by E Kay Sims
I hadn’t even gotten her number. At least I knew where she was staying. Perhaps we’d run into each other at some point. I sure hoped so, anyway.
I’d already showered earlier with EZee, so all I needed to do was change into the loose clothing that was required to take the class. My stomach rumbled but breakfast would have to wait. They had specified you were to take the class on an empty stomach. I’d be starving by the time lunch rolled around. It was a sixteen-hour workshop spaced over the weekend—about eight hours each day for veterans with PTSD. I sure as hell hoped it worked.
After changing into a pair of athletic shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt and my Nikes, I grabbed my itinerary with the map, and I’d made my way through the hotel to the level five Palazzo ballroom, section D. I ended up late because I’d gotten lost even with the damn map. You’d think a Ranger, for God’s sake, could find his way around a fucking hotel after navigating the desert in Afghanistan. I was embarrassed when I’d had to ask for directions three times, but I’d finally found the correct location.
I was further embarrassed when I entered the classroom to find they’d already started. And then my jaw dropped when I saw the woman, Aurore, whom I’d met last night, at the front of the room.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I whispered.
She looked up and took a double take as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d looked from me to someone at the back of the room that I couldn’t see because of the crowd of students lined up in rows, sitting on yoga mats on the floor. Shit! I didn’t have a yoga mat.
“You may grab a mat over there in the corner,” she looked down at her clipboard and then back up at me, “Mr. Thorsen. Glad you made it. I have your name tag right here.” She began walking toward me holding out the sticker with my name written in black sharpie.
Fuck! Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, after all, I thought. But I grabbed the mat and met Aurore halfway across the classroom. She stuck the name tag on my T-shirt across my left pec and pointed me to an empty spot in the front row near the center. Well shit! I sure as hell didn’t want to be on display in the front row. Fuck, too late now. I walked over to the spot Aurore had pointed out and rolled out the mat. When I looked up, I was grateful to see the class was all men. About thirty-five or so. I remembered that was why I signed up for the class to begin with as it had specified ‘no co-ed classes.’
I got settled into place as Aurore continued with her introductory lecture, “As I was saying, the program is designed to introduce the basics of gentle, beginning yoga and the breathing and relaxation techniques using a proven method to alleviate symptoms of combat stress—COSR—and post-traumatic stress disorder—PTSD—in active duty military and veterans.”
I’d thought the program was only for veterans, so I was relieved that she’d mentioned the program was designed for active military personnel as well. She went on about the how, when, and why the program was started for another twenty minutes as we all followed along in the handouts she’d passed around the room shortly after I’d arrived. I noted in the handout that there was a list of ongoing classes in the area but also in the Pacific Northwest so I might be able to find one near the base or in my hometown.
After going over the handouts, she directed the class to stand and then introduced the teacher who would lead us throughout the class in a series of specific poses.
“And now I’d like you all to meet Everett Zaffino. She will also be your instructor for tomorrow’s class since she has graciously agreed to fill in for Shelby Johnson, who couldn’t make it.” Aurore looked to the back of the room. “EZee, come on up.”
Well, fuck me! I had not seen that coming. EZee walked to the front of the room wearing tasteful and not revealing yoga clothes similar to what she’d worn the night before. My body reacted to her immediately as the memories of last night flooded my brain. My eyes were glued on her. She ignored me completely, and I understood, really I did. But it still felt weird after everything we’d shared last night.
She’d pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail and had artfully applied a little makeup which only enhanced her natural beauty. She wasn’t wearing lipstick, just clear gloss and all I could think about was how it felt to kiss those luscious lips of hers. Damn it! She was hot even with the cool, professional teacher demeanor she presented to the class. Since I was in the front row, she stood less than ten feet away from me. I was going to have a hell of a time concentrating for the rest of the day. Thank God, I’d chosen the loose fitting shorts over the tighter athletic ones I’d originally planned to wear.
