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Destined to play, p.11
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       Destined to Play, p.11

           Indigo Bloome
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  ‘But did you honestly think … honestly believe …’ He begins to laugh again. The look on my face must be enough to make him stop short and compose himself. ‘Obviously you thought it was something really bad. I’ve never seen you react that way … you were trembling.’ He pauses, softens his tone. ‘It’s really important to understand how and why you are going through these emotions. It’s all part of the process. You’ll learn so much about yourself,’ Jeremy says more seriously.

  Condescending prick is the only thought that enters my mind at his words, regardless of any potential truth in them.

  ‘Was it really that scary for you? Was the fear too much?’

  ‘I don’t want to do this any more, Jeremy. Please don’t make me. I can’t take it any more, I’ll have a heart attack.’

  ‘Then it is lucky for you I’m a doctor and I’ll save you. Besides, you are in perfect health.’

  ‘Perfect health means nothing under these conditions, and besides that, how on earth would you know?’

  At this point, I feel a sudden gush of wind and am deafened by a forceful roar.

  What now? I am being tugged and pulled again, clipped and checked.

  ‘You haven’t guessed yet?’ Jeremy is screaming into my ear above the blast of wind and engine noise. ‘We’re skydiving, just like we did on your twenty-fifth birthday! Remember, you tried to renege on that, too, but you loved it once you did it.’ Given the noise of the engines and the rush of air surrounding me, I know he isn’t joking. Relief, fear and excitement flow rapidly through my veins. I shake my head in disbelief.

  ‘I need to make sure you have enough adrenaline pumping through your system so you have energy for later!’ he shouts. There is both cheekiness and sincerity in his words.

  ‘Well, this ought to well and truly achieve that,’ I say nervously. ‘But blind …?’

  ‘All part of the process.’

  I desperately grip hold of Jeremy, standing attached to me and try to brace myself within the plane as I scream toward his voice. ‘Just because I’ve skydived before,’ and loved it, I admit privately, ‘doesn’t mean I want to do it again, right now. Not like this!’

  The pressure of his body intensifies, pushing me forward, and I know the moment to jump is near.

  ‘Okay Alexa. Three, two, one …’

  I am flung into the air. We are tumbling, tumbling, tumbling as air penetrates every orifice of my face, snatching my breath from my lungs and causing my stomach to somersault. Suddenly, my arms and legs are forced by pressure to their extremities, coerced outwards. The noise of the wind quickly overtakes the continuing distancing of engines. All sounds of man-made engineering rapidly vanish as we fly free.

  There is nothing quite like the experience of plunging out of a plane, full of hope and completely attached to the person pulling the strings. The force of oxygen pounding into my head overwhelms my entire body. My stomach immediately shifts to my throat as I plummet downwards, and I lose all sense of stability. Instead of lasting a second or two it keeps going and going as I eagerly anticipate the catch of an opening canopy, but it doesn’t and I continue to free fall. The descent takes forever as my stomach continues to flip and turn while my body spears through the nothingness of the atmosphere. How can it be nothing when it is forcing every muscle, every bit of skin, every cell back up against itself? Yet I continue to fall. The noise is huge and my ears could explode. For the first time, I’m thankful my eyes are sealed and covered as the pressure is so intense. I suddenly feel dampness surround me and shiver as I presume we fly through a cloud. We are still falling, falling. Finally my stomach adjusts and I allow myself to relax into the rush, the velocity, wholly and completely. It’s even better than the first time. It is overpowering, all-consuming, an in– the-moment adrenaline rush. My form of ecstasy, heroin, speed, whatever … As I think this a memory floods my brain. I distinctly remember a client telling me that they tried heroin once and would never, ever touch it again. I asked if it was that bad and they said, ‘Just the opposite, it was way too good — so unbelievably awesome that if you went back a second time, you’d never stop.’ Only Jeremy could know that my anger and fury would dissipate rapidly with the intoxicating rush of sheer adrenaline. The thought flashes through my brain that I could easily become addicted to Jeremy.

