Chapter 21
As I feared, Seal’s plight impacted my dreams. I woke up with a gasp – I had been trapped in some kind of sensationless black void, unable to hear, see or feel anything. She needed help, but how?
My arrival at the Institute was pretty uneventful, until I opened my locker and found another crude note from Spyder – she wanted me to go meet her in the basement. I frowned – what was it this time? But I couldn’t ignore it either – yes, Spyder was an oddball and perhaps her grasp on reality wasn’t the best, but she knew things, things that others were not willing to tell me. I couldn’t ignore her note. But I would have to get dressed first.
The dressing process went smoothly, leaving me clad head to toe in layers of latex, and rather aroused. What a way to start work! As usual, I was clad in a pale greyish latex dress, along with the chiller, the little cape, the gloves, the hood, the boots… There was something new though – a belt with a carrying case clipped to the side, which meant I could carry my phone and a few small things along – very convenient.
As I headed to the basement, I thought about my first encounter with Spyder, how she had thought I was an intruder and had bound me tightly head to toe in bondage tape, a terrifying experience at the time. But now I wondered… how would it be to be bound by her with a different context? She must have gotten a lot of practice to be so fast, and I was pretty sure there weren’t a lot of intruders. Did Spyder practice on the sisters? Did they do it… for fun? I paused, closed my eyes and tried to push the idea out of my head – it wouldn’t be appropriate… would it?
Soon enough I was in the basement of the south wing – poorly lit, cluttered, dusty and with that strange smell. “Spyder?” I called out. I stood still and waited.
“Sister Judith Inspector Gator…” her voice called out from the darkness, the sign-song delivery peculiar given how rough her voice was. And … there she was, stepping out from the shadows, her left hand holding a length of tape, attached to one of the many rolls and mechanical arms emerging from her back in a confused tangle.
“I… I found the pipes. I found Boilerman” I said.
“I know, I know,” replied Spyder in her gravely voice. As usual, she was covered in black plastic wrap, feet bare and grimy. “Bad man. Accomplice. Responsible!” spitting on the ground as she said so. I wondered if they ever had come into conflict.
“I don’t think I’m in a good position to judge if Boilerman working at the Institute, even in the periphery, is a good idea or not… But I’m glad you told me about it. So uh, why did you want to meet today, Spyder? More secrets?” I hope she wouldn’t be sending me on another quest.
“Yes yes! Follow me, follow!” She headed deeper into the gloom and I followed cautiously. I couldn’t see very well, and I didn’t want to snag my latex dress on something and rip it. I knew Maker could handle repairs but… why give her more work? I pulled out my cellphone and gave myself a bit of light.
“Here! The worm cocoon!” hissed Spyder. I grew closer, looking at the long flat object she was pointing at. The musty smell was overpowering, clearly this thing was the source of the stench in the basement.
I knelt down … what was this? It seemed like it had been, at one point, some kind of latex sleep sack with a built-in hood and multiple layers, but it had been ripped open. What had happened? I saw a jagged piece of stone, from a defect in the wall… it almost seemed like someone in the sack had used this to tear the bag and escape. Escape? Had a patient ever escaped?
Trying not to gag, I began examining the bag, looking for further clues. The latex clearly had been here for years and showed signs of serious deterioration. This bondage bag seemed to be designed for long term use. There was an inner layer, and a much thicker outer one that seemed quite rugged. The built-in hood would ensure whoever was in there wouldn’t be able to see or hear much beyond whatever hypno-conditioning the built-in audio system would deliver. However, there was a round hole where the mouth would have been, so not all senses were blocked. Peculiar. There were also several tubes and some kind of… latex bladders? Maybe it was some kind of system to feed the wearer and capture waste? It seemed like the bladers had leaked since this had been abandoned here… it would explain those dark stains, as well as the horrible stench.
I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. Based on the exterior of the bag, this was meant not for being bound in one place but rather offer a strange combination of sensory deprivation and limited mobility. Most patients were stuck, frozen in cubes, for years, but not all of them. For whatever reason, this patient had been condemned to crawl around, blind and mostly deaf, with their only interaction with the outer world limited to probing with their tongue? Like some kind of… worm. I gagged again, looking at the dirty floors around me, trying not to imagine the taste, the dusty feel… This seemed rather twisted, even for the Baron. Not as severe as what Seal had endured, but in some ways just as vicious.
