Continues from chapter 40
Once again Dear Reader, I must apologise. I've spent countless weeks living in the most unimaginable bliss and have yet again neglected to record them.
My previous life has all but entirely evaporated from my mind. Never did I conceive it remotely possible that I would inhabit such a glorious world as this.
The timelines are all mixed up in my airy-fairy head but I remember speaking of the decision I made in the white room to restrict myself to one meal a day. And it was not long thereafter that I awoke back in my own cell on Sublevel 2 without an inkling of how I had come to be there.
I believe as well that I mentioned how my life slowly returned to "normal" as I re-adapted to my wonderful world within the ICRI...and how several weeks later my swimming lessons came to a wonderful conclusion.
At some point in between(I think) our beloved Matron fixed me up with the usual accompaniments for another wonderful night in my perfect bed of heavy rubber immobility, settling down at my side to continue with her story...
The ballerina's mind twirled. In the two days leading up to her dinner date all manner of ideas came and went in the chaotic new world she inhabited. Oddly, the one thing she didn't consider was the most important of them all: she never paused to doubt the veracity of the conclusion that she had jumped to. Instead, she proceeded as if it were an established fact that her lover had discovered her clandestine monetary betrayal.
She considered denying it outright but 'knew' that there must be some piece of damning evidence pointing directly to her that she had failed to cover up during her crime. She had thought her plan perfect: that if the missing funds were ever detected they couldn't be linked unquestionably to her but she must have overlooked something. Too late for denials she concluded, what was needed was a plea bargain. She knew that if the authorities were informed she could face considerable time in jail and that thought was inadmissible. She would offer her lover anything she wanted, she would beg forgiveness, she would return the funds immediately. She would...'yes!' that was it: she would pretend to be interested in the perverted rubber bondage games the woman was so enamoured of...make up a story about how her prudish upbringing had prevented her from admitting her mutual love for all things kinky. The thought that she might have to actually go through with it repulsed her but the alternative of the criminal justice system seemed far worse.
When she entered the restaurant and saw her lover seated at their favourite table she steeled herself for what was to be the most important performance of her career. As a soloist she excelled, but this was to be a pas-de-deux and she must read and follow the other's movements in order for the act to succeed and the flowers to rain down. She smiled sweetly and bowed slightly before sitting. Commanding all her powers, all her training and all her will, she managed to pull it off. The stage and sets, the costumes, props and lighting all came together to create the magical illusion. A little over an hour later when they embraced and parted stage right and stage left, she could almost hear the shouts of "Bravo!" echoing through the narrow street.
A flake of snow landed on my left eyelash and I caught a glimpse of its sixfold brilliance as the light of the near-full gibbous moon passed through it.
I swayed peacefully in the rubber hammock atop the ICRI building, although there was no discernable wind to rock me. Soon my vision was filled with countless more tiny stars of ice as they submerged me in my warm womb of rubber bondage, fulfilling a need I hadn't known existed.
The lights of the city sparkled brilliantly in my vision, though my gaze was directed towards the Heavens. I watched the snow as if from on far, as it diligently buried me deeper and deeper beneath its all encompassing embrace.
Somehow my vision was unimpeded as the warm white blanket rose and rose, burying me entirely beneath a full foot of snow. I could see the stars and Moon, the city, and myself rocking gently in my fanciful hammock of rubber solitude over the Institute that I so loved.
As my heart reached up to Zero to thank her for another wonderful experience I realised with a start that she was no longer above me as she always was. Something was amiss and I felt a desperate need to be beneath her again. I attempted to move but was completely paralyzed, unable to even squirm in my bondage. A panic ensued but almost immediately receded when the realisation that I was asleep usurped it.
"My Goodness 123, why are you breathing so rapidly? Are you all right?" The voice of our Warden brought me back from my dream turned nightmare. I grunted once in the affirmative and after a hesitant pause she continued with her story.
Our heroine was nonplussed at first. What had been meant to be their last supper quickly pirouetted into something totally different. Her lover had almost seemed like a different person. Her act took the entrepreneur by surprise but was so well performed that she soon felt herself enchanted anew, as if reliving the first night she had seen her on stage months before. Any doubts she had had quickly faded as the dancer spun her magical tale of fantasy. On the way back to her nearby home she flitted over the sidewalks as though gravity had taken a short reprieve, and all of her dreams were coming true.
Back in her condo she headed straight to the 'special room' and began preparing to spend a rare night inside its aromatic confines. More often than not she would indulge herself for just a couple hours or so at a time but tonight felt special. When she woke up in the morning there wouldn't be the unpleasant feeling of loneliness and alienation she ofttimes felt in her rubber fantasy world, but the promise of finally having someone to share it with.
She laid out her ensemble, choosing a thin one piece catsuit in smokey grey with attached feet and set a pair of matching elbow length gloves. Next, a two piece medium weight Hydroglove drysuit with its waistband was heaped on the black rubber sheet beside the matching pillow. Finally she went to a box in the corner and produced the piece de resistance, a newcomer to her collection which she had only shortly examined after it had arrived and had never tried out before. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be able on this occasion to make full use of its intended glory but at least she would get a feel for it and could now dream of a possible future where its complete erotic embrace might be fully apprecitated. Our heroine laid it lovingly on the foot of the bed and left the room.
Returning to her own tiny apartment the dancer was exhausted but totally satisfied. Tonight's performance had gone off without a hitch and she basked in the afterglow of the imaginary applause. She had not mentioned her crime however, and for the first time in several days wondered if perhaps it might be as yet undetected. The more she thought about it the more it seemed plausible. Her lover wasn't the type to put her own needs ahead of those of others: if money was disappearing it would affect people in her employ and her patronage of charities. Slowly she came to realise that her own fear(and guilt) had caused her to jump to a conclusion that now seemed unlikely. Whatever the 'important matter' that needed discussing was, it had never come up over dinner and now the ballerina's mood dimmed as the feeling of having escaped a great danger was replaced by a vague unease about an unknowable future.