
Our instructions were for us guys to stand up, get a
double-suck, have the girls play with each other
some and soul-kiss and we join in, then fuck one
while the the other licks the pussy I'm fucking and
then vice versa, then they go into a sixty-nine, and
I assfuck them alternately. Try doing all that within
a five minute time limit. But we all were trying, we
all were getting pooped, we were sprinting towards
that finish line.

They didn't make Nick and me do any male-male
stuff we didn't want to do in the MFM threesomes.
Our order of battle was to stand in front of our
female partner, she play and suck us both off while
we stood next to each other, we kiss and play with
her and give her head and just roam her for a
moment, then flipped her doggie-style, one of us
fucking her pussy while she sucked the other one
off, then changing places, then she rides one of us
on top while the other assfucks her from behind,
then we switch places in that position, too. Yeah,
try doing all that in five minutes. Somehow, we
more or less did.

Before dismissing us, we all had to crawl up on a
gyn table and be examined. I didn't like being in the
stirrups, and now see why some women think it's
demeaning. While in the stirrups, Libby asked me if
I'd like another quick jack-off job "on the house". I
told her she wasn't funny, snickering softly to
indicate that her comment was cool with me. We all
were thoroughly examined for any skin abrasions,
tears, or lesions around our genital areas and in our
mouths, and considering all our women-students
had been assfucked more today than in total for the
past rest of their lives, particular attention was paid
to their anal areas, checking very carefully for
anything other than solid tan or pink.

As we were heading out the door at past nine-thirty,
a nearly fifteen hour day, Libby called out one last
thing.
"If any of you are thinking about going into Roslyn,
don't . . . it's a Sunday night, and the sidewalks are
rolled up at six on Sunday night . . . the hotel bar
and restaurant have been kept open for you all
especially, just show your room key to charge what
you want, as always, good night, see you in the
morning" she planed as she left for the evening.

Gwen, Keiko, Margot and I assembled our little pod
and trodded down the hall to our new shared room.
Considering what we had just been through, I
wondered to myself if the four of us and even more
limited privacy was such a good idea. Lib had kept
her word. Our two beds not only were together, but
had a foam "T" piece placed between them, to make
a larger, solid sleeping surface. The fridge was full
of drinks and the kitchen counter overflowed with
snacks. I wanted something filling. Asking them if
they wanted to join me downstairs, they all
indicated "no", they were too tired. I knew they
wanted something to eat, though, they had to.
Room service as an option had never been offered
to us. I pattered down the hall and asked the guy at
the elevator security desk if we could order room
service in. He said "sure". Geez, that would have
been nice if they had told us that earlier.

I called down to the kitchen and gave them four
orders for four individual pizzas, and two six-packs
of ice-cold Michelob. Forty-five minutes later, a
waiter from the kitchen brought our stuff, along
with some fresh, hot breadsticks we didn't order,
nice touch. They had put the beer in a large ice
bucket to keep it cold. I hadn't tipped anyone at the
hotel since arriving. I gave the kid a ten, he smiled
and thanked me. He looked back at us as he turned
the corner out of our room like he wanted a tip
instead of some naked pussies, but it'd been not
funny if he asked one or more three very worn-out
tails and mouths for some action.

Gwen rested her head in my lap as I leaned against
the headboard, Margot doing the same in Keiko's
lap, as we scarfed our Italian soul food down, all of
us, even Gwen, chasing it with a Michelob, some
nameless movie making whitenoise on the tv on
HBO. Some cooled but still sticky melted cheese
feel onto one of Gwen's nice Canadian
mellon-boobies. I leaned forward and licked it off of
her tit. She leaned up and kissed me, telling me
that I was wonderful today. I replied that she
wasn't so bad herself. A round of happy silliness
ensued for a few moments, using tits all around as
food sampling trays. Fun, but after all the unbridled
sex with each other today, more from a need to
relax than a need to get horny. Keiko scooted closer
to me, Margot reached for Gwen's hand, Keiko and I
nuzzled some, Margot dozed off to sleep in K's
legbasket. Before I was sure a call from Carol would
be ringing soon to remind me to take my damn pill,
I eased up and off the bed to get my pillbottle and
chase it down with my last sip of Michelob. The
floor was dead quiet. I tiptoed to the open door, and
wonderful silence. My three monkeys had all dozed
off in the meantime by the time I got back to them,
not even five minute later. Retrieving some
blankets from the closet, I covered them as best I
could, snuggling beside Gwen in our Bed Of Loyalty
To Each Other. As fatigue gave way to slumber, it
felt like the re-wiring of my mental walls of Jericho
or whatever the hell Doc had said earlier would
happen began to happen, as nerve tingles fell into
beta waves which painted a film of Van Gogh
recording a new version of "Impressions" on his
VCR.




