Read Destined to Play, Feel, Fly Trilogy Online
Authors: Indigo Bloome
Destined to Play, Feel, Fly Trilogy (26 page)
It is amazing to see these images compared to the ones I have in my mind. The blindfold seems to mask my nervous tension and my body looks like this undeniably sensuous creature soaking up every experience. The prints have a warming effect on my physiology; I hug them close to my chest. Who would have thought I was this person?
I reflect on the question I couldn’t answer Jeremy during our time together: ‘Since when does motherhood give you permission to deny your sexuality?’
Who would have thought I had been denying myself all these years? Who would have thought it would take something as extreme as being blind, questionless and open to psychological, physical and neurological experimentation on the limbic system for a weekend to reignite the sexual passion within me? Only Jeremy, of course.
I enter my home and greet my gorgeous children as though nothing has changed in the world, but secretly knowing everything has. I hug them long and tight and love them more than I ever believed possible.
I decide it is now or never. My week with Jeremy has sealed my fate and I am committed to having the discussion with Robert that I’ve been putting off for years. I organise for my sister to look after the kids so we can go out to dinner together. I don’t want to have this discussion at home, but equally I question whether we should be out in public. I have been running through scenarios in my head about the best way to begin such a sensitive discussion.
I needn’t have worried so much. It seems that he has wanted to talk about our marriage as much as I have. I tell him about being with Jeremy and how it has impacted me. How I can’t deny his presence in my life any longer. I don’t mention my role in the experiment. Robert sits silently across the table as I wait for an emotional response to provide a clue to his thoughts. I am shocked when I see relief. Not anger, not tears, but relief. He eventually explains how he has been struggling with his own sexuality for years, always trying to talk himself around. Not wanting to have the conversation with me because I’m a psychologist and he didn’t want his wife analysing him before he had worked things out for himself. And he didn’t want to hurt me, or our children. He tells me he too, can no longer deny this part of himself, that he needs to explore and investigate, to discover whether or not he is gay. He believes he is.
I am sitting across from him wondering how my news is going to impact on him and he responds with this! It certainly explains our lack of a sex life. How could I have missed this? I can’t help but deliberate on how I would have accepted this revelation had I not had my time with Jeremy. It would have been crushing, I imagine … but now, well, somehow it makes everything potentially possible where it was impossible just a week or so ago.
We open up to each other more in these hours over dinner than we have for the past five years. Our conversation flows and we engage with each other on a level that stems from respect and friendship. I can understand why I was attracted to this man who sits before me, the father of my children. He is a good man with a good heart. It’s just that we don’t share each other’s hearts any more.
We resolve to make this work for our children and to continue to support each other. It feels like a giant weight has been lifted off our burdened relationship and we are free to engage in the lightness of life again. We smile. We hug. We move into separate rooms under the same roof. We are happy with this arrangement in the short term. The kids notice our change in spirit and we all laugh more than we have in years.
A few days later, just as Jeremy had promised, I receive a letter inviting me to become a member of his global research forum.
Dear Dr Blake,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I would like to formally invite you to become a member of our private research team specialising in developing a cure for depression. Your specific skills and expertise are required for the role of psychology lead for Project Zodiac, working closely with a number of accredited medical researchers and practitioners.
As you are aware, this project is highly confidential and will remain so for at least the next twelve months. You will find attached a comprehensive confidentiality
agreement, which must be signed before further information and background can be released to you. As our research progresses we may be in a position to publish our results over the next two to three years, when your significant contribution to our studies will be formally recognised.
The research is predominantly part-time at this stage and accordingly, we are hoping you can accommodate it with your existing university workload. I have personally taken the liberty of speaking with your dean, who has pledged his support in this regard. You will also be required to attend several international conferences, the first one being held in London next month, details of which are outlined in the attached documents. Payment for your services will be considerable and agreed upon, in person, in the next fortnight.
Your academic credentials, professional background and recent research experience are of paramount importance to the success of this project moving forward and we truly value your unique contribution. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us and we look forward to a fruitful, amiable and productive relationship over the coming years. We very much look forward to welcoming you to the team.
Yours sincerely,
Lionel McKinnon
Chairman
My stomach flips as I finish reading the letter; waves of excitement and apprehension are competing for attention in the lower part of my body. Colour instantly floods my cheeks.
The letter in my hand looks so official, so noble, its sexual undertones cleverly disguised. I unconsciously caress the bracelet around my wrist.
