A World of Our Own

Chapter 1

I opened my eyes and found myself lying prone on a large rock in the middle of a beautiful green field. The sun was bright, and I squinted up at the bright blue sky. I studied my arm and thought “I can’t have been here long, since I’m not sunburned”. Slowly I lifted my head and looked around me. Everything looked peaceful, and calm, and glorious. My mind raced.

“Am I in an alternate universe? Or did I come from one? What’s my name? How do I even know that names exist if I don’t know what mine is?”

I sat up slowly, and gradually rose to my feet, scanning my surroundings all the while. I shaded my eyes from the sun, and saw a horse and rider approaching me in the distance. I felt small, as the wind blew through my hair and swirled my dress around me. This dress….it’s lovely, but no time for that. The horseman neared.

“Do you…know me?” I whispered

His voice was close to me, in my head as he answered. I heard him speak, but I couldn’t hear his words. He was rough and coarse, like an old Western outlaw. He dismounted and came toward me. I suddenly felt helpless and stricken with fear. How long had I been in the field? How long? Who was I? I stumbled forward as if drawn into his outstretched hand and everything went dark.

Misty candlelight flickered across a wooden wall. I smelled woodsmoke. I felt coarse linen sheets beneath my hand. I found myself sitting upright in sudden confusion.

House. I’m in a house.

There are walls.

What is with these scratchy sheets?

Who am I?

How did I get here?

Cautiously I rose from the bed, and slowly crept from this tiny room into what appeared to be a kitchen. A really, really old kitchen with strings of onions and garlic hanging from the rafters, and a stone hearth with a kettle over the fire. Over this fire bent an old housewife in linsy-woolsy, stirring and singing softly. I gasped and she turned to look at me.

“Oh, dearie, you really should stay abed. You are very ill.”

“No, no, I’m fine. What is this place?”

She answered only with a laugh.

I hesitated. “Ummmm…..Jane. My name is Jane.” What is my name? “What’s your name?”

“My name is Mary, and John, he found ye in the field and brought ye in. And I sight to see ye were, pale as any ghost. We called the doctor and he thought ye nigh on dead, but he said to warm the bed and let ye rest, and see if ye came ’round.”

“I see.” I snickered. I just said Jane, and he was John, and that’s funny, right? Because Jane Doe, and John Doe….

“Where d’ye come from, with that odd way of talking?”

“Uhhhh. Australia….I came from Australia.”

How do I know geography, and jokes about Jane and John Doe, and I don’t even know who I am or why I am here?

Mary put a bowl down on the table. “Come now, and have yourself a bite to eat.”

“What is this?” The contents of the bowl were a white, sticky pasty mass. She said something indiscernible to me.

“I—I’m good.”

“Well, now, and I’m sure ye are, a fine good young lady.”

“I mean, I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh, no. The doctor said you would be out of danger if ye came too, and got on your feet. There’s no need to be thinkin’ that ye’ll pass until you are of ripe old age.”

My confusion deepened. If everything around me is normal, why am I acting like I came from a different world? But if I’m normal, then where am I?

I sat down on the rustic handmade chair and carefully dipped the spoon into the gooey stew, even though I was really loathe to put anything into my mouth. Actually it wasn’t so bad. Kind of like chicken and dumplings. How do I know all this stuff??

“I think I’d like to go back to bed.”

“Right, ye are. You need to rest and regain your strength. I will bring ye a nice hot cup of tea to warm ye.”

I stumbled back to the bed and curled up under the rough covers, hoping that I might fall asleep and wake up from a dream, back into reality. But I don’t even know what reality is right now. I nodded off. Everything seemed mixed and confused. My sleep felt shallow, and disturbed. I could hear voices, and much of what they were saying.

“Do you reckon she’ll ever awaken?”

“She’s been asleep for nigh on two days.”

“I’ve given her spoonfuls of cold tea, and broth, lest she perish from starvation.”

“Keep up the good work, Mary.”

“How long was she in the field? She really is quite beautiful, John.”

….is it my own thoughts echoing in my head, or the voices of those around me? I don’t know. It is dark and frightening in my mind. I want to remember something. At least I think I do. What if the things I don’t remember are even worse than this?

