"So unfair. She's not been compassionate at all."

I had just seen off my last client of the day and sat down to wait for the new client that my kind sister had added to my schedule as compensation for being late. But I didn't care. One more massage and I would have the rest of the afternoon to lose myself in my fantasy world; probably in rough, huge hands.

A gentle knock on the door let me know that my client had arrived.

"Come in!"

I heard his uncertain footsteps as I washed my hands and covered them with cedar oil in the little room next door.

"Kristoff Bjorgman, rihgt? You can put your clothes on the chair, cover yourself with the towel that is on that same chair and lie face down on the stretcher. My name is Anna, by the way."

I listened to him settle into the stretcher and assumed it was time to go inside.

"Elsa's told me you got your back injured this morning. How has it happened?"

I crossed the threshold of the clinic door and found a stunning blond shirtless and in jeans waiting for me sitting on the stretcher with a mixture of amusement and disbelief in his eyes.

"So, Anna?"

My blond.

"You… you are…" I stammered, not quite believing my luck.
"Kristoff," he said, holding out his hand again, but this time to shake mine.
"Of course, of course… you are… Kristoff."

I took his hand and felt mine slip completely into a strange and awkward grip.

"Oh, God, sorry, the oil."

Kristoff chuckled and distributed the oil that had been impregnated in him on his hands.

"So, are you a masseuse?"
"Physiotherapist, actually."
"Yeah… that's what I meant."
"Then, that's how it is. And? What happened? Elsa told me it was an emergency."
"Well, it's not that bad. I think it's just a contracture."
"Were you working?"
"Not exactly…"

"Oh, God! It's been rescuing the ring, hasn't it?"
"No, not that either."

He rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed, and I realized I had put him in trouble.

"Holy shit! I'm so sorry! You don't have to tell me anything about your private life! How you did it's your business and only yours. Well, maybe not just yours, but, in any case, it's none of my business who you did it with or what you were doing."

'Fuck. I'm saying too much.'

Raising his eyebrows, probably surprised by my gift for rambling and spluttering uncontrollably, dropped his arm back onto the stretcher and smiled.

"I've taken a nap in the shade of a pile of rubble and, apparently, I've taken a bad posture."
"Oh… A nap?"
"Yes. I had some time left after eating, it was hot, the sea breeze blew…"
"Do you work near the sea?"
"We're restoring the pier. We started this morning."
"So that's why you were there…"
"In fact, I approached to ask you to get out because we were going to seal off the area, but things took an unexpected course."
"Huh…"

So he hadn't get the contracture with doing anything with anyone. Would there be someone to do something with?

'Anna, get to work!'

"That's okay."
"It is?"
"Uh? Yeah! I mean… what arm is it? Where does it hurt? What movements do you have limited?"
"Luckily, it's on the left. But, it hurts when I carry weight and it's difficult for me to lift it from here."

That man raised his arm just above the height of his elbow and my sight was caught by the structure of his body. A body worked, broad, and strong, but without going to excess. His skin seemed soft and not very damaged by the sun. Also, you could see some small scars that seemed a reminder that work is a place to be careful.

It might have surprised me, but it didn't; I knew that body: I'd seen it in my dreams. I knew how its touch felt and also how it continued under his jeans.

It was crazy nonsense. But I was sure it was him.

"It's not big trouble, but makes my job complicated."
"I can imagine. Lie on your stomach and I'll see what I can do, okay?"

Kristoff nodded and obeyed, showing me the most perfect back I had witnessed in twenty-five years of life (extra-oneiric) and four of them seeing 5-8 backs a day. For the first time in my career, I felt insecure when it came to touching a client. I smeared my hands again in oil to recover the layer that I had left in his hands, took a deep breath, and slowly placed my hands on his shoulders.

A goosebump went through my body from head to toe and a torrent of memories made me find really hard to maintain professionalism in the way of touching him. Maybe I wasn't the most suitable person to be his physio. Maybe I should ask for a replacement or… tell him the truth?