“Good morning, everyone. Let’s take a moment to find our breath and come to mountain pose,” she said in a voice I didn’t recognize. It was smooth, calm, and deeper than I remembered, and it resonated throughout the classroom and through my body causing waves of desire to crash through me. “Now we’ll take calm, fluid breaths in and out through the nose.”
All I could do was take short, choppy, shallow breaths as I watched her breasts rise and fall. “Now we’ll add some movement by synchronizing the breath with the arms. Come to prayer hands.” She paused, waiting for everyone to comply. “And now inhale, drop the arms down from center, separate the hands, opening the arms wide. Reach up to the sky above you and allow your palms to touchfor a moment, then turn them outward, float the arms out to the sides and back down as if you’re pressing through water. Then return to prayer hands, exhaling completely.” She stared at a fixed point as she did the movements with the class.
I tried to follow her instructions but it was difficult to concentrate. Eventually, I did it and after a while, I’d started to notice my breath had become easier, smoother, as EZee guided us through forward folds and half salutes. Soon, she had us doing the Warrior pose and started to explain the position of the neck while holding the pose and the effects on the hormones, specifically testosterone. And how too much testosterone leads to aggressive behavior in men which isn’t a good thing when dealing with PTSD. I didn’t think I needed any more testosterone, I had plenty, so I paid attention to her directions and kept my ‘chin level, crown of my head to the sky.’
She guided us through the whole series of poses and finally at the end, she directed us to lie down for guided relaxation. I stretched out, face up in corpse pose, and began to focus on my breath as she had directed. She’d said to keep our eyes open and focus on the ceiling, and our breath—especially if we experienced any flashbacks at any time throughout the relaxation.
“Now, taking deep breaths in and out, allow yourself to relax. To let go. With every exhalation, imagine your breath melting away tension.” Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper. It became husky, unintentionally sexy, as if her words caressed my entire being.
“Relax and soften your eyes, your eyebrows, your forehead, the top of your head, the back of your head, neck, and shoulders. Allow your breath to deepen on the inhale and lengthen on the exhale. Relax your mouth, teeth, tongue, and jaw.” She paused for a moment before she continued, “Relax your throat and again your shoulders. Feel as if the body is dropping down, sinking toward the earth below you.”
Her voice was incredible and so relaxing. The lilting tones lulled me into the most relaxed state I’d ever experienced and I’d promptly fallen asleep, which was exactly what we were not supposed to do. I jerked awake, feeling a bit disoriented. It could only have been a few seconds, though. The rest of the class was silent, still resting.
I was exhausted by the afternoon. I’d eaten a light lunch and returned to class ready to go, or so I thought, until we went down for the second and last relaxation of the day. I went out like a light.
“Eric.” I heard my name. “Eric, wake up.” It felt like I was swimming through molasses. My eyes wouldn’t open like they were weighted. “Eric Thorsen, wake up,” the voice demanded.
My body was so heavy, like my eyelids, and I couldn’t move at all. I felt paralyzed, like the first time I’d seen someone die. It had been one day into my first deployment in Afghanistan
. We’d been out on patrol driving through a village, and there’d been an I.E.D. planted on the side of the road. A little Afghani boy had stepped on the pressure plate chasing after his ball. The ball I’d just given him. He’d turned to smoke and dust right before my eyes. Oh God! It was my fault! If only I hadn’t given him the damn ball! My heart pounded in my chest with panic, but my limbs were frozen. I couldn’t move and that had made me panic even more. My breath was caught in my chest and my lungs wouldn’t work.
“Eric!” I heard my name called right next to my ear. “Breathe. Deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re safe. Eric, open your eyes.” I knew that voice. It belonged to the girl from last night, EZee. Finally, I opened my eyes to see EZee standing about two feet away from my head, looking down with concern in her bright, hazel eyes. Oh fuck!