I guess I finally slept deeply, because I found myself awakening with a somewhat refreshed feeling. But my mouth was dry and parched. John, or whoever he was, sat in a chair nearby, with a deeply concerned look on his noble features. “Water,” I gasped in a hoarse whisper.

“Mary!! She has come, too. Bring water quickly.”

They handed me an earthen cup, and I gulped it down desperately. It was tepid, though. “Do you have any ice?”

“Oh, goodness, no dear. I imagine we have not got near as fine accommodations as ye be accustomed to.” Mary hurried out of the room to fetch more water.

“You are feeling better today. You have been asleep for two days.” John was being a perfect gentleman at the moment, which was totally not what I wanted right now. I wanted a hug. I wanted to be held. I was having a panic attack. I began to shake violently, and tears came streaming down my face. I couldn’t catch my breath, and my thoughts were coming faster than I could speak. “I…don’t…know,,,,I’m….Where…..did…..I….come…How….did….I…..get…..here…..my….name…..I’m….not…..I’m……nobody.” I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Why couldn’t I remember who I was? Or where I was from? Or when I was from?? My words stuck in my throat, and I sobbed uncontrollably. John seemed a trifle annoyed. “Breathe deeply. Gather yourself. Relax. Be still. Eyes closed.”

My eyelids fell heavily and I calmed slowly, but I was still trembling. “I don’t know who I am, or how I got here, or where I’m from,” I whimpered. “I’m afraid.”

I felt his hand hovering over the nape of my neck. “You don’t know anything about yourself?”

“Nothing.” I brushed a last stray tear from my cheek, and waited anxiously for his response.

I felt his breath on my ear, and heard his voice whispering to me. My mind darkened and I sank into a deep sleep.

Chapter 2

It seemed that days passed. I still didn’t even know “when” I was. Everything was very old-fashioned, and there were no phones, and no running water. So was I in a town that was stuck in a bygone age, or was I a time traveler? Or had I gone through a wormhole? I didn’t dare to speak of anything like a telephone, or a computer, or the internet, for fear of interfering with the time-space continuum or something, so I just quietly rested, and ate what I was given. I felt very alone, and while I was given every consideration, I felt very deprived of emotional comfort and desperate for someone to touch me lovingly, caress me, fondle me. This feeling grew stronger, and more intense as time seemed to pass. Nights and days blended together. Sometimes I felt like I was asleep when I was awake. I heard voices in my dreams, and felt my body quivering and tingling.

Thinking about who I might be, or how I got here, just made me panic every time, so I tried to avoid thinking about it at all. There wasn’t much I could do about it at this point anyhow, so I resigned myself to my current state, and fell in with the routine which was offered me. I slept long hours, and was brought light biscuits and tea for breakfast, then a glass of milk in the afternoon. The milk was always warm, which was not exactly amenable to me, but I could clearly see that there was no refrigerator, or any other means of cooling it, and I also noticed that superfoods were in short supply, so I drank the milk. Dinner was always some very small dish of gruel or pudding. I felt myself getting thinner, and feeling weak and faint. It just wasn’t ever enough food.

That’s another thing. I started to pick up their quaint grammar. They looked at me so strangely when I used “modern” expressions, that I sort of resorted to speaking as if I though English wasn’t their first language. Just simple old-fashioned phrases with no idioms and no colloquialisms.

When I say “they”, I mean Mary; and then supposedly there was a washerwoman who came once a week to clean and scrub the cottage; and she talked about a few field hands who worked the land; and she described some curious village children who would allegedly bring me little gifts like handfuls of wildflowers and pebbles, and whittled wooden ornaments on little strings; and an old clergyman, who I heard assumed my soul was in need of redemption and that evil had been visited upon me for some past transgression I had committed; and there was some know-it-all doctor always diagnosing me from afar, who I therefore didn’t really like, and of course his concept of medicine was crude and basically wrong all the way around…but I never actually saw any of these people. Just this Mary, and not much of her. Mostly John. And often I didn’t see him because as soon as I heard his voice I felt like my consciousness faded into some deep sleep.

