RMT: Redheart's Massage Therapy

by Norm De Plume

Rating: everyone
Tags: Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Nurse Redheart, Starlight Glimmer, Spa Ponies, Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 16537

Lotus and Aloe chose Nurse Redheart to join the spa team as a physical therapist. When clients are in rough shape, she picks up the case and does what she can to manage their pain.

The Luxury Lotus Spa prides itself on rest, relaxation, and comfort. Sometimes they do get referrals from therapy clinics or have clients with deeper pain. Both Lotus and Aloe are well-qualified to handle these sessions, but often the responsibility of running the place leaves no time for the personal touch.

Enter Redheart. When she accepted the twins' invitation to moonlight as a spa therapist, it meant she could break away from the responsibilities and rush of her hospital duties. The slower pace and casual caseload gives her a chance to refocus, get back to the basics, and use some of the skills she learned before becoming a nurse.

Done as a commission for Doomslayer3. Think of it as a sort of novelized ASMR, if you like.

(More Characters To Be Added)

Published 2021-11-09 01:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-12-17 22:38:15 UTC

Starlight Glimmer's Stumbling Gait

Author's Note

This is a straightforward commission. Perhaps one could classify it as a sort of novelized ASMR, if you squint.

Starlight Glimmer's Stumbling Gait

“How long have these been on sale?”

Even as she asked, Nurse Redheart plucked a wooden rack off the shelf and brushed her palm over the rollers. The polished beads rattled softly beneath her touch, gleaming in the light.

Lotus looked up from the spa's reception desk. “Ah, the body massagers are all half off for a limited time,” she said, the hint of an accent buzzing her 'th's into 'z's. “The stone facial rollers are a better deal, but your skin is still very smooth and firm. Still, that is no excuse to not begin the preventative measures.”

“They've been on sale since I started here two months ago,” Redheart said wryly. She knew the actual benefits of many beauty products were dubious, but sometimes the mere perception made clients feel better. The power of the placebo effect. “When does the limited time offer expire?”

“When they are all sold.” Lotus shrugged and smiled. “Price does not matter for such good quality products. My sister swears by that foot massager you're holding. She's always on the go and it's very good for the arches.”

Redheart spun the rollers one last time and replaced the wooden rack in the display cabinet. “Hmm.” When Lotus and Aloe had first recruited her from a small Canterlot hospital, she had pushed back against promoting these items. She had no truck with chakras, energies, or essential oils, but the twins had made it clear she was independent of their spa's products. They needed a proper physical therapist on-site to deal with clients whose pain required more than a simple steam bath or manicure to solve.

“Good insoles help with that, too,” Redheart noted. She bounced on her toes, feeling the flex of the gel inserts in her running shoes. They were the only part of her nursing wardrobe to follow her over to her second job at the spa. Instead of brightly coloured hospital scrubs, her white blouse and pants blended with her pale skin tone, and she'd swapped her nursing cap for a Luxury Lotus Spa headband.

Admittedly, the atmosphere here was much less rushed than in some of the hospital's wards. Clients didn't show up screaming in agony, nor did they arrive on a gurney while covered in fluids. Most visitors through the door walked in under their own power, although the occasional stagger or limp upon arrival would immediately make their condition and course of treatment clear.

Aloe appeared from the back rooms. “Ah, back from an early lunch, are we?” she asked, pulling the large revolving door closed behind her with a whisper of metal bearings. The building had once been a photography studio, and while the smells had improved, the architecture had been modified, making the spa a destination of interest. Aloe and her sister had started the renovations by moving the old darkroom door up front to amplify their clients' first impressions. “Was it good?”

Redheart nodded. “You said I had my first appointment right after noon. Thank you for giving me the option.”

“It was nothing.” Aloe leaned over her sister's shoulder and picked a form up off the main ledger. “Here are your details for Miss Glimmer,” she said, her own accent extending her 'i's into longer 'ee's. “If you like, we can escort her back to you when she arrives in about ten minutes. It should give you time to prepare.”

“You just like taking clients through that door and seeing their faces when they step into the fancy hallway,” Redheart commented. She accepted the sheet of paper from Aloe and checked the room number. “I'll go beam myself up, shall I?”

Lotus gave a mock-salute from behind the desk and Redheart smiled as she stepped into the revolving chamber. The employees here didn’t need gallows humour to deal with the struggles and challenges of a hospital ward, and her mood often lightened considerably on days she was scheduled to come in.

She pulled the handle and the metal cylinder rumbled smoothly on its track, enclosing her in complete darkness. Sometimes she would hesitate before bringing the chamber all the way around so she could stand there in the utter blackness and feel nearly weightless, as if suspended in the void of space. No light could pierce the cocoon once it closed.

Today, though, Redheart rolled right through without pausing. The chamber opened up into a hallway that glowed with warm golden light, closed doors stretching down both sides. While the reception area was all bright, natural sunlight and green plants, the ambiance here was meant to evoke something a little more hedonistic. Their customers needed to feel pampered, after all.

The rooms had once been used for photo shoots, from family portraits to intimate boudoir settings. Now their clients sat for things like manicures and facials, or shed their clothes for a long soak in a steam bath.

Speaking of clients . . . Redheart consulted her form as she stepped out of the revolving door. A Starlight Glimmer had booked a massage appointment recently, complaining of foot problems, neck pain, and migraine. Well, nothing out of the ordinary for an overstressed and overworked world.

Redheart was once like her; sitting in a coffee shop after another difficult shift, kneading her stiff neck and shoulders. To be honest, the coffee hadn't helped matters, either. It was where Lotus and Aloe had found her one afternoon while they hosted a pop-up chair massage clinic. She had crossed her legs beneath the table to work a pressure point behind her ankle when one of the sisters approached to recruit her as a client. After her session and some serious conversation, the recruitment took a more professional turn.

The twins learned that Redheart had taken massage therapy classes in college before upgrading to nursing. She understood muscle pain and how to relieve it, not only the sharp, searing kind that came from trauma, but also the ongoing ache that never quite went away or the small sore that worsened with neglect. She saw them all the time and did her best to help with prevention, but often by the time people reached her, they had been struggling for some while. So when she was offered the chance to intervene at an earlier level, she had accepted.

Lotus and Aloe were also meticulous about client information, and Redheart set up her room according to Miss Glimmer's answers. No scent allergies, so she loaded the diffuser with a touch of peppermint oil. Just because she wouldn't shill tiny bottles of essence didn't mean she wouldn't use them. After all, smells did wonders for mind and body, and she preferred to keep her body oils unscented.

She lengthened her massage table and rewrapped it in clean linens, then slotted the headrest in. A darker atmosphere would suit a patient with migraine headaches, so she switched the sunshades for the row of overlapping blackout curtains so she could fully close them when ready.

The spa didn't use real candles, but instead had small, battery-operated lights that flickered and dipped like flame. Those would sit in boxes with different colours of mesh layers and could bathe the room in any shade required, warm or cool. Redheart adjusted the colour scheme to a particular green, avoiding the blue that would worsen Starlight Glimmer's headaches.

By the time she finished washing her hands, she could hear the clack of hard heels on the hallway outside. Assuming a twin was bringing Starlight down, Redheart straightened up and reached for a towel.

Sure enough, Aloe peeked around the corner of the doorway. At Redheart's nod, she smiled. “Good. Miss Redheart is ready to receive you, Miss Glimmer. She'll take care of you from this point on.” Waggling her fingers, she vanished again.

Starlight Glimmer trudged into the room and Redheart's gaze immediately went to her knee-length, fancy-buckled leather boots. They weren't as impractical as high heeled pumps, but she doubted those boots had sufficient cushioning. If Starlight wanted to ease her foot pain, her fashion might have to suffer instead.

Miss Glimmer's attire was heavily formal and looked as if it were the only thing keeping her spine straight. She wore a double-buttoned, high collar lilac top with white ruffles at her throat and wrists, and a long matching skirt that brushed the top of her boots. Her amethyst and teal ponytail looked tight, and Redheart knew once she got her fingers down into that scalp, a lot of tension would flow away.

“Miss Glimmer.” Redheart dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Do you need any help getting those boots off?”

Starlight squinted at her, the lines on her face showing the strain of her headache. “Um, the other ladies asked me the same thing. I can sit down and undo them. I've done it while half-asleep.”

“Very well. Once you've done that, please feel free to disrobe as much as you're comfortable with and lie on my table.” Redheart turned down a corner of the top sheet. “I recommend we start with you lying face-down, and you can take your hairbands out if you choose. I'll give you a few minutes and can come back when you're settled.” When Starlight nodded, she smiled. “Excellent. Take your time.” She stepped out into the hallway and gently pulled the door closed behind her.

The buckles never gave her any trouble. Starlight had taken them off in the dark, while in a hurry, and even blindly under her desk, so doing it while her eyes were squeezed half-closed from a throbbing migraine was simple. Once she'd tugged them and her ankle socks off, she flexed her toes and winced as another cramp made them curl in again.

She unbuttoned her jacket and removed the ruff from her neck, rolling her shoulders and fighting the urge to stretch. Gah, she needed this massage to feel halfway human again. So much stress at work with so much still to do, and she couldn't operate like this. A few careful tugs and her hair tumbled free, some of the pressure easing.

Draping her blouse over a hanger, she reached back gingerly to undo her skirt and then up higher to unhook her bra. Her underwear would stay on. There were very few people with whom she was comfortable being completely nude.

Getting on the table was a relief as she stretched her legs down beneath the sheet, luxuriating in the feel of fresh linen. Her forehead nestled into the slot of the headrest and Starlight sighed as the weight came off her neck. Oh, this was a good start and no one had even laid a hand on her yet.

Redheart knocked lightly and the air flow changed as she opened the door. “Do you feel ready?”

Starlight was sure her answer got lost in the towels and softness of the headrest, but Redheart seemed to understand and slipped into the room. The room grew darker as the curtains whisked shut, and Starlight watched Redheart's sneakers pass by in her narrow field of view. Then the warm sheet was drawn up over her bare shoulders and she sighed even more deeply as she was covered completely.