The Body Worker
by
PlanetDweller




Chapter 6: Day 3, Autoerotic, Or, Mechanix
Illustrated, Or, How To Woof A '40 Ford




Sweet-smelling, luxurious auburn hair tickled my
face as I crawled out of my deep dreamstate,
leaving Einstein and Roseanne and Idi Amin to
ponder why even with lots of syrup Waffle House
waffles still taste like crap pressed between layers
of cardboard. A smiling Courtney, not getting my
eyes open yet with her hair tickle, brushed my lips
with one of her tits, I playfully quickly opening my
mouth and making a faux attempt to catch her
nipple between my teeth, she punching me gently
in the ribs with "you're awake, you Eric you, get
your buns out of bed, it's seven a-m". My arm was
caught underneath Gwen and was numb from lack
of blood flow to it, as she lay halfway
over-on-top-of-me. Keiko and Margot were leaning
back against us, using us as a backstop, as we lay
in a peaceful pile on our bed. Courtney nudged and
spoke to them all, but they all mumbled to her to
"go away, no more sex!". Court-Of-St.-Sex asked
me to get my bedmates on up, that class would
start promptly at eight, that she had other things to
do before class.




Margot continued to lightly snore as the others
slumbered in half-sleep. I staggered to the
bathroom to shave, but looking in the mirror and
seeing no new beardgrowth, remembered that I
wouldn't be having to do that chore for another
three or four weeks. I brushed my teeth as Keiko
wandered in to the bathroom to take a dump, sitting
on the commode and wiping her ass in front of me
like we had been married for fifty friggin' years.
What the hell. I had fucked that same poophole of
hers, what, five or six times yesterday? She had
licked bloody residue on my cock from two different
other women during the day, too? No point in false
modesty at this point. Giving me a peck on the
cheek and a polite "good morning", she opened the
shower door and turned on the water, as I took my
own shit, then joined her.




The hot water stung my cock a little. When I
washed it with soap and a washcloth, my cock
screamed in protest, like it had been abused by two
pedophile priests armed with belt sanders. K. and I
washed each other's backs and fronts. Sore as it
was, her nuzzling of me and touch of it made it rise.
Of all the female-type recepticles on the ninth floor
at the Roslyn Harbour Hotel, her pussy and ass
were both definitely the tightest. My cock rose
despite itself. Both Nick and I had been
studmachines yesterday, subconsciously,
unconsciously so. I had fucked three or four hours
straight before in my old life, but never fourteen. I
couldn't help but wonder if there was something in
the MascuStat pills besides drug compounds that
prevented semen from forming. Naw, couldn't be. If
there was, it'd be on the market, and the inventor
of it would be richer than ten Bill Gates. Must have
been the day, the setting, the fact that for my job's
sake nine different and new women had been doing
nice things to my cock all day. Yeah, that was it.




K. played with my cock as we rinsed off. The hot
water was relaxing us, but we needed to wake up,
not get sleepier. My index finger touched her pussy,
and she audibly and visibly flinched, her cunt as
sore as my cock. That pussystraw of hers was so
inviting, but we were both just too sore. We hugged
and kissed and I told her wonderful how much of a
wonderful lover she was. Drying each other off, I
asked her about something that had popped in my
head yesterday, and I had been meaning to ask her.





"Keiko . . . "
"Yes . . . Eric?"
"There's something, a couple of things, I've been
meaning to ask you . . . "
"What is it? . . . ask, I don't mind"
"Doc said that everyone of us, the whole class, had
at least some medical background . . . . you're
what, eighteen?"
"Uh-hu . . . I turned eighteen two weeks and three
days ago . . . why?"
"If you don't mind me asking, how . . . how could
you have any kind of background at all, let alone a
medical one, at eighteen?"