'Are you crazy?! You can't tell him such a thing! Concentrate on doing your job well, you know how to do it.'

And so I did. I put my hands in automatic mode struggling not to pay attention to what I was feeling or what I wanted him to feel and focused on warm up and relax his shoulders and back and soothe the burden of the contracture that limited his mobility. Thank Godness, experience allowed me to properly make my job even if my mind was not in the ideal state. But, to be honest, he didn't make it easy either. Not with his muffled grunts of pain in some areas and his concealed moans of pleasure in others. It was being the most difficult massage of my career.

'Start a conversation, Anna. Distract your mind.'

"So hot today, huh?"

'Really? This is the way you plan to get his heat out of your head?'

"Mhm…"

'And that's it? That doesn't help! I don't know what I expected that he answered to that, though.'

"Did you find…"

'Thank you!'

"Yeah?"
"Did you find a plan D?"
"Oh… no. I don't know what to do with it… I know it's worth a fortune, but…"

My hands, victims of the memory, tightened a little too much on his back and I didn't realize until I felt the force he was making with his back to try to counteract mine.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry! Have I hurt you? I…"
"Have you thought about donating it?"
"What?"
"So you would convert what seems like a bad memory into something positive. But… that's a personal matter, I'm sorry."
"It's… It's a great idea!"

Excitement made me squeeze again earning me a louder growl from him and I realized that, if I didn't want to hurt him more, it was time to end the massage. I briefly relaxed the area and covered him with the towel.

"Forgive me. It's not being my best day…"
"Don't worry. I can move the arm better now."
"Even so, you should try not to force it in a few days and, perhaps, repeat the massage in a couple of days. If you talk to Elsa when you leave, I bet she can arrange an appointment with someone who is at a less emotional moment and doesn't wreck your back in the attempt…"

And he laughed again. He could claim me, even demand his money back; he could be outraged and leave in a bad way, and no one could blame him for doing it. And yet, he was laughing. He sat out slowly on the stretcher, stood up, slide into his shirt, and began to put to the test again the mobility of his arm.

"Thanks for the massage. I will ask for an appointment upon leaving."
"Thank you for your patience…"

He shook my hand again and turned around willing to go out the door, but, suddenly, he stopped in his footsteps and turned again toward me.

"Err… If… if you don't have any preference regarding the place to donate the ring… I know a place where they could use the help."
"Oh… I… Where?" "It's… well, it's the orphanage."
"The orphanage? Doesn't it belong to the state?"
"Uh… yeah. But… see… a good friend of mine works there and the things he tells me are… well. The grants don't always come on time and they cover just the basics and… those kids… they don't have the best life they could possibly have.

I had always thought that donations were for those who have nothing rather than for those who don't live an ideal life. And I was more interested in giving the money to those who didn't even have enough to eat than to those who had the basics covered, but, for some reason, he seemed really touched by the subject, so I decided not to be adamant on it.

"Sorry. It was silly. I don't know why I told you. It's your ring and your money and no one should tell you what you can or cannot do with it. I apologize."
"Have you ever went?"
"Uh… yeah. I go sometimes."
"As a volunteer?"
"Yeah."
"Would you take me to see it?"
"I don't know what to say… I don't know if it'll be a place that you really want to see. Sometimes it's not exactly the typical place that makes your day."
"I want to understand what you mean and, as you said, judge for myself. Would you take me?"

An incredible grin crossed his face from ear to ear and I realized that there were things about that man that I hadn't seen in my dream.

"If it's really what you want, I'll talk to Sven to see when it can be done, okay? But… please don't feel obliged, I wouldn't want to…"
"Tell me your number."

He stopped and nodded again. Then rummaged through his pockets until he found his cell phone and we exchanged numbers.

"Ok. See you soon, Anna."
"See you, Kristoff."