“I've read your complaints,” came Redheart's voice from overhead, “and I'm here to help. I'd like to take a look at your feet to start and then we can work our way up. Okay?”

Starlight murmured her agreement and felt Redheart's presence recede, her soft shuffle the only sound aside from the diffuser’s hiss.

As a hand softly fumbled at her feet to lift the sheet, Starlight braced herself with an arm so she could raise her head and look back, enduring the twinge in her neck. “Are you going to tell me not to wear my boots?”

“Not right away,” came the reply, “but we'll see where you're hurting the most. Do you find that they pinch or if you get blisters from them?”

Starlight made a face that she was sure couldn't be seen in the dimness. “No, not really. I get cramps even when I'm not wearing them, though. I can be sitting at home on the couch, and then suddenly, bam, my arch gets a cramp, and it takes me a few minutes to ease it out.”

The outline of her masseuse nodded and squeezed her ankle. “Lie back down. I'm going to use a light to make sure there's nothing visibly wrong with them, and it won't help your headache.”

Starlight settled back down again. A flashlight clicked and she caught the brief bounce of a beam off the floor as Redheart cupped her foot.

“No red marks from your boots, even with the high heels,” she commented, slowly stretching Starlight's ankle and rotating her foot. “No clicks or pops from your ankle joint, either.” Her touch separated Starlight's toes and lightly tapped on her bare nails. “And there's nothing amiss with your toes ... nails are healthy.” Setting Starlight's foot down, she picked up the other one and probed at her heel. “Any pain?”

“Mm ... no.”

Redheart's touch slid down with firm pressure over the arch of her foot. “Here?”

Starlight did her best to not flutter her lashes at the sensation. “Feels too good to hurt.”

“I've heard that before.” Redheart pressed beneath her big toe and slid along the ball of her foot. “You have slender feet, so they're not too big for your boots. The issue might be dehydration, or improper positioning. If you turn your foot the wrong way, it will cramp.” She set Starlight's foot back down and covered them again. Her flashlight clicked off. “All right. Shall we begin?”

“I'm ready,” Starlight told her via the floor.

Redheart's footsteps moved around and the sound of water running and hand-washing ensued. Her sneakers moved into Starlight's view and a warm touch pressed down on her covered shoulder blades. Redheart leaned into the pressure before sliding her hands higher beneath Starlight's thick hair. “I would like to start in your scalp before anything else so I don't get oil in your hair. Are you particularly invested in this hairstyle?”

Well, she usually was, but she was also invested in stopping the sharp pain in her skull. “Go ahead.”

“Excellent.” Redheart twined her fingers into Starlight's hair and tugged very gently. “I'm gathering bit by bit,” she explained, moving higher up the back of her head to repeat the process. “Don't be afraid of vocalizing if it hurts or feels good. I encourage it here.” Those fingers worked behind Starlight's ears and traced a slow path against the grain, sending soft prickles through her hair.

“Gnnngghh,” was Starlight's first response, sinking deeper into the padding.

“Just like that,” Redheart said. “Breathe. Let the pain leave your body.” Her fingertips pressed down into the back of Starlight's skull as if playing a keyboard, moving higher along her crown. “The more tension we release, the more you'll soften.”

Softening sounded good. She'd been so stiff and sore that she crackled when she moved. Starlight obediently inhaled the peppermint-scented air and the icy tingle rose through her sinuses. It stopped short of the knot in the middle of her forehead, and so Starlight breathed out again, tasting the tang in the back of her throat.

She must have relaxed, even if only a fraction, because Redheart made an approving noise and dug in a little more, gathering up handfuls of hair to bare the nape of her neck. While one hand kept it tucked up, the other hand cupped and squeezed from the base of her skull to the sweep of her shoulders, seeking out more tension.

“This will do,” Redheart said, efficiently rolling Starlight's hair into a bun that didn't add to the ache behind her eyes. “I'm going to stretch your back for you now before turning the sheet down.”

She moved around to the side of the table and one palm settled on Starlight's near shoulder while the other covered her opposite hip. Slowly the pressure increased and Starlight groaned as her spine seemed to lengthen. The sequence repeated on her other shoulder and hip, Redheart leaning over her to aid in the stretch.

“Guuuuh.” Her lungs emptied and all Starlight could do was breathe in more peppermint. She could feel the piercing high in her nose, the scent engulfing the ache in her head. Each puff of hot breath had an icy tinge to it now and her body stopped resisting the pressure.

“I almost expected more popping,” she gasped.

“You're not relaxed enough for that yet,” Redheart told her, crossing both palms over her spine and bearing down to stretch her out some more. “We don't crunch and snap here, either. Easing people's tension out is much less flashy.”

Another undignified noise escaped Starlight. So much tension from her Friendship School. She'd risen to the headmistress position from a guidance counselor, and both her workload and social circle had increased. As had the stress. Some would blame her headaches on things like too much coffee and irregular meals, but sometimes one had to cut corners to keep things running. Finally her current guidance counselor had recommended this spa to give her some relief.

So far, it was very worthwhile.

Redheart folded the top sheet halfway down Starlight's back, baring her shoulders. “Okay. If something's particularly painful, tell me. There's a pattern to all of this. Lie still and let's work out some of the stiffness. You hold yourself very straight which is fine, but it's time to let go.”

The first dig of slick fingers into the join between neck and shoulder made Starlight's vision white out in a good way. Her whine only encouraged another dig into the other side and the pressure slid out along her shoulders, back over the blades, and down into the flesh between spine and shoulder.

Redheart's stretching had already softened her, but now the kneading went from shallow to deep in lengthening strokes. Starlight's breath caught as small flares of pain made one shoulder dip, Redheart's thumb furrowing a groove down that third of her back. Then the matching pressure on the other side made her angle that way, her body giving in to Redheart's directions

The oily touch slid upwards from spine to neck, following the path into Starlight's hairline. As thumbs worked over the top knob of her spine, warm fingers splayed over the sides and curled into knuckles that wrung more tension free.

Redheart cupped her head and slowly increased the pull, stretching her neck without yanking. Nothing popped, although Starlight felt the shift and instinctively resisted the pull with her shoulders.

“Good,” Redheart encouraged, letting her go again. “We'll come back to this when we turn you over, but for now, let's move down. When you're sore this high up, your lower back picks up the slack.” She adjusted the sheet to fully bare Starlight's back and moved to one side, working down from shoulder to hip with firm, long pressure.

Starlight's skin hummed with each firm stroke down. The kneading warmed her and loosened tight back muscles. Her breathing deepened, and her migraine eased as the peppermint scent finally smoothed out her furrowed brow. “Hmmm.”

“There we go.” Redheart pressed her palm into Starlight's lower lumbar and rocked it back and forth. Whatever she felt there must have passed muster, because she let her hand rest there briefly. “How do you feel about turning over?”

Starlight blinked away the narrowing of her vision. Oh, had she been about to nod off right there on the table? “Is that necessary?” she asked, a little pleading in her voice.

Redheart chuckled. “I'm sure you feel good right now, but I have more work to do and it's easier to accomplish when you're face-up. I can pull the sheet up to keep you warm, and you can roll in my direction. I'll keep you from falling off the edge.”

“Does ... does that happen often?”

“Not very often, no.” Redheart sounded teasing as she stretched the top sheet out, the linen barely brushing Starlight's skin. “Really, almost never, but why take the chance? If you turn towards me, we can slide you into position.”

Feeling as if rolling onto her back would take more energy than she currently had, Starlight tucked her far arm over her chest and managed to turn in Redheart's direction. Somewhat boneless, she slid over onto her back beneath the extended sheet and settled herself down again. “Mmmf.”

“I know,” soothed Redheart, smiling as she draped the sheet over Starlight's body and stepped around to stand over her head again. “It's a trial to move midway through a session. But you've made very good progress so far, and we can keep it up.”

She cleaned her hands of oil and gently threaded as much of Starlight's hair through the headrest donut as she could. Settling her fingers into the divots behind Starlight's eyes below her temples, she applied pressure in small circles. “Let's see about the rest of that migraine,” she murmured, swiping a few streaks of massage oil along Starlight's bare forehead. “We don't need much on your face.”

“Okaaaaayyyy,” Starlight sighed out the second half of the word. The worst of it had already faded and this added attention was doing wonders for the ache. Redheart's touch smoothed over her eyebrows, repeating the slow strokes higher and higher, up into her hairline. Then she reached behind Starlight's head to press and knead her fingers into the nape of her neck, pulling long strokes outward with each pass.

“Once I'm through with you,” Redheart said, “I'm sure Lotus will want to discuss some posture techniques so this doesn't happen quite so often.” She cupped Starlight's neck between thumb and fingers to glide up from shoulder to skull, prompting a long breath in and a slow exhale again. “Some might say it's bad for business, but I know she'd rather see her clients healthy.” Switching hands, she repeated the pattern. “It will be difficult and uncomfortable at first, but do try and follow her suggestions.”

Starlight groaned at the twisting, kneading pressure behind her ears. “I can try,” she admitted. “So much work.”

“Yes, and that's why I started working here. Too much stress in the hospital environment.” Redheart pressed her palms down carefully on Starlight's covered shoulders and collarbone, feeling her way to her breastbone. “Don't hunch so much. It affects your chest muscles as much as your shoulders and neck, all curled in like you've been.” She dragged her hands back to Starlight's shoulders and did something that stretched them out.

Starlight gurgled at the sudden pull in her muscles, the sudden pop in her breastbone catching her breath on the inhale. “Ooof!” she wheezed, eyes going wide at the release of tension and her breathing reduced to short little pants. “What ...”

“Now you're relaxed enough for something to pop.” Redheart smiled down on her. “See? You carried all that neck pain and tension in the middle of your chest. It's why you were hunching.” She patted the side of Starlight's throat. “How is the pain now? Does it hurt when you clench your jaw?”

Warily, Starlight pressed her back teeth together, but felt none of the sharpness that once pierced her skull. “Mm ... it seems okay.” Relief was already calming her breathing and curling her body down into the softness of the massage table.