She looked irritated-ly at me for a second, then
replied "it's real simple . . . my father is a
psychiatrist and my mother is a gynecologist, and
they're both partners in a large family and marital
therapy practice in San Francisco, they employ six
bodyworkers within the practice, five of whom have
attended this course . . . I and my older brother
have always known exactly what kind of therapies
they use in their clinic . . . when I was sixteen, I
was still a virgin, but being curious, I told my
parents I wanted to have sex and learn what it was,
but I got in my head and asked them if I could learn
from a MF partner-team of two of their bodywork
employees . . . three days and three hours later, my
curiosity was satisfied . . . I enjoyed my time with
them so much, that I asked Pa-Pa and Mother if I
could help out with some of their staff's bodywork
sessions . . . they talked about it for a month, and
finally agreed, but only as a team member with
another woman or guy, and only on a very limited
basis part-time, until I finished high school . . . my
school thinks I am at a clinic undergoing rehab for
substance abuse right now, that's the excuse they
gave them, ha-ha . . . I'll graduate this May . . . my
parents sent me her so I could be more formally
trained, that's why I am here . . . in June, I'll be
full-time".




All I could muster from my poor brain or say was
"Damn!"
"Want an easy and soft blowjob, stud?" she asked,
smiling at me.
"Yeah, but it'll have to be quick"




Margot and Gwen passed us on the way out, we all
exchanging kisses and hugs. K. sat on the edge of
the bed and with puffed cheeks tried to give me the
softest blowjob possible, but I was simply too sore
to enjoy it. Margot and Gwen came out of the
bathroom. I blewdried Margot's hair, combing it out
straight for her, her well-cwoffed locks falling into
place as she sat facing the dresser and mirror, me
kissing the top of her head as I tended her, trying
to show some genuine heartfelt affection for her. I
leaned in to nuzzle next to her neck, and she
nuzzled back, thanking me for being a wonderful
friend. The big-red numberblocks on the clock radio
atop the nightstand read "7:54", but our commute
to our classes was what, thirty paces away?




Our Soremorethanmoresome Foursome was the last
to arrive at the classroom, save Doc and Mrs. Dwak.
Hot, freshly cooked bacon, sausage patties, and
scrambled eggs had been added to our previously
only cold breakfast bar spread. I notice things like
that. A couple or three of small round bar tables had
been set up with vinyl-seated chromesteel-legged
chairs as an eating area near the junkpiles to the
right of the room, between the buffet table and the
junk. The lecturn had been moved back, our tables
back in front of it with our nameplates again, the
projection tv and overhead projector set up for
shows again as well. After yesterday, "a boring day
of boring Doc lectures would be fine with all of us",
I thought to myself. Surawan and Nick were sitting
at one table. Flo, wearing pink panties today as
opposed to the white ones that had been fetched for
her yesterday, sat with Maddy. Gwen and Keiko got
another empty table. Margot sat with Surry and
Nick. I plopped my scrambled eggs and bacon and
sausage plate down with Flo and Maddy, covering
my eggs nearly black with grindings from the
handgrinder. "You like a little eggs with your
pepper, doncha, Eric?", Flo commented.




Small talk filtered across the table, all the tables,
small talk of relaxation, not tension. Miles of smiles
were exchanged, soft laughter punctuated the
morning air. Just a bunch of old friends who until
three days ago had never met each other just
sitting around naked as the proverbial jaybirds in
front of each other, eating, talking, enjoying each
other's platonic company, while waiting for class to
start and the polykinetic lessons begin once again.
The clock read eight-two-two. A naked Papa and
Mrs. Doc walked in the room, Doc looking like he
had taken a bath, his skin being two shades lighter
I swear and had trimmed his beard, his body
smelling of soap as he passed by us instead of wet
baby quail as he had reeked of yesterday, telling us
that class would start promptly at eight-thirty as he
and his missus sauntered up to his desk and lecturn
at the back of the room.




His krew assembled around him, putting a tape in
the VCR, turning the tv on, arranging some
overhead transparencies, fiddling with papers. Libby
walked back to where we all were sitting with a
bottle of clear liquid and a washcloth in hand,
asking, "anyone here who has a sore bottom, raise
their hand! . . . " eight hands shooting skywards " .
. . I know you're sore, guys, you have to be after
yesterday, you haven't built up your 'callouses' so
to speak yet, here, this 'ill help, it's just witch hazel
solution diluted in water, I promise it'll make your
sore tails feel immediately better . . . "




Lib swabbed us all down one at a time, drenching
our cunts and cocks and butt-y-holes with the liquid
she'd dampened the cloth with, and yes, as soon as
it hit, I felt immediate relief, it felt cool and very
soothing. Thanks, Lib, My Teacher.