  At this, I want the falling to stop. I suddenly don’t want to allow myself to love the feeling any more. Shouldn’t our fall be halted by the release of the parachute by now? Now I’m not at all happy with my lack of sight. I need to see how far from the ground we are. We have been falling so long my lungs are almost unable to accommodate the oxygen being forced into them.

  My heartbeats faster at my thoughts, my fear accelerates. If it is adrenaline Jeremy wants for me then he has certainly achieved it. I’m pumping, pumping, pumping, harder and faster. I feel like everything about me is in free fall during these seconds of my life, everything at risk, everything has the potential to be destroyed. And I am in no position to prevent it, to stop it, to control it. I have had many dreams like this before, of falling, falling, desperately waiting for the fall to end, to wake up, to be saved, whatever it takes to not hit the ground. In the dreams I always wonder how I happen to arrive in this position, what causes the free fall in the first place.

  Have my conscious and unconscious mind finally collided? And is this the consequence, the conclusion? Were the dreams prophetic, or have I missed some warning? Where is Carl Jung when I need him!

  Please, I pray, to myself, to anyone, please let nothing go wrong, please let me live to see my children again, please, please, please get me through this in one piece . I don’t want to die; I’m not ready to die … How can we still be falling? How high were we? 10,000 feet? 15,000

  feet? Did we fly that high, higher maybe? I realise now I was too stressed and distracted to take any notice of anything else at the time, including the discovery of being on a plane in the first place. Surely we should …

  We stop, abruptly.


  The harness pulls tight between my legs and it feels like we have come to a complete standstill. My ears are deafened by the silence after the pounding vibrations only seconds ago.

  We begin to float … softly, quietly. Thank you, I say silently, thank you. Overwhelming relief permeates my being.

  I am very aware of my heart pumping blood through my veins, but the noise has calmed, the pressure has eased and my limbs are not being forced outwards. They fall limp as the tension fades. We are floating calmly, beautifully, wonderfully and freely in the world. It is so peaceful.

  My stomach resettles itself somewhere near my bellybutton, although I can’t confirm it returns to its original position. Close enough, though. I am smiling now, relieved and thrilled with the experience. I’m happy, free, exhilarated, overwhelmed to be alive. Warm tears flood my eyes as emotion releases from within.

  Thump, thump, my knees buckle underneath me as the ground pushes up into my body with a jolt and then … nothingness.

  Unsure of my consciousness, I find myself wrapped in a hug with my feet barely touching the ground. Arms securely around me. A hug. A real hug. I feel him unclipping me and turning me to face him. I bury my head deeply into the chest I know to be Jeremy’s and allow the intoxication of adrenaline and relief to wash over me. I shake. I bury my head harder. Arms tighten around me. I sob. And sob. I can’t stop. I’m overflowing. Trembling. Shaking. Long, hard, full body sobs. For a long moment in time.

  There are no words shared.

  The arms don’t let go, still holding on tight.

  They don’t let go. There is no need to speak. These arms won’t leave me.

  Breathing eventually returns to normal via deep sighs.

  After a long time, a finger lifts my chin, lips lightly brush my lips and linger for a moment.

  The arm securely wraps around my body and leads me away, half walking, half carrying.

  No words are necessary as our bodies move in unison. Then q
uiet preparation going on around me as I am lowered onto a blanket. The sun is warm, the breeze gentle. I am still blind. I know that I will be until the forty-eight hours are over. I’m at ease with it now. I no longer have the will or desire to fight it. I accept it. I am calm.

  The preparation noise has stopped. I remain still.

  No noise. No words. Just the wind, the birds, the smell of salt in the air, ocean waves gently moving back and forth to their own universal rhythm. My shoulders are lowered to the ground. A light touch on my cheek. I feel a body closing in on mine. I try to find a face. I do. I pull it close to mine and inhale its scent. I pull it to my lips, to my tongue. I need this face. I need to kiss it deeply, to penetrate its mouth. I need to convey the depth of the emotion I feel. To transfer the longing, the urging, the deep force within the core of my being which has lain dormant for so many years, so this face has some understanding of what it has done to me in the past, what it is doing to me in the present, of what I am going through.