“Endorphin rush, for one,” said Redheart. “And we're undoing all those lines of tension that gave you so much trouble.” She coaxed Starlight into relaxing her jaw again and made quick work of a tense little spot behind each of her ears. “Now, don't fall asleep on me. We still have your feet to do.” She paused. “Not ticklish, are you?”

Starlight shook her head. “Would have said something earlier.”

“Good. Lie still, hon.” Redheart trailed a hand down a covered arm and leg, not breaking touch with her. She squeezed one knee as she passed, then folded the sheet back from Starlight's feet. “Don't worry about lifting your head to watch, or you might re-strain your neck. You can even close your eyes if you like.”

The first squeeze on her heel made Starlight's eyes flick shut. All the weariness from the week had been chased away and she felt like floating. Redheart's touch circled around, tracing her slim foot from behind her ankle to the tip of her toes, digging into the spaces between the bones and flexing it several different ways. “Hmmm. S'nice ...” Then she moaned as Redheart's thumb dug into her instep and slid all the way up to the ball of her foot. “Ooh! Hmm, tender ...”

“Not surprising.” The pressure slid inwards towards the centre of her foot. Whatever Redheart was doing made Starlight flex her toes as the tingles spiralled up her leg. “How about here?”

Starlight nodded in quick little jerks, mouth falling open at the sensations. “Yeahhh. Just, ahhh, not as bad?”

Double kneading motions worked their way down the arch and up the outside of her foot, Redheart slowly wringing it from side to side. “You've put too much weight and pressure on the inside of your foot,” she said. “Perhaps you should have someone make sure your lovely boots have the right shaping. Something as simple as an insole might make the difference.” She set Starlight's foot down and reached for the other. “Let's see about this one.”

If not for the hole in the middle of the headrest, Starlight would have thudded her head back at the next heel squeeze. How many more undignified noises could she make?

“I'll take it that this foot feels the same way.” Redheart slowly rotated the ankle and began to knead behind it. “So, yes. I suggest having the fine maker of your boots match them properly to your feet.” She spared a glance at the corner where the offending footwear lay. “Those are too good to be anything but a custom job, but I imagine the shape of your foot's changed since you bought them.”

Starlight murmured something which she supposed was her assent, but Redheart had found the tender spot beneath the ball of her foot again. The pressure there made her eyes roll back into her head, and the building tension made her feel seconds away from another stress-releasing ...

Pop.

“Nnngggh,” she breathed out, stretching her toes and feeling that lovely ripple of fingers padding down her instep again, Redheart slowly wringing her foot from side to side. “You can do that as long as you like.”

Redheart cupped the side of her foot and flexed her toes for her. “Only until my work on you is done,” she said, a touch of laughter in her voice. The room was too dim to see her at the foot of the table, but Starlight didn't need to see her to appreciate the feeling of lightly-curled knuckles gliding up and down the arch of her foot.

After a few more light twists and tugs, Redheart gently set Starlight's buzzing foot down and covered her with the sheet. “I'm going to turn down the lights and turn off the diffuser now,” she said, suiting actions to words. “Please take all the time you need to relax here by yourself. When you feel ready to get up, I recommend drying your feet off with a towel before putting those nylon socks back on. You might feel slippery in them, otherwise.” The click of the diffuser shutting off accompanied the slow dimming of the green light in the room. “The twins will meet you out front to settle up payment and see about any other sessions you wish to book.”

Starlight peeked up as Redheart gazed down at her. “Thank you?”

“You're welcome, dear.” With a soft squeeze on one shoulder, Redheart vanished from view.

Heaving a deep sigh of contentment, Starlight closed her eyes and let the bliss of her humming body envelop her.

Applejack's Aching Arches

Nurse Redheart sipped from her water bottle, then picked up one of the prickly massage balls to roll it between her hands as she sat in the break room.

Starlight Glimmer had left some hours before, moving much more smoothly than when she had come in. Coming out of the back rooms into the reception area again was like returning from another world with the darkroom portal. The transition to afternoon Canterlot sunlight often dazzled people who had been in the blackout rooms, and Lotus and Aloe would draw the sun blinds so their clients didn't squint.

Her second appointment of the day would arrive soon, and she had filled in the afternoon by studying some of the twins' relaxation sessions. The spa did all sorts of treatments and while she had been brought in to help with therapy for more intense cases, she was more than well-paid for her time.

Redheart appreciated the skill the other masseuses brought to their tables and had picked up tidbits of wisdom from various employees when she was on-shift. Even though she considered tracing energy lines mostly a sham, she was shameless when it came to stealing small gripping and pressure techniques for herself.

Clients needed a range of options to feel at their best, after all.

She studied her next customer’s form. One Applejack, who apparently had a full body ache. Redheart wasn't too surprised, because she knew that name. She'd run into that tired, overworked, and stressed out farmer before. The whole Baked Bads episode was one of those things that had become legend at the nurses’ station.

At least Applejack was friends with Miss Rarity, and both ladies were spa regulars together. If she wasn't relaxed from ordinary sessions, it made sense that Lotus and Aloe would recommend some deeper therapy.

Well, looking at her sheet, and combined with what she knew about Applejack from previous encounters, Redheart was sure she could come up with a session to unravel some of those knots.

As she spun back through the darkroom portal, she decided on a different massage room than where she had worked on Starlight Glimmer. While the sheets had been changed and the room aired out, she liked to start fresh with each new client.

Applejack was very much an outdoor sort of woman, so Redheart chose a room with the most windows. In late afternoon, the sun set on the building’s opposite side. Leaving the sunshades halfway open wouldn't make the room too bright. She did adjust the thermostat, though, as a session like this could quickly become overheated.

Rewrapping her table in clean sheets, she considered a choice of scents for the diffuser. The obvious answer was 'apples', but Redheart balked at that simple path. She knew of the Apple Family and all its various branches out there, and considered the harmony of all their fruit scents. Applejack was most at home in an apple orchard, but what about when she wasn't home?

Redheart considered the neat little case that held all the fragrance oil bottles. Her fingers strayed toward one particular citrus-laced concoction, and she hesitated before picking it up. It would fit the theme she was currently crafting here, at least. Moreso than lavender or vanilla, which were for darker and calmer moods.

This time she waited in the hallway for her client. She wanted to be seen the minute the darkroom door revolved, so Applejack would know which room was hers. They would tackle her pain together as a team.

Sure enough, the metallic whisper of the cylinder soon came and Applejack stepped out. She didn't appear to limp, but Redheart could see the tightness in her eyes and the shallow breathing. Somewhere in that upper back was a strain or a knot that kept Applejack from breathing without pain.

“Redheart.” Applejack tilted her cowgirl hat in greeting, but shuddered when she lifted her arm. “Sorry. I'm a bit out of sorts.”

“Clearly.” Redheart looked her up and down. “We should get you lying flat as soon as possible to take some of the weight off what's hurting. Come on in.”

Halfway down the hall, Applejack paused and Redheart watched her shift her weight on her low-heeled cowgirl boots. She looked as if she was trying to decide on the best way to keep moving without causing herself more pain. The next step Applejack took, Redheart saw the angle of her foot change and she made another mental note. Definite issues with either the soles or the sides of her feet.

“Is it hard to get dressed?” she asked Applejack, shutting the door behind them both and leaning back against it. “If you need help removing your boots and clothes, you should tell me now. Otherwise we aren't starting off your session very well.”

“Wasn't bad getting ready,” Applejack admitted, setting her hat down on a bare table. “But I sneezed wrong right before coming over and something twinged in a bad way.” She began undoing the buttons on her green and white collared shirt. “If I keep my arms down, can you slide it off for me?

Redheart nodded. “Of course.” Moving behind her, she helped Applejack out of her top and hung it up. Now that she could see some of her client's bare back, the knotted muscles on the right side were obvious from the shoulder on down. Once she moved that long ponytail out of the way, she would have a better idea of the situation. “What about your skirt?”

Applejack unbuckled her belt and the short little jean skirt fell around her ankles with a clatter from the oversized buckle. “Easy peasy, mac 'n cheesy.” She started to reach up behind her to unclasp her plain white bra, but hesitated. “Nggh. That's pullin' a bit harder than I'd like.”

“Then allow me.” Redheart unhooked her and pushed the shoulder straps down so Applejack didn't have to shrug it off. She had quite the set of tan lines beneath the straps and Redheart knew she would see more once she got Applejack's boots and socks off. The outdoor types always had a deep tan up to the shoulder and down to the ankles. “Now, normally, I would put you under the covers, but if you give me one second ...” She had already peeled off the blanket for this session, but now she removed the top sheet off her massage table. “If you can lie face down without it hurting too much, we should start that way. I can take your boots off once you're comfortable.”

Turning around, Applejack breathed out a strained laugh as she lurched towards the table.

“What?” Redheart asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just remembering the last time I was in nothin' but my knickers and my boots. This'll probably end better, though.” With a groan, she swung one thick leg up onto the table and braced her elbows so she could crawl up and lie flat. Redheart managed to catch a boot and helped lift her other leg, accompanied by a grunt from Applejack.

Grinning, Redheart patted the leather. “Do you need a minute, or should I slip these off right now?” When she received an impatient heel waggle in response, she smiled even wider and carefully tugged Applejack's boot. As it slid off she found the knot of a woollen sock bunched up around her client's toes, so she plucked it free. The other boot came off with less disruption of its corresponding sock, and Redheart rolled the wool down. “I'm going to press on a few spots. Let me know if I'm close to anything painful. Ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don't kick me too hard,” she joked gently, then cupped an ankle and felt the tendons down to the top of Applejack's foot. At first glance, there wasn't much wrong with either foot. No blisters, and no awkwardly curled toes or bumps. Redheart rubbed a thumb over the back of her heel, searching for marks that would indicate rubbing or raw patches, but found none. Applejack took some care of her feet, despite the overwork and soreness. Her pale, stubby toes curled and flexed, the nails unvarnished and unpainted.

For someone smaller than Starlight Glimmer, Applejack had thicker soles and as Redheart squeezed beneath the plump ball of her foot, it was like digging into hard rubber. There was some give, but far too much tension to be comfortable. Ah, here was one of the issues. As strong as she was, she was overdoing it.