I quickly pulled myself up to a seated position and noticed the room was empty except for EZee and me. I’d slept through the relaxation and the end of the class. Dammit! “I’m sorry,” I rasped, my voice came out deeper than usual and rusty after my nap. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I guess I didn’t get much sleep last night.” I could feel the foolish grin on my face.
EZee did not look pleased. Oh fuck! What had I done in my sleep? I’d been dreaming again.
GIL
I
rolled out of bed a few hours later, feeling much better about myself. My hangover had subsided, and after taking a shower to wash off the shit on my chest, I ordered room service. The all-day breakfast contained just the right amount of grease to sop up whatever alcohol was left lingering in my system, not to mention a couple of American pancakes. Holy fuckballs, I had forgotten how good they were! Some of my lamington-flavoured ice cream would go well with these, I thought as I hoed in.
When my phone began to trill, I picked it up and noticed the caller ID. With a sigh, I swiped the answer button and put the loudspeaker on so I could continue eating. “Hi, Mum.”
“Hi, Gilbert. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Just having some breakfast,” I replied before I washed the food down with some coffee.
“What time is it over there?”
I glanced around for a clock, but did not spot any. “Dunno. It’s sometime in the late afternoon.”
“Afternoon?” Mum gasped. “Are you ill?”
“No.”
“You must be if you slept all day. Oh, Gil, if you were here I could take care of you,” Mum sobbed.
“Mum, cut it out. It’s a hangover, that’s all. I’m fine. I had a fun last night. I don’t regret a thing. Hopefully, tonight will be just as good, depending on what Eric’s got planned.” I leaned back in the chair and gazed out the window at the desert city as I munched on some crispy bacon. I caught sight of The Bellagio Fountains and couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to the blond woman again.
“I worry about you in that place. Las Vegas is the city of sin, after all.”
I chuckled. “Mum. Since when do you believe in sin, eh?”
She mumbled something I couldn’t quite pick up.
“Look, I’ve gotta go. I think that’s Eric coming back.”
“Don’t you want to know how Kylie’s been doing?”
I honestly didn’t. The last thing I needed was to learn she’d fucked up Dad’s medication or something. I didn’t need that burden weighing on me. “Gotta go, Mum. Take care.” I had never hung up from a phone call so quickly in all my life.
I watched Eric enter the room and nodded at him in greeting. “Thorsen.”
“Bout time you got up! Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were on the phone,” Eric mouthed.
“It’s okay. She’s gone.” I set my phone on the tabletop and shoveled the last of my pancake into my mouth.
Eric smirked. “So how you feeling today, buddy?”
“Better now that I’ve eaten some of your American shit.” I backtracked, “Don’t take that the wrong way…. It’s good shit.” I flashed him a shit-eating grin.
“Yuck! I could never eat pancakes after drinking like you did last night. I don’t care for them much anyway. So, uh, what the hell did you get into last night?” He grinned knowingly.
“Stopped by The Bellagio, met some girls who took me clubbing…” I looked cautiously at him out the corner of my eye. “I met someone. Well, saw someone and she was…” How could I explain the woman to him? The instant attraction I had felt towards her? My stupid need to find her in a city of over six hundred thousand people? It sounded ridiculous even to myself. What would it sound like to Eric? “Eric, I didn’t even speak to this woman, and I fancy her. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“No shit? She was what… you get lucky?”
“Not even. I saw her in front of The Bellagio Fountains. She was singing your national anthem, and then I saw her and I just… I dunno. I think I really like her.” I tossed my napkin onto the plate in a huff. “You can say it, I’m a fucking lunatic.”
“I’m confused. Was this before or after you went clubbing with the girls?” He quirked up his brow at me.
“Before.”
“So she wasn’t one of the girls you went clubbing with?”