I shook my head – I would have to think about this later. I had to focus on what was before me now – were there other clues? There were also brownish stains on the jagged stone – whoever had done this had probably injured themselves in the process. But what would have been the point – they still would have been stuck in the basement, alone, naked, bleeding… “Could there be a blood trail?” I asked aloud.
“Yes!” said Spyder! “The blood, follow the blood!” There was a small side door, almost invisible in the gloom, but with my phone’s light I could see what seemed like an old blood trail leading to it. The door led to what must have been a root cellar – the musty smell became more earthy here. And what was this in the back… a faint light? A… tunnel?
“Spyder, what is this?” I asked.
“The secret way!” replied Spyder. “I can get in and out when I want.”
I looked in – there was no way I was going to go in there, but if someone crawled in there and didn’t mind getting dirty, it seemed passable for someone of not too big a stature… If someone had managed to reach outside, even naked and injured… they had a chance of escaping. Had they? What had happened to them? Why had they been in that cocoon, that worm-suit? Had they been allowed to wander around, unlike the other patients, and had found a way out? If they had escaped, they clearly hadn’t reported this to the authorities. If they hadn’t managed to get away… had they been put in a cube later, or killed?
I shuddered. This was more evidence of the Baron’s cruelty. Whoever this patient had been, being stuck in a latex cocoon like that, sandwiched between sacks of nutrition fluid, bladders of waste and the sack itself, crawling around like some kind of worm… why was she treated like that? Who was she? I hadn’t seen anything in the patient records hinting at this. Patients… I suddenly had an inspiration, knelt by the odd worm-bag again, shifting it around – thank God I was wearing latex gloves – looking for … aha! There it was. A faint mark on the latex around the collar area – a number. 20. This was patient 20! The one with the missing file! Stranger and stranger! So she had escaped… or had been killed, and the documents destroyed as part of a cover up of some sort. “I hope you’re out there, patient 20, living life and enjoying your hard-earned freedom” I told myself. I wasn’t really religious, but if there was a God, and if said God was just, patient 20 had to have escaped.
I rubbed my temples. “Is this… this is what you wanted to show me Spyder?” I asked.
“Yes Yes! You are the Inspector; you have to find all the secrets!” she replied enthusiastically. “Find the missing patient! Find the secret song!” she ended in a whisper, as she backed away into the darkness…
“Spyder?” she was gone. I shivered… Song? The missing patient was probably patient 20, but song? More mysteries. But in a strange way, I was glad. Far better I knew right? And while Spyder seemed to be unable to function without a layer of cloaks and daggers… we seemed to have some kind of bizarre working relationship, and that was a win, right? I was learning things, even though I really wasn’t sure what it meant yet. Patience!
I headed out of the basement alone, wondering how, or even if, I should bring this up to the others. Did they even know? If it was a big secret, why was the bag left there?
As I emerged on the main floor, my thoughts were interrupted by the realisation of an unusual level of activity. I saw Gabby pass by, carrying a box, and asked her what was happening.
“Oh, we are preparing a little welcome for Patty!” replied Gabby enthusiastically.
That was today? “This move is happening so fast” I commented, but then I remembered what she had said about being near eviction, she had to act fast if she wanted to keep her belongings. She really did need the help, but did she understand what she was getting into?
I decided to help, although frankly the sisters had things well in hand. It was a welcomed distraction from today’s revelations. I found myself clinging to the notion that patient 20 had escaped - some kind of a good story. But that wasn’t really fair, was it? Patty had paid a dear price for her investigation, but she had succeeded. And looking around at the patients happily preparing a welcome… that was good too, wasn’t it?
By the time Patty showed up, perhaps 30 minutes later, I had to admit the sisters’ enthusiasm had rubbed off. I had met Patty once and she had made an impression on me; I was glad I was going to be able to see her again. And her perspective – as both patient 127 but an outsider – could be valuable to me.
“Shhhh! She’s in the parking lot!” hissed Red, and a hushed silence fell. I remembered how the patients had made themselves scarce on my first visit. We could hear the clatter of Renee’s heels, the door opening, her warm greetings. I smiled as Patty took a moment to reply – Renee’s looks and presence were quite something to behold the first time, not to mention her impeccable latex fashion sense. Patty came in, Renee explained the need for the latex lab coat, Patty paused again and agreed, and Renee took her north towards the lobby, where almost every mobile sister waited.