“Gnnngh!” came a muffled comment from the headrest.

“Too light?” Redheart asked. She shifted her grip to Applejack's instep, feeling the same tightness as she slid up to the heel and squeezed again. “I suppose I could press harder.”

“Guuuhhhh. Don't you dare!” Applejack's whole body seemed to quiver in indignation.

Redheart dug a knuckle in and rolled it around, prompting a deeper groan. “Judging by the feel of your foot, this could take some time.” She turned her attention to the other foot, starting beneath the toes and prompting more of the same agonized noises from Applejack. As a farmer, she obviously spent far too much time trudging and standing, given the thickness of her soles and the calluses that covered her heel and toes.

Redheart picked up Applejack's other foot and pushed it up into the air, bending the knee so she could rotate her ankle properly and feel the tendons move. Nothing felt out of place. She flexed each toe, watching the nail turn white as she pressed down then resume its colour when she let up. Seeing nothing wrong with the circulation, she pressed her thumb against Applejack's ruddy instep in several places, seeking anything painful. Her client shifted, but stayed quiet.

As she worked her way up, she could almost trace the line of tension that obviously started higher, probably in the pelvis. “All right.” Setting Applejack's foot down, Redheart followed the line up the back of one calf, behind the knee, and up to her hip. “Let me guess. A lot of hay bales?”

“Yup,” Applejack grunted again. She seemed far away from relaxation right now, and so Redheart paused to wash her hands off while she considered the best place to start. Foot pain came from overwork, plus sore legs and hips could change walking and standing patterns. That meant pressure on unused areas, which caused more pain.

If she could relieve the aches up high, the tension would drain down and a lighter upper body meant less stress on the lower half.

Redheart selected an oil vial and uncapped it with a flick of her thumb. “I'll start with what you say you pulled earlier.” She could see the knot between Applejack's shoulder and spine. “Remember to breathe while I'm working through this, and you don't have to worry about noise. The room is soundproof.”

“Afraid I'll ruin someone's manicure if I get loud?” Applejack asked, lifting her head. She didn't get very far before she winced and flopped back down again. “Ooof.”

Oh, that was not good. Applejack's range of motion was even more limited than she thought. Redheart sighed and moved that blonde ponytail aside before briskly rubbing her hands together to warm them. “Once you loosen up, it shouldn't hurt as much.”

Applejack had wound herself tighter than a bullrope. Between the stiffness in her shoulder, the sharp stab between the other shoulder and her spine, and the throb in her swollen feet, she'd struggled mightily to endure the day. Only the thought of keeping this appointment had kept her together.

Redheart had already done her poking and prodding, searching out tender spots. Now she slid Applejack's long braid aside to bare the nape of her neck. Quick finger swipes brushed oil over her shoulders. “Ready?”

“Been ready.” Applejack wanted to say more, but she felt odd talking to the sunbeam in the middle of the wooden floor. Redheart obviously had no trouble understanding her, though, because her thumb settled into the groove between neck and shoulder, applying slow pressure. “Unnnffff!”

“Lotus and Aloe always say the pain is worse where your energy is blocked,” Redheart commented, smoothing careful, deep strokes down the shoulder muscle. Her thumbs slid over the ache in a constant rotation, one smoothing down the line of Applejack's shoulder, the other following down and around the triangle of her shoulder blade. “Now, I'm not an energy person, but I can't deny that there's a pattern after seeing so many people on my table.”

Applejack settled down into the padding, Redheart still talking overhead as her hands moved from shoulder to back. The pressure of thumbs transferred to a loose elbow that squeezed the air from Applejack's lungs with a slow grind down into the lump of a knot. “Hmmphhhh!” was all she could wheeze.

“It's only for a moment,” said Redheart, the dig of her elbow reaching the end of the muscle line and lifting. The warmth of her palm replaced the ache and resumed kneading Applejack's ribs, all the way down to her hip, then gliding upwards again. The pressure slowed, Redheart matching the pace of her strokes to Applejack's breaths.

The knot loosened somewhat as the insistent kneading and gentle elbow grinds unravelled her tension, and Applejack groaned. Her focus narrowed the more her pain receded and the smooth, rocking pressure up and down her back lulled her into a hypnotic rhythm. By the time Redheart wrapped warm hands around her bicep and stretched her arm out straight, Applejack leaned into the pull without so much as a thought.

Nothing popped, but she could feel the kink behind her shoulder blade unwind. “Nnngh,” she breathed. “I think, ahh, that's got it ...”

“You should take it easy tonight.” Redheart soothed the ache with more warm kneading, both hands encircling her upper arm and pushing up to her shoulder. “Have a warm bath and sleep well. I'm sure you'll be up early again tomorrow.”

Applejack laughed softly, a lazy puff of breath. “Can't stop. Too much to do.”

“Which is fine.” Redheart's touch slid down to her hips, finding the tension coiled in Applejack's lower back. “If you can recognize when you've overdone it, that’s helpful. You were smart to come here.” The rhythm resumed in a slow circle, Applejack's hips swaying slightly as her body surrendered to the rocking. “Oh, there we go, you're starting to relax.”

Yeah, she was. The aching from a long week of work had finally begun to fade. With the curtains wide open, sunbeams warmed her bare back and so Applejack floated for a spell while Redheart took care of her hips and calves, the occasional slow drag of knuckles working the tightness out.

When Redheart's touch lifted without reaching her feet, Applejack almost whined in disappointment. They were the most sore out of any part of her! But then came a soft tap on her shoulder and she lifted her head up out of the donut. “Hmm?”

“I'd like to turn you over,” Redheart said, her blue eyes twinkling. “Did you want a sheet to cover yourself while I do your feet, or are you okay like this?”

Propping herself up a little more, Applejack squinted. 'Reckon I'm okay like this. You've probably seen it all far too often.”

“You'd be right.” Redheart showed her how to turn over without reaggravating any tender spots, and Applejack pressed an arm over her breasts as she shifted around. Once she’d nestled down again, she sighed at the hum in her back as the muscles relaxed for the first time in ages with the change of position.

Redheart brushed her fingers through the bowl of body oil and shook excess droplets free. “If there's too much pain, let me know if it gets sharp. Sharp is bad; dull, while painful, is what we're looking for.” She cupped an ankle and her thumb dug into the middle of Applejack's thick sole.

Eyes widening, Applejack shuddered as the forceful pressure pushed past the numbness she'd endured for so long. Tingles sparked the more Redheart curled her thumb into the arch, twisting her foot slowly back and forth to wring out the tension. “Hooohhoooo.... hooboy...” She caught Redheart's inquisitive gaze. “Dull,” she admitted, “still dull. But goooood.”

Redheart's other hand cupped Applejack's heel as her thumb began to move higher in a 'walking up' motion. She worked up to the ball of the foot, then slid down to begin the march up again, each press part of the climb from heel to toe. Her heel-holding hand would squeeze, turn, and massage the Achilles tendon, occasionally pinching in behind and beneath the ankle bone as well.

“While your boots are good,” she said, lowering Applejack's foot so she could rub between her toes and clean down between her foot bones with firm strokes, “you do spend too much time on your feet. I can't tell you to change your lifestyle, but look after yourself once you take those boots off at the end of the day.” She skirted the tendons on the top, tilting her ankle down to stretch them out slowly. “It means not ignoring the ache in favour of working harder. That's where damage can set in.”

Applejack could only nod as Redheart wrapped her toes one at a time to stretch them. “I could be takin' it easier, but that ain't easy to do by itself.” She groaned as one particular pull on a middle toe produced a soft crack when the knuckle stretched.

Switching feet, Redheart turned to one side so she could set this heel against her own hip. At that angle, she swept her thumb down the soft instep and sent ripples up Applejack's shin. “It's a little advice. Your therapist can offer it.” Smiling, she dug her thumb up into the ball of the foot to twist it back and forth, wringing and stretching the tendons.

“Owww.” The stretch certainly felt different on this foot. “That's kinda achin' a little,” Applejack told her. “Not too sharp, but something ain't happy under my toes.”

“That's okay,” Redheart said softly, easing up on the twist and instead using both thumbs to press along the pads of Applejack's foot. “This is why you came.” She dug in with slow upward slides, one thumb taking over from the other, and generally using enough pressure to make Applejack's eyes roll back into her head. More toe-flexing and kneading of the ball of her foot followed, her heel securely propped on Redheart's hipbone.

The pain didn't quite fade, but whatever fancy tricks Redheart brought to bear certainly sent enough buzzing through her foot that Applejack soon couldn't feel what she'd been complaining about. Slick little slides of thumb pressure up and down, the squeezing of her heel, and a thorough kneading of the space between all those foot bones rendered her almost dizzy with relief.

Far too soon, Redheart placed her foot back down on the towel and reached for a sheet with which to cover her. “There we go. You can have as long as you like to recover here.” She switched off the diffuser and it gave one last weak puff of citrus-scented air.

As she covered Applejack's body, Redheart squeezed a few spots on her legs and shoulders, working her way up to trail a knuckle over the middle of her forehead. “Soak up the sun, soak up the warmth, and don't forget to dry your feet off before you slip them back into your wool socks. See you out in the front, Miss Applejack.”

With that, she left Applejack to gaze blankly at the sun’s reflection on the ceiling and soak in the light rush of endorphins.

As it turned out, Redheart didn't see Applejack on her way out. There had been a break room disagreement over whether or not the Aloe Vera juice in the refrigerator was helping anyone lose weight. Someone had been brave enough to ask her medical opinion, and Redheart had to spend a good half hour moderating the discussion before both participants could leave satisfied.

Once that was through, Lotus insisted on giving her a demonstration of the usefulness some of the massage rollers could be. While she knew Redheart would never make recommendations for the spa's own products, there was no harm in making up one's own mind on what felt good in the first place.

“Whatever can take some of the strain off your fingers, eh?” Lotus said, smiling as she used one of the handheld wooden rollers on the back of her own hand. “For me, it is all that typing and paperwork that makes the need for these.” She set it down and flexed her fingers. “Good work today, with very happy clients. I could see how they moved once they left, and you made a world of difference.”

