Page 44 of The Ampersand Effect

Fantastic. Moving on.

“Okay, let’s get these needles out of you.” Grier turned off the stimulation pack and began plucking the needles from Tobin’s back. Now that she’d had a minute to collect herself, she allowed her eyes to take in the sight of Tobin lying prone on her treatment table.Definitely not how I thought I’d get you on your stomach…

She carefully tugged the lower edge of Tobin’s shirt back down over the small area she’d exposed to set the needles, wincing as she covered the delicate tattoos she yearned to explore. She wondered, with fervent hope, if she’d ever get to see the full sleeve—the sweep of ink she assumed ran across the majority of her left torso, shoulder and arm. And that sliver under her breast…

She sighed.

“Are you okay?” Tobin inquired. Clearly, that sigh had been louder than intended.

“Absolutely.” Grier’s response was rushed. She could feel her emotional control waning.

“Areyou?” A double entendre. Not at all a question about Tobin’s current pain. Absolutely a question about her current emotional state—her level of want, her appetite. Grier knew how the question would be received: with a façade of professionalism, and answered the same.

“I think the acupuncture helped a little. My back hasn’t had an active spasm since I lied down.” Grier could hear the hesitation in Tobin’s voice. She was fighting the pain, probably as much as Grier was fighting her own emotions.

“Good news, then.” She stepped back, Tobin fully covered by her shirt again, no tempting ink to peruse longingly with her eyes.Unfortunate.

“I liked the music choice,” Tobin said, her voice carrying an edge of effort, as if smoothing over the coarseness of their earlier interactions.

“Mmm. Yes, I thought it might… help.” She felt herself crooning, her voice darkening with desire.Stop, she thought. She was toeing the edge of professional behavior. Anything she did while Tobin was under her care could be misconstrued as abuse of power—a power she deeply wanted to wield over Tobin, right here on her treatment table. Her body throbbed, the carnality of her desires hidden from their subject, but not from their master.

“Okay, I’m going to start the next phase of treatment. I’ll be touching your back, hips, and buttocks. If anything I do or anywhere I touch makes you uncomfortable, let me know, and we can adjust.”

“Oh… okay.” Tobin hesitated.

“That was not convincing. What are you thinking?” Grier hated the defensiveness in her voice.

“I’m okay. I was just thrown off by a grown woman sayingbuttocks.” Tobin stifled a laugh, then groaned as her back spasmed from the efforts.

“I’m not the least bit sorry that hurt you,” Grier scolded, her voice lilting with more than an undertone of flirtation. “Are you ready, or do I need to wait another seven to ten years for you to grow into adulthood?”

“I don’t recall claiming I was an adult,” Tobin parried, her voice mildly muffled by her position on the table.

“Har. Har.” Grier drawled. “Are you ready for me to touch your back and ass?” She’d had enough of the banter. If she let Tobin get any deeper under her skin, she’d lose her grip on professionalism entirely.Skin. Any vision of Tobin’s skin with hers—under, over, in—sounded absolutely euphoric.

Tobin hesitated, tension rippling through her frame. “Is this going to hurt?”

Cool your shit, Grier.She tempered her lust, softening at the concern in Tobin’s voice. “No. It’ll likely be uncomfortable at times, but if I’m hurting you then you have to tell me, and I’ll stop immediately. You’re in control, always. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yeah, okay. I’m ready.” Tobin exhaled, relaxing slightly on the table.

“Good. Roll onto your right side for me. I want to work the muscles before I try the adjustment.”

Tobin complied, with a little assistance from Grier.

“I’m going to place my hand along the muscles of your low back and glutes and ask you to move your leg, arm or torso to stretch the muscles under my thumb. Ready?”

Tobin nodded, her eyes closed. Grier ardently hoped she’d done so as an attempt to relax—and not to explicitly avoid making eye contact with her.

She guided Tobin through the muscle releases, pressing her fingers into the small of her back, focusing on what she felt beneath them, coaxing the spasmodic muscles to release. Tobin was silent except for the steady rhythm of her breathing andthe occasional grunt as Grier worked into particularly sensitive areas. Grier’s movements were on autopilot; she used her fingers to listen to Tobin’s body, tracking where the sinuous muscles knotted and spasmed, responding to her pressure with gradual surrender.

When the muscles felt as relaxed as they were going to get, Grier encouraged Tobin to return to her stomach.

“Okay, Tobin. I’m going to start the adjustment now. My table has cushions beneath you that I can pop up with some levers. You’ll feel the pieces shift, then I’ll place my hands on your body above them. I’ll push into the joints, and the table pieces will drop back to their resting position beneath you, coaxing motion into the joint. Before we get that far, though, I need to assess the position and mobility of the joints. Are you ready?”

“You’re very good at explaining this.”

“My hands touch a lot of body regions that most people aren’t used to having handled. So I want every person—especially children that have very little autonomy—to know what to expect with me, and to know they’re in control. If I’m told to stop, I will. But— general rule here—if you tell me it hurts, I’ll probably keep picking on it.”