slut - Alexia Putellas

3.

The following Tuesday, Erin arrived promptly for their second session, finding herself outside of the athlete's apartment door just before 9 am.

The moment the Ballon D'Or winner swung open the front door, relying on just one crutch, the blonde immediately caught the flicker of surprise that briefly flashed across her face.

"You're on time," Alexia remarked, her tone more subdued than before, as if reluctantly acknowledging Erin's punctuality.

She barely allowed her therapist to step inside, before shutting the door firmly behind her.

"I told you I would be," Erin replied calmly, her duffle bag slung over her shoulder as she kicked off her shoes, heading straight towards the therapy room inside Alexia's spacious apartment.

She didn't wait for the midfielder to catch up, her focus already on setting up for their session, for there was no way she would disappoint her client.

She would do anything to achieve her goal - Alexia's recommendation.

"I brought some things," the therapist continued, her voice trailing back to where the brunette still stood in the hallway, before she could hear the quiet shuffle of Alexia's steps on the wooden floor as the athlete followed her into the room.

"And what would that be?"

Inside the therapy room, Erin laid out a selection of tools and materials on the nearby desk - massage oils, therapeutic creams, and a variety of exercise bands and balls neatly arranged.

"I thought we could work on your scar tissue today," the blonde explained excitedly, her gaze briefly meeting Alexia's before focusing on the items in front of her. "These oils can help with massage techniques to soften the scar and improve flexibility. And these exercises," she gestured towards the specific bands and balls she brought, "will target specific muscle groups to enhance your mobility."

Momentarily looking up, she noticed Alexia's stoic expression as the midfielder observed Erin's preparations.

Sensing the athlete's doubts, the blonde continued, "The first few weeks of therapy are the most important, you know. I'm willing to have you back on the pitch before next season is over."

Shifting her gaze back to Erin, Alexia finally responded, "Fine. Let's get started."

The therapist watched silently as the Ballon D'Or winner approached the therapy bench, her movements stiff and strained, her usual grace marred by the evident discomfort of her knee injury.

With each step, Alexia's face tightened in a grimace, her jaw clenched against the pain.

"Let me help you," Erin offered gently, her voice soft with concern as she extended her hand, offering support as Alexia balanced herself.

"I can manage," the athlete replied curtly, brushing off Erin's offer with a steely resolve.

Undeterred, the therapist continued unpacking her tools, but sensed Alexia's eyes scrutinizing her every move, assessing her competence with a skepticism that bordered on defiance.

Noticing the captain's struggle to settle onto the therapy bench comfortably, her movements strained and awkward, Erin tried again.

"Let me assist you," she urged, her voice softer but tinged with concern as she tried reaching for the crutch Alexia still held onto, but the Ballon D'Or winner shot her a sharp glance, hazel eyes narrowed with irritation.

"I said I can manage," she snapped, the words clipped and defensive.

Nodding reluctantly, Erin stepped back to give the athlete some space, observing silently as she struggled to place the crutches aside, each motion a battle against stiffness and soreness, the effort etched on Alexia's face.

The simple act seemed to take an eternity, each movement calculated and hesitant.

And of course, the therapist noted the frustration in Alexia's expression, the creases of strain around her eyes deepening with each awkward maneuver.

"It's okay," the blonde murmured with a soft smile, her voice a soothing counterpoint to the tension in the room. "Take your time."

Alexia's response was a terse nod, her focus fixed on the task at hand. She glanced briefly at the blonde standing by the desk, her gaze a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Despite her gruff demeanor, Erin sensed the underlying discomfort and frustration that the athlete struggled to conceal.

Once settled, Alexia finally met Erin's gaze with a guarded expression. "Let's get on with it," she stated briskly, her tone challenging.

"Alright," Erin nodded, and with a steady hand and gentle guidance, she began the therapy session, guiding Alexia through exercises designed to alleviate stiffness and promote healing.

Throughout the mostly silent session, the therapist maintained a calm and professional demeanor, offering encouragement and adjustments as needed.

She observed Alexia's movements with keen attention, noting the gradual easing of tension in her muscles as therapy progressed.

By the end of the session, the athlete's demeanor had softened marginally.

She sat upright on the therapy bench, her expression less guarded than when they had started, while the blonde carefully started packing her therapy tools.

"I've had some of these since I first started," Erin mentioned casually, trying to lighten the charged and somewhat awkward atmosphere. "My brother got me this set for my graduation."

Alexia didn't seem particularly interested, offering nothing but a nod in response.

With a sigh, the blonde finished packing and cleaning up, while as Alexia used her crutch to shuffle towards the door, her slow steps and the dull sound of the crutches echoing through the hallway.

Following a few minutes later, the therapist glanced through the slightly ajar door leading to Alexia's bedroom as she navigated the hallway - the scene inside starkly different from the organized therapy room.

The bed was unmade, clothes strewn across the floor, and the air seemed stale and stuffy.

"Nothing to see in there," Alexia muttered, already standing by the front door, undoing the bolt and unlocking it with a click.

"Sorry," Erin murmured softly, feeling a pang of empathy for the athlete's private space, but still, she couldn't help but notice the neglected dishes in the kitchen as she headed towards the exit.

"So, I guess I'll see you next Tuesday, same time?" the blonde wondered tentatively as she walked past Alexia, and out the door, before turning back to face the FC Barcelona captain.

The Ballon D'Or winner nodded without a word, her expression unreadable.

And before Erin knew it, the door is closed shut with a decisive click, the sound of the lock and bolt sliding into place echoing in the hallway - a final punctuation to their session.

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