Phoebe considered her massage therapy practice to be equivalent to a doctor’s medical practice. It was an honorable, legitimate, even noble, profession. She also strictly adhered to the personal privacy customs in the medical profession, and even exceeded them. She not only refused to divulge her clients’ names, but declined to reveal the treatments she administered.

Phoebe’s practice and her sources of income were therefore shrouded in mystery. The opaque boundary between her professional and private lives crumbled to dust in a single moment. Monica and Ross gave their parents the anniversary gift of a couple’s massage from Phoebe. Monica said, “Phoebe, we really want to make this a special gift, so we will pay more than your normal rate for a really deluxe massage.”

Phoebe replied, “Oh, I’ll make it special, all right.”

The massage was to take place in Ross and Rachel’s apartment, where Jack and Judy Geller were guests. Jack and Ross moved the coffee table, leaving a perfect area for the massage table in the living room. Ross and Rachel went out to run errands, and give his parents some privacy. Jack went first. He wore a towel around his waist. Judy sat on the couch, in a bathrobe, watching and waiting her turn. Phoebe said, “Please lay down on the table, Mr. Geller, face up.”

He asked, “You want me face up?”

Phoebe nodded, and asked, “Are there any spots that need special attention today, sir?”

“Just my lower back.”

Phoebe put her hands on her hips and frowned, “Hmm, I’m not really a back person, but I’ll take a look.”

Jack and Judy gave one another surprised looks. A massage therapist who doesn’t do backs? They had known Phoebe for years, and they also wanted to be polite to Monica and Ross’s friend, so they said nothing. Phoebe covered Jack from the waist down with a sheet, and pulled out the towel he had around his waist.

Ready to start the massage, Phoebe removed her white lab coat to reveal a skimpy halter top with a neckline that pushed her boobs up and out, proudly on display. Jack’s eyes bulged at the cleavage showing on this gorgeous young blonde. Judy was immersed in a magazine, and Phoebe had her back turned to Judy, anyway.

Jack’s brain and cock conspired to embarrass him. His cock throbbed, filled and described an arc under the sheet. It rose to vertical, making a dramatic tent, and flopped over so it was resting on his belly, pointing up, toward his head. Phoebe filled her hands with oil, and leaned over Jack’s waist to rub his lower abdomen, just above his groin.

As Phoebe worked downward, her hands came into sporadic contact with Jack’s penis. He was alarmed. His alarm rose to panic when Phoebe, without pause or opinion, pulled the sheet down to Jack’s thighs, and grabbed his cock. She started jacking him off with practiced precision.

Jack knew it was time to alert his wife that he was being, well, hijacked. He stammered, “Oh-oh-oh, God! Judy! Judy! Help me, here.”

Judy didn’t look up from her magazine, “She’s a professional, Jack, let her do her thing. Getting a massage is an intimate thing, Jack, but it’s not sexual, is it, Phoebe?”

“No, Mrs. Geller, it’s perfectly clinical. No emotions. We just focus on what needs attention.” Throughout, Phoebe gave Jack a helluva handjob.

After a moment, Jack pleaded, “I’m going to come! I’m going to come!”

Hearing this, Phoebe quicky bent over, and the handjob became a blowjob. She sucked his cock while pumping the root with her hand.”

Judy looked up from her magazine to see Phoebe, from behind, bending over her husband’s groin. Curious, Judy stood, and exclaimed, “What the hell!? Jack! Phoebe! What are you doing?”

Jack could only respond with helpless moans and grunts. Phoebe could not respond at all because her mouth was full. Jack didn’t dare interrupt the blowjob because of the proximity of Phoebe’s teeth to his cock. In any event, the good feeling was so overwhelming that he didn’t want to stop it. Judy screeched, “Stop this, Phoebe! Stop!” By this time, Jack was ejaculating, and Phoebe busily sucked down his cum.

Judy grabbed her hair with both hands, as if she were going mad, “Why are you blowing my husband, Phoebe?” Jack pulled the sheet up, covering himself to his waist.

After standing upright, and taking an enormous gulp, Phoebe was dismissive, “Oh, Mrs. Geller, don’t worry, I do this for a living!”

Jack was eager to get on board with his wife, since Judy had just seen another woman give him a blowjob, “Phoebe, you can not touch me like that! I’m a married man!”

Phoebe said, slowly and calmly, “Mr. and Mrs. Geller, I promised Monica and Ross that I would give you a ‘deluxe’ massage. I do this for all my clients, who are generally elite businessmen here in Manhattan. I assure you that this was purely therapeutic; the draining of his prostate.”

Judy looked at Jack, speechless. He said, calmly, “Phoebe, why are you draining my prostate?”

Phoebe explained, “To prevent cancer, and other maladies. If a man doesn’t ejaculate frequently, his chance of prostate cancer goes up.”

Jack said, “Judy, that is true, according to the studies, but we didn’t give you permission to perform a sex act, Phoebe.”

Phoebe was patient with her inexperienced clients, “It wasn’t a sex act, sir, it was therapy, preventive medicine.”