Redheart nodded. “Glad I was able to do that.”

“Yes, bonus offer for you in your pay for the week, too.” Lotus gestured at the cabinet beside her desk. “One roller free, your item of choice.” She winked. “If it doesn't do well for you, find a friend you can regift it to for whatever occasion seems proper.”

Laughing to herself, Redheart shook her head, but wandered over to the display anyway. She liked working with the twins and could indulge them as long as they kept sending clients her way.

As she perused the selection, she wondered who would be next to come through the portal to her rooms, seeking her attention. She would do her best to quell the pain and send them back out into the hustle and bustle of life a little more whole. Her therapy often wasn’t so soft, but it got results.

All that would be another day, though. Ttomorrow she would be a nurse again, helping save lives and keeping an eye on patients who needed her. For now, she would pick out a fancy piece of polished wood and head on home.

Octavia Melody's Massage

This was an indulgence.

Of course she had to have one or two. What was the point in practising so much if she couldn't reward herself for her discipline and dedication?

Octavia sighed in appreciation as she swirled her straw around the bottom of the tin milkshake glass, trying to slurp the last of pieces of crushed chocolate and vanilla ice cream. This little treat was her way of saying “Good job, Octavia” to herself. Her mother would act horrified at all that dairy, but Mother wasn't here.

Between rehearsals and performances, her weeks remained full. She had even gone so far as to put her cello away in the closet. One less instrument meant one less thing to stress over. Audiences had been clamouring to see her on violin or piano, so she had adjusted her schedule to give them more of what they wanted.

All that had meant more wear and tear on her body. Some musicians claimed perfect posture prevented pain (and poor performance), but Octavia despaired of that. She swore one leg had to be shorter than the other, with the way she needed to cock a hip when she played. Piano was easier on her back, but not so much for her wrists. And while she liked her little leather shoes, she swore she could sometimes tell which concert hall she was in by the feel of the floor through the thin soles.

She picked up her tin to tilt it and let the melted remains of her milkshake pool. Before she could suck up the vestiges of her drink, a sharp pain lanced through her wrist. The shock shuddered up her arm to her shoulder and her fingers spasmed. The tin bounced off the table with a sharp clang of metal, and Octavia barely avoided being splattered. Her boots, however, weren't so lucky. White splotches of ice cream stained the leather as the cup spun on the linoleum.

Octavia whined in despair and bent down to swipe a napkin over her shoes with her good hand as she pressed her curled fingers against her chest. Off-balance, she did her best to clean up, even while she apologized to the staff that approached to pick up her tin mug and mop the floor.

Once she straightened up again, she tried to gingerly wiggle her fingers. They were okay now, but rolling her wrist brought an ache down her forearm and she fought back the wave of worry that washed over her. Oh, what had she done? And how severe was the problem? Visions of a tragic end to her musical career flashed through her imagination, each scenario scarier than the last: carpal tunnel syndrome, tendinitis, or perhaps even early-onset arthritis.

She needed help, so she reached for her purse with her good arm. Pulling her phone out, she unlocked it with only her thumb and began tapping. Doctors' appointments could take weeks, and walk-in clinics would want to refer her to a specialist. But she had friends at the Luxury Lotus Spa who could diagnose her much more quickly than either of those options.

It took only a few taps to reach the spa's website, and Octavia kept her tender arm tucked against her chest as she scrolled, occasionally testing her wrist and hoping nothing would go numb. Fortunately, the booking system showed some open spots for the spa’s therapists that evening. Hurriedly selecting one, she stared in brief despair at the detailed form that popped up on the screen for her to fill out.

Octavia supposed she could set the phone down on a clean spot on the table and perform a one-fingered hunt and peck for the virtual keyboard. No, that won't do. Pressing down with her thumb again, she selected the voice-to-text option and began to dictate what had happened.

“The details are a little rushed in places, but I suppose that would be the drawback for a voice feature,” Lotus said, handing over the forms to Nurse Redheart. “I apologize for asking you to stay, but the booking is within your stated working hours.”

Redheart accepted the clipboard. “I appreciate the apology.” She had been on-call for half the day as it was, and would have been honing some of her techniques in the back. But now that an appointment had been made, she had herself a patient. She preferred those to doing practice routines, honestly, because it meant a little more money in her paycheck at the end of the week. “How much lead time do I have to set up?”

“A little. You know how often we get messages from people who claim it's an emergency.” Lotus waggled her fingers, her accent turning her 'i' into a longer 'ee' and buzzing her ‘th’s. “They claim they need to be seen right away.”, She and her sister Aloe usually ran interference on those, winnowing the serious case from the hypochondriac. “This ... is not one of those, but she is quite worried about her condition. Aloe knows her better than I do, though, and says she is not one to exaggerate.”

Frowning, Redheart glanced at the page. “Octavia Melody.” The name did stir something in the back of her own memory. “It says here she had wrist and finger pain, with some cramping in the digits.” Some of the words had run together and she wished whichever twin had printed off the page had done some editing to clear up the information. “A few other complaints, but nothing as pressing as a musician that can't use her dominant hand.”

“True,” Lotus agreed. “Not many one-handed instruments.”

“No referral from a doctor on this one?” She flipped to the next page.

Lotus shook her head. “I think she wishes for your professional opinion on the matter first. She knows we have a reliable nurse available to us, and an appointment here is speedier than waiting at a clinic.”

Redheart sighed. A registered nurse she might be, but she hadn't returned to her massage therapy roots to diagnose patients. “Well, as long as she understands that the doctor's office will have to confirm any findings on their own. I can try and discover the cause, but treatment is more important here.”

“Which is all we ask of you,” Aloe agreed as she appeared in the office doorway behind reception. She turned up the lights since the sun had nearly set outside. “I've seen Miss Melody perform a few times, and talked with her at a party or two. She's in a high-stress job. I've told her before to come in whenever she can. But she insists that her stress relief is jogging rather than soaking in a steam bath.” Her shrug said that she had done her best, but people were stubborn creatures who wouldn't and couldn't relax. Octavia Melody was obviously one.

Well, that was why Redheart had joined the twins. Emergency nursing and triage had stressed her to the point where burnout had been a real danger. Now she divided her time between hospital rounds and therapy sessions at the spa. The same amount of work, but two very different environments. “I'll go set up,” she said. “One of you can show Miss Melody back to the room when she arrives.”

Lotus and Aloe had opened their spa in an old photography business, so the old boudoir rooms where people used to pose for pictures had all been converted into various spa nooks. They had also moved the old darkroom door up to give the separation between reception area and back rooms a little extra flair.

Stepping into the cylinder, Redheart swung the heavy door around with a low rumble. The darkness enveloped her and she took a moment in the blackness to breathe. She loved the transfer from front to back, as if she were turning around into a different world. It added to the client experience too, making them feel as if they could leave their outside lives behind in that thick metal cocoon, even if only for a short while.

The spa hallway's lighting had changed while she was up front, shifting from afternoon blue to a dull orange for the evening. Redheart stretched as she stepped out of the chamber and headed for Massage Room #3. Even at its busiest, the spa had no beeping machines, no terrible odours (well, aside from some of the natural products used in the mani-pedi room), and no anxious relatives confronting her with questions.

Bliss.

Still, nursing called to her more than being a masseuse. It was only when the profession and pressure threatened to burn her out did she ease up on her hospital duties and start taking spa shifts instead. Oh, one or two days a week on-call wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, and the twins paid well enough.

Even when her nursing hat was off, she still helped people, but in a way that would hopefully prevent hospital admissions by fixing them sooner rather than later. This seemed to be one of those times. Whatever Octavia Melody had encountered, it could cost her a distinguished musical career if not assessed properly. Redheart was determined to not let that happen.

She wrapped her massage table with quick hands, tucking in the sheets and slotting the donut-shaped headrest into place. At this late hour, no outside light would leak past the shades, so there was no need to go to full blackout curtains. Redheart did select several battery-operated candles and placed them on various surfaces around the room. One or two went into mesh boxes that could bathe the room in whatever colour she selected. Once they were lit, the pale cerulean glow would add a cool layer to the setting.

As she worked, Redheart kept one ear tuned for the sound of footsteps outside. Lotus and Aloe walked lightly, but the quiet slap of their backless slippers would always give them away. If the steps were uneven, chances were good it would be a client. People came here to find balance again.

She felt more than heard the roll of the darkroom door down the hallway. Most customers wouldn't notice it unless the bearings needed oiling, but she had been at the spa long enough to memorize that soft rumble in the air.

Redheart took a quick look around the room to make sure everything was ready, and mentally ran over her session plan again. While Octavia had listed her biggest concern as her hands, she also had checked some boxes that strongly suggested muscle fatigue in several areas. Well, a good once-over would determine the best place to start.

Lotus peeked in, then nodded approvingly at the arrangement. “Miss Melody is here. Is there anything you need before you begin?”

“I'm ready for her,” Redheart said. “We'll see you out front when we're done.”

“I shall have tea waiting,” agreed Lotus. She stepped back and murmured something in the hallway, then Octavia herself came through the door. Her slim shoulders appeared weighed down by the black suit coat slung over one of them. Worry and world-weariness hunched her over, her chin dropped low enough to brush the pink bow tie at her collar.

As she did with all her clients, Redheart immediately checked footwear and saw scuffed patent leather shoes with thick laces. Ah, flats. Thin ones, too. Not that she blamed every ache and twinge on impractical shoes, but they were often the most obvious culprit.

“Miss Melody, I'm Redheart, and I'll be your therapist. Would you like me to take that for you?” She held out her hand for the fancy little coat. The clothes rack was on the other side of the door and she could close it on the way past.

Blinking, Octavia handed it over. “Should I start getting undressed now?”

Redheart shook her head as she hung up the coat and pushed the door shut. “Not right away. If it's more comfortable, you can loosen that bow tie.” She could see only the sleeves and collar of the white blouse. The rest was hidden by a severe black waistcoat. “Perhaps a couple of buttons, too. You're here to relax.”