“No, they were just some girls who were having a divorce party. Then they wanted to throw me a birthday bash at the same time. Nothing happened with those girls beyond dancing and drinking and joking around. I think Gabrielle was hoping for some action, come to think of it. But I seriously wasn’t into her.” I thought about the way she had constantly held my hand for most of the night, practically staked her claim on me, but I wasn’t interested. Not one bit. I was pathetic. “Maybe I should’ve just shagged her and gotten this other woman out of my head,” I mumbled. I looked up at my best mate. “Enough about me. What did you get up to without me? How’d it go with that leggy lady?”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells, bro.” He laughed but then his face became serious. “I don’t know, I thought everything was amazing, but it’s all fucked up now.”
I groaned. “What’d you do, Thorsen?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He plopped onto the couch, grabbed the remote control, and turned on the TV.
I leapt up, snatched the device from his hand, and flicked the TV back off. I stood over him, hands on hips. “Spill it, mate,” I ordered in the toughest voice I could muster.
He rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his hair. “Shit! You promise not to make fun of me?”
I sniggered. “That pretty much guarantees I’ll make fun of you. But come on. Where’s this tough-as-nails soldier I’ve heard about? Scared of a little Aussie bloke, now, are ya?” I dangled the remote in the air for a moment before snatching it away again when he tried to reach for it. “Not. Until. You fucking tell me.”
“Well you’re full of piss and vinegar today, aren’t cha?” He sat back against the cushions and put his feet up on the coffee table, still refusing to answer me.
“I can do this all day, mate. You know that. I’m from a sleepy little country town where there’s nothing much to do. I’m used to whiling away long hours.” I sighed. “Look, trust in our friendship. Yeah, I might take the piss out of you, but it’s only coz I love ya. I will never, ever admit that again.”
Eric looked away and then back at me, his expression turned grave. “Fine.” He folded his arms across his chest protectively. “The girl from last night, she is incredible. We even agreed to go out again maybe, that is until today. I ran into her and shit went south from there.” He looked away.
I kept my blue eyes pinned on him. There was more to this. I wasn’t going to let up until he spilled the beans.
“Don’t look at me like that! Fuck! This is already hard enough, not sure I even want to tell you.”
I sat down on the coffee table. I set all my jokes aside in favor of a more serious conversation. “Eric. Something’s bothering you, mate, and I’m not talking about whatever shit you went through when you were deployed. I know you can’t talk t
o me about that. But you can talk to me about this. If you’ve connected with this woman, you can’t simply throw it away. Surely, whatever happened can be sorted out?”
“It’s not that easy. She doesn’t want to see me now.” He looked crestfallen.
“Did she say that? Did those actual words come out of her mouth?”
“Yep, exact words.” His mouth became a hard, thin line and a muscle in his cheek twitched.
“I reckon you can convince her otherwise. Don’t go all creepy stalker on her, but use that Thorsen charm. She won’t resist that.” I patted his shoulder.
“I don’t think that’s an option.” I recognized the stubborn set of his jaw.
“Bullshit. That’s what I call it and that’s what it is. Look, we’ll go out tonight and do whatever you’ve got planned for me. But tomorrow? It’s your mission to woo her. That’s an order, soldier.” I winked at my mate.
“You don’t understand, bro. She wants to keep things professional.” He clammed up.
How the fuck had we moved into ‘professional?’ My eyes went wide with a possibility. “Oh no! You had sex with a prostitute?”
“What?!” He turned to look at me, eyes bugging out before he squinted. “No, she’s a teacher and I’m her student.”
My mouth dropped open. “A sex teacher?”
“No, you fuckhead! She’s a yoga instructor! There! I said it. Now leave it alone!” He stood, and I realized he was wearing workout clothing as he stomped toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower. Then we are going out tonight. I have big plans for you, buddy.” And just like that, he was back to the old Eric.
I wanted to know about this sex teacher of his. I also couldn’t wait to party. So, I grabbed an empty steel bucket and shouted, “I’m off to get some ice!”
“Oh good, I could use a stiff drink!” The shower muffled Eric’s voice.
“Save your stiffy for your sex class!” I laughed at my joke as I grabbed my keycard and opened the suite’s door.
