“It came with the sudden contact of my back with a sidewalk.”
“No, I don’t know anybody.”
“I’ll bet your sister who knows the cosmetic surgeon knows somebody.”
“You should have been a detective. I’ll call her. When do you want it?”
“At the earliest possible moment, if not sooner.”
Five minutes later, Joan buzzed him. “Two p.m.,” she said. “Her name is Celia.”
“Is she beautiful?”
“You requested availability, not beauty.”
“Is she good?”
“You didn’t request good, either, but seeing that she’s available on such short notice, I wouldn’t be too optimistic about her skills.”
“Joan, just being around you fills me with hope.” He hung up and went to the kitchen to make himself a ham-and-Swiss on whole grain with mayo and honey mustard. Since he planned to spend the early part of the afternoon semiconscious anyway, he treated himself to a cold Heineken, as well.
At two o’clock sharp the phone buzzed in Stone’s bedroom. “She’s here,” Joan said. “Shall I send her up?”
“Please do. Is she beautiful?” But Joan had already hung up. A moment later he heard the elevator door open, and he rose to greet the masseuse. The sight of her caused a sharp intake of breath.
She was more than just beautiful; she was a giant of a woman, at least six-two, his own height. As he shook her hand and introduced himself, he measured: He hoped she was wearing heels, because he came up to about her eyebrows.
“I’m Celia Cox,” she said.
“How do you do, Celia. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I had an appointment with someone else, but she didn’t show up.”
“That’s very unprofessional,” she said. “Is right here good for my table?” She pointed to the foot of the bed.
“Perfect,” he said. “May I ask how tall you are?”
“Six-three,” she said. “The shortest of three sisters.”
The mind boggled. “You carry your height beautifully,” he said.
“Thank you. That’s the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me about my size.”
He could not begin to guess her weight, but whatever it was, it was perfect. And all of her went very well with the long chestnut hair that spilled around her shoulders. When she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it, he thought her nose and her jawline were perfect, too. And her eyes were a deep green.
She spread her sheets over the table, affixed the face cradle and patted the leather top. “You hop up here, face down, while I wash my hands. Bathroom in here?” She pointed.
“Yes, help yourself.” Stone tossed his robe onto the bed and crawled under the top sheet, settling his face into the cradle.
She returned after a moment. “Any special problems I should know about?”
“Yes, I suffered a fall onto my back on the sidewalk yesterday, and I’m pretty sore and stiff.”
“Do you suspect any skeletal problems?”
“No, I don’t think so; just muscular.”
He heard her squirt something, then rub her hands briskly together. “I apologize if my hands are cold,” she said, placing them on his back gently.
“They feel very go