Octavia nodded, reaching up to flip her collar and unsnap the button on the back of her bowtie loop. She did all this one-handed, while keeping her other arm folded across her midsection.

“Are you in pain now?” Redheart asked softly, “or just worried? I hope I can help.” She patted the side of the massage bed. “Here, sit for a second.”

Octavia obeyed and settled down with her feet flat on the floor. “It's not hurting right now,” she said, flexing the fingers of her left hand. “I've been worried it would go numb, but it hasn't done that.”

Redheart pulled up a stool and sat in front of her. “May I?” she asked, indicating the hand in question. Once she acquiesced, Redheart set her wrist down and turned it palm up on a knee. She unbuttoned the cuff, pushing the sleeve up to her elbow. Much to her surprise, Octavia's forearm was quite tanned. “At least you're getting some sun?”

“I jog,” Octavia said. She fluffed at her thick black hair, releasing a whiff of jasmine. “My neck does get hot under all this, though, even with a braid.”

“Yes, well, staying active is helpful. Good for you.” Redheart examined Octavia's half-curled fingers, which was a normal posture for someone's relaxed hand. “I'm going to try and straighten your fingers out, all right? You tell me if there's pain.”

Rather than doing one at a time, she cupped all four fingers and eased them open simultaneously. The only reaction from Octavia was a soft puff of breath. Feeling along her knuckles, Redheart lightly squeezed them, checking for swelling around and between the joints. “Is this your bow hand?”

Octavia nodded, but remained silent.

“Okay.” Redheart dug softly into Octavia's palm with her thumbs, working down to the wrist and keeping careful watch on her expression for any twitches of discomfort. “No symptoms like you had before?”

“My forearm's still somewhat sore.” Octavia shrugged as Redheart turned her wrist from side to side and flexed it up and down to test tendon strength. “But what you're doing right now doesn't hurt in the same way.”

No trigger fingers or tendinitis in the forearm, Redheart decided. She pressed up into the soft pad beneath Octavia's thumb, feeling for the small bone by the wrist. As she manipulated her hand through another range of motion, Octavia didn't flinch. “No numbness?”

Another shake of the head.

So, no carpal tunnel from the compressed nerves there, either. Moving higher, Redheart kneaded lightly up the forearm. At the elbow, she pressed a quick little pattern along the inside that made Octavia's fingers flex and drew a gasp from her. “W-what?”

“Just testing if your arms are more tired than you thought,” Redheart soothed, ghosting her touch back down and over Octavia's trembling fingers. “And I believe they are. Too much practising, perhaps?”

Octavia shrugged. “Maybe. I do have a professional reputation to maintain.” She held out her other arm when Redheart motioned for it. “Mmf.”

“All right.” Redheart checked her over, pushing her sleeve up to feel her arm and testing the range of motion on her wrist. “If it's just muscle fatigue, we can work on that. Push against me here?” She pressed her palm against Octavia's and waited for the resistance. “Good, good.” She threaded their fingers together, squeezing lightly. Octavia had strong hands and a firm grip, even if she was simply just worn out. “Squeeze back? That's fine. Now, hold still.”

She got up and pressed her fingers into the top and back of Octavia's shoulder, cupping her upper arm to roll it back and forth. Stretching her with a palm on her shoulder and upper chest, Redheart eased up, then switched sides to repeat it with the other shoulder. Nothing seemed wrong, other than tightness. “All right, same thing here. I think you're just overworked and your body's been trying to tell you that.”

Shifting around, Octavia sighed and visibly slumped. “I know I'm tired. But I don't know how to quit. I've got so much to do.” She gestured, her sleeves half-rolled and her collar askew. She'd unbuttoned half her waistcoat, too, and looked much less put together than when she'd come in. “I'm tired of standing on stage, too. My feet get sore in my fancy shoes, and my ankle hurts, but ... you know. Fashion.”

Redheart sat back down on her stool. “I understand we often have to sacrifice comfort for appearance's sake, but perhaps if you had come by sooner, we could have made things a bit easier.” She patted a knee. “Here, give me your foot and let's see if you need work there, too.”

Octavia hesitated. “With my shoe still on?”

“I'll handle that.” Gazing up into those purple eyes, Redheart waited patiently.

She lifted her foot and set it down on Redheart's lap. “If only they'd let me wear sneakers like yours on stage.”

Redheart glanced down at her own pink and white running shoes, even as her fingers undid Octavia's laces. She didn't say anything, but simply slipped the patent leather off to reveal a nearly-sheer black nylon sock. Normally she would begin her exam by cupping the heel and pressing her other thumb up into the ball of the client's foot. Those were the two areas that usually held the most pain from extended standing.

But Octavia had said her ankle hurt more, so she started by gently running her thumb and index finger along either side of the Achilles tendon. No inflammation there, either. Next she wrapped her fingers around the front of Octavia's ankle and lightly moved her around, feeling the stretch. Octavia had long, slender feet, and she perhaps wasn't quite shaped to those stiff and fancy shoes. “Bad?” she asked.

“It sometimes feels sore there and down through the middle of my foot,” Octavia admitted.

Nodding, Redheart slowly hooked her thumb into the centre of Octavia's sole. Most joggers had toughened soles and callused heels after racking up so many miles. Not here, though. Even through the socks, she could feel a softened heel and slim toes.

With skin like that, Octavia obviously had a foot care routine that did wonders for the outside. The inside, though, was where Redheart did her best work. The sheer nylon sock was a small hindrance, but this was still just preliminary. Once Octavia lay flat, things could be done differently. “Here?” She pressed deeper into the arch.

“Gnngh.” Octavia's head tipped back and she fluttered her eyelashes. She stifled a giggle and wiggled her toes. “I mean, yes, that's the spot. Also somewhat ticklish.”

“I’ll try to keep any sort of tickling out of the picture,” Redheart said. She carefully wrung Octavia’s foot to the inside as her thumb pressed along her instep. “You seem to take care of your feet, for the most part. You haven’t noticed anything else bothering you while you’ve been buffing out the rough skin?”

Octavia shook her head. “No, just pumice stone and creams, for the most part. I don’t turn my feet the wrong way for the ankle pain, though.”

Redheart paid careful attention to that ankle, as it seemed to be another case of overuse. “I feel this might be less about your concert standing and more about your jogging. I assume the increased stress means you felt like you had to push more and go farther?”

Her thumb padded down the soft curve of the instep, as if feeling between Octavia's vertebrae. The spa had diagrams in the lobby to show the matching curvature between the spinal column and a foot, in order to promote acupressure sessions. Even though Redheart disdained many of the holistic rituals practised there, she understood why they made the comparison.

“Oh, well . . . hahh!” Octavia shifted her hips as Redheart dug in and she gripped the table harder. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Size 8 joggers, I assume?” If she had the wrong footwear, that would account for some of her problems. Even the wrong lacing could affect the stability of her ankle or arches.

Blushing, Octavia nodded. “That’s, um, oh … that’s a good guess.”

A quick switch and similar exploration of her other sole produced the same noises and anxious twitches, and Redheart had finally seen enough to map out the branches of pain that were growing inside her client. “All right, I think I have an idea. We're going to start with you face up on the table.” She got up, brushing her white pants down. “You can undress as much as you're comfortable with and slip beneath the blankets. I'll give you a couple of minutes to settle in, then we can begin for real. Any questions?”

Octavia shook her head and her hands moved towards her buttons. Taking that as her cue, Redheart turned to open the door and slip out to give her client the proper privacy.

When the door closed again, Octavia fumbled at the last few buttons on her black waistcoat. Once she got it off, she slid off the side of the massage table and shuffled in her socks over to the hooks on the wall behind the door. Her white blouse came off next, followed by her suit pants, and she tucked her nylon socks into the very shallow pockets before hanging everything up.

Brushing her long black hair forward over one shoulder, she reached back with still-throbbing fingers to unclasp her bra. Redheart's exploration of her knuckles and joints had revealed sore spots she hadn't ever been aware of, and even turning her hand to get at the hooks produced a crack somewhere in her wrist. It didn't hurt, but served as a reminder of why she was here. Did she need to strip down the whole way just to have someone massage her hands and feet?

Octavia considered the situation, then decided she didn't want anything between her and those sheets, so she finished undressing and draped her underwear on the last free hook. As far as she could tell, Redheart was a consummate professional and would respect her nudity.

She slipped under the top sheet and blanket and settled beneath it with a little sigh, lifting her hair up and out from beneath her body. It spread over the headrest like a dark waterfall, and a sudden worry engulfed her that she would get it caught in some imperfection in the wood. Making as if to sit up, she hesitated at the first light tug.

Before she could lie back down or rearrange herself in the hopes of not yanking any of it out, a knock came at the door and Redheart peeked in. “All set?”

“I might need my hair adjusted first,” Octavia said, subsiding with another sigh. As if there was any stronger indication that she needed to quit overthinking and let herself be taken care of.

Redheart came over and gently gathered her hair up, picking a few strands free of the join between the headrest and table. “Slide down a little more? Let's get your head on the table rather than the donut here. It'll be easier for you.” She helped Octavia get comfortable and threaded her hair safely through the headrest, then leaned in. “Would you prefer background noise? We can do forest rain or ocean waves.”

Octavia pursed her lips. “The forest, please, if there's no music with it.”

“Very well. Breathe deeply, and I'll be right back.” She stepped away and the lights buzzed softly as they dimmed. Once the darkness descended, a few small blue and white lights flared to life. The ambient sound of rain on leaves filled the room, and Redheart came back to the table. She laid her palm on Octavia's forehead. “Everything okay?”

As those fingers stroked her hairline, Octavia nodded.

“Good. I'm only going to uncover what I need to work on.” Redheart tucked the blanket back to bare Octavia's left arm, and moved the stool closer to sit down again. “So, starting with hands and arms.” Dipping her fingers in a nearby bowl, she cupped Octavia's wrist with one hand and enveloped her fingers in a slick grasp.