After a several days passed, my strange feeling that I was in a trancelike dream didn’t subside in the least. As I began to venture out to take walks in the fields, it felt like everything was very, very far away. According to Mary the doctor mentioned that when I was better that I could go up and stay in the main house, but that he had felt it safer to let me recover here, for he thought I ought not to be moved soon after I was found. I thought about that cold water I wanted on the day that I woke for the third time and I asked her “Do they have ice up there?”

“Well, yes, I am sure they do. They are landlords of the estate, and a fine honorable family they are.”

I get it. Ice is perishable, and valuable, and either John didn’t hear me ask for it, or they just didn’t think it could be carried a mile or so without melting.

I had been in the cottage about a fortnight, when a fantastic carriage with a gorgeous team of horses, and a coachman in livery condescended to travel the dusty road between the meagre cottages of the servants. A lady in waiting descended, cordially greeted me, and offered me a brocade dress and a bunch of generally confusing undergarments to change into. I asked her if she would help me dress, vaguely believing that was her purpose in coming anyway. I was pretty strong again, but I feigned a bit of weakness to cover my ignorance of the clothing. There was no mirror here, but I felt positively regal. The coachman helped me into the carriage, and the horses trotted off toward the mansion. They said it was a mile, and I remembered the ice again, when I realized how ridiculously long it was taking to traverse such a nominal distance. Also, I think it was a mile as the crow flies, because the road was winding and twisting, and was cut between rolling hills.

We gradually approached a magnificent mansion, and were greeted by the fragrance of boxwood, and the sweet sounds of garden fountains. The air up here was much cleaner, crisper and less dusty than at the cottage. There were gently sounds of birds, and whiffs of well-cultivated flowers, and softly chirping insects.

When we reached the massive front door, the horses were stopped and a sort of delegation, which seemed to consist of the mistress of the estate, a small and seemingly spoiled boy, a couple of servants in stiff uniforms, and two young ladies came out to meet me and offered excessive help for me to get inside, where they allowed me to sit on a sumptuous fainting sofa. The young ladies were most attentive, and sweet, and caring. The mistress was a total bitch, stuck up, and very haughty. She seemed to view my presence as a matter of obligation, possibly as a notch on her belt of charitable actions which would raise her esteem in the eyes of her neighbors. I began to gather that she was only the mother of the spoiled boy, and not of the two young ladies.

“Do make yourself comfortable. I am Lady V, this is Miss Emma V, and Miss Lily V. I know that you have already made the acquaintance of John, who is in charge of the estate since the death of his father. And this is my darling boy Arthur.” Arthur’s pudgy face and fingers were sticky with something that looked like chocolate, but as I was gathering that I was in some kind of time warp, I assumed it was probably molasses or something less perishable than chocolate. “Oh, Arthur dear. Why don’t you have Alice wash your soiled little mouth, so we can be presentable for our guest.” Of course rebel Arthur would have nothing to do with that, and ran away outside. Emma and Lily clearly disapproved.

“John tells us that you don’t have any memories. I can’t imagine what that must be like. What would you like us to call you?”

“Well, they were calling me Jane.”

“Very well. We shall call you Jane. I hope you find the clothing satisfactory. It was an old gown of Emma’s and she was so loathe to give it up. I don’t know what your station is, so I hope that it isn’t beneath you. It was last season’s brocade, and Alice only wore it once. She isn’t the sort to mind wearing something a bit old, but I told her it was rather more important for her to adorn herself with the latest fashion, and that she ought to be a bit more generous with herself, and let you have this one.”

I mumbled my thanks, but my head was beginning to throb, and I suddenly realized that maybe the doctor wasn’t such a dimwit after all if he had said I shouldn’t be moved. If this wasn’t my time period, if I truly was a traveller in a time-warp, and if this wasn’t modern times, and I wasn’t a prophet, whatever happened to me must have traded my bodily functions with something a bit more fitting to this time…..I was overcome with dizziness, and slowly sinking down into darkness, but not before I realized that I had just experienced my first vivid memory of who I was. I knew that I was a healthy, robust young lady, and that this fainting, swooning, fading, weak body—incredible as it was—wasn’t who I was supposed to be. Oblivion overcame me, and I sank into a deep, deep sleep.