"I'll leave this bottle with some more washcloths on
the wirerack if anyone wants to re-dab some more
during class back on the desk, help yourself, and I'll
make sure there'll be new bottles of it in your
bathrooms by the end of the day, so you can use
them tonight, okay?", we all thanking her sincerely
and profusely.




Doc called the class to order, and we took our
places. Pushing a button on a remote, the VCR
kicked in, and a tape, must have copied from a film
made in the 40's or 50's, began playing. It was a
loop of a guy, and I swear on a stack Manuals For
Therapeutic Bodywork ten feet high that I'm not
making this up, of some old dude in overalls
climbing into a pickup truck, it must have been a
pre-World-War-2 old pick up, maybe a '39 or '40
Ford, you could see the Ford logo on the hood,
getting in, the shot cutting to his hand turning a
key, then cutting to him pushing on a thing on the
floorboard - it must have been some sort of
old-fashioned starter thingydoddle, then engaging
the gearshift on the column, then driving along
some country road, looking happy, then parking,
then a shot to him disengaging the clutch, then
turning the key to cut the engine off, and getting
out of the truck, closing the door. This same scene
repeated at least two, maybe three dozen times,
one after the other. We all gave each other
sideways glances with mutual "what the hell is Doc
up to now?!?" quizzical expressions.




"Now, class . . . " Doc finally spoke, as Jerry cut the
tv and off " . . . who among you, can tell me what
this film you just saw might mean?"
Polite, almost embarrassed silence. Then Nick spoke
up.
"That we've all accidentally wandered into a bizzaro
world Drivers' Ed class?" he quipped.




"Good one, Nick, I hadn't heard that one before, a
good one, but not what I'm looking for . . . anyone
else?" Doc implored us.
"I really am clueless, Teacher . . . " Maddy spoke up
" . . . but you use analogies a lot, so obviously this
an analogy of something you're going to teach us?"
"Correct . . . now the main lesson, another core
lesson about bodywork, begins."




"I need a volunteer for a demonstration, preferably
female, sorry guys, you're later . . . anyone? . . . "
Gwen raising her hand " . . . okay, Gwen, up on the
exam table behind me, please."




Gwen layed back on it and stretched her legs into
the stirrups. We all gathered around to watch, per
our now common-ritual.
"Gwen, have you ever had a full-force G-spot
orgasm, or any kind of orgasm that you thought was
a G-sppwattt one, at anytime before?"
"I don't . . . think so, Doctor . . . I really don't
know".
"Have you ever squirted cyprinic come from your
vagina during sex, as in a forced squirt of
something you knew was something but knew it
wasn't pee?"
"No, not to my knowledge, or memory, uh-uh".
"Good . . . now, class, watch and learn" Doc
continued.




He dabbed a little more witch hazel on her slightly
reddened cuntlips, then gently rubbed her clit and
massaged her lips some, working his hand firmly
but smoothly over her pussy. Taking a plastic
speculum out from the table's drawer on the side,
he inserted it in her with the handle sideways,
sideways as opposed to straight up-and-down like
you would during a normal exam, opened wide and
locked it in place, her cunt gaping open from the
locked speculum bills turned to their sides. Rubbing
her clit a little more, he thus spake "now, watch
closely, students".




With his middle and index fingers of his right hand
facing upwards, he placed them inside Gwen a
couple of inches, feeling for her G-spot. Finding it,
he began working it, and within thirty seconds, she
obviously came, but didn't squirt.
"That was with light, general pressure, just enough
for Gwen to feel my fingers . . . how did it feel,
Gwen?"
"That felt wonderful, Teacher, simply wonderful"
parroting the same words that Margot had used
yesterday after the same act being worked upon
her.




"Now, class, the first few seconds, I'm going to
work the tips of my fingers around her G-spot
tissue, in order to identify the boundaries of it, get
a feel so to speak of how large it is, exactly where
it's positioned within the top wall of her vagina, and
observing how much she does or doesn't flinch or
jump, and Gwen, it's important not not to be brave,
don't hold back any responses to my touch you feel,
just react normally, then put more firm pressure
gradually over its wholeness, working my way from
its perimeter to the middle . . . now, the exact
center of a typical G-spot can be and usually is very
sensitive to pressure, so don't put narrow, focused
pressure directly in the middle of it, spread the
pressure out more with your fingertips, but don't be
afraid the apply very firm pressure, you'll need to in
order to have your patient fully express a cyprinic
ejaculation . . . any questions? . . . everyone
understand? . . . okay . . . "




