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I was at my physical therapy appointment right on time. But it was a full 15 minutes before the therapist came out to get me. It was early afternoon, so maybe she was late coming back from lunch. Or maybe her watch was slow. Or maybe she just wanted me to wait to show me who was in charge for the 45 minutes I would be with her.
She walked up to where I was sitting, a clipboard in her hand, and held her right hand out.
“Matt?” she asked warmly. “I’m Laurie.”
I got up a little gingerly — after all, I was here to get some relief from my lower back pain — and shook her hand. Her grip was firm and her fingers gripped my hand with authority. She moved to one side and motioned back toward a series of small rooms, which were only defined spaces separated by curtains hung on curtain rods that wrapped around three sides of the space. The back side of each room was the outside wall. She guided me to room
, reached up and grabbed the curtain with her free hand, and pulled it back.
“This is our therapy room today. Please have a seat on the blue chair,” she directed.
I walked in and she pulled the curtain closed around the corner and halfway down the other side. The bottom of the curtain was at least ten inches from the tiled floor.
The enclosure was small, maybe ten feet by ten feet, with some cabinets and shelves along the back wall, a padded gurney with wheels and some other adjustments on the left side, and a blue office chair at the back corner next to the outside wall where the back side of the curtain was against the wall. There was one of those life-size plastic skeletons with the colored bones hanging from a metal stand near the front corner of the room.
I walked over and carefully sat down in the blue chair, as directed. Laurie rolled one of those padded medical stools to the middle of the room and sat down on it facing me. She crossed her legs and positioned her clipboard on her lap and began to write something on the papers on the clipboard. She was left handed.
Laurie was medium height, a little shorter than I am, and had light brown hair that was just shorter than shoulder length. Her hair was straight but full bodied and parted on the left side. When she looked down at the clipboard, a small tuft of hair fell down and over the right side of her face. She absentmindedly brushed it back behind her ear with her right hand. Her face had a classic look complimenting her height. Her eyes looked brown and were framed by glasses that had a thin, dark frame. They accentuated her face very well. Her nose had no imperfections and she had full, round lips with a light shade of red lipstick.
She looked up at me and smiled. “Just making some opening notes,” she said. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“O.K.,” I replied.
Laurie’s white blouse had long sleeves and looked to be well tailored. It had pleats down the front from the collar, over the bodice, and down to where the blouse was tucked into her pants. The collar was opened to two buttons at the top of the blouse which exposed a surprisingly large part of her upper chest. Her breasts pushed against the blouse with no sign of a bra, although she was surely wearing one. Her pants were nicely tailored, also, and form-fitting, reaching to the mid-ankle. Her left leg was crossed over her right leg and sported a golden ankle bracelet. Her shoes were black leather pumps and she dangled one on her toes as she made her notes.
She had a definite waist, but her hips were well-proportioned to the rest of her body. As she leaned over her clipboard, I had a nice view in the opening of her blouse. She stopped writing and looked up at me. I quickly moved my eyes to her face.
She paused just for a moment and then asked, “Well, Matt, what is bothering you?” Then she added, “I mean, tell me what pain you have and when it first started.”
“Well, I’m a pretty active guy. I exercise, not regularly, but often and try to take care of myself, you know?” I said. “I especially try to do stretching exercises when I remember to do them, and I have a pretty good diet. It first happened the other day when I was getting up from one of my activities. I must have moved wrong, because a sharp pain shot across my lower back and down my hips. It was funny — I stopped moving and the pain just slowly subsided. And when I felt O.K., I moved around and there was no pain. That must have been about a week, maybe ten days ago.”
“Go on,” Laurie said.
“Well, a couple of days later I was doing that same activity and I had completely forgotten about the pain. I started to get up and there it was again. This time it was sharper and, like before, when I stopped moving, the pain just slowly decreased. Only this time it didn’t go completely away. I could feel some discomfort down there in my lower back and down my hips. And it’s been there ever since.”
“Hmmm…” Laurie commented. “Were there any more incidents?”
“Yeah, this last time is what brought me in here. Two days ago I was doing my activity and I must have irritated something bahis firmaları because I wasn’t even trying to get up and BAM! It hit me again. This time it felt like a slap across my backside. It stung, but from the inside out. And like before, it slowly dissipated when I stopped moving. But it hasn’t gone away, Doc.”