Chapter 3

I felt like it was a long time until I came to again. But I don’t think it was. No one mentioned anything about the time. I was attended by a maid, who helped me with literally everything, from washing, to dressing, to walking and eating, as if I were a helpless bedridden invalid. Today held revelations for me about my condition as I was soon to find out.

John arrived at the house. I was comfortably seated in a fine cushioned chair in a conservatory with tall vast windows overlooking a lake view. I was actually beginning to enjoy myself maybe just a bit, and even though (or perhaps because) my mind was blank, I was just basking in the moment. I could hear dogs bark, birds chirp, horse hooves clattering over the flagstones in the courtyard, voices, footsteps—my senses were acute, but not to the point of aggravation. John appeared in the doorway of the conservatory, breaking my reverie, and my pleasure in the sounds of nature, but giving me a whole different flood of emotions. “Come with me.” He commanded me confidently, and I followed without a second thought.

We rode in another lovely carriage, with an open top for well over an hour. I had no idea of the distance. It could have been ten or twenty-five miles at that speed, and I doubt I would have known the difference. We came to a halt at a large stone building on the edge of a town. A hand painted wooden sign with the appearance of a vintage original (therefore I assumed it was actually a genuine contemporary) proclaimed the occupant to be a dealer in soaps, oils, and toiletries. To me, it was really quite a normal little shop, with country decor, and a fantastic fragrance filling the air. I thought perhaps this was the first vestige of modern society to touch this little town, but alas, as I looked around I could see no indication here of any new improvements.

The proprietor was a tall man, not exactly thin, but certainly not fat. He alone bore signs of a possible modernized world, in his hair style and the appearance of his face. He didn’t look quite as lean and weathered as the other men I had encountered, and his hair fell in gorgeous waves cascading over his shoulders, which I noticed was completely atypical compared with everyone else around me. He was still very obviously a gentleman, but with a greatly more sophisticated air than anyone I else I had met.

“Here is the young lady you need.” John announced after greeting the proprietor gruffly. “She doesn’t know who she is.”

The box of soap the proprietor’s assistant held in his hand crashed to the floor, and his face became pale as death. He looked into my eyes, with a shocked and terrified expression. He looked away momentarily and gathered himself, stepped across the store and whispered a few words to some of the other shopkeepers. Everyone disappeared into other rooms in the store.

“I know what you want me to do.” John said to Robert in a near whisper. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep bringing her to you. Finalize it, I’m sick of this game.”

Robert turned to me with a grin. “ I would be delighted to make your acquaintance.” I returned his bow with a gently curtsey. He had an incredible voice, milky, creamy, completely gorgeous. I felt a radiance of comfort running through me just from hearing him speak. “ I looked up at John, “I do thank you for everything you have done. You have made me most comfortable, and for that I am grateful.” John waved his hand in dismissal, and left the store.

The proprietor spoke again. “I am Robert. What shall I call you?”

“I have been called Jane here, but I am much inclined to allow you to call me anything you like.”

“Jane will do. I like the name, and it suits you.”

“I don’t feel like it suits me. It doesn’t fit.”

“What would you prefer?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel like anything fits right now. Why are you interested in me?”

“Come, let us talk about it in a more private setting.”

Robert led me to a garden courtyard outside the rear of the store, and we sat down at a very ornate iron table with benches.

“I have told you my name is Robert, but in reality I don’t know who I am either.”

I gasped. “How long…?”

“Nearly fifteen years. I shall start at the beginning, but there isn’t much to tell. I awoke outside of John’s estate on a large flat rock with no memory of who I was or where I had come from. I was found by John’s father who happened to be riding through on horseback. He took me in to the cottage, and they nursed me to health. When I was fully recovered, John’s father afforded me the means to open this small store. When I say recovered, I really mean physically recovered, since to this very day I have no tangible memory of a previous life, although I have the distinct feeling that I did in fact exist somewhere outside this world, or beyond this time.”

