Page 42 of Touch of Class

“Seriously. I’ve referred clients to all sorts of other practitioners from physical therapists to medication to Robin.”

“Robin?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a young client recovering from top surgery who I thought might benefit from talking to her, so I walked him across the hall and made the introduction. No human is capable of being any other human’s everything, but that doesn’t keep people like us from doing the jobs we’re capable of doing within our own lanes.”

“But who gets to define your lane? I have an advanced degree and certifications. I was supervised for years in various ways, and I have continuing education. There are also boards, and credentials that must be renewed, or can be taken away.”

Daphne’s muscles tightened. “Aww, not yours. No one would ever take your credentials because you’ve never made a mistake in your life.”

Gillian’s expression flickered into something practiced. “Should we explore the—”

“No!” Daphne shook her head. “Don’t therapy face me.”

“It seems like your last response got a little personal.”

Daphne ground her teeth as she mentally worked to keep the door shut on a specific set of memories, and of course Gillian saw it. The woman crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward slightly. Daphne had to clench her fists to keep from throwing her out on her ass. “This whole conversation has been a little personal. I’m being called on to defend my entire field, which no, does not have the same credentialing controls as traditional therapy. We have professional organizations that offer training and weigh in on best practices, but we don’t have a unifying governing body.”

Gillian nodded, no doubt satisfied to have her suspicions confirmed. “It’s not that fields lacking in oversight are somehow less valuable, but it does raise concerns about abuses both of clients and practitioners.”

“Yeah,” Daphne agreed, hating the resignation in her own voice. “Bad people do bad things in all kinds of fields. Priests have hurt a lot of kids. Olympic doctors abused high-level gymnasts. Kids shoot up schools. Hell, I imagine both therapists and clients have put each other in danger, too.”

Gillian winced and Daphne froze.

Had she struck a nerve?

“Universal bad behavior isn’t an argument for forgoing best practices. It’s a reason to codify and uphold them in the most formal and supportive ways.” Gillian rebounded, but her voice carried a hint of sadness. “You’re alone in here in a bed with the door shut with people you don’t know.”

“And you’re across the hall in a room with a couch with people you don’t know and the door shut.”

“It’s a concern,” Gillian admitted, once again sounding genuine in a way that worried Daphne.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She shook her head, and a bit of focus came back into her green eyes. “I’m trained to de-escalate. I’ve been taught to handle unstable people. I’ve got policies in place. Thankfully, so do my people.”

“And so do I,” Daphne said, before adding, “now.”

Gillian caught it.

Daphne had known she would, and she pushed forward. “I started in this business with very little training and support. I’ve spent the last ten years building a more solid foundation through workshops, classes, conferences, and reading everything I could get my hands on. While there’s no single professional organization I can point to as the ultimate authority, there are certifications from places like Cuddle Professionals International, Tange Wellness, and Cuddlist.”

Gillian pinched the bridge of her nose as if trying to stem the pressure building there.

“Look, I hear it,” Daphne admitted. “Anything with the word ‘cuddle’ in it sounds unprofessional, but that’s a reflection of your own issues, not mine. Most of the educational pathways focus on things you’d very much approve of.”

“Such as?”

“Boundary setting and holding, clear communication, consent work, human psychology focusing on the psychology of touch and attachment, business management, and yes, safety issues like risk assessment and de-escalation.”

“And they’re backed by legitimate organizations, not some guy printing off diplomas in his garage like internet ordination into the Church of Kale, or paying $75 to become a Scottish laird?”

Daphne laughed, perhaps more than the joke warranted, but Gillian so rarely made jokes, this one caught her off guard. “Yeah. The accreditation I received from Cuddle Professionals International is backed by both the Complementary Medical Association and the International Institute for Complementary Therapists.”

Gillian scrunched up her face as if trying to focus hard. “Complementary medicine and therapy?”

“Not your kind of therapy, but I bet you’ve got at least some passing experience with things like acupuncture, therapeutic massage, reflexology, aroma or light therapies, meditation, or yoga. Actually, I know for a fact you did yoga back in high school. I’d be willing to bet money you still have a mat rolled up in the corner of your house somewhere.”

Gillian pursed her lips together, then lifted a shoulder.