Walk the Line

I once was a remedial masseur, rarely now. As well as my own clients I worked for a couple of sporting clubs. I'd go along a couple of times a week to massage the players after training sessions. At one club, one particular player became a regular on my list and eventually began coming to my home clinic set up once a week too. He was a very high profile player, not to mention totally hot. We got along really well and if my boys were home when he came over he would muck around with them and give them autographed stuff for them and their friends. He would also give us tickets for games where we would be sitting with the injured players and the wags (wives and girlfriends). A very sweet and lovely guy and far smarter than the press gave him credit for. Anyway I worked on him for the good part of 2 years. He had particular recurring tight spots that my methods seemed to help. We were comfortable with each other, a bit of chemistry, but all on my part I imagined. I admit to having a little crush on him. I had seen everything he had to offer, I was pretty used to this, women working in men's sporting clubs become almost invisible, naked guys everywhere, one of the pitfalls of the job ;)

Anyway, during one particular treatment session he complained his arms were quite tight and could I please spend a little extra time that night and give them some work. Of course I would, but after spending the usual 1½ hours on his back, glutes and legs I was tired and thinking I was going to be late for my regular monthly girl's dinner. He was on his back, towel naturally covering his modest bits. I pulled my stool up to the table to sit on and rest my back while I worked on his biceps. I suggested I should also do his triceps as this would benefit him too. (Oh Hella, gunz to die for!) He started commenting on how good it felt. I admit it does feel amazing having your arms done but he usually slept through most of the massages. I turned from the table for a minute to reach for my glass of water and my shirt must've ridden up a bit because he commented on the tattoo on my lower back and briefly touched it. God, I absolutely shivered. I changed to his triceps and started digging in with my knuckles nice and deep. He had the smoothest skin, not a hair on his body. I think I enjoyed these massages more than he did. Before long it was quite evident he was really enjoying it, the towel became a tent! We had been warned by our lecturer's at school that this would more than likely happen to us at some stage in our careers, to remain composed and just ignore it. Also, if the situation became too uncomfortable, ask them to dress and leave. Jeez, I was blushing like mad and he was looking right at me, obviously waiting for some kind of reaction. I had seen him in entirety so many times but I have to admit it was pretty tempting to reach down under that towel, he was so damn gorgeous and by far had the hottest body I had ever worked on. But this was my livelihood, how I earned a living. If word got back to the club I would be tossed without a second thought, let alone the reputation it would give me. I remained professional, pulled my eyes away from the dancing towel and finished the massage pretty quickly. He left and I had a quick shower (cold one) and rushed out the door to meet my girlfriends for dinner. I checked my phone during dinner as he often sms'd me after a massage to thank me. Sometimes the texts were a little flirty, one even on a Saturday night asking what I was up to, but these were never mentioned at the next appointment. Sure enough, there was a text from him saying how he was tingling all over, how expert I was and that we should have a drink together sometime! God, I wanted to reply with 'How about right now?' I didn't though, he was engaged and I knew it was simply a booty call. He also had a reputation, one incident even making the news. I replied the next day quite casually with 'Sure that would be great' mostly not to be rude. At his next appointment there was no mention of the previous week and all returned to normal, a little text flirting here and there but that was it. More arm work but no more sudden rises. I left the club not too long after, went back to my original career and only gave a few massages a week. He continued to come for a while but after the end of one season he just didn't return. I've seen him out a couple of times and we have a mutual friend, he is now married. I did tell a couple of my closest friends who said I did the right thing. Damn though, I do think about him from time to time and sometimes wish I had crossed the line, but kind of proud of myself for not. And no, it wasn't Shane Warne though I have massaged him too (really woosy, girly legs).

Have you ever been in this position, with a client, doctor, teacher, student, boss, basically the 'I shouldn't go there' situation, risking your professional or reputation status? Did you give in to temptation or think better of it? Had the chance to sleep with a celebrity or someone of high status? Or perhaps you've been witness to an inappropriately timed hard on or actually experienced one (guys)?