I was silent for I was overwhelmed by this revelation.

“What is your story?” he queried after some moments of reflection.

“One and the same. Except it was John who found me, and I suppose women aren’t expected to earn a living here.”

“That there. That comment you make about women is exactly the kind of thought that I have which leads me to believe in the existence of some other life. I have the same feeling, that women should be equal to men in every respect, but if this culture we are in is normal, then we would be wrong. It is both a relief and a horror to find that we share so much in common.”

“I don’t really know what to say. Where do we go from here? I am very lonely, I am afraid. I am weak and frail, even though I have the feeling that I was once a strong and robust person. i don’t even know if I want memories. What if my other life was something horrific, and I have been given the privilege to escape it?” A lump was rising in my throat and my eyes welled up with tears.

“Be strong. Be brave. We are in this together now. We can’t escape it, so we might as well forge through it side by side.” Words meant to comfort and strengthen, which suddenly reminded me of the hopelessness of escape, and how helpless I was against whatever was happening to me. I tried to hold back the tears, knowing he didn’t mean it that way, but I could not. I broke down and just had a good long cry, which I hadn’t done since my arrival in this strange new existence. Robert embraced me tenderly. His touch was velvet, and his voice was heavenly. He made me feel safe, and I took comfort in his presence. His unbridled genuine concern for my well-being gave me goosebumps. But inside, my mind was racing with anxiety. I clung to him in fear and loathing of everything around me, except the one glimmer of hope and acceptance I had discovered in this incredible stranger. I felt my body weakening again.

“I don’t understand what is happening to me.” I whispered. “Every time I get emotional or try to think about myself I get faint and weak.”

Robert showered me with soothing words of comfort. As the darkness closed in around me once again, I felt his touch, his strong arms around me, supporting me. Inside I prayed that he would never let me go.

It seemed as though no time had passed. I saw a bright light in my field of vision, but my eyes were closed. It seemed like a fireball. I was overcome with fear like none other I had felt before. I found myself sitting bolt upright on a four-poster bed, hearing myself screaming, and screaming as if I were hearing it from someone else. I was feverish again, barely conscious of what was happening to me.

From this point my life began to fall into some regular routine. I began to keep a diary, which became a long and cumbersome volume of my innermost thoughts and fears. I helped make soap for the store. I rested a lot, mostly because my fainting, sleeping episodes kept recurring.

The first one to me was the most memorable. Robert was reading me poetry and I was embroidering, mostly because my hands and mind needed something to do, besides to wonder about my condition, and it kept me occupied. The poetry was beautiful word music in Robert’s perfect tone, when something, some word, some phrase in the poem ripped my innermost thoughts open, and I caught a glimpse of myself in a memory. I gasped and sprang up from my chair upsetting my workbasket so that it tumbled all over the floor. Robert’s strong arms were around me before I knew it, and I felt that safety and security that his embrace offered me. My mind began to fade and I sank to the floor, hearing Robert call me in the distance. No, it wasn’t Robert—or was it? It was his voice, but he wasn’t saying Jane, it was some other name. Jenna? But I was coming too. “JANE, hear my voice. Eyes open.” I opened my eyes. His dark eyes looked into mine. He held me tightly, and I felt the warmth and comfort of his embrace and affection envelop me. I begged him to continue reading.

These flashbacks kept occurring before every blackout episode. At first, I didn’t remember what I saw after I came to. but gradually I began remembering more and more details. I began to remember that I was really named Jenna. That I wore jeans and a white sweater. That I lived in a penthouse apartment in New York City. That the year was 2025. I had a car, and a job of some sort that remained obscure in my flashbacks. I ventured to ask Robert what year it was, and the reply was “1793.” I came to both fear and look forward to the dark sleep that overcame me, especially enjoying the part where Robert caught me in his strong arms, and comforted me with his heavenly voice. It almost made it all worth it. I also asked him if he had any flashbacks, but he said he was entirely in the dark about his true identity, and I began to wonder if my mind wasn’t making it all up, until one day something happened that left me with no doubt.