I had a brief moment to register what they were wearing. Patty had the casual biker look with jeans, Dr Martens, an old rock t-shirt under the latex lab coat – ha it was the same one I used to wear! – and Renee was in a black latex pencil skirt and a sleeveless white latex shirt. But a great “SURPRISE” erupted, and the sisters began cheering and applauding – many couldn’t speak, a few didn’t have use of their hands, but they all found a way to make noise. There were also sisters lining up on the balcony, and I saw Amber on a wheelchair there, slowly waiving.
Patty staggered at the wall of sound. “What’s this? What’s going on?” Renee explained that the patients wanted to welcome her, and to show their gratitude. Patty mumbled a few words of thanks, but became a bit emotional, and the sisters gave her a bit of space.
Once she had regained her composure, the event became a sort of early lunch – a sheet cake had been prepared, along with trays of sandwiches. As usual, bowls of the nutrition fluid were there for the sisters who didn’t eat solid food. I eyed the cake, and for a moment regretted that the design of my hood, with a straw opening as a mouth, wouldn’t allow me to enjoy it. But then I had this strange notion all of a sudden that this was ok, desirable even. Over half the sisters couldn’t eat solid food, why should I? Why did I deserve it? I loved a good meal as much as anyone else, but in some ways, food was… gross, wasn’t it?
These odd musings were shattered by the sight of Red sticking her tongue out at me, waving a plate of cake around. She had seen me eyeing the cake wistfully, and taking advantage of Patty being distracted speaking to Dr Reed and Renee, had unzipped her hood and taunted me. I burst out laughing, poured myself a small glass of fluid and approached the group to greet Patty.
Patty saw me coming, and from the friendly but curious look she was giving me I realized she didn’t know who I was… had she forgotten me – no silly, it was the hood. “Patty, nice seeing you again! I must admit I hadn’t realized how quickly you would be moving here. Welcome to the Institute!” I added, and after an awkward pause extended my hand, “Oh I’m Sister Ju – uh Inspector Johnson” I garbled out. Shit
“Oh, hello… oh Judith! Look at you! I didn’t recognize you in uh, this! A fashion icon, and now, uh, this – blending in are you!” But why all in white – and you,” turning towards Red “why in Red – is it because of your name?”
“Oh, I’m named after the color, not the other way around. And Judith is in this “pale bluish grey” as Maker calls it because – oh Maker is our latex crafter. She makes outfits based in part on the personality of the wearer, there often is a lot of symbolism. I’m Red because of my spicy personality” she concluded with a flourish, slapping her curvy behind.” As Patty chuckled, Red pointed at me and said: “and why don’t you explain your outfit, Sister Judith?” As Patty turned to me to hear my answer, Red thumbed her nose at me – I would have to get even later!
“Oh ha-ha, uh – so yes, each patient had their own outfit, and there is a lot of meaning in the various details. For my first outfit, Maker made one inspired a bit by the sisters who used to live here many decades ago. The color of the latex was chosen to match the stone of the building. The dress is tight a bit but not too much, the cape hides my shoulders, creating the illusion of TE – of total enclosure” I added, as Patty frowned in incomprehension.
I continued. “The hood is like this because I am supposed to look and listen more and speak less. Although a consequence of this is that I can’t have cake!” I added with a mock pout, making the others laugh. “Before that I wore the lab coat, but it’s not very comfortable and it doesn’t look very good.”
“Wow, so you wear this every time you’re here?” she asked, “how often is that?”
“Most working days? I’m not here every day, but sometimes it’s an entire day here. I’ve gotten used to it a lot easier than I expected”. I then blushed deeply as I remembered that Patty already had figured out that I had a thing for latex. Thank God for the hood! “Because it’s custom fitted it can be quite comfortable – Maker really knows what she’s doing.”
“Is she here?” replied Patty.
“Oh no – she’s very busy this week because Halloween is coming, and she’s making last minute costumes” replied Red, “I don’t see any of her assistants here either”.
Dr Reed added “Halloween is a pretty big deal at the institute. The patients love dressing up, it’s a fundamental part of how they express themselves, and for some it’s an occasion to reveal new personas.”
“I’m sure that Maker would make you a costume,” Renee chipped in.
“Oh, I couldn’t impose,” protested Patty, but after the rest of us objected all at once she reconsidered – “well, why the heck not? If I’m going to live here and make a documentary, I need to, ah, do as the Romans do. I think I have an idea, in fact.”
“Don’t tell us what it is!” replied Red, “a lot of the new costumes are secrets until revealed.”
