missing something … is there more to this? I feel like he has been deliberately keeping me in the dark, literally and figuratively since we met. Now he is doing the slow reveal on the real purpose of the weekend. Is he creating experiences enabling me to learn more about how I handle stress, or ‘play’ as he calls it, or am I merely a pawn in some greater game?
‘I have been involved in the studies analysing the amygdala, the cell clusters in the brain specialising in fear, and how they relay messages to the frontal lobes of the brain.’
Of course he has.
‘And I’m particularly interested in investigating dopamine reward circuits and the release of chemicals such as opiods. Our initial data analysis shows an unexpected correlation to Sam’s work from a pleasure perspective. This is why we need to study it more thoroughly.’ His comments put me on a new learning curve, his intelligence more prominent than ever.
‘I must admit I never anticipated feeling like this. I can’t ever recall a time when my body and mind have been on higher alert, or more stimulated, or aroused, I suppose you could say. I am literally buzzing inside and out, with both fear and pleasure.’
‘Fascinating, that’s great. It means it’s all working.’ He sounds lost in his thoughts.
‘What’s working, Jeremy? Where are you going with this, anyway?’
‘That is another two questions, Alexa.’
I am completely exasperated. He completely ignores my exasperation.
‘I want to play harder, I want to push the boundaries further between you and I.’
‘Push the boundaries. How much more could you push?’ My voice sounding instantly high-pitched, staccato. More questions! ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to ask …’ I trail off, not knowing what to say. He is turning me into a submissive, blind mute.
Oh, dear god. Another ‘aha’ moment … and now it comes full circle. Of course there is more to it; when is there not with Jeremy? How could I have been so naive? My thesis! He really does want to take me to a place I have never been, never dared to go. I knew I should never have given him a copy of the damn thing, I knew when I did I might live to regret it. Who would have thought it would come back to haunt me after so many years?
‘I’m going to push you, further than we ever have, but I want you to know that I will ensure you are safe, looked after.’
‘And you want me to be the experiment for your research, Jeremy, don’t you? Just admit it.’
‘Yes, I do.’ I’m a little shocked that he has admitted this so readily. ‘I need your body and brain on both sides of the experience, like I said. I think we are honestly on the cusp of discovering a cure and you are one of the few people who can help us. Your role is critical.’
‘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
