Invariably, I find the right answer. I walked past Julie’s Beauty Basket every day on my way to work.
As luck would have it, they had a cancelation. It would take around twenty minutes,
Kayla would be my therapist, and it would cost forty-five pounds.
Forty-five! Still, I reminded myself as Kayla led me toward a room downstairs, he was worth it.
Kayla, like the other employees, was wearing a white outfit resembling surgical scrubs and white clogs.
I approved of this pseudo-medical apparel. We went into an uncomfortably small room,
barely large enough to accommodate the bed, chair and side table.
“Now then,” she said, “what you need to do is pop off your...” she paused and looked at my lower half
“... erm, trousers, and your underwear, then pop up onto the couch.
You can be naked from the waist down or, if you prefer, you can pop these on.”
She placed a small packet on the bed. “Cover yourself with the towel and I’ll pop back in to see you in a couple of minutes. OK?”
I nodded. I hadn’t anticipated quite so much popping. Once the door had closed behind her,
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