‘Everything okay?’ Robert looks up from reading the paper.
I notice my hand trembling as I pass him the letter to read.
‘This is about the research you discussed with Jeremy?’
I nod.
‘Fantastic news, congratulations! You have worked so hard, you deserve this.’ He kisses my cheek. ‘This calls for champagne.’
I can’t help but wonder what I have done to deserve the men in my life.
Here I am, sitting in first class, which is another thrilling new experience, waiting on the tarmac for take off. I would never have thought in a million years this could be happening to me. I feel like I am steadily becoming the person I was always meant to be. I am so excited about seeing Jeremy again. The butterflies in my stomach are still there, just like before I met him in Sydney, but this time they are big and colourful and I welcome their presence as they let me know I’m vital and alive.
My mind wanders off to the other day when I was working around the city at lunch time. I was walking past a store selling saddles and stirrups, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a riding crop. Intense emotions ricocheted with such ferocity through my entire body, I was momentarily blinded and breathless as I leaned against the cool glass pane of the shop window. I had been erotically winded! The continual internal low-key buzzing I had acclimatised myself to since my return immediately ramped up to electrifying vibrations from my clitoris to my nipples. I was eternally grateful for padded bras as I found myself gasping for air as heat, like liquid gold, seared my private parts. One of my students, who just happened to be passing by, stopped to ask if everything is alright and whether
I needed any assistance. Even though I nodded that all was well, she stood before me for a full minute, wide-eyed, before I regained enough composure to assure her I was perfectly fine and send her on her way. God, if she only knew. I’m desperate to talk to Jeremy about having these psychophysical ambushes occurring at a single sight, sound or memory of the weekend. One part of me is mortified by these happening in public, but I’m fascinated as to what could trigger another episode and eagerly anticipate the next experience.
My flights are seamless; no delays at Singapore and finally I arrive in London as scheduled.
I walk through the swinging doors at Heathrow and notice a chauffeur standing with my name on a placard. What a pleasure it is to travel like this. We exchange greetings as he takes my luggage.
When we arrive at the black sedan with the door open, there is another man standing beside it dressed in similar attire.
‘Good morning, Dr Blake. Welcome to London.’
‘Good morning. Thank you, it’s great to be here.’
I smile as he opens the door for me and the first man takes care of my luggage. As I settle myself in the back seat ensuring I have everything, I hear my name being called from somewhere in the distance behind me. As I look over my shoulder I am stunned to see Jeremy and Samuel running toward the car. What on earth are they doing here? I didn’t think they were due in until late tonight. I wave my hand in surprised recognition as the driver’s assistant suddenly shoves the door closed and bolts into the front seat. I see the panic in Jeremy’s and Samuel’s faces as they run toward me. Just as I am about to ask the driver to wait for them, the car surges forward and I am flung across the seat. I ask them to stop, telling the driver that I know them. Jeremy
is now running after the car, banging on the back windows. I try to open my window to speak to him, but there is no button. The window tint turns black and I can’t see his face any more. The door is locked and as I turn around to look at the driver, a blackened barrier rises between the back and front seats. I scream and bash on the door and the glass. We are speeding up. I start to tremble as the memory of Jeremy’s agonised face is etched on my brain. I fumble for my phone in my handbag, only to find there is no service indicated. I don’t understand any of this. I am in a blacked-out car with no phone reception. Who are these drivers? I bang on the windows screaming at the men, trying to make sense of what is happening. I try to open the doors, check both of them, bang my palms against the black tint of the windows. What is this about? Suddenly I feel woozy, faint. Then I don’t feel anything at all …
For my husband, whose support since this wild ride began has been nothing less than sensational
‘Do you ever
feel
like you were destined to play?’
‘Only in my dreams…’
Play: engage in an activity for enjoyment or recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose, by humans or animals
Feel: to perceive or examine by touch, be conscious of experience, to have a sensation of something other than by sight, hearing, taste or smell
If I had known then what I know now, would it be any different?
I’m not sure why or how my life changed so dramatically so fast, yet it continues as if nothing has changed at all. It began with one weekend that perhaps, in hindsight, should never have happened, but deep in my soul I have a vague nagging that it was always meant to be…
This leaves me embroiled within a psychological and sexual tornado that landed without any advance warning or forecast — or maybe I just missed the signs? Either way, what has happened, has happened, what will be, will be. I just don’t know how it will end, or whether I will survive the journey.