  My body is writhing and throbbing under his body. There are too many barriers between us, physical ones. I’m not close enough. It’s intense and it’s frustrating. I struggle to find ways in, to find some way to remove the barriers. I need closeness. I crave it. I can’t. I’m foiled. My hands don’t make it, they are lost, prevented, kissed. The throbbing continues deep within me. My hands are held tight, trapped under the weight of his body. Like the sobbing earlier, the throbbing also eases with time. My breath returns, my heartbeat slows, eventually. As does his.

  ‘You are overwhelming, all-encompassing, all-consuming.’ He slowly breathes into my ear. His words heighten the intensity between my legs as I again wait for the ache to subside. He could always trigger this pre-orgasmic feeling over the years with a look, a touch, a comment.

  But rather than being diluted over the years, it has now reached a concentration I never imagined possible.

  ‘Do you feel the same way?’

  I nod, too overcome to speak, not daring to acknowledge the underlying truth in his words.

  ‘What have you done to me?’ is all I can manage to barely whisper.

  ‘You do know I love you, Alexa.’ His tone is serious, his voice overflowing with emotion.

  ‘Yes, I do. You know I love you, too.’

  ‘It’s strange, isn’t it, having a love like ours that isn’t based on traditional love per se.’

  ‘It always has been … strange between us … intense … playful … intoxicating …’

  ‘Our unexplained, unreconciled love …’

  ‘At least we understood that at a very young age.’ Or did we? I wonder silently.

  Jeremy’s mood seems to have shifted. I’m used to him switching from playfulness to challenging, from forcefulness to reflection, but this is slightly different. He seems to be talking to me on one level and lost in his own thoughts at the same time. The dark undercurrent still lingers beneath his words. I don’t know if I’m unwilling or unable to explore further. Not being allowed to ask questions doesn’t help especially as I keep getting in trouble when I do. And now he says he loves me. My roller-coaster of blackness is becoming as much emotional as it is physical.

  I feel exhausted, numb.










  I lie down on my back with my elbows propping me up. Jeremy offers me some water. Basic needs become an urgent priority as I realise just how thirsty I am. I splash it down my throat and gulp and gulp and gulp.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ He hands me a sandwich and I take a bite. ‘Hmm, maybe I am.’

  We eat and chat and chat. And chat and eat and drink as the wall I have carefully constructed to protect me from my feelings for him over the past decade crumbles more completely.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ the voice beside me says.

  A flash of anxiety passes through me for a millisecond and I send it away.

  ‘Sure. What would you like to ask me?’

  ‘Do you ever do it back there, any more?’ I must have looked as confused as I felt because his hand slips under my crotch and gives a little push toward my butt. ‘You know, back there.’

  ‘Of all the things to ask! No, I don’t. Not since you anyway,’ I explain, not in the least expecting this change in topic.

  My arsehole must remember the feelings of the first time as it starts to react to our discussion.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Alex,’ he says flatly.

  ‘This question thing is ridiculous!’

  He returns to the subject he wants to discuss. ‘But you loved it.’

  ‘ You loved it and that’s why you did it. You were obsessed with it, ever since the butt plug night and still are by the sounds of it,’ I add.

  ‘But your body loved it.’

  ‘I’m not so sure …’

  ‘Oh, but yes it did. Your body loved it a lot.’

  He rolls me over on to my stomach and simply cups his hand over my leathered behind.

  Tingles immediately zap through my body as if to prove the point.

  ‘Well, it may have, eventually, but I didn’t,’ I say quickly, attempting to close the topic.

  Why is he talking about this?

  ‘Isn’t it one and the same?’

  ‘Obviously not,’ I reply.

  ‘Really? So you are actually admitting that your mind and body might be thinking and feeling different things?’ Oh, here we go, our age-old discussion …

  ‘Why are you trying to trap me with your words, Jeremy? Honestly, you are making me doubt every assumption I’ve ever made in my life this weekend. It is really disturbing me.’

  ‘Ah, this just keeps getting more perfect by the hour,’ he says, laughing with confidence.

