CAN I BORROW YOUR PANTS?

I've been working from home for years and weirdo clients have been thankfully few and far between. I teach one-on-one, so I use very sensitive antenna before I shut myself in with a client. I've weeded out a couple of what I call 'shivery' males before they've made it through the door and one lady who, bless her, just bored me so much I decided I'd rather not have the money.
But recently I had one who was so outrageous that she made me stand stock still for a good thirty seconds with my mouth hanging open and no sound coming out. Twice.
I have engineered my working life so I am in the canny position of being able to see my clients arrive. This means no time is wasted - which as many of you will know, I can't bear. It's the reason I'm always late everywhere; if there are two minutes spare before I'm due to pick up the children I genuinely think I can just nip to the post office and get my mailing done on the way. Rather be late, than be one of those mothers who arrives at school twenty minutes early and sits in the car doing nothing to make sure they can park as close to the school gate as possible. How do they have time for this? And if they have so much time on their hands, why the bloody hell don't they walk all the way there and leave the car spaces for people like me who have no time at all? I suspect the irony is lost on them. Mind you, they are probably just as baffled by me as, day after day, I arrive as they leave, flying in to the school yard looking like I've just got up, hair on upside down, car parked four miles away because I'm last and all the good places are taken.
So the best thing for me about working from home is that no time is wasted. I am washing up until the split second a client pulls into my drive. And if they are late, I no longer sit checking for split ends, swinging my legs in a studio somewhere with nothing to do but wait. I clean the bathroom, load the washing machine, do a bit of light weeding - any number of little chores can fill the time. I used to get mad as hell when I drove for half an hour, sat in a studio for twenty minutes, had a 'no-show' from someone and then drove half an hour home again, gnashing teeth, time completely wasted, to take it out on the children.
The other day, I was clearing the breakfast table when this particular client - I'll call her Lottie - arrived. She got out of her car and I went to my studio door to greet her - but there was no sign of her. I went back to peer through the kitchen window and sure enough, her now empty car was parked in the driveway. As I watched, puzzled, she emerged from behind my garage, clutching something and headed for the studio door.
I let her in and our session began. 'Actually,' she said apologetically, moments later. 'Would you mind if I just used your loo?' A few minutes later she was back. A little longer than the average tinkle perhaps but nothing remarkable. About half an hour later, she suddenly blurted out, 'I'm sorry. Would you mind if I had a shower?' My jaw dropped for the first time. She explained that she had a urine infection (Sorry. If you're of weak disposition, look away now. It gets worse). She was late arriving at my house because she'd been 'trying to go', but the pain was stopping her. When she arrived she was so desperate, she'd nipped behind the garage but by this time she had 'let some go' (her words) so had taken off her wet knickers and washed them in my sink. Where I clean my teeth. And hung them up in my bathroom to dry.
'But I still feel a bit....you know....between the legs,' she said. 'I think I'd feel much better if I had a shower.' I was so gobsmacked I nodded weakly and off she went.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not without sympathy for the poor woman. I just think that if the problem is that bad, you cancel, no? Off she went for her shower and I pottered about. Polished a mirror. Dusted a couple of shelves. Wondered if she would want to carry on after her shower or if she'd need......surely not....oh dear God surely not.....
Lottie stuck her head around the shower room door. This is a client. I barely know her.
'I don't suppose I could borrow a pair of your knickers, could I? Only I'm going on somewhere straight after this and I wouldn't really feel comfortable going without underwear.'
My mouth fell open for the second time. Not metaphorically. I stared at her, with not the faintest idea of what to say. I actually can't remember what I did say. I think I babbled some load of old rubbish and then walked away.
I waited in the studio until she came out, smelling of my shower gel, hair washed, smiled like a cabbage patch doll at whatever she said next and waved her off with the same fixed grin.
And then I texted her saying I thought it might be best if she found another teacher.