“I see,” she said. “But I’m not a doctor.”
“Oh, sorry,” I replied. “You just play one at work!” I tried to inject a little humor.
She smiled and said, “We are all professionally trained therapists, with lots of education, training, and professional development. But we’re not doctors. Just call me Laurie.”
“O.K., Laurie,” I replied and smiled back.
She went on. “These activities you were doing? Were they all the same activity each time? Were you working harder or faster these last times when the pain was more extreme? Or were you doing them at about the same effort? Can you tell me about these activities?”
“Well, I can,” I replied. “Is it important what I was doing?”
“It might be,” she said, “but I can’t determine that until I know what the activities were.”
“O.K.,” I said and paused for a moment. “I was with a lady friend and we were doing the activity together.”
Laurie looked at me with a puzzled look on her face. Then she realized what the activity was and blushed a little.
“O.K.,” she said hurriedly and stood up. “Let’s get you up and take some measurements.”
I could tell she had lost a little of that “in charge” authority she started with.
I slowly stood up and she pointed to an electronic scale and height machine between the gurney and the cabinets. I had missed that on my initial scan of the room. I walked over and stepped onto the scale.
“You don’t have to move,” she told me. “Just hold still and your height and weight are determined automatically.”
I stood still as directed and in just a few seconds, Laurie looked around my side to the scale. As she did so, she pressed ever so slightly against me. “6-2, 193,” she repeated and wrote it down on her clipboard.
“O.K., Matt,” she said. “Why don’t you take your shoes off and lie down over there on your stomach. There’s a place to rest your face so you can breathe.”
I went back over to the chair, sat down, and slowly bent over and removed my shoes. Laurie had the clipboard in both hands and was holding it flat against her chest. She watched me take my shoes off.
I got up and walked over to the gurney and laid down on it on my stomach. I found the place to put my face, and after positioning my body a little so I was comfortable, I asked, “Laurie, how’s this?”
“Uh, what? What was that, Matt?” I could tell she was standing right over me.
I had spoken through that gizmo that my face was on so I lifted my head and said, “Is this O.K.?”
“Yes, that’s good. Your feet are over the edge. I guess they don’t make these things long enough. But I’m sure they are strong enough.”
She placed her hands on my back and said, “O.K., Matt. Now I’m just going to explore a bit along your backbone. I will do some light pushing and prodding. Tell me if what I do makes you feel uncomfortable or if you feel any pain.”
She paused a moment as if undecided whether she should ask the next question. She did. “By the way, how far down your hips do you feel the pain?”
She was standing on my left side as I lay there, and she put her right hand on my butt, about half way down. “Down this far?” she asked.
“A little farther down.”
I had a pretty hard butt and without lifting her hand, she moved it down toward my feet.
“This far?” she asked.
“Just a little more. And it’s different for my other hip.” Actually it wasn’t, but I wanted to see what she would do.
“Oh, really?” she said as she slid her right hand down a little and reached across my body with her left hand and put it on my butt.
“That’s about right,” I replied, now that she had both her hands on my butt.
“O.K.,” she said. “Now I’m going to explore your back a little.”
What followed was an amazing therapeutic experience. As she gently pushed and poked along my spine, she told me exactly what she was doing, what parts of my spine she was touching, and how critical each different part was to the health of a person. As she pushed a little harder, I could feel my back relax. Her finger tips were the softest, nicest thing I had felt in a long time — I couldn’t describe it any other way.
“Now, I’m going to check your lower back, Matt. Is it O.K. if I pull your shirt out?” she asked as she began to tug my shirt tail out from my pants.
“Yeah, it’s O.K.” I replied through my face gizmo.
She pulled my shirt tail out and pushed it up a little on my sides. I could feel the cool air of the room on my back. Then she put her hands on the sides of my jeans, grabbed them and my belt, and pulled down. I lifted my hips slightly to help her. Maybe she pulled them down a couple of inches. It may have been strictly curative to her, but kaçak iddaa it felt nice to me.
She removed her hands and as she began to speak, she caught her breath, and coughed softly.
