“Good. Your home. You need to say something to Alvin.”
“The mailman?”
“Yes, Alvin the mailman.”
“Why do I need to speak to him?”
“Because I caught him lurking out in front of the trailer.”
“Our mailbox is out in front of the trailer. It’s not lurking for him to be out there putting mail in our box.”
“So, tell him to put our mail in the box and be on his way. He’s not supposed to stand there gawping at me just because I happen to be naked.”
“Naked?”
“Yes. Just standing there, staring at me naked.”
“You’d have to be outside, all the way down the steps and out on the patio for him to see you from the mailbox.”
“I was.”
“What were you doing all the way outside naked?”
“Don’t get that look. It’s not what you’re thinking. See, I was coming home from grocery shopping—”
“Naked?”
“No! Would you let me tell my story before you start asking questions? Thank you. I was coming home from grocery shopping and I saw Zach out by the pool as I drove by.”
“Zach?”
“You remember Zach?”
“No.”
“Of course you do. Zach. Down the street. Early twenties, maybe. Between jobs, but thinking about being a chiropractor? He’s been working as Nora Hyde’s assistant. She’s the physical therapist? The ladies love him. He’s a lot nicer than Nora, I can tell you that. He’ll set up appointments for her, and he’ll take over for her when she’s not feeling like doing a session. Ladies love him.”
“You said that.”
“Anyway, I saw him hanging around the pool and thought I could help him out. Offered him twenty dollars to pack away my groceries.”
“Pack away groceries. Seems a come-down from being a therapist.”
“The guy needs an income. I’m betting Nora doesn’t pay anything, hard as she’s got him working.”
“So you paid him to put away your groceries.”
“And work on my spine.”
“What’s wrong with your spine?”
“That’s just it. I didn’t think anything, but I was bending over, putting lettuce in the crisper drawer and he’s watching. I’m thinking he’s checking me out, bent over like that. Because my ass is still something, right?”
“Was he checking out your ass?”
“No. He was checking out my spine, he said. He noticed there was something going on with my spine. A little irregularity he called it. Kind of going off to one side.”
“I never noticed that.”
“You’re not a chiropractor.”
“Neither is he.”
“But he’s studying to be one. Excuse me, did I miss when you showed an interest in medicine? Anyway, he comes up behind me and I start to straighten up, and he says, no, stay there, and he runs his hand along my spine and right between my shoulder blades he says, feel that? Feel that? I don’t feel anything out of the ordinary, but you live with something all your life, you wouldn’t, would you? He runs his hand along my spine again and hits a spot, saying, right there.”
“How’s he see something like that through your blouse?”
“He’s training his eye to catch that kind of thing. But—he still needed to take a closer look. That’s why he had to push up my shirt just to be sure, and saying may I? Very polite, very professional. He unsnaps my bra, since the hooks were right on the spot where he says the problem might be. I put my hand up to keep the cups in place. I don’t want to be spilling out accidentally, bent over like that.”
“Smart.”
“So, I’m holding the cups in place and he’s running his fingers along my spine, and I have to admit, I do feel something, so I ask what is it? I’m still bent over and I’m looking back at him, and he’s got his face set the way that doctors get when they know they’re right, but they don’t want to be. And won’t tell you until they run a hundred tests and max out your deductible. Like that kind of face.”
“I see.”
“He has me straighten up, and I’m still holding my bra in place, but I’m coming out the bottom of the cups. He’s behind me and he puts his arms under mine and puts me in the sort-of headlock and he weaves me back and forth, his hands locked behind my head, like he’s adjusting me already.”
“I don’t think you needed adjusting.”
“Not like he’s adjusting adjusting, but aligning me the way I should be. Don’t make more of this than it is. You starting to sound like Elinore.”
“From next door?”
“Yes, from next door. Do I have another best friend named Elinore? If she hadn’t barged in and given me one of those looks of hers, Alvin would’ve never got his chance to see me naked.”
“What’s Elinore got to do with the mailman seeing you naked.”
“She’s the whole reason I was outside naked.”
“I’m not following.”
“I’m getting there. You want to hear the story or not?”
