‘Of course I’d love to be involved in discovering a cure for depression, Jeremy. Who wouldn’t? But I do have questions, plenty of them, you must understand that.’ A few spontaneously erupt in my brain just to prove my point … to myself, that is.
How do you want to push boundaries?
What does that mean?
What’s different this time?
What if I don’t want to?
How do I know I will be okay?
Are you crazy?
Am I crazy?
What the f**k could I be getting myself into now?
‘Of course I understand, sweetheart, and I would tell you if I could, honestly, but in this particular instance it can’t work that way. Why do you think I made it a condition of this weekend?’
Oh shit, I have played completely into his hands. His two conditions for this weekend — no vision, no questions. What has been driving my fear and anxiety? Exactly those two things! Maybe my brain is slowing down as it reaches middle age. Why hadn’t I come to that realisation sooner? He has carefully constructed the situation I’m in right now where I must ultimately decide whether I’ll take this personal risk for the greater human reward. A decision he knows I will, for the first time, honestly consider. Will I continue this journey into exploring my personal darkness with him, a journey I have never been courageous enough to experience until this point in my life? He really is the consummate mastermind.
It scares me. It excites me. Can I take the plunge? How far does he want to go? How far does he want me to go? Can I handle it? I have absolutely no idea. I gulp another mouthful of the berry drink to distract me from my rising tension.
‘All of your questions will be answered in time, I promise,’ he smoothly states, as if reading my mind.
The doorbell rings and he lets someone in.
‘If madame would care to accompany me.’ The words make me freeze. It’s difficult to decipher whether the voice is male or female.
Jeremy senses my reaction and wraps his arms around me. ‘You will be fine. I will be with you shortly, I promise. We just need to get changed. Have that shower you wanted.’
‘Why can’t you come with me? Or I stay with you?’ My neediness shocks even me.
‘It’s just not how it works around here. I promise I’ll be with you again in ten minutes or so.’
‘Please, Jeremy, don’t make me go.’ I feel like a child on the first day of school, being coaxed away from my parents by the teacher. He lifts me from the couch, holding my hands. He replaces his hand with the stranger’s soft one and I am led away.
‘I’ll be with you shortly.’ I sense him staring after me as I stumble along uncertainly. I cannot honestly say whether I believe he is concerned or amused by throwing me into what feels like the lion’s den, once again. I surmise it is probably a mix of both, which is totally disconcerting.
I needn’t have been so apprehensive. The stranger takes me through a long corridor and into a warm room. My clothes are carefully, considerately and silently removed. I’m led to a toilet and I am relieved to be relieved. I hear a shower turn on and feel the steam near my skin. My nakedness is complete but no longer significant. I take a step forward to the steaming water and let out a sigh as I allow my body and hair to run wet. I stay this way for some time until a hand stretches out my arm and proceeds to scrub. Unlike the soft, gliding hands from this morning, the scrubbing is vigorous and shocking. My other arm receives the same treatment, as does my back, my chest, my stomach, my butt, each leg and foot. Layers of skin are removed from my body and, although the motion is rough and hard, it feels good. Like it is serving a purpose. I consider yelling ‘stop, it hurts’ or ‘I am not that dirty’, but I don’t. I allow the firm hands to continue scrubbing until their mission is complete. It’s almost like I’m happy for the dirty layers of my skin to be scrubbed clean. Will this make me clean? Physically, yes. Emotionally, it barely touches the surface.
The shower shuts off and a luxuriously soft, warm robe is placed around me. I stand still, momentarily lost in the unknown world I have allowed myself to enter. I’m guided away, barely conscious of my situation.
‘Wasn’t so bad, was it?’
It takes me a moment to realise that, true to his word, I am reunited with Jeremy.
‘No, not too bad. Where on earth are we?’
‘Alexa, please, I implore you, no more questions — not here!’ His voice echoes around the room, sounding more anxious and concerned with each word.
‘Okay, okay, I’ll try.’
‘Thank you. Can you guess where we are?’
‘Not really. It sounds very echo-y, but muffled somehow. I can hear water dripping in the background.’ I hope we are alone.
‘Here, come, feel this.’ He guides me along a few steps and places my hand on what feels like cold marble. I place my other hand on it and start to slide it a little further downwards.
‘It feels like a torso.’ I slide a little lower.
‘Now it feels like a butt.’ I laugh. ‘Please don’t tell me we are in a museum in bathrobes, Jeremy.’
‘No, not quite, but we are surrounded by statues.’ It feels very odd caressing a sculpture. You’d never be allowed to do this in a museum or gallery; imagine sliding your hands over the statue of David in Florence. ‘Move around to the front.’
I shift my hands carefully around the torso and feel a very large erection. Jeez, obviously not David, then. I feel quite naughty as I fondle its length and girth.
‘Do you like it?’
‘I’d prefer you.’
‘I’m very pleased to have that confirmed. What about this one?’ He guides me along another few steps and places my hands on another marble torso.
‘This one is female.’ I quickly remove my hands. Jeremy guides them back toward the breasts, his hands cupping mine
to keep them there.
‘Is this difficult for you?
‘I have only ever felt my own.’
‘They’re just marble, Alex. Feel them, for me.’ I allow my fingers and palm to linger around them, as he stands close behind me.
‘Roll the nipples between your thumb and forefinger.’ I wonder why this is so erotic. ‘That is what I do to you, sweetheart, with merely my words.’ His hands twine through my robe to cup my breasts and confirm the truth in his statement. My lower belly grinds in agreement.
‘Come.’ He takes my hand and guides me away from the sexy statues.
‘Lie down. I need to reapply your eye drops.’ I’m lowered to a hard bench; it feels like a narrow, marble plank. I lie down in the full knowledge that I am accepting his conditions of this weekend, without the resistance that has been causing me so much nervous tension and anxiety.
‘Thank you.’ His words are heartfelt.
Once again, he methodically goes through the procedure of ensuring my continued blindness. This time, I accept my fate calmly, but instinctively, I can’t help but try to open my eyes. They are so heavily weighted, my lids won’t separate at all.
I lie still awaiting the full effect of the drops and ointment for the second time. Jeremy slides my robe to either side of my body letting it fall off my shoulders and encourages my arms to rest above my head. I know he likes me in this position, with unfettered access to my body. He slowly and methodically shifts my legs either side of the bench, leaving me open to him. It is as if his softness and intensity are attempting to compensate for his act of ensuring my continued blindness.