After lunch was over, Patty joined most of the staff in a meeting. First we talked about Patty’s living arrangements – her room was small, but she would get free storage in the basement for her stuff. Renee said she would try to get a cargo van or other suitable vehicle by Friday. Patty asked about costs for food, parking etc., but Renee assured her that everything would be free – including the outfits. There was even wi-fi!
“Patients do not have to pay for anything,” explained Renee, “and there are no obligations. If it doesn’t work out, you are free to leave.” Patty thanked her, a small tremor in her voice. I knew she had been struggling, and I could tell she was proud – this was difficult for her.
We then discussed how best to ease Patty into things. I suggested River. “She did a great job showing me around, she’s very friendly and well, the best way to get to know the patients is talking with them.”
“River, that’s the one speaking with a keyboard, right? So, uh, what’s that about? Is there a reason she can’t talk? I saw a lot of sign language used, so I’m gathering that this isn’t unique.”
“It’s because of safety gags,” replied Dr Reed. I perked up – I didn’t know about these either. The Dr continued “As part of the Baron’s radical cube bondage regime, the patients were gagged but also had several tubes for breathing and feeding. This was risky, because if a patient became nauseous and vomited, the blockage could cause diversion to the lungs and risk causing asphyxia. And with the patients in the gel cube, unable to move or call for help, a potential death sentence. So the safety gag was developed to protect the lungs from such an event, along with an exit channel.”
She continued. “These gags do indeed work, but they put pressure on the vocal cords. This, and the lack of speaking for years at a time, lead to atrophy of the cords and as well as the several fine facial muscles involved in speech. Every patient who comes out of the cube is unable to speak. With help and therapy, some have managed. But the rest… either aren’t ready yet, have given up, or in some cases have decided they prefer being unable to speak.”
“River is quite proficient in the Institute’s sign language, but she wanted another way to communicate and trained herself to use that keyboard vocabulator. So you get the perspective of a patient who’s quite deep but can talk to you right away – I hope you can learn the sign language. We have great training techniques, but it’s not instantaneous. So River’s skill makes her quite the asset in this situation,” concluded Dr Reed.
“And as I need a bit less hand holding, she will have more time to spend with you,” I added.
This was agreed upon and I added, “From personal experience… it might not be perfectly smooth at first. There is a lot to learn, and you will discover things after three weeks that you might be a bit peeved you weren’t told at first – this happened to me this week! But it’s not possible to convey everything at once I suppose.”
“I’m sure we’ll do even better the second time around,” added Renee, “we do try to learn from our mistakes. I think it would be best to spend a few weeks getting the lay of the ground before you start working on your documentary.”
“Oh, so you agree to do it?” replied Patty hopefully.
“Well, there remains many things to discuss,” interjected Dr Reed. “There are very serious issues of privacy for one.”
We spent quite a bit of time discussing how this project could move forward – issues of informed consent, how much details to reveal. What did help was that it became clear that Patty shared our concerns. “I’m a patient too, after all,” she noted at one point.
There definitely was agreement that the film was going to be “needed” – there already had been an inquiry by GridCinema, if we didn’t tell our story, others would do it for us.
“Besides GridCinema, there are at least two pretty popular true-crime podcasts that are looking into the Institute story, at least one independent filmmaker, and god knows how many Youtubers,” said Patty. “It’s almost guaranteed that some of these will try to make a big deal about the rubber and fetish angle – not that there is anything wrong with that,” she added quickly. “I think I can put a positive spin on that, but it’s certain some will try to make a scandal. Can’t be helped. Trying to hide it will only make us look guilty, openness can be a form of defense.”
She continued. “But what really worries me are inquiries into the Baron, because that’s a very dangerous topic. Yes I want to see the bastard hang, but I don’t want to be suicided, if you get my drift” she added grimly. I shivered, thinking about what Boilerman had said – he wasn’t merely afraid that the Baron would kill him and his family if he talked, he was certain of it.
“We can’t pretend that there is no mystery, that would look very peculiar. But it should be a short segment, that basically said we didn’t know anything and we were focusing on healing, and that inquiries should be made to the police, not us. Make it clear, between the lines, that we aren’t interested in exposing the Baron, that we are no threat to him.”
Patty looked around the room, it was clear her warning was being taken seriously. “We are going to have to be very disciplined in our messaging for that. But that’s the great part about making a film – live interviews are risky, unpredictable. This way, we can tell our story – I thought I would make a story about what happened to me, but I’ve realized that it’s not just me, it’s all of us.”