I was working in the garden, collecting herbs for the next soap batch. I was gathering lemongrass and basil, sage and rosemary. I was admiring some large winged birds which were hovering far above me in the sky sailing on the wind, when suddenly everything around me changed completely. I found myself in the middle of a paved asphalt road, in the crosswalk. There were cars stopped beside me, and horns honking. Someone was yelling at me to get out of the street. I heard sirens. I finished crossing the street, and I realized that there were two girls waiting for me on the other side of the crosswalk. “Jenna, what’s wrong with you?” said one. I stared blankly. “Oh my God, Jenna. You seriously cannot be that drunk yet. We have so many more places to go!! Come on!” I stumbled forward, and the girls laughed jeeringly. “She’s totally that drunk, already!! What a lightweight. Stupid bitch, you’ll ruin our night. Go home!” One of them waved down a cab and they shoved me into the back of it and shut the door. My head felt heavy and my eyes were falling closed….

And I heard Robert’s voice, inside my head, like a pillar, soothing, comforting, pulling me toward him.

“Jenna…” he was calmly reciting something to me. Something about coming back, forgetting the scenario, it was a test of my ability to be immersed in full amnesia. “I made you too homely, and the scenario didn’t take a direction I wanted it to go. So we will start over with a new place, new identity, new time. Start all over. You’re Jenna, now. Wake!”

Chapter 4

I was in my apartment on my familiar grey sofa. My cat purred and crawled up onto my lap. I lifted the remote for the TV and looked at the calendar clock on the wall. There were little red X’s on the days most recently passed. My phone rang and I picked it up.

“Jenna! Where have you been? We’ve tried texting you, but you didn’t answer….”

My hands were shaking. I offered some barely intelligible explanation to my best friend about being terribly sick. I hung up the phone and scrolled through five days of missed calls, texts and emails. Missed work notifications, reprimands from my parents about not showing up for dinner. What is going on? I didn’t even realize five days had elapsed. The last thing I remember is that it was Friday night, and I was going to head out on a downtown adventure with some new guy and a few of the girls from work. It seemed like just an innocent night out, and now it’s like I’ve lost a whole week, and it’s Friday night again.

I feel really average. Every day much the same as the last. Go to work, return home, pay rent, save up for things I can never afford. Why does life have to suck like this? I never wanted to be ‘average’. Minimum wage sucks. My parents have to help me pay for my apartment, and they think they can tell me I am never supposed to have guys over, and certainly never to spend the night. It makes it really hard when they come by for a surprise check-up to see if I’m doing what I’m supposed to. Otherwise they won’t help me any more.

I stood up to go to the fridge and get a glass of tea. There was a click behind me. A voice in my head…I turned around and everything is spinning. He’s standing in front of me, looking down on me, making me feel everything….chills, tingles, fluttering sensations all over my body….

Oh my God, it was a lie. Robert, it was all a lie, you know exactly who you are.

Yes, Jenna. I know exactly who I am. All of that was part of a fantasy, that you are designed to forget.

Is this dialog in my thoughts, or am I speaking??

You are not Jane. You are not Jenna.

The pitcher in my hand crashed to the floor and shattered, and I felt my knees weaken, as Robert closed in on me, with his arm around my waist and one on the back of my neck, whispering, whispering in my ear. Explaining everything and taking away all of my reality. I am terrified.

It was just a fantasy designed to see how deep I could be taken. I have layers now. Even Jenna is a fantasy. I will never remember who I actually am, and it isn’t important. In the end, it will be decided for me who I fit the best, and then I will forget all the others, and become the one that he likes the best. Some of them are just experiments. Some of them are just for fun. Some of them are designed to test the parameters of my mind. Right now, I think I’m Jenna, and that Jane is the fantasy. But Jenna is a fantasy, too.

I want to run away, so badly. I hate what I’m hearing. Why don’t I actually know who I am? Who gave Robert the right to do this to me? He answers this, too. “You agreed to this. You told me that you wanted to be something amazing. I am shaping you, into something better than you could ever make out of yourself.” I bolt. I can’t take this, I need to find time to myself. Collect my thoughts. I know I am Jenna. Nothing can take that away from me.