“There,” she said. “That should be far enough.”
Her fingers then touched my skin and slowly rubbed tiny circles on my back.
“O.K.,” she said. “More pushing and poking.”
Again, she began to explore the inside of my back from the outside using those soft, but firm, fingers and that velvet touch. Once again, she told me exactly what was going on and how different parts of the back support and strengthen other parts. She moved her fingers outside my spine now, pushing and rubbing gently, but probing to find the source of my pain. I felt so relaxed I almost forgot to tell her when she touched a tender spot.
“Right there,” I exclaimed. “It’s tender there and…” She pushed a little harder. “…Oh, that kind of hurts.”
“I see,” she replied. “How about here?” She moved her fingers a little to the side and pushed.
“Oh, not so much,” I answered. “It was just in that one spot.”
“O.K., how about here?” she asked as she moved her hands to the top of my hips below my beltline and pushed on each side. I let her work a little bit before I responded.
“No pain,” I said, “but it feels good.”
“Mmmm…” she responded. “Just a little more.”
With her hands on both sides of my exposed hips, she began to knead my flesh and press harder. I thought I could hear her breathing increase.
In a minute she said, “O.K. You can turn over now, I’ll tell you what I’ve found, and we’ll talk about some remedies.”
Without pulling my jeans up, I turned over. She was looking right at my crotch and my pants were low enough so that some of my pubic hair could be seen.
She brought her hand to her mouth and coughed and said, “Uhhhh… You can pull your jeans up, too.”
I reached down and pulled my pants up, but left my shirt untucked. She pulled her stool over next to the gurney and sat down with her clipboard. She dropped her pen on the floor and reached down to pick it up. I looked right down her blouse to her half bra covering her breasts. She raised her head, looked right at me, then sat back up, crossed her legs and positioned the clipboard on her lap. As she was making more notes, she explained that it appeared that there was a slight compression in some of the vertebrae in my back, possibly due to some strenuous activity, and the muscles have adjusted to compensate for the stress. There is some tightness in the muscles that are probably causing the pain when I moved a certain way.
“Let’s talk about some exercises you can do which will help your pain and, over time, probably eliminate it,” she explained. “The object is to relax your lower back and pelvic area. By doing that, the stress will be lessened and the pain will disappear.”
“So, here’s the first exercise. While lying on your back, place your arms at your side with the palms of your hands up and slightly under your hips. Suck in your abdomen and tilt your pelvis up while keeping your legs down,” she directed.
I tried that and she said, “Keep breathing. Use your abdominal muscles instead of your diaphragm. It’s important that you keep breathing. As you get more comfortable with this exercise, you can lift your hips up off the surface while keeping your shoulders and legs down.”
As I practiced this in front of her, I realized that this is the same position and movement that I sometimes do during my activities with my women friends. I did not mention that.
“That’s pretty good,” she praised me. “It looks as if you are comfortable doing this.”
I replied, “Yeah, I think I’ve done this movement before, but I didn’t think of it as exercise.”
“When do you do this move -?” she started to ask. Then I could see her blush a little and she continued, “Uhhhh… Well, never mind.”
She sort of looked away and moved her attention from my crotch to her clipboard. “O.K. You need hold this position for 15 seconds and do 10 repetitions of this twice a day. I’ll write this down for you so you can remember.”
And then she added under her breath, “As if you need a reminder.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “What was that you said at the end?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she replied. Then added “Let’s talk about some more exercises you need to do.”
She went through about four more exercises that I was to do twice daily and I practiced each one to her satisfaction. When we finished, she had me get up, tuck my shirt in, and put my shoes on. She left while I was doing this and then returned with a sheet of paper with descriptions of each of my required exercises with little stick man illustrations. She briefly went over them again, emphasizing the importance of holding each position for the required time.
We were about finished. She asked if I had any questions and I asked, “When am I due back?”
“Well, if you don’t feel the pain decreasing enough during the first few days, you can call me and schedule kaçak bahis another session. If the pain decreases enough so that you are confident that you are on the right track to no pain, you don’t need to return. Even when the pain goes away, I want you to continue these for at least another month. Then if there is no pain, you should do them two or three times a week for maintenance.”