Phoebe was so sincere and matter-of-fact that Judy and Jack were both rendered speechless. They had no retort for Phoebe’s reasoning. Jack got off the table, wrapped in the sheet, and fled to the guest room. Judy shuffled to the kitchen for coffee, stunned.

Just then, Ross and Rachel came in through the front door, carrying groceries. Ross said, brightly, “How’s it going?” In answer, Phoebe threw her hands up in exasperation, and Judy waved Ross off, unwilling to speak.

Rachel asked, “Is everything okay?”

Phoebe explained, “I was giving your father a typical massage, when your parents suddenly went bananas.” Jack came out of the guest room, dressed, and looking down at the floor.

Judy said, “Ross, Rachel, Phoebe’s definition of a ‘typical massage’ includes a happy ending, or, in this case, a happy beginning. She gave Jack a surprise blowjob.”

Jack looked to Ross and Rachel, and shrugged. They hurriedly put down the groceries. Rachel asked, “Phoebe, is that true?”

Phoebe corrected, “In the profession, it’s not called a blowjob, it’s called ‘draining the prostate,’ and it’s a typical part of any massage.”

Ross and Rachel were confused. Ross asked, “Jack, are you having prostate trouble?”

Jack answered, “No, I don’t have prostate trouble. Although it is, in fact, best to empty the prostate regularly, that’s Judy’s job, and she does a very good job of it.”

Judy nodded in agreement. She asked, “Phoebe, do you know that doing what you did was illegal?”

Phoebe condescended, “Uh, Mrs. Geller, I happen to have my massage license with me.”

Ross and Rachel sat down, and invited the others to do so, “Everyone, let’s all take a seat and talk this through calmly.” Ross turned to Phoebe, “Phoebe, do you ‘drain the prostate’ of all your massage clients?”

“Yes, of course. They say it’s the best part of the massage. Of course, it’s not all the time oral. Sometimes it’s intercourse, but the theory I still the same.”

Rachel asked, patiently, “How much do your clients pay you for draining their prostates, Phoebe?”

Phoebe said, innocently, “Oh, between five hundred and a thousand, usually.”

Ross shook his head, incredulous, “Phoebe, we need to talk about this.”

All six friends, plus Jack and Judy Geller, gathered that evening for an intervention for Phoebe. They had great difficulty getting through to her. For every argument they made, she had a simplistic rejoinder. Phoebe ultimately said, “Anyway, guys, I lost my main massage client. I have been earning my living acting.”

Joey sat upright, “Acting? What sort of acting?”

Phoebe explained, “They’re training videos to help prevent child abuse, human trafficking, sex crimes, and so on.”

Joey said, “Well, you can earn good money doing corporate training videos. How long have you been doing this?”

Phoebe said, “We, that’s my sister and I, have only done one, so far, but we’re already booked for two more. It will more than replace my massage income.”

Given the difficulty the group had had in intervening with her massage business, Phoebe’s friends were happy to hear that she was moving to a new, and legitimate, profession.

A few weeks after the inconclusive intervention for Phoebe, Joey was searching for porn on the TV. The search term, “Asian gangbang” yielded a full-length movie entitled, “Asian businessmen take identical twin blondes.” That title captured so many elements of what Joey was looking for that he watched it immediately. The opening scene showed Phoebe and her identical twin being escorted into a room containing ten Asian businessmen. Joey’s jaw dropped open.

Joey watched the entire ninety-minute movie, stroking his cock the entire time. He came at minute 18. When the film was over, he called Chandler, and said, “Buddy, I think we should do another intervention for Phoebe. But, first, there’s something you need to see.”

Soon, all five of Phoebe’s friends had seen the video, or, in the case of Rachel and Monica, seen enough of it. They met as a group, in Monica and Chandler’s apartment, to discuss what to do. Ross began, “I think that Phoebe is in danger. The crowd that she is dealing with is dangerous. She is basically in some combination of porn and prostitution, probably verging on human trafficking. She needs help.”

Chandler said, “Phoebe never really accepted that having sex with her massage clients was effectively prostitution.”

Rachel said, “Phoebe is an innocent girl,” drawing surprised looks all around, “and, by innocent, I mean she doesn’t see the dark side of what she’s doing, and the dark side of the people she’s doing it with.”

Monica said, “My first wondered was to blow the whistle on this whole operation, and call the police. Unfortunately, I don’t think Phoebe would thrive in prison.”

The five friends were silent for a long moment. No one had a ready solution to offer. Before anyone spoke again, Phoebe came into the apartment, and froze when she saw the looks on her friends’ faces. Frustrated, Phoebe slumped dramatically, her shoulders drooping, “Now what!?”

An hour later, all six friends were frustrated. Phoebe, in her naivete, considered her massage therapy to be exactly that, and her acting to be precisely that. She said “You guys are being very prudish. I’m surprised, considering how you all are living your lives.”

Chandler paced the room, running his fingers through his hair neurotically. He said, “Phoebe, on your next acting job, why not have one or two of us guys accompany you and Ursula? We could just be there for moral support.”

Phoebe said, “Okay. Finally, a constructive suggestion! You’ll see that this is movie-making, no different than any acting job.”