"You'll need to sign this NDA." The little man set a short stack of papers on the table in front of the massage therapist. "I already spoke to your boss at the agency, and he said you guys signed these pretty routinely, so there shouldn't be any surprises." He put down a pen beside the papers. "It basically just doubles down on HIPAA, but it also includes a prohibition on sharing anything else you talk about in there...as well as things you might see that aren't medically relevant."

He caught the expression that passed across her face, and just nodded understandingly. "Yeah...that's kind of a scary thought. There's a clause that says you're expected to report any discussion or discovery of illegal activities, or anything that constitutes assault to the cops with no fear of standing in breach of contract, so that's covered. But Mr. Black is no Weinstein. He's pretty much who his public image says he is. I understand you only have my word for it, though."

Once she'd perused the documents to her satisfaction, and feeling a little trepidation, she signed the paperwork and slid it back to the agent, who scooped it up and put it on the feed tray of his printer/scanner nearby, starting it up to make her a copy.

"Now that you've signed that, I can tell you this: Mr. Black was injured on the set of his current film, The Ultimatum. Working title, not related to the TV show." He gave a dismissive gesture. "He's seen his physician, he's on muscle relaxers and painkillers, but he's got nerve and muscle tissue damage up the left side of his back, and down his left leg, thigh to calf. The doctor recommended physiotherapy, and massage therapy, which is where you come in." He placed her copy of the NDA down on the table in front of you with a little paperclip holding it together. "Do you have everything you need with you to address that today? We can have someone from your firm run you out more equipment if you need."

"I'll need to take a look, but I'm pretty sure I have what I need for a first session," she replied smoothly. This wasn't her first movie-set injury, although usually it was stuntmen with strains and greenstick fractures, not the A-list stars. Maybe it was because Hunter Black was still relatively new to the movie scene.

"Good. If things go well, you can expect him to ask for your personally. He's someone who likes consistency, calls it 'brand loyalty.'" The agent walked over to the door with a little jerk of the head that told her to follow him. "I'll show you to the room."

He led her out of the office, which she suddenly recognized as probably being used most of the time by the housekeeper, judging by the titles of the binders on the shelves by the door -- Waste Disposal, Catering, Groundskeeping, Pool Maint., Housekeeping -- and through several entertainment spaces until she reached a set of double doors, behind which was a home gym. Or it used to be. The equipment had all been moved to the sides of the space and a massage table had been erected in more or less the center of the room. The walls were made of glass, and through them she could see the sun-soaked backyard with its beautiful green grass and the pool made to look like a natural water feature, complete with waterfall.

"Uh, are there curtains?" she asked, looking around, knowing the patient would want his privacy during his massage. Sure, this was private property, but he didn't need the groundskeepers peering in.

The agent pointed to two buttons on the wall near the door, one black, one white, each the size of a quarter. "Black makes the windows opaque, white makes them transparent again." He gave her a small smile. "I'll send him in."

The room was very quiet with the doors closed, and she took a moment to set her bag down and fish through it, strap on her belt and load a few things into the pockets, before going over to the wall panel and pressing the black button. Instantly, the windows on the three walls around her went pearly opaque, so fast it made her jump. She looked at them, then pressed the white button. They cleared just as fast. Black again. This time she noticed the skylights also went milky when she pressed it. And then cleared again when she pressed the white button.

"Everyone plays with them. Even me," said a soft, friendly voice close to her suddenly. She looked up quickly to see Hunter Black coming in the door beside her, giving her a small smile. He moved slowly, clearly favoring his left leg and holding his left arm stiffly against his stomach. He was wearing a gray UCSB tee shirt that was loose on his wide shoulders, and black sweatpants. "Hi, I'm Hunter." He offered her his right hand to shake, politely. Obviously, she knew his name; he was telling her as an opening for her to give him hers. "Where do you want me?"

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I see this as being a pretty wholesome but steamy affair developing between a Hollywood bachelor actor and his massage therapist. He's new to stardom, having had a breakout role in an action film the previous year, but he's got a history as a semi-pro athlete and martial artist, so he does his own stunts. But maybe not for much longer. He's portrayed as an unapproachable heartthrob, famously rebuffing the advances of a few other starlets, even -- according to rumor -- Taylor Swift. He really is a nice guy, apparently. Think 90's Brendan Fraser vibes.

But he doesn't really have anyone to talk to. His therapist handles so many other actor clients that it always feels like she's forgetting who is who. His family lives in Hawaii and he rarely get to see them. His house staff are friendly but not really people he can speak freely to. So...his masseuse is kind of it. Someone he can talk to, even though he knows she's not licensed to do anything about it. She's just not allowed to share anything after she leaves.

How things get started is something we can decide. Maybe after a few visits there's some real affection. Maybe he quietly solves a big problem for her, like funding a younger sibling's treatment for a rare disorder. Maybe she makes her own move to offer him a relief he's not likely to get anywhere else because of his squeaky-clean image. Maybe there's a sexy accident that wakes them to up to each other. I think it would be hot if there could be some buildup before actual sex, including some outercourse and oral.

Similarly, how things go from there is up to us. Maybe they keep it secret because they both know if anything gets out, she'll be hounded by paparazzi. Maybe he arranges a few dates with her, incognito. I think it could be fun playing out a relationship like this where the fame is so uneven between the couple but they really do like each other.

Please send me a message if you're interested in the story, and we can discuss kinks and plot and appearances. Please don't send me chats. I'm open to moving to Discord if we mesh.