Although it was hard to see exactly what Doc was
doing insider her cunttunnel, I could see him
waggle his fingers a little, then press up, then more
waggle, then press, then waggle, then press, then
really press hard up while waggling harder, Gwen
clutching the sheets and sucking air in hard with an
"oh . . . Oh, OH MY GOD!!!", three full squirts of her
G-spot come hitting Doc squarely in the face, he
licking it off his lips. He then repeated it again, and
Gwen squirted again, even more than the first, her
legs trembling a little as her feet rested in the
stirrups, then he did it again to her, and she just let
go and saturated his chest with a continual but
broken stream of squirts, she crying out for him to
"please, Doctor, stop, STOP, it just feels TOO
GOOD!"




Doc stopped and returned to his barstool behind the
podium. We milled around for a moment, all asking
Gwen if it had really been that good, did she really
come that many times that hard, how did she feel
now, did it hurt - she nodding her head "no" to that
one, just shivering a tad and mumbling and trying
to collect herself. Libby came over and felt her off
some as we stood around, kissing her, sucking her
nipples, rubbing her clit, like she was cooling down
a horse after a wild ride. Lib told us to return to our
seats, Gwen widdle-waddling a bit behind us a
moment later.




"I'll bet someone, one of you doesn't believe still
that female ejaculation is real . . . if you're a
biologically-born woman, you have a G-spot, and
any trained bodyworker, actually anyone who knows
it's there, can express an ejaculation . . . .
.someone disagree with me? . . . no, class, I mean I
want someone, especially woman student to
disagree with me . . . . Flo? . . . . Margot? . . . .
come on, there's always one in every class . . . any
lady student, who doesn't think I can make her
ejaculate, I will bet $100 to a blowjob that I can . .
. c'mon . . . . $1,000? . . . TEN thousand? . . . .
Dear, go get your purse . . . ", Mrs. Doc naked with
us running out to go to their apartment at the end
of the hall, returning promptly.




Doc fished her checkbook out, wrote a live check
out to "cash" for $10,000.00, and walked down the
row of our desks, showing it up close to each of us,
with a "ten thousand dollars, ten thousand dollars,
real greenbacks right now against a blowjob, that
says I can make any woman express an ejaculation
in under five minutes, even when she's doing her
best not to come . . . takers?"
"You're on, Teacher" Surawan rose from her desk,
picking up the glove.




Laying in the puddle of Gwen's come still on the
exam table, Surry put her feet in the stirrups, and
Doc assumed his sitting position on the stool at the
foot of it. Surawan tried to de-focus and zone-out as
best she could, but you can't fight physiology, and it
was no contest. Doc made her come with no other
foreplay within the first minute, her first cyprine
stream arching up and wetting the top of his balding
head. The second sent her squirming and bucking
on the table while she wet him down like a baby
pissing on you when you're changing it's diaper,
and by the fifth one in five minutes, Surry began
babbling incoherently. Doc sweetly patted her pussy
as he got up, telling her "I'll collect my blowjob
later, Dear", like he couldn't do what he wanted to
her or any of us at anytime he wanted.




"That, ladies and gentleman, was a prime example
of female ejaculatory response . . . working
knowledge of this will be one of your core skills
when working with women patients in polykinetic
bodywork situations . . . . you must master this
skill, and master it perfectly, before you leave her
this week, or you won't be allowed to graduate . . .
fortunately, it's a relatively easy skill to learn,
especially if you're female yourself, or are naturally
empathetic to women like our gentlemen are . . .
it's at the core of our Therapeutic Bonding Ritual,
which allows you to connect with a female patient
on the most basic of all levels, allows a more fuller
expression of trust and surrendering of will per our
Principle Of Possession that you will employ with
your patients . . . now, let me explain what you just
witnessed has to do with the Bonding Ritual and the
film you just saw".




Doc scooted his stool over to the overhead
projector, flicked it on, and began, a cross-section
view of an old '40 Ford pickup truck being projected
behind him. "This is going to be interesting, even
for Doc", I pondered.