“Not really.”
“But you asked, and I’m going to tell you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you. Don’t sound so excited. Where was I? Oh—so he says, let’s try something. Not officially, since he doesn’t have a license to practice on anyone, but he says, this might make me feel better, so he leads me to the kitchen table and says, hop up and then get down on your knees and elbows. We need to flex your spine. I say, can we do it on the floor, but he says that he can’t get any leverage bent over to the floor. So I say there’s no way I’m going to be able to climb up on a table much less go down on all fours in the jeans I was wearing. Those black hip-huggers?”
“The black spangly ones? You wore those to go grocery shopping?”
“Everything else was in the laundry hamper. So, yes, I wore the black spangly ones. And there was no way I could raise my leg up high enough to get up on the table for him to work on me. That’s why I took them off. Which was kind of embarrassing because I was wearing a thong.”
“To go grocery shopping, because—”
“Everything else—”
“—was in the hamper. I get that.”
“Once I took all that off, I could climb up on the table and squat down like he’d suggested, on my knees and elbows. I was keeping my chest flat on the table because I didn’t want my bra to drop off accidentally. My head’s hanging off the table, so I grip the edge which lets me rest my chin on my knuckles.”
“Where’s Elinore in all this?”
“How should I know?”
“I thought she was the whole reason you were outside naked.”
“Outside. I’m not there yet. I’m getting to that part. Anyway. He starts to work, doing this long hard rub along my spine. But he keeps making this grunting noise. Like a snort. You know like you make when you’re irritated at something on the television? It was that same noise. I ask him what’s up and he says, very politely, would you mind taking off your shirt all the way? So I said, sure, and I let him pull it the rest of the way off over my head, and zooop, my bra goes with it.”
“I thought you were holding it so it didn’t come off accidentally.”
“He asked, and I’d said yes, so it wasn’t strictly an accident. It was for the therapy.”
“Therapy?”
“Not therapy therapy. But him showing me what might could be done if I wanted to go to a professional. Anyway, he’s doing this hard stroke with his thumbs along my spine and doing a little twitchy motion when he gets to that place. And I have to say, the fingers, running along my waist and up my ribs was tickling, but I was concentrating on what he was doing, because I didn’t want him to think I didn’t take this seriously.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Oh, it was. Him working, grunting, getting lower and lower down my waist, the waistband of my thong sliding down. He’s making that chuffy noise again, and his thumbs keep catching in my thong, so I offer to take it all the way off.”
“He’s got you naked on the table?”
“He’s a professional. I’d have to be naked in a doctor’s office, wouldn’t I?”
“Wouldn’t they put you in a paper gown?”
“If I was in the doctor’s office. But I wasn’t now, was I? I went ahead and shoved it down to my knees, still trying to keep my chest on the table, and then he helps me as I lift one leg at a time to slip it all the way off, first the left then the right, and he folds it, saying he could use it as an eyepatch, it’s so small. Then right at the same time, we both go arrrgh, matey, at each other.”
“Great minds.”
“Right, great minds. Then he puts it on the chair where I see he’s laid out the rest of my clothes, very neatly.”
“Considerate. Your whole back end is stuck in the air?”
“Nothing he’s not seen before, I’m sure. He’s a professional. I’m betting they use those plastic mannequins for practice, and they’re naked. He did have me spread my knees and ankles so I could get lower down on the table, my tummy almost touching. Then with one hand on that spot I was telling you about, between my shoulder blades, he works two of his fingers into my rectum, wiggling them around until he’s got them all the way in.”
“He’s got his fingers in your ass now?”
“I wasn’t ready for that and I gave out with a squeak. But it didn’t seem to bother him, he just kept on working and twisting his fingers back and forth, like he’s whipping my spine first one way, then the other, really gentle, and I’m telling you, I start to feel it. Like my whole torso is drifting free of my legs and my arms. All of it just one part, like he’s disconnected the rest of me. I’ve got my hands gripping the table edge and my face is resting on my knuckles. He pulls out his fingers and I hear him spit, then he puts his fingers back inside me.”
“Wouldn’t he think to ask if you had something else to use besides spit?”
