He said he wanted to put things in my shoes. I was lying face down and he had a good hold of my left heel with his right hand, he massaged his fingers up my heel and across until they were as far underneath an ankle bone as fingers can be. I said "What kind of things? Roller skates, ponies, marmalade sandwiches, dynamite? It's dynamite isn't it? Dynamte!" He scoffed, "Dynamite! Why would anyone put dynamite in shoes?" then told me to lie still and cooperate. I thought about trying to leave because things had shifted from odd and uncomfortable into definitely very painful but he had smeared my left leg with several kinds of goo, first clear, then slightly yellow and finally blue and I thought I might slip over and skid into the doorframe or stain my red dress or something infinitely terrible but as yet unimagined. I tried to ask him what was with the different kinds of goo but every tiny deliberate movement of his freakishly strong arms and fingers sent a shiver of pain so pure and undiluted that I had to switch breathing from autopilot to manual. I endured for as long as I could before calling a halt to proceedings, he said he was just about to finish anyway then he held me down flat while he wiped away the goo with three towels, each one a different shade of blue.
I did not discover what he wants to put in my shoes or why he needs three separate kinds of goo but I am quite determined to find out. I am going to see him again on Thursday.