"Women are like pick-up trucks; they're good for
hauling things, and most men that own one develop
special a attachment to them . . . " the class
politely laughing " . . . no, seriously, female
ejaculatory anatomy and response is more similar
to that old truck that you might imagine . . . "




" . . . a naked female in front of you is like a parked
truck waiting to be driven . . . it's sitting there,
cold, but with potential . . . during the bonding
ritual, what's the first thing you do? . . . correct,
gently touch and massage the face first . . . good, I
see you've been studying your manuals, good . . .
massaging the face is the same as grasping the
door handle and opening the driver's side door of
the truck, you're asking permission, or more
accurately, you're assuming possession of
permission to enter that personal space up close,
the truck's or the woman-patient's . . . . "
" . . . when you pull them close to you as they sit
on the exam table or bed, what is the mirror of that
in this analogy? . . . very good again, sitting down
in the truck, entering even further a deeply
personal space..and when you massage a patient's
back and breasts? . . . . uh-hu, the truck opposite is
fiddling with the steering wheel, the gear shift,
doing things to get ready to take possession of the
still-still object and do something with it . . . "




" . . . what about turning the key? . . . that's right,
Flo, turning a woman-patient's key is when you play
with her clitoris and rub her labia . . . I might as
well give you students your certificates now and
send you on back to where you came from, you
already know this stuff as good as I do . . . but
remember the analogy used in the film, don't think
of a modern car where it starts when you turn the
key all the way in, what did Farmer Brown do in the
film to start his truck, something most of you have
never done to start a vehicle before, or perhaps
have never even seen? . . . "
"Push that starter-clutch-thing on the floor" I
answered.




"Excellent, Eric, you win a free turn to avoid a
male-male with Nick in class, just kidding..it's
properly called a 'starter', and the female
equivalent in a therapeutic bodywork bonding ritual
would be . . . " he continued, while using a felt-tip
pen to point to and scribble a check-mark next to
the starter in the truck cross-section diagram on the
overhead projector.
"The G-spot"
"Right again . . . once a G-spot come has been
expressed, the patient or truck is now ready to be
driven to where you want to take it . . . now, what
about Farmer Brown driving down the road, what
does that represent? . . . " silence " . . . anyone? . .
. yes, Keiko?"
"Would that be the journey of the patient and
yourself during your session that day with them, the
time spent with them in therapy, where you're in
control and in charge and taking them where they
want to go but you're doing so by use of assumed
control as in The Principle Of Possession, you're
driving them down the road to their healing and
recovery?"




"Perfect . . . perfect answer, Keiko . . . you win a
free pass of not having to watch Eric and Nick do a
guy-guy during class, just kidding guys . . . once
the engine's turned on and you have possession,
you take it where you want to go, where you know
you're supposed to go with it, where your employer
and referring psychiatrist has told you to drive it,
and then you park it . . . "
"The 'cool-down' mini-ritual after the session with a
patient?" Margot asked.
"Why don't you students come up here and I sit
there and you teach me, you know this stuff better
than I do . . . " we laughing with sincere
appreciation.




" . . . and the parking of the truck, the turning of
the key to the off-position and Farmer Brown exiting
the truck, what do those acts represent?"
"The patient getting re-dressed, a friendly hug as
they're getting ready to leave, and some verbal
reassurances about things, some pleasant
small-talk, and possibly a discussion of a future
appointment with them" Surawan finished
"You folks don't need me . . . CLASS DISMISSED! . .
. just kidding, take a fifteen minute break,
bodywork lessons in what we just learned are next .
. . Libby, the class is yours, see you bodywork
geniuses tomorrow, bye . . . " Doc concluded as he
and Mrs. Doc left the room to a smattering of
sincere applause, I wondering if our NY-native
proverbial Jewish (I assumed) psychiatrist might
have a little North Carolina redneck in him, the way
he used and seemed so fond of pickup trucks . . .
nnahhhh, probably not.




We all headed for that one bottle of witch hazel,
Hollis leaving to bring back shortly an entire case of
twelve bottles of Dr. Highwood's Witch Hazel
solution. There was as much sexual tension in the
air that moment as there normally would be at a
church picnic. Strange. Maybe not so strange. Not
that we were becoming desensitised to sex, I don't
think that was happening at all to any one of us, but
I do think we were all starting to separate in our
minds sex from making love, sex from love,
therapeutic sex from recreational sex, etc.




Libby had Hollis and Jerry move the beds away to
one side and the exam tables closer together. The
huffed and puffed as they gruntworked the beds out
of the way. Being a strong, handy male in a
female-dominated profession such as nursing when
I was younger is something I know a little
something about. For the first time, I felt a little
empathy, a little sympathy for them. The clock
showed a little after ten. Already?




Courtney called Nick and I over to the buffet table

    

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