Page 59 of Black Light: Cured

natural, and yet it claims to do things that only cosmeceuticals or fillers can do.

If this is any indication, then I was correct in my first assessment. My little Lila is a charlatan. A

woman in a lab coat with some skincare brand emblazoned on it motions for me to follow her into a

quiet room full of other people waiting for their spa day.

Mostly it’s women, but that doesn’t surprise me one bit. Settling down into one of the soft chairs, I

glance at my watch, noting the time. I know I’m early, but then she should expect that. More than likely

she’s with another client, and far be it from me to expect her to hurry up with her lotion application.

A few minutes later, a door opens down the hall. Soft voices filter through, and I instantly know

it’s Lila. Her voice is embedded in my brain and, unable to help itself, my cock swells at the sound.

It’s one thing to proposition her at Black Light, but it’s something completely different to do so at her

place of business.

Technically, they’re the same, but I could be forgiven for the Black Light incident. At places like

Black Light, it’s perfectly acceptable to role play. At a place like this, however, a place that’s

dedicated specifically for massage and nothing sexual, I would have never even hinted at something

of that nature.

As they get closer, the other voice becomes clearer, morphing from just white noise to someone I

know. Standing, I peek around the corner, confirming that it’s one of my clients. A star point guard for

the Wizards. What in the hell is he doing here? Didn’t I write a referral to a physical therapist? Why

is he seeing my Lila?

Opening my phone, I jot down a quick note to follow up with him in the next two months instead

of the typical four-month plan we originally decided. But before then, I need to confirm that he’s still

seeing the physical therapist like I told him to. His career is far too valuable to squander it by going

to a spa as opposed to an actual medical professional.

If I had any concerns about going into her room erect, it’s a non-issue now. Seeing one of my

patients defy my orders is enough to kill any burgeoning arousal I felt at seeing Lila again. The

minutes continue to click by as I listen, impotent, helpless, as she recommends various stretches,

creams, and oils.

Snake oil, quack remedies, things that can’t be proven by science. To make matters worse, she

starts to recommend the same tools she used on me last night. Gua Sha, cupping, and myofascial

release, all the things she claimed would help with muscle issues but could also be used in a kinky