Here I am, sitting in the first-class lounge, which is another thrilling first for me, with my complimentary glass of Taittinger and snacking on lime-infused salt and pepper calamari. I lean back on the plush sofa and gaze around at the clean, modern lines of the room, with its subdued lighting and every convenience imaginable. Life is good. No, life is great, incredibly great. I can’t help but feel a little bit mystified as to how well everything has worked out. Robert and I are getting along famously now that we have finally been honest with each other about our feelings. We’ve been really focused on the kids together and I’ve no doubt it has been beneficial for them. They are the quintessential happy little vegemites and it just makes me smile. I wish I could say the same for some of my girlfriends, who are in a state of frenzied anxiety at the sudden change in my lifestyle. Admittedly, it is definitely a weird turn of events to return from a work trip with a new (old) lover, separate from your husband yet still live happily under one roof and suddenly have an international career to meld into your everyday life in Tasmania. Even thinking about it like that seems unrealistic and too bizarre for words. So I understand why a small, close-knit community would want to discuss such a scandalous state of affairs. However, I can’t say the harsh, sarcastic edge of some of their statements about my ‘illicit’ weekend away doesn’t hurt. Worse still is the snickering and whispering in huddled groups and the raising of eyebrows when I walk past to drop Elizabeth and Jordan off at school. The unspoken word is what kills me the most. Why can’t people just be upfront and stand by their convictions; or alternatively keep their opinions to themselves and say nothing instead of attempting to garner an undercurrent of bitchy gossip at the school gate?
I suppose I brought most of this on myself; I could have said absolutely nothing — so do I regret telling anyone? I don’t think so… There is nothing quite like having a few close girlfriends to share the excitement, wonder and emotion of the wild roller coaster of a ride I have been on in the past couple of months, even though I have to be deliberately evasive of the details, for obvious reasons. To be honest, they have helped keep me sane and I love them for that. I doubt they would believe my version of reality in any case, I find it difficult myself. One thing about becoming a mum is that you are forced to deal with the most judgemental species on the planet — other mothers. From breastfeeding and food to toilet training and discipline, no one is ever short of an opinion. Once you become a mother it is as if you have a god-given right to share your experience and knowledge with newer, less practised mothers who you feel are in desperate and urgent need of your extensive fountain of knowledge — I don’t deny I have been known to venture into this category myself on occasion. So we share our all-encompassing sage advice to both enhance our own egos (and reinforce to ourselves that we are on the correct parenting path) and of course, to help each other feel better about our own struggles and pitfalls. That said, I don’t believe there is a group in society who will provide you with more support when you need it but it comes, at times, with the cost of some hefty judgement calls.
I keep getting flashes of the many mothers who come to my office emotionally distraught and in need of coping mechanisms to deal with the interpersonal shenanigans of motherhood that no one prepares them for. And now I find myself on the receiving end of their hidden voices questioning whether or not I’m a still a good mother. Apparently I was before my week away, but now? Who knows…and I’m making things worse by leaving again, this time going to London for a fortnight — with
that
man! How do I live with myself? Obviously this must constitute being a very bad mother, mustn’t it, even if it is for work? I wonder whether the judgements would be any less severe if I was going on a 10-day yoga retreat with some girlfriends for a bit of well earned rest and relaxation from the daily grind of parenthood. Would that make my choice any easier for others to swallow? I know deep in my heart that I’m a great mum and that I love my children unconditionally, as they do me. They tell me daily I’m ‘awesome’, which must count for something.
The fathers, on the other hand, have been supportive of Robert although I’m not sure whether they know about his desire to explore his homosexual tendencies. Would that perhaps change things? I’m pleased he will be taking some time for himself when I return home from this trip, I think it will be just what he needs before embarking on the next phase of his life. Imagine the gossip if another man moved in… Scandalous! I chuckle at the thought. Either way, that is his business and I will respect his privacy as to ‘if’ and ‘when’ he decides to discuss his change in lifestyle with others.
I shake my head to clear it from all this circular thinking — it’s entirely a waste of time to dwell on other people’s attitudes. Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion; it’s just the way in which it is shared that has me miffed.