I have no idea where I am headed. I don’t remember where ‘my’ apartment is. I just keep running as fast as I can, across streets, down through alleys, pathways, over a metal bridge, and all of a sudden I run face to face with John again. He looks different. Not like the Wild West from the fantasy. Plus, he’s mumbling something, and I’m feeling all my thoughts running away from me….

I’m back in my apartment on the familiar grey sofa. I know I have to get up and go to work in the morning. I have to work all these crappy shifts. I hate it. I wish I was someone else, but I’m not. I’m Jenna.

My life goes back to normal again. Robert comes by every evening to hang, and check on me. But something strange starts to happen. I keep passing out on the sofa at night. I don’t wake up with a hangover or anything, and I don’t have beer or liquor in the house. I’m just out, and when I get up in the morning Robert is already gone. And I have the weirdest dreams. i don’t tell my mom, or my best friend. I feel like I’m a little crazy.

My dreams start to feel real. I start to realize I never was Jenna. I’m actually Jennifer. I’m a receptionist at a large law firm in the city. I walk to work every day. It’s a pretty good job and gives me the means to afford everything I need to be comfortable. My family all lives hours from me, so there’s not much for me to do, but to try and find friends and date online.

“Good morning!” I greet the man approaching the reception desk with a bright smile.

“Hello, Jennifer. Is the boss in?”

“Yes, he’s in the office, you can go right in.”

I have a date tonight. I’m really excited. He sounds like a charmer, and he’s supposed to come pick me up at work, which is really risky, but I think it’s something I should do because it feels right. He’s into some kinky stuff, and I’m down to try it. It seems like it could be fun.

The time can’t go fast enough to suit me. I want the day to be over, and I’m waiting for Robert to walk through the door, and take me out. I keep answering the phone, and directing people into the various parts of the building. I can’t remember arriving at work this morning. I don’t know why I would remember. Actually, everything is comfortably blank. I don’t have anything to worry about, and all I have to do is keep thinking the words “I am ready and open for directions.” Nothing much to that. Just a simple phrase that I can keep repeating to myself whenever there is no one around, and I’m not directly engaged in a task.

I’ve actually never met the boss. The person who hired me was named John, and he said that I would meet the real boss when the time was right. It has me curious, but I’m content with what I’m doing. I can’t remember how long I’ve been doing this job. It seems like it’s been forever, but I’m not sure.

The clock is approaching 5 pm, and I’m beginning to feel an ascension to the moment that Robert will appear and take me out. In…wait, where did he say he would take me? The chime on the clock strikes 5 pm, and I feel my body rise from the chair. I begin to remove my dress, automatically, like it isn’t my own hands doing it. I take off all my clothing. I am completely naked. I get down on my knees. I have no idea what is going on. It’s like watching myself do something robotically, that I’m not controlling. I don’t know what to do. I want to flee, I am scared. Why would I take all my clothes off in the workplace? What if I get in trouble?

The door of the boss’s office clicks open. A voice in my head…I lift my eyes and everything is spinning. He’s standing in front of me, looking down on me, making me feel everything….chills, tingles, fluttering sensations all over my body….

Reciting something, whispering in my ear. I can’t hear what he is saying, but I feel like his words are enveloping my body in pleasure. I can feel myself irresistibly following him, into his office. I know instinctively what to do, to kneel down before him and give him the best blowjob I know how, and let him touch me all over, let him have all of my body. I’m light enough for him to push around, lift and move where he wants me. He carries me across the room, and squats down so I can open the door lever for him….and we are on the bed, and he is kissing my neck, and running his fingers down my body….I feel all my sensations turned all the way up. I feel like I know that he is perfect, and that there is nothing I can do but whatever he says.

I almost love my life. It seems like it is very close to my dreams. The routine is nice. Every day I go to the office, and every night I get on my knees for Robert and he whispers in my ear and makes me do things that feel amazing. Until I begin to realize that there was never an office. It was always Robert’s apartment. It seems like the scenario isn’t perfect yet. I’m not Jane, I’m not Jenna, I’m not Jennifer. Robert is whispering in my ear again, and I finally know who I am.