Octavia repressed the whine in her throat as Redheart wrung each of her fingers out, starting with her thumb. Her knuckles weren't too swollen, but each bit of pressure pulled more of the ache out from her joints.

With one thumb stroking Octavia's wrist, Redheart pressed the other into the base of her palm and took her through a range of motions. Looking satisfied, she shifted her loose grip up from wrist to hand so she could knead down between her knuckles.

Now Octavia groaned as the sensations made her lashes flutter. “Oh. That's ... mmm ... different. More of that, please?” The pressure ached but dully, as if the hurt was being released from the depths of her bones.

“Of course. Here.” Redheart eased her index finger into the spaces between Octavia's first and middle fingers, curling it around her first knuckle. Her other index finger did the same between the ring and small fingers to wrap around the outside of Octavia's hand. Using the leverage to spread her palm open, Redheart dug her thumbs right in.

Octavia made a noise she wasn't aware her voice was capable of producing. Somewhere between a growl and a whimper, it rolled from her throat and she pressed her hips down into the massage table. “Hnrnrrghh!”

“Ah, there's the troublesome spot.” Redheart used her remaining fingers to press into the back of Octavia's hand, spreading her open wider. Her thumbs worked over the metacarpals at the base of Octavia's fingers, the insides of her knuckles receiving most of the attention. “You might not want to pick a bow up for a day or so after we're done here.”

Tipping her head back, Octavia closed her eyes and just let the rhythm of the massage roll over her. “Didn't want to pick one up now,” she murmured, feeling her fingers twitch in Redheart's grasp. “Not with how I felt.”

One hand let go and slid down the inside of her forearm to her elbow. In long, sure strokes, Redheart kneaded away the tension and found release points that loosened Octavia's wrist. Soon it hung limply in her grasp and Redheart shifted position as she rolled Octavia's arm from the shoulder. Lifting it off the bed, she bent Octavia's arm at the elbow and pointed the joint at the ceiling to bare her tricep so she could work it in the same cupping and sliding motion.

“This is just pushing blood back towards your heart,” she said, “to help with circulation.” Her fingers curled into a loose fist and her knuckles dragged down Octavia's upper arm. “We'll work on your shoulder next, then match it all on the right side, okay?”

“Okay,” Octavia agreed, not wanting the delicious pressure to end so soon. She made another pleading sound as Redheart stretched her shoulder a little more and that warm, slick touch dug into the node beneath her arm. “Mmmfff, that tickles!”

Redheart peeked over the flex of her forearm. “Breathe through it,” she coaxed. “I'm getting more of that fluid back into circulation.” The pressure eased, though, and slid a little further back into the area behind her shoulder, where it wasn't so ticklish.

Subsiding again, Octavia closed her eyes and soaked in the sounds of rain and the safety of Redheart's hands. She felt her arm being returned to its original position by her side, the blanket covering her again, and the soft press of hands down on her shoulder.

“That's one,” came Redheart's voice, followed by the soft noise of the stool's wheels as they moved around the head of the massage table. “Now, for the other hand.” Cool air wafted over Octavia's skin as Redheart bared her other arm and delicately plucked at her wrist. “Just let go and give me the weight ... yes, that's good.” Redheart quickly slipped her fingers through Octavia's again and repeated the slow butterfly spread on her palm.

“I like this,” Octavia told her, keeping her eyes closed. Watching the process would take away from all the relaxing sensations it stirred. “Have I mentioned that I like this particular treatment?”

“It is nice, isn't it?” Redheart did something intricate with her fingers that rolled the pressure down Octavia's palm and dug into the soft pad beneath her thumb. “Not one of my usual techniques, but it's very worthwhile for solving your type of issue.” She applied a little more pressure and sent aches fluttering through the base of those stretched fingers as they splayed out even wider.

“Oh, quite,” Octavia agreed, breathing out and feeling Redheart's touch slip lower. Finger and thumb encircled her wrist and a quick little squeeze produced a low pop to loosen her up even more. That one pulled a squeak from her.

“There we go,” Redheart said soothingly, “it's just tired muscles and weary bones. We can fix most of that, but you'll have to sit out front and sip tea for a spell before you go home.” She began the slow drag of her fingers down the inside of Octavia's forearm once again, working into her elbow. “No pressing performances in the coming days?”

Octavia tried to think about her schedule, but it was so difficult with oily hands kneading around the inside of her elbow and up her bicep. “M-maybe? Should I postpone?”

“It's one possibility,” said Redheart. “You might be a little sore tomorrow from all this, and going right back out on stage wouldn't do you much good.” She cupped Octavia's upper arm and lifted her elbow to get at the underside once again. “Especially if we do the back of your shoulders, too.”

“Would that mean turning over?” she asked. Staying right where she was and melting into the padded table felt like the much simpler option.

Redheart stretched her shoulder out one last time, then straightened her arm again and draped the blanket over it. “No need. Just lie still.” That soft, comforting squeeze came on her shoulder again. Then Redheart got up to stand at the head of the table and smoothed Octavia's hair back off her forehead. “I can tell you're starting to feel better already. Your energy levels are lower, because you're relaxing more as we fix the aches. That's good.”

She slid her hands beneath Octavia's bare back, feeling around softly for her shoulder blades and working inwards from there. “Okay, I'm going to have to get close to you now,” she said, leaning over so Octavia was looking at her upside down. “This might be sore because I'm going to stretch your back muscles out. Feel free to make noise. It's perfectly normal.”

As those fingers kneaded into the space between shoulder blade and spine, Octavia breathed in and tasted the sharper pain that seemed to flare there. “Ahhh!”

“Tension transfer, yes,” Redheart noted, pressing her fingertips deeper, the touch feeling almost as if they had turned into claws. “It's moving around, and we're going to get it out. Okay, slow pulls outward, like we're spreading a pair of wings for you.”

The first one was just as she'd promised, producing a low cry out of Octavia as the pain flared brighter. All the hunching and curling of her shoulders meant she was tight in the upper back. Now Redheart had found the knot and was pressing up into it, pulling the pain to either side and letting it disperse in a series of long stretches.

Redheart bent down, her breath ghosting across Octavia's cheek as her fingertips dug in on either side of her spine again and kneaded in sharp circles. The scent of the fabric softener from her white blouse filled Octavia's senses as she took another deep breath. “It's okay to make noise,” murmured Redheart. “I know this can hurt.”

She stretched her out again and Octavia yelped, eyes widening at the ache that spread out from the middle of her back. “Nnnghhh!” She breathed out hotly, exhaling the hurt as Redheart's fingers kneaded beneath her shoulder blades.

“Good,” Redheart coaxed again. “Last one.”

The final pull hurt much less and Octavia's whine fluttered through her nose instead of her throat. One shoulder already felt much lighter and she rolled slightly into the pressure, hoping to feel the tension give way on her left side as well.

“Ah-ah. Stay still, still,” Redheart told her, pressing her back down and shifting all her attention to that particular shoulder. “I know you want to feel better, so let me just ...” She pressed the heel of her hand into the top of Octavia's shoulder, moving her around. Then she cupped the shoulder blade from beneath for some slow stretching and rolling.

Nothing popped this time, but Octavia could feel those fingers digging into the small knot behind that shoulder and her breath caught in her throat. Slowly but surely, the ache unwound and her airway opened up at the same time.

As Redheart slid her hands out, Octavia settled back down into the soft table and heaved a sigh. “Does it scare other customers when you make your clients yell?”

“Some people beg for Lotus and Aloe as their masseuse,” Redheart said, “but looks are deceiving. They know some techniques that are guaranteed to make you cry if your pain's already past the point of a simple relaxation massage.” She readjusted the blanket over Octavia's shoulders and throat, patting her collarbone. “Almost done.”

She paid brief attention to other parts of Octavia's body as she worked down towards her feet, pushing at her hips to line them up again, and resting a palm on her stomach to press down slowly. “All okay when I touch you here? No pain, no desire to tighten up?”

Octavia grunted a little as Redheart's fingers worked around her pelvis. “Well, when you do that, it isn't exactly comfortable.”

Redheart massaged over the front of her hip, testing the muscles. “But nothing sharp, right? Sometimes lower back or hip issues show up as pain here.”

Nodding in understanding, Octavia slipped a hand out from beneath her blanket to wave off the concern.

“All right.” Redheart hooked the stool with her ankle and rolled it closer, sitting down and uncovering Octavia's feet. She gently tapped on each bare toenail, running her fingers over the unvarnished nails. “Just checking for brittleness. Nothing wrong here, either?”

Giggling, Octavia wiggled them. “No, but no one's ever done that to me before.”

“Aloe insists we check,” Redheart said, smiling and selecting Octavia's right foot. “If there was any concern, she'd have a solution for fixing your nails. One of our clients breaks them often while she's working, so the spa has a homemade remedy for her.” She curled her knuckles into the sole beneath Octavia's toes and cupped her foot with the other hand. “Let's loosen you up here now.”

Octavia's head thudded against the table and she hissed against the pressure. Redheart seemed to have found the spot right away and Octavia clutched at the sides of the table as her leg trembled. Another indecipherable noise escaped her, but Redheart seemed to understand her meaning.

“Okay,” she noted, somehow able to pick out the difference between good and bad sounds, even when she was torturing her clients. She turned her wrist slowly clockwise, twisting her knuckles to dig into the tension there. “Just a few of these, and we can move to your ankle after.” She switched from a curled fist to thumbs and pushed in and up to make Octavia's toes flex.

“Guuuhhhh!”

“Breathe,” Redheart told her, peeking around her leg and catching her eye. “You aren't as bad as some other people I've treated, so this shouldn't take long.” She padded her thumbs up and down Octavia's sole now, kneading into her arch and along her instep to work her tendons. “See, it's not so bad.”

Octavia growled beneath her breath. If this wasn't so bad, why were her feet so sore? How had she not felt all this before?

Redheart cupped her heel and squeezed, wringing her foot out slowly from side to side. She didn't push too hard, though, seemingly content with mild torture. “Higher or lower?”

“L-lower?” Octavia said, gasping a little as the pressure of Redheart's touch in a tender spot sent a throb up the middle of her leg. “Ooommphhh! Maybe right there instead?”