I have a few spare minutes before my flight will be called for boarding and I become more or less incommunicado for the long flight to London, with only a short stopover in Singapore. I decide to make the most of it and take a photo of the decadence before me and send it to Jeremy as a sort of ‘thanks for my new life’ message with lots of hugs and kisses. A few sips later, my phone rings and it’s him.
‘Hi, this is a surprise.’
‘Hi, sweetheart. God, I can’t wait to see you.’ His voice is deep and sends a delightful shiver through me.
‘Hmm, likewise.’ It feels like eons since his magic hands have touched my skin.
‘I’m pleased you’re enjoying the first-class lounge.’
‘I am, but it would be far more pleasant sharing it with you.’
‘Not too long to wait now, I should be arriving in London about twelve hours after you; I’m travelling with Sam.’
‘Oh, he’s with you? That’s great.’ I can’t help but think it might be a little strange meeting Professor Samuel Webster for the first time since the experiment. He had been my PhD examiner and over time had become more like an academic father than a mentor. Over the past year or so, his research team has been focused on female sexology in the field of neuroscience, which is how he ended up connecting with Jeremy and the Global Research Forum. I shift uncomfortably at the thought of him knowing what I have done…and what I had done to me. But there’s not much I can do about it now except try to remain as professional as possible in these unusual circumstances and deep down, I know he will do the same in return. It wouldn’t bother me if I were analysing someone else’s results, so I resolve to take that approach in my mind.
‘There’s so much to catch up on, Alexa. We’ve made some astonishing advances in the last month, it’s getting really exciting.’
‘You
sound
excited,’ I smile. ‘I can’t wait either and I have a few questions for you too.’
‘No doubt you do, Alexa.’ His voice reverberates in my ear as my butt tingles in recognition of the meaning behind his words. Oh no, not when I’m on the phone, how would I explain that? I need to focus on something else to distract the flow of memories and their physical effects once again disabling me in public.
‘I haven’t received any documents yet, Jeremy. Should I have? I want to be as prepared as possible when I arrive.’
‘No, nothing yet, I’d rather go through everything with you in person. Just relax and enjoy your time. You’ll be busy enough when you get here, I promise you.’
I hear my flight being called for boarding.
‘Have to go, they’re calling my flight so I’d better get moving.’
‘No worries, AB. It’s great to hear your voice.’
‘I can’t wait to see you again, Jeremy, it feels like forever.’ Warmth floods my groin.
‘I know, sweetheart…well, not long now. You’re still wearing the bracelet?’
‘Of course.’ It’s not like I can take it off. I glance down at the silver bracelet embedded with pink diamonds and fitted with a GPS chip encircling my wrist.
‘Good, I love knowing where you are.’ I roll my eyes but he can’t see me.
‘Maybe you should get one made for yourself so I can keep track of you and your jetsetting lifestyle.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that, we’ll see.’ He chuckles, then adds seriously, ‘Far more important that I know you’re safe and secure.’ Back in protective mode, which I have to admit makes me feel rather cherished.
‘Love you, gotta go, final call.’
‘Okay.’ He sounds reluctant to finish the call, as am I. ‘See you tomorrow night and promise me you’ll keep out of trouble.’
‘When do I ever get into any trouble, unless I’m with you?’
‘Alex!’ he admonishes me and then quickly adds, ‘Love you, too.’ I sense his smile all those miles away. ‘Later, sweetheart. Stay safe.’ And he’s gone. I stare at the phone as if in a daze before the final, final boarding call distracts me from my reverie. Unfortunately, with changes in time zones and my increasingly urgent carnal desires for the man I love, tomorrow night is a very long way away.
I am waiting on the tarmac for takeoff. I would never have thought in a million years this could be happening to me. I feel like I am steadily becoming the person I was always meant to be. I am so excited about seeing Jeremy again that I can barely contain myself as I shuffle around in my seat absorbing all the additional features of first-class. I almost feel like I did when I went on my first 747 when I was seven years old and flying to Disneyland to meet Donald and Daisy Duck — for completely different reasons, of course. Naturally, this is the adults-only version of such unfettered anticipation. The butterflies in my stomach are still there, just like before I met Jeremy in Sydney, but this time they are big and colourful and I welcome their presence as they let me know I’m vital and alive, more than I have felt for years. I finally settle in as we take off for the long journey ahead.
