‘My name is John, and my pronouns are he and him. We’ll be your massage therapists today. Are we okay to begin in fifteen minutes?’

I looked at Patrick.

‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘Do we just wear …?’

‘It will be a private space,’ said Leslie. ‘So each take a table and lay the towels on top of you. You don’t need to wear underwear.’

‘Righto,’ I said. ‘No underwear.’

‘There’s champagne waiting for you, but we do suggest that you start with a big glass of water to stay hydrated, and save the bubbles for afterwards.’

‘That’s a great tip,’ Patrick said. ‘Thank you.’

The inside of the bathhouse was light and airy, and it became apparent immediately that the only sealed-off part of the space was the small toilet by the back. We both clocked it at the same time, and Patrick said, ‘I’ll go in there and let you get settled in here. I’ll come out when you’re ready – preserve our modesty?’

He disappeared and I practically ripped off my clothes before diving under the towel laid out, terrified he might catch me half-on half-off the bed in some horribly compromising position.

‘Ready!’ I said, when I was covered and settled, and Leslie took that as her cue to come in from the front door right as Patrick took it as his cue to leave the bathroom, stark bollock naked.

‘Oh!’ Leslie cried. ‘My apologies! I thought you were—’

She spun around fast, crashing into John as he entered the front door after her, meaning she stepped on John’s toe and then leapt back herself in surprise, stumbling back and heading right for me. Patrick reached out to catch her, releasing his hands from where they’d been cupped at his penis to reveal the full size of the thing directly at face-height from where I was on the massage table. His penis came towards me, his hands outstretched to help support Leslie, John hopping up and down in agony, and in grave panic I rolled over and off onto the floor, crouching down, naked as the day I was born.

Patrick caught Leslie, who excused herself so that she could give us a moment to regroup, and then he threw me a towel and wrapped another one around his waist.

‘Are you okay?’ he said, concerned. ‘Did you fall?’

‘Your … thingy, your … it was LUNGING at me,’ I exclaimed.

‘My thingy?’ he raised an eyebrow. He was a lot calmer than I was. I was traumatized.

‘Your willy! I’ve seen your willy!’

He grinned.

‘I’ve seen your boobs,’ he said, like a dirty old man. His smile reached from ear to ear.

We burst out laughing.

‘I guess that’s broken the naked-spa-day ice then,’ I commented. ‘The hard part is over with?’

Patrick looked down at himself and quipped, ‘I can’t guarantee the hard part won’t come back to be honest.’

‘Patrick!’