“I, uh, have kind of an odd request.” “Oh?” “Yeah. I, uh, I’m going on holiday in a few weeks and …” “And you want to get a start on your tan.” “Yeah. But I, uh, it has to do with tan lines …” “No problem. Many of my clients tan in the nude.” “No. No, it’s not that. Well, it is, kind of.” She chases an errant hair from her forehead. ...
(story continues from Tan Lines) Part 2 The white Nissan pulls up to the curb. I glance at the clock. Right on time. Ginny steps through the door. “Good morning, Ginny.” “Hey.” That’s the extent of our conversation. I’ve tried to get her to talk, but it became quickly apparent she wasn’t a talker. Usually I have the opposite problem with my female clients. Can’t get them to shut up. Oh well. This is her sixth session and the tan lines are starting to show so she’s wearing a long sleeve blouse. It’s one of those generic Oxfords. Might be her boyfriend’s shirt. Hard to tell. ...
(story continues from Tan Lines 2) Part 3 9 a.m. Ginny pushes through the door. “Good morning, Ginny.” “Hey.” I flip the OPEN sign over and Ginny follows me down the hall. It starts the same as it has every session for the last month. She strips slowly, very slowly, turns, closes her eyes, raises her hands behind her neck, and opens her legs. I rub her down with the exfoliating cream, wipe her dry, then lotion her, top to bottom, front and back, even the places where the sun don’t shine. ...