I knew her through the office of course, that and helping her manage and learn to use her computer in the facets of her new job. She was a quiet, slim, slightly mousy woman in her forties. Divorced, slightly bitter, but otherwise not the sort of person you'd look at twice if you passed her in the mall.
I was working on her computer's connection to the network. We'd had new network cabling carried out and while most of it was to a very high, extremely reliable standard we had had one or two machines where the connections were not as reliable as they should be. In the end we'd traced it to a very small faulty batch of wall-boxes - as there were only a few yours truly was replacing them rather than spending more of my company's money having it done professionally. I'm big hearted like that!
The only way I could get at the wretched box was to lie on my back under her desk, other than that it was shift a damned heavy desk having cleared all her kit off it first! I'm idle - I went for the easy way. Maggie hadn't been in the office when I started the work, one of the reasons for getting on with it, it really wasn't either a big or a long job. I slowed down when Maggie came back though, from where I was laid she really had rather nice legs - she normally wore trousers - today a skirt; prim and proper below the knee - but if you're lying on the floor looking up, it brings a whole new perspective onto things. She wore thigh highs as well as French Knickers. I giggled to myself - 'who'd have thought...'
Anyway the end result, what with the view just had and trying to minimise the bulge in my trousers, was I wasn't really paying as much attention as I should have been when I was getting out from underneath and I twisted my back awkwardly. Now if you're a lithe, fit 20 year old this is no big deal, however, if you're a fifty something, pre-wrinkly who really ought to know better than climb under ladies' desks, then it hurts.
I groaned inwardly and outwardly too I guess, as I straightened up and myself eased onto her chair. She turned to see what I'd done and saw the discomfort I was in.
"Sven, what's up?" she said, her voice and her expression showing her concern.
"Oh, don't worry Maggie, it's an old war wound," I joked and then stiffened as pain knifed at my back again.
I was sat sideways on her typist's chair, and she came over and moved behind me.
"Shhh - don't say anything..." and Maggie was holding my shoulder with one hand while running her other gently over my back. "Ahh - found it!" and she started rubbing a point on my back with the ball of her hand. "You've crossed a muscle over a rib," I was told by way of explanation.
Whatever - her hand was warm and soothing. Surpassingly, what had been a sharp and uncomfortable experience eased under her ministrations very quickly.
"Maggie - that's amazing," I said, "That's normally very uncomfortable for a day or two when it happens - where did you learn that trick?"
She blushed a little. "Can't remember," she said, a little defensively, "I'm a healer, I seem to have always been able to do something like it. As I've grown older," she grimaced a little at the word 'older,' "I've learnt to refine it and control it a bit better." Then she carried on, "you have a deep injury lower on your back," her fingers probed down my spine feeling the ridges through my shirt - she caught her breath sharply as she reached the lower end. "You broke your back a long time ago - you're very lucky, it should have paralysed you."
The latter as she now faced me, her hands on my shoulder.
I was startled. Yes I had broken my back some thirty and odd years earlier, but I'd certainly never told anyone in this Company. Letting Personnel know at a job interview that you've had a broken back in the past can do strange things for your future employment prospects.
Absentmindedly she said, "I need to give you a longer session of treatment for that," then more assertively, "what are you doing this evening?"
o - O - o
