Page 43 of Touch of Class

“Ha.” Daphne pointed at her accusingly. “Can you imagine if your Pilates instructor and I both had our credentials backed by the same people?”

“No,” Gillian said gravely. “I cannot.”

“For that matter, have you ever once stopped before a massage to ask who certified your masseur?”

“No.”

“And if an acupuncturist or a chiropractor or someone teaching tai chi or meditation moved in across the hall, would you be in their office asking them what gives them the right to do their jobs?”

“I don’t know.”

Daphne sat there hoping her disbelief showed plainly on her face.

“I honestly don’t,” Gillian defended. “I guess it’s a continuum. A chiropractor, probably not. That feels like medicine, and massage is common enough. Acupuncture would’ve sparked curiosity.”

“And how far is platonic touch down on the scale?”

“Pretty far,” Gillian said, though she didn’t sound angry or even superior anymore.

“Then we may be back to this being a ‘you problem.’ I’m accredited the same way as the yoga teacher you love, and you recognize that massage requires a professional to touch you, while naked I might add. We both accept payment for helping people, and I’m filling a basic human need. And even though there are risks pretty much everywhere, I’m about as safe in my little room as you and your staff are in yours, due to possessing many of the same skills around boundaries and expectations. I don’t know, Gillian, sounds like your objections stem less from how I go about my work and more about your general discomfort with things you find a little icky.”

She shifted in her seat, uncrossing her legs before standing up. “Icky? Is that a clinical term in your world?”

Daphne snorted softly. “Maybe not the official one, but it doesn’t matter what you call it. I guarantee you know it when you feel it.”

Gillian sighed, staring at her for a second before saying, “I have considerable experience sitting with discomfort.”

“I bet you do, and that’s a good thing, because I’m going to stick around for a while. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be good for you. You might even learn to like it.”

“Okay, and we’re back to goading and innuendo. That’s my cue to leave.”

Daphne laughed. “Glad I could be so helpful.”

“Never a dull moment, I’ll give you that.” Gillian turned for the door, but Daphne wasn’t one to let her have the last word.

“Hey, Gillian.”

“Yes?”

“Good session.”

Gillian’s stomach growled, actually growled, in front of a client. Not like a little rumble, but like a lion in the distance, and Maria noticed it.

“I hope you get a break after me,” her longtime client offered sweetly.

“Me too,” Gillian said, then caught herself, “I mean, I do, and I’m good. Go on.”

“There’s not much to add,” Maria said. “Pretty easy week for me. I’m in the calm before the Thanksgiving rush.”

Gillian nodded, hoping her face stayed professionally polite without revealing that in addition to losing track of her meal schedule, she’d also somewhere lost track of the fact that they were roughly halfway through November. “The holidays are a great time to practice our boundary work.”

Maria laughed lightly. “Or to work so hard we ignore boundaries all together.”

“Plenty of people go that route,” Gillian admitted, “and I’ve been known to choose it myself from time to time, so no judgment here. I’d be remiss not to offer an alternative, though.”

“Can’t I just get a massage amid the chaos and call it self-care?”

“I think we can do better at addressing the issue systemically, but I’d also be in favor of scheduling the massage in advance,” Gillian offered easily enough, even as her last conversation with Daphne welled up in her memory.