Chapter 5

I am Denise. It’s a bright day, and I’m happy, because I’m in the airport this morning and I absolutely love flying. I like the way my suit fits me. I feel powerful. A strong independent business owner, with proper goals and aspirations. My heels make a click-click sound as I strut through the airport a picture of confidence, trailing my high-end carry-on behind me smoothly on its ball-bearing wheels. I stroll down the moving walkway, always punctual. I grab a coffee at Starbucks on my way by. No pastry; I need to maintain this delicious figure.

I have to get through airport security and then I can insert my devices, get my drink and keep going. I am in control.

Once I am through airport security, I enter the restroom and take the vibrating dildo, and the vibrating butt plug from my carry on, and insert them. I connect the app in my phone to them. I send a quick message to indicate that I have done so. I like the feeling when they vibrate and I can’t tell when it is coming. A single burst reminds me that he is paying attention to me. A double burst makes me feel very needy, and want to get off. When they both vibrate in a triple burst I cum. Right there in the airport in front of everyone. I am in control.

Now I have to get a consume the largest unsweet tea I can find. There is a little cafe near my gate that has fountain drinks. The tea isn’t very good, but I have to drink it. I am in control.

I wait patiently at the gate for 30 minutes, and then realize I have to get another tea. And then I cannot use the restroom for my entire flight. I also have to say yes to the attendants every time they offer me a drink. It is a long flight. I am in control.

It is another 30 minutes before they call my boarding group. I enter the plane. My urge to use the restroom is beginning to intrude itself on my consciousness, but I can’t go until I land. I am in control.

The first hour of the flight I am comfortable. The attendant comes with drinks, and I ask for the cranberry juice, with vodka, and an extra bottle of water, please. The more I drink the better. I can’t use the restroom until I land, and I must hold my composure. Carry on professional conversations with the passengers around me. I really need to use the restroom, but it feels so good to be unable to go there. A second round of drinks from the attendant. She says this will be the last. We will land in an hour. I desperately need to use the restroom, but I cannot go. I am in control.

I keep alternately feeling the urge to cum, and then I can feel the vibration make me cum. I can’t do anything about it. I have to stay composed on the outside and let the orgasm tear through my body. I am in control.

When the plane lands, I can’t run, I must walk calmly. I must wait until….until what? I don’t need to be told when or where to do things. I pass all the restrooms. The desperate agony in my body from needing to go is fantastic. I am in control.

I exit the airport, A dark car is waiting for me, and I enter it, knowing what I will find there. It is Robert. He takes hold of the back of my neck, and I am overcome by oblivion.

I am awake in the bed, enveloped in soft bright white sheets. I am comfortable. Everything feels amazing. I have another board meeting in the morning, but all that matters right now is Robert’s hands on my body, and his voice in my mind. My head hangs over the edge of the bed, and I can feel him fucking me. I don’t remember arriving here, or finding the relief I needed. I feel so, so good.

I can do almost anything. It feels good to be the chair of this company. At least I have adventure and intrigue in my life. I don’t need to be one of those people stuck living in the past, or suffering through a minimum wage existence with no ambition, nor following someone else’s orders as their peon assistant. I was made for this. Made to be in charge, to be in control, to be a strong independent self-made businesswoman. I don’t ‘need’ a man in my life, but Robert makes everything feel so good, so he’s worth keeping around.

He doesn’t tell me what to do. He makes me a better person. He gives me direction, and I am happy about that. I don’t have a choice but to do the things that make me advance beyond my wildest dreams. I have to make my every moment productive. I have to take the lessons I’ve learned from being other people and apply them. I have to excel. I cannot resist. I am in control.

I am a breadwinner, and a successful author. I have broken the glass ceiling. I fly all over the world for speaking engagements, and book signings. And then I go home to my apartment, enter the bedroom, and take off my clothes, kneel, and wait. I am in control.

The door of the bedroom clicks open. A voice in my head…I lift my eyes and everything is spinning. He’s standing in front of me, looking down on me, making me feel everything….chills, tingles, fluttering sensations all over my body….

I am Denise.

Yes, you are Denise.