“I see.” Redheart circled the tip of her thumb at that precise spot. Octavia couldn't tell what she sensed compared to the flare of delicious agony that was lighting her up, but the slow press, release, and repeat was doing wonders for the ache.

Octavia felt the stretch in her tendons as her toes uncurled to open up her instep, right where Redheart could press her thumb in and walk it all the way up the inside to the ball of her foot.

“Okay, deep breath, in and out.” Cupping her just there, Redheart turned Octavia's foot into the pressure and stretched her out, curling her toes down and then back and up. Her thumb stayed beneath the lump of bone beneath the big toe, digging into the ache and dissolving it, despite Octavia's sudden gasp and kick of her other foot.

“Well, that was the right spot,” she said, not flinching at Octavia's twitches and noises. She hadn't even reacted to the flailing so close to her head. “Are you all right, Miss Melody?”

Octavia nodded, wincing. Her foot still hurt, and probably would for a good while, but that was the price she was paying for waiting so long. “Feels sore, but ... better?”

“That's normal.” Redheart set her foot down and kneaded around her ankle, rubbing up and down the front tendons. Then she reached for the other foot. “I think we'll find roughly the same here, so if I happen to hit the right spot, please don't kick me.”

Blushing, Octavia shifted a little guiltily. “Sorry, it was ... intense.”

“Mm. The emergency room prepared me for a lot, so I do have fairly strong nerves but I'd rather not have to duck.” Redheart ran her thumbs down the front of Octavia's right foot, flexing her toes and pressing between the slim bones. “Do your best to relax, and if it gets too painful, try not to twist away. If you use your voice and not your feet, I promise I'll be gentler near the end.”

She settled into some slow kneading and Octavia closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. It wasn't difficult, since so much of her body already felt heavy. Her arms hummed, the back of her shoulders buzzed, and she was very much looser than when she'd first stumbled in.

As Redheart used lighter pressure and slower turns on her foot, Octavia peeked out from between her lashes at the dim ceiling, taking in the patterns from the flickering candles and the light boxes. The sound of rain in the forest pattered away in the background. She never quite realized how soothing that was, too.

Mmmf. Whatever Redheart was doing to her instep right now felt much better than anything she’d done before. Octavia twitched a little bit at the careful dig beneath her toes, but before she could muster up anything more energetic, her eyes flicked shut again. Her chest rose and fell, slower than before. Then her head lolled back and she went somewhere else.

Redheart sauntered out of her final session of the day, having realigned Spitfire's spine into something much straighter and put the strut back into Lyra Heartstring's step. She had the rest of the afternoon and evening to relax before picking up another shift at the hospital the next morning.

Before she could remove her spa headband and head into the employee room to change back into her street clothes, a woman with electric blue hair and red-mirrored shades straightened up from the front desk. “Hey, are you Redheart?”

Keeping her expression neutral, but sighing internally at the roadblock, Redheart nodded. She peered past the woman's shoulder at Lotus at the front desk, as if to say what are you doing to me?, but received only a shrug in return.

“Miss Scratch would like a word, I believe,” was all Lotus said.

“Yeah, Vinyl Scratch. My roommate Octavia was in here just the other day.” She seemed to have a lot of energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet and rocking from side to side. “She conked right out when she got home. What the heck did you do?”

Redheart raised her eyebrows. “What we usually do here at the spa: I helped her with the pain she was feeling from months of neglect. If you're interested, I'm sure Lotus or Aloe can make you an appointment ...”

“Oh, that part I get.” Vinyl had scuffed high-top sneakers in a variety of colours and they squeaked on the floor as she hopped around. Redheart was getting tired just watching her. “But Bon-Bon said she heard Octy yelling back there when she was here for a steam bath. You don't look like you've got it in you to cause that much pain to someone.”

Shooting another glance at Lotus, Redheart managed to not roll her eyes. “I wasn't causing it, Miss Scratch, I was working it out of your friend. No one's in perfect shape, not even Celestia or Luna. They run everything, so I'm sure there's plenty of stress one could wring out of them.”

Vinyl looked back at Lotus, surprised. “She’s kidding, yeah? No way a plain old massage makes my friend shriek like Bon-Bon said she did.”

Lotus shrugged, using her whole arm and upturned palms. “Miss Redheart is our therapist. What she does is not simple relaxation, but she goes deeper to where the hurt is.”

“Really.” Vinyl raised her shades and tucked them up on top of her head. She held her hand out. “May I?”

Slightly confused, Redheart stared at her, then picked up on her request and laid her own hand down on Vinyl’s palm. “What is it?”

Hefting her palm, Vinyl cocked her head and smiled. “I mean, you have really soft hands here. Twenty-five bits says you can’t pull those noises out of me.”

Redheart stared back at her, then withdrew her hand, stepped to one side, and cocked her head at the front desk. “Do we have any other clients for the day, Miss Blossom?”

Lotus made a show of checking the planner in front of her. “There is no one currently here. And no sessions until the evening. Aloe will be handling those, if you were curious. They're all of the, shall we say, holistic persuasion?”

“I wasn't curious, but thank you.” Redheart winked at her, then swung around to face Vinyl Scratch again. “Tell you what. We've got a perfectly good massage chair out here. You get your shoes and socks off, and it'll be 30 bits if you make a loud enough noise that Aloe sticks her head out of the back to ask about it. Deal?”

Vinyl grinned, tucking her glasses higher into her shock of wild hair. She had little black musical notes for earrings. “You're on.” Spinning around, she sat on the arm of the recliner to unlace her high-tops and kick off her white socks.

Redheart glanced over to take in Lotus's amused look. “What?” she said, pitching her voice nice and low. She'd seen the headphones around Vinyl's neck and guessed that her hearing wasn't that strong. “You'll get your share.”

Lotus waved her hand in a shooing motion. “Please. All yours if you wring her dry. If you convince her to sign up for a session of her own after, there'll be a bonus.”

Grinning, Redheart shook her hands out and approached the now-lounging Vinyl. “Very well, Miss Scratch.” She pulled a nearby stool up and used the levers on the base of the recliner to raise Vinyl's bare feet up to a manageable level. Thick tendons on this one, along with slightly curled toes and the rougher heel patches she had expected to see on Octavia. Now here was a woman who spent a lot of time on her feet. “ I won't be so rude as to do something that hurts you right off the bat.” She patted an ankle, smiling. “In fact, if there's anything that you'd rather I not touch, best to let me know right away.”

“Hey, I'm good.” Vinyl rolled her shoulders back and waggled a foot. “Whatever you've got, bring it.”

With a nod, Redheart cupped the side of Vinyl's pale foot and pressed a thumb in to test her sole. “Well, let me see here.” She wasn't sure about starting cold like this with a client, even one she was going to reduce to sobs. It wasn't the responsible thing to do. But she'd also seen Vinyl undo very tight laces on those sneakers and that meant there could be too much compression on her toes. “Let's just stretch your toes first, to feel you out.”

That part went fine, as Vinyl seemed perfectly relaxed beneath the tugging and slow twisting. “Not bad,” she commented, flexing her toes.

Redheart smiled at her. “We are very professional here, Miss Scratch.”

“Eh, call me Vinyl.” She lazily flapped a hand on the arm of the recliner. “And no need to hold back.”

“Oh, of course.” Redheart slipped her grip down a little lower, pressing her thumb into the middle of Vinyl's arch and cupping the top of her foot with her other hand to increase the pressure in the center of her foot. “How about this?”

Vinyl's head tilted back and she blew out a breath. “Whooo. That's, wow, that's something.”

Nodding some more, Redheart began to walk her thumb up and then back down over Vinyl's sole. “Keep breathing. This may get more intense as we go.”

“More? You sure about hnnnNNNGGHH!” Now Vinyl widened her eyes and clutched at the armrests with both hands as Redheart found a spot higher up. “Owwwww! Holy ...”

“Ah-ha, there it is.” Easing up on the pressure, Redheart curled the hand not holding Vinyl's foot into a loose fist and rolled her knuckles up and down. “Bear with me, Vinyl. This is something that needs work.”

Vinyl looked as if she wanted to wrench herself out of Redheart's grip, but all she could do was twitch her hips in the depths of the massage chair as she was knuckled from toe to heel. “Ahhh! Owwowwwow!”

Turning so she could tuck Vinyl's ankle beneath her arm, Redheart cupped her foot and dug in a little more. Most people rarely thought about their feet, except when something hurt, and she had finally gotten beneath the surface numbness on Vinyl Scratch to uncover her tender spots.

“You might need a proper session after this,” Redheart told her. Spotting her toes curling, Redheart straightened them out again, keeping Vinyl from tucking them away to hide the ache in her tendons. “If your left foot is as sore as this one, it might be best.” She caught Lotus's grin and looked back over her shoulder at her customer.

“Hahh.” Squirming, Vinyl winced as her foot trembled in Redheart's grasp. “Maybe not?”

“Oh, please, leaving you in this state would bring neither of us any pleasure.” Redheart found the proper angle and used both thumbs to knead in. She could feel the tension there at the ball of the foot and just as she applied a little more pressure, there was movement beneath the surface.

The pop was more metaphorical than audible, and Vinyl's yelp had Lotus both hiding her laughter and looking concerned.

Seconds later, the darkroom door rolled aside and Aloe leaned out, an identical expression of concern on her face. “What is going on out here?” she asked, looking from Redheart and Vinyl to her twin sister. “Are we holding torture sessions in the front lobby now?”

Redheart unwound her arm from Vinyl's calf and patted her knee. “First of all, that will be 30 bits. Secondly, let's see about that other foot before I let you up. You'll overbalance right now if you try to stand.”

Looking shocked, Vinyl nodded. Her cheeks appeared flushed, the same shade as her eyes, and she gingerly extended her other foot towards Redheart. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

Redheart could almost taste the milkshake she would be buying for herself later tonight. Doing her best to not gloat, she wrapped her hand lightly around the bare instep, Vinyl gasping and quivering at the touch.

“Let's put you right, shall we?”