“It’s not like we keep anything in the kitchen, and there wasn’t time to stop, go back to the bathroom, see what we have, which I’m betting we don’t have because it’s not like we ever need anything like that.”
“Maybe you should stock up, if you’re going to hire yourself out as a practice dummy for him to work on.”
“He couldn’t afford me. Let me finish. He keeps working, spitting on his fingers, working, spitting on his fingers.”
“To straighten out a bent place between your shoulders? Seems a reach.”
“It’s all connected. Anyway, he makes the grunting noise, pushing his fingers in all the way up to his knuckle, and he says that’s as far as he can get. Made me wonder how far he was planning to go. Then he says, let’s try something, and he takes hold of my arms right at the shoulders, like he’s squeezing, and I feel him fill my ass. It’s only his pecker, but I’m telling you it felt like his whole arm. That was definitely not something I was expecting.”
“When did he get his pants off?”
“He wasn’t wearing pants. He was at the pool, remember? Just had his trunks on.”
“So, when’d he get his trunks off?”
“I’ve got my head hanging off the edge of the table, remember? I can’t see what’s going on behind me.”
“Did he happen to say how any of that was the least bit medical?”
“It wasn’t what you think. He was bracing my backside against his pelvis so he could maneuver my spine.”
“He was just using what he had handy?”
“A good thing he had his pecker all the way inside me. It gave him something to hold me in place. It’s not like he had the right kind of table to work on. Let me tell you, he needed it. He’s weaving me like a snake and shifting my spine first one way then the other, keeping himself pressed in me, hard. I’ll tell you this, he’s got the right size for it. Kept me from sliding sideways, right off the table.”
“How’s he get it in, if all he’s got is a little bit of spit?”
“I left out that part. See? You keep interrupting me, and I forget things. Back when he was rubbing my ribs, my ass in the air? It got me so wet, there was plenty for him to use to get himself slick so he could slide it right in. He started making these ah-ah-ah sounds, and saying over and over, “yes, like that, that’s it, oh yeah.” Then he kind of laughed and said I could probably stand a few more sessions, and I started laughing, thinking of Nora Hicks trying to do this, like would she use a strap-on, and that got him laughing harder and we’re both rocking and laughing, and he’s got hold of my shoulders and got my chest up off the table, and my breasts are swinging and knocking together, and we’re laughing harder and harder, and then he’s gasping and I’m sort of gasping and he shoves himself hard and deep and holds it there and I can feel him shoot a big one, and I know that’s not what’s supposed to happen, and he’s making long gasps like maybe he didn’t mean for that to happen either.”
“Elinore still hasn’t made an appearance.”
“I’m getting there.”
“Just letting you know I am paying attention.”
“Now I’m at Elinore’s part in the story. Because, at exactly that moment, she walks in. Bold as brass, doesn’t bother to knock—”
“Elinore never knocks.”
“Exactly. She sees me up on the table, and Zach there behind me, so I shout at her, it’s not what it looks like, it’s not what it looks like. She goes all red faced, like she’d seen something she’d never seen before, a naked woman on the kitchen table getting her spine worked on. She dashes out. Zach pops out of me, leaking a long string of goo, and I swing a leg to the floor, climb off the table, and I’m out the door after her. But when I get down the steps onto the patio, I remember I’m buck naked, and wouldn’t you know, there’s Alvin, getting himself a good look. So I shouted at him, what I was trying to tell Elinore, that it wasn’t at all like what it looked like. But he just kept staring. Well, he saw everything there was to see, and I didn’t want him thinking there was anything wrong, so I took my time going back into the house. Left him standing there to jack off into his mailbag, probably.”
“Where was Zach all this time?”
“Gone. Must’ve slipped down the hall and out the back door. Had to climb over the back fence into the next lot, because he didn’t come past me while Alvin was getting his eyeful.”
“He didn’t wait around for his twenty bucks?”
“No. And he won’t get it until he comes back and finishes packing my fridge. So?”
“So what?”
“So what are you going to do about Alvin?”
“I think—I think I’ll tell Alvin he got his holiday tip early this year.”