  ‘I don’t find it even vaguely amusing, actually.’ I say nothing more in the hope that he will move on to another topic of conversation.

  ‘I’m only asking because I’m involved in some research that deals with exactly this issue.’

  ‘What, arseholes? And back door entry?’ Now it is my turn to chuckle as I consider exactly what this sort of research might have involved back at uni. No doubt Jeremy would have eagerly volunteered.

  ‘No, not arseholes, Alex,’ he says more seriously, then jokes, ‘Well, not yet anyway, but I am happy to experiment with yours whenever you’re ready.’ He strategically strokes my leathered behind. ‘More about that later. Right now, we need to get going.’

  ‘Oh, do we have to? The sun feels so good it would be lovely just to stay here a little longer and have a siesta, don’t you think?’ I settle into a sideways sleeping position.

  ‘It would be, but it is not going to happen. I’m not wasting my hours with you sleeping when we are on a time limit. I am making the most of every minute.’

  ‘How much more can we fit in, Jeremy? Drinks, baths, dinner, dancing, singing, sex, orgasms, breakfast, bike riding, coffee, skydiving’ — I say with great emphasis — ‘and now a picnic. Isn’t that enough for a week, let alone one day? We’ve already done everything. Let’s rest a little, just half an hour or so. There’s still plenty of time.’ I say the words although I’ve no idea how much time is left or where we are. I place my hand out to try to find him and pull him toward me but he has moved.

  ‘You haven’t changed, have you? There’s so much more to experience, to awaken within you and so little time.’

  ‘Isn’t skydiving the ultimate experience? I promise you, Jeremy, I feel well and truly awakened, probably more so than I have for many decades.’ My mind wanders back to this morning and the pulsing sensation reignites in my groin from the memories.

  ‘I can assure you, sweetheart, I have barely begun.’ He strokes my cheeks and lightly kisses my lips. Shit!
Barely begun? What more is there? My heart starts racing — again.

  ‘There is an amazing innocence about you, Alexa, even after all these years.’

  I’m not sure whether to be offended or not.

  ‘We need to get moving now so we can rectify your innocence. There is no time to be lost.’

  ‘No. I’m not moving. What innocence? What are you talking about?’ I would never use that word to describe myself. I stay stubbornly seated.

  He completely ignores me. ‘If you’re not going to move, I’ll just have to do it for you. A man’s work is never done these days.’ He sweeps me up from the blanket, his hand firmly grabbing my arse in the process as if to reinforce our conversation. After taking a few steps, he places me on a warm seat, fastens a seat belt around me and readjusts the sunglasses to ensure they are in the correct position, once again ensuring I am utterly in the dark.

  ‘We’re in a car?’ The engine roars to life, as does the rhythmic, tribal trance music coming from the speakers and off we go. We must be in a convertible given the wind once again whips around my ears as we hit the open road. At least this will be a little more comfortable for the journey back to the hotel. Although on second thoughts, after a long bike ride, a plane trip, the parachute jump and now being in a car, I have absolutely no idea where we are or where we could be heading. We could have crossed state lines for all I know. My curiosity regarding our whereabouts is peaking, as I’m sure is Jeremy’s intention. Even so, I dare not entertain asking the question. So I sit silently, enjoying the psychological space the music freely offers my mind.

  Part V

  The eye — it cannot choose but see

  We cannot bid the ear be still

  Our bodies feel; where’er they be

  Against, or with our will

  — W. Wordsworth 1847

  Our journey continues and I am surprised at how energised I feel given my presumed emotional exhaustion. It is as if Jeremy has discovered and unleashed a fertile oasis within my body, which I’d previously regarded as a barren desert. The pores in my skin feel like they are oozing pheromones. I have never felt this intensely alive, so sensual, so sexual, so female. I consider my marriage to Robert as a contrast and my feelings are numb, almost non-existent. But how could they ever compare to the magnitude on the Richter scale that Jeremy creates — could anyone else create such emotional seismic shifts for me? My thoughts are interrupted by Jeremy’s voice as he places his hand on my knee.

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