When I arrive in Singapore I switch on my phone to send a quick text message to the kids. I can’t help but smile when I see that I’ve already received one from them, all ready for bed in their pyjamas and blowing me a kiss goodnight. My heart swells with love for them, I want to kiss the screen. I take the opportunity to stretch my legs and take a nice long walk around the ever-clean and organised Changi Airport before having a quick freshen up in the first-class lounge. I look longingly at the smooth, curved showers with their giant, rainwater showerheads, but unfortunately I don’t have enough time to linger. As I’m facing the mirror to ensure I look respectable enough for the next leg of my journey, I notice the woman at the next mirror staring at me intently. I wonder if I’m imagining this and being a bit paranoid, when she suddenly speaks to me in a rather formal polished, French-accented voice.
‘Please excuse my staring, but are you not Dr Alexandra Blake?’
Although slightly taken aback by her intensity, I answer, ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Oh, this is wonderful.’ She visibly softens. ‘Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lauren Bertrand.’
She is immaculately coiffed, dressed in a smart suit, matching pumps and handbag, as only the French can be. She is an impressive-looking woman, a small powerhouse.
‘Oh, hello.’ We shake hands and it takes me a moment to search my memory for where I have heard her name before until it dawns on me that she is a member of Jeremy’s research forum. Ah yes, Doctor Lauren Bertrand. If I remember correctly I think her speciality is chemistry.
‘I work with Dr Quinn. It is so nice to meet you, welcome to the team.’ Her smile appears friendly but remains professional.
‘Of course, lovely to meet you too. Thank you.’
‘Are you on your way to London?’
‘Yes, my flight leaves shortly. Are you?’
‘I’m heading to Brussels for a meeting and then home to Paris for a few days before meeting up with the team in London. The research Jeremy sent through recently is intriguing on so many fronts. I am very much looking forward to our forum and working with you more directly. Such surprising, fascinating results…’ Her eyes drift over my body and she seems lost in thought for a brief moment. I redden at her appraisal and wonder exactly which results are surprising her so much. How come she has received them as part of the forum, and why haven’t I received anything? I can’t help but flush with embarrassment and disappointment at the thought of being on the other side of the experiment without any of the analysis to critique and review. I wonder if any of my clients ever felt like this during our sessions. Quite possibly.
I’m thankful to hear my flight being called as the intensity of her gaze is making me feel ill at ease.
‘Well, that’s my flight. Safe travels and I assume I’ll see you in a few days.’
‘Absolutely, I look forward to it. Do take care, Dr Blake. I’m so pleased to have had this opportunity to meet you first-hand.’
‘Please, call me Alexa.’
‘Thank you, Alexa, until we meet again.’ She shakes my hand, this time with both of her hands cupping mine. I can’t decipher whether it’s from affection or possession. Weird feeling. I turn to leave as her cell phone rings and she answers quickly. Her voice is excited and clipped. ‘You’ll never guess who I’ve just bumped into…yes…she is on the next flight to London from Singapore…’ As I walk out the door as she gives me a quick wave and turns around to continue her phone call.
Back on the plane and flying high, I happily drink a couple of glasses of Cape Mentelle Sauvignon Blanc Semillon. I do so love Western Australia’s Margaret River. The wine goes perfectly with my herb-encrusted fish and salad. And I can’t resist the delectable passionfruit cheesecake for dessert. As this is the longest part of my flight and I didn’t sleep on the first leg, I take great joy in donning my new, not very sexy, first-class pyjamas and socks, and flatten my seat into a bed to snuggle up against the fluffy pillow and warm blankets. I spare a thought for all those people travelling in economy, as I have so many times, and I hope they manage some upright sleep in the hours ahead. My palms moisten as I put the earplugs into my ears and I hesitate before deciding whether to use the blindfold provided. Just the thought of being blind again sends lascivious shivers down my spine and hardens my nipples against the soft cotton I’m wearing. I take a few deep breaths to temper the flow of heat rising within me and squeeze my legs together tightly to prevent the potential ambush. I quickly throw the blindfold towards the end of the bed, away from me; I’m obviously far from ready for anything to be covering my eyes after such an extreme experience last time. Although the thought of
that
blindfold, its silkiness, its lace…it sends me straight back to Jeremy and his tickling feathers, all over my body, his patience, my impatience… Oh dear lord. I must stop these thoughts. Thank goodness I’m in first-class so no one can see where my hands were accidentally wandering. Heaven forbid — on a plane, with people surrounding me! I fleetingly wonder whatever happened to that blindfold. Maybe Jeremy still has it?