She handed me her business card. “Here’s my card with my direct line. I’m here on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday from one to five. Just call me and I’ll fit you in.” She looked right into my eyes and I smiled.
“Is there anything else, Matt?” she asked in a professional tone of voice. I took that to mean that we were finished with this session and that it was time to go.
“No, that’s all,” I answered. “Thanks for everything. I’ll do these exercises diligently, and, like you said, if I don’t feel better, I’ll call you.”
“Great,” she responded. “It was good to meet you, Matt.”
“Me, too, Laurie,” I said. “Thanks, again.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied and pulled back the curtain so we could both exit. And with that, I left.
Two days later I was feeling much better. I couldn’t get over Laurie’s invitation to schedule another session. It was probably all professional, but I had to find out for sure. I found her card and called her number.
Two rings. “Hello, this is Laurie,” I heard.
“Hi, Laurie. This is Matt. You remember, from a few days ago?”
“Sure, I remember. How are you, Matt?”
“Well,” I replied. “I’m getting better, I think. I’m doing all the exercises, but I think I should have another session with you.”
“That’s O.K. When would you like to come in?” she asked.
“How about Monday?”
“Monday’s fine,” she replied. “What time would you like to come?”
“I’d like to come at 1:30. Is that O.K.?”
“1:30 is fine. I’ll put you down,” she said.
“Oh, and Laurie?”
“Yes, Matt?” she said.
“Wear a skirt, Laurie.” Then I hung up.
On Monday at 1:25 I had checked in and was sitting in the waiting room. Precisely at 1:30 I saw Laurie exit her office and walk toward me. She had on a white blouse that looked as if it was two sizes too small. Her breasts were straining against the material. She was wearing a burgundy skirt that ended about four inches above her knees. She was carrying a clipboard and was wearing the same shoes as she did the other day. Her glasses and her hair were perfect, but her expression was much different from the first time I saw her. She had a look of anticipation and apprehension and as she came up to me, she was distinctly biting her lower lip.
“Hi, Matt,” she said as I stood up to shake her hand. We clasped hands, looked each other in the eye, and held the clasp for just a little too long.
“Hi, Laurie. It’s good to see you again.” Then I added, “You look very nice today.”
She said, “Thank you. Shall we go over here?”
She led me to room
this time. She pulled the curtain back and I could see that it was configured the same way as the room we were in the last time.
As I entered, I said softly to her, “Make sure the curtain is closed all the way.”
She entered behind me and pulled the curtain all the way around the side so it completely encompassed the area. I sat down on the only chair. She walked over to the cabinets at the back of the room and placed her clipboard down. Then she took a few steps to the center of the room, turned toward me, and with her hands on her hips, asked, “So, what is bothering you today, Matt?”
“Laurie,” I said. “I have this muscle that is really hurting. It cramps up something awful.”
She replied, “Well, why don’t you lie down on the table and we’ll see what we can do about it.”
I got up, went over and crawled up on the gurney, and lay on my back. Laurie moved so she was standing next to me, right at my waist. She put her hands on the table next to me, leaned forward a little, and asked, “Which muscle is it?”
Her tits were great today. I could almost see them struggling to get free.
“This one,” I said and I quickly unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, and pulled my jeans and boxers halfway down to my knees. My cock was half hard and was positioned slightly away from my body.
Laurie didn’t move. She stared at my cock. I reached out, put my right hand under her skirt, and rubbed up and down her leg. She made a little moaning noise.
“Keep talking normally,” I told her softly as I moved my hand up her leg to her panties.
She looked at me, nodded, and said in a normal tone of voice, “Well, sometimes muscles can cramp up when doing these exercises.”
She shifted slightly and spread her legs apart a little. I rubbed my fingers along her pussy outside her panties.
“What can we do about that?” I asked, also in a normal tone of voice.
“Sometimes massage helps,” she replied, and her voice cracked a little. I put my hand into her panties and felt her sex. Completely shaved.
“That sounds good,” I said as I moved my hand back and forth. “Can you massage my muscle?”
She was moving her hips ever so slightly now, responding to my stroking. I was almost ready to stick a finger into her cunt.
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