There was again agreement in the room. We started talking supplies. Money was going to be an issue; the Institute’s budget had very little wiggle room. Sure GridCinema would have plenty of cash, but if we went that route, we risked losing control of the project, and that was just unacceptable.
“I’ve been thinking about trying to get a Federal Film board grant?” I suggested.
“I already tried; it was a bust,” said Patty dejectedly.
“Ah, but this time you have government insiders on your side. I’ll ask my boss to make some calls,” I answered with a smile.
“That could work,” answered Patty. “I just need a decent camera, some editing software, maybe basic lighting equipment. Since my living expenses have just dropped to almost zero, I don’t really need much money, if any…”
After a few more minutes the meeting ended, and I headed to my office. I wanted to do more research on Beth, patient 101. This time my efforts yielded real information – after an hour of digging I finally was able to trace her down. It seemed that the last two years she had been in some medical care facility… a private mental health clinic, about 50 km north of here.
I kept digging, and I didn’t like what I found. A for-profit business looking after long-term mental health patients? That didn’t sound good at all… I called Margaret and asked her what I could do. She informed me that although my position was meant to keep an eye on the Institute specifically, the definition of my authority relied on existing statutes and regulations which had been written for a broader set of activity. After I asked for a plain English explanation, I learned I had the authority to inspect any mental health facility I wanted, including private ones, and I didn’t even have to announce myself.
“Could I go tomorrow?” I asked – I didn’t want to wait long. My gut was telling me that Beth had left too soon, and God knows what kind of treatment she was getting in that facility. Margaret confirmed but recommended I warn Madeleine first. I thanked her, hung up, and fired a quick email to my boss – I owed her a warning, but yeah, this couldn’t wait too long.
The end of the afternoon was spent first with the sign language class, which I supposed Patty would be joining soon.
I normally would have headed home at this point to have supper, but today I had my first ballet boots class in the early evening, so I decided to go to the cafeteria instead, joining Patty, who waved at me from a table, and we were joined by River and Red.
“What’s the dinner today? Ah, shepherd’s pie” I said as I sat down, holding a glass of the nutrition fluid. I frowned slightly as I realized I had nothing but fluid today, no actual food.
“It’s actually not bad,” said Patty, gesturing at her food, “but what’s up with the fluid?”
I explained to her how it was a nutrition fluid, that the patients who were in a cube were fed that diet, and that only a portion of the patients had managed to switch back to solid foods.
“Besides,” I continued, “some of them prefer it that way – there are even a few who have narrow feeding tubes going directly to their stomach connected to a small pump on their back and don’t really “eat” at all.”
“So, if it’s a choice then, why do you take it?” replied Patty.
“Oh, it’s because this hood has a small mouth opening – symbolic reasons as I mentioned earlier.”
“Ok, but… couldn’t you ask for a different hood?” she retorted.
Huh. It never even had occurred to me…
“It’s ok, I got used to it,” I replied somewhat evasively.
“It doesn’t taste bad,” added River mechanically.
“It tastes like nothing – straw perhaps” said Red, before taking an extra-large bite of her shepherd’s pie. “De-licious! Don’t worry Patty, Renee and I order pizza from time to time, you can join us!”
After a short sharp laugh, she grew more somber “Although… seriously speaking, the food is not as good as it used to be, the budget is getting quite tight.”
“That’s a shame,” said Patty, “but decent cafeteria food still seems better than … may I try?” After taking a sip, she said “it’s not bad, but apart from a hint of a corn-flake-ish aftertaste… it’s quite bland, isn’t it? Why do patients choose it?”
River answered: “As Patty hinted at, it takes time and effort to re-learn and adapt to eat solid food. Chewing muscles have atrophied, lips and tongue are clumsy, the gut isn’t used to all that fiber and gristle… it’s not a given. And all that poop! To some it’s too much of a bother. Fluid is just simpler.”
“Also,” she continued “there is a … psychological aspect to it. Many of us don’t feel quite human – our fetish is so deep that the great majority of people just can’t understand. Many of us hide our faces, our voices, our shapes sometimes… not eating almost feels like an adjunct to that.”
“Besides, it also contains a number of medications we are taking – a number of hormones that we were given in the cube and became dependent on, a little bit of THC and CBD to help against inflammation, multivitamins, that sort of thing,” her vocabulator intoned.
“I see… I think this “not human” aspect is something we’re going to have some good conversations about, because if I’m honest, I don’t really understand it, but I want to. Besides, it creates a barrier… Yes, I know that’s part of the point, but if that gap could be bridged, in terms others would understand… it could be good for the documentary, wouldn’t it?”
Most of us nodded thoughtfully, although I couldn’t help feeling that Patty was looking at me sharply for some reason. Huh.
We talked a bit more about going ons at the Institute and Halloween came up again.
“I am very excited about this year, the party will be outside” said River – the tone was flat, but it was clear she was very keen on the topic. “I have a fun outfit.”
Red added “Eh, I’m just wearing what I wore last year. But yeah, if the forecast holds it’s going to be the warmest Halloween in a decade. No rain either! Might as well take advantage of it.”
Patty asked a few questions about the outfits until Red interjected “Are you trying to guess our outfits?”
Patty denied it, laughing “no no, I just want to know what to expect – and what would make a good costume.”
River replied “Why don’t I take you to see Maker after dinner? You can talk to her there, get some measurements done, get an idea what’s doable etc.”
Patty nodded, and added “I have to admit… I was a bit worried about the whole rubber aspect, but if my first outfit is a Halloween costume it will be easier… and it’s hard to see it as a bad thing, many of the patients are so… vibrant.”
“Not all of them” I muttered darkly, but then considered what she had said and said, “you do have a point though – I don’t think I could have been comfortable wearing this if the patients seemed, I don’t know, oppressed?”
“I think I might be happy here” Patty said simply and I took her hand reassuringly.
We parted after dinner, River to give Patty a partial tour, while Red and I headed to the gym.
“Ballet heels class, eh?” said Red, “If I’m honest with you, I really don’t expect I’ll be able to walk in them. But I hope it will strengthen my ankles and make regular heels easier to wear. But you have a good chance,” she added, “you’re younger and lighter than I am.”
“They do look kind of cool,” I replied. I didn’t add that I was here because of Elizabeth’s suggestion, who wanted me and Alexandra to get closer… I didn’t really approve of her match making efforts, it didn’t seem appropriate at all given she was a patient and I was the inspector… my thoughts were interrupted by our arrival at the gym.
“We’ll start in a few minutes,” said Alexandra, but then her green eyes saw me, and I about melted on the spot. She was a bit taller than I was, but her ballet heels exaggerated the difference. Her body was covered in a transparent blue catsuit, that did little to hide her slender but muscular frame. Her hands were covered in short black gloves, and her head covered in a thin hood of the same color. She often wore a gag, but now it was around her neck like a loose collar. Her face bloomed into a radiant smile when she saw me. “Ah, Inspector, so good of you to join us…”
Only a few other sisters were in the class, which I suppose wasn’t surprising. Ballet heels were hot and very kinky, but the reality was that most people couldn’t walk in them even with training. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to but… I caught Alexandra glancing hungrily at me and I gulped.
The first class was pretty basic – there was no point in trying ballet boots without strengthening certain muscles at first, so that’s what we were going to be doing today. I was initially a bit disappointed – we were going to go up and down on our tippy toes, kinda boring.
Or it would have been boring if Elizabeth and Alexandra hadn’t turned it into some kind of performance. Elizabeth’s voice was monotone and almost hypnotic, and I couldn’t help but suspect it was on purpose. I was having a hard time focusing on the class, sneaking glances at the others – Red was struggling a bit, but some of the other sisters had eyes glazed over, clearly having fallen into trance from the repetitive sound and activity.
Then Alexandra stepped behind me to “inspect my form” and then … I could feel the heat of her body, the warmth of her breath against the thin hood covering my head and she started saying in a low tone “Up and down, up and down, up and down…” I moaned quietly then focused on the exercise. She would correct my form, gently touching spots on my back or legs, muscles I should activate more. I’m pretty sure I fell into trance as well; I know that in theory this was a 1-hour class, but it could have lasted 3 minutes or 2 days and I wouldn’t have noticed.
After the class I knew Alexandra wanted to talk to me, but I almost flew out of the gym, not trusting myself to turn into a babbling mess. I went to the dressers, somewhat mortified by how aroused I had become – there was no way I would be able to hide how wet I was – but then I realized I was being silly. Alexandra was just playing around, and the dressers really wouldn’t care about someone being aroused, most of them were anyway.
I spent a few minutes in the car calming my nerves. The class, the fluid all day, was I in a state to drive? Yes, I would go cautiously, the drive was pretty easy really. I hoped I would sleep well; I had a big day tomorrow.
Would I dream about Alexandra? Did I want to?