I nodded, just wanting to shake off the intensity from my previous encounter. “Don't forget your wellness check-in,” he said, calling over his shoulder as he walked away.
“Right, headed there now,” I said, trying to mask the spiral of thoughts threatening to take over.
Once he left, I took a deep breath, grabbed my stuff, and headed for the medical wing. The wellness center was way on the other side of the compound from the Dark Room, probably on purpose. Walking between them felt like crossing into a totally different dimension.
The wellness check went smoothly—blood pressure, temperature, the standard stuff. Raj, the nurse, smiled as he took off the blood pressure cuff. His hands were surprisingly gentle for someone with forearms that suggested he could deadlift a small car. “Everything looks good. 118 over 75, which is excellent. Any discomfort or concerns?”
I shook my head, but the truth? It gnawed at me. Physically, I was fine, but everything else? A total mess. The medical examination room, with its pristine surfaces and faint antiseptic smell, felt like it belonged to a different universe than the one where I'd just been intimately entangled with a European royal in the dark.
“Great. Dr. Winters is ready when you are.”
After thanking him, I grabbed a protein shake from the café in the Wellness Center. As I sipped it, I tried to make sense of the overwhelming emotions racing around like they were training for a marathon. But like clockwork, I circled back to one person: Ricard. His touch, his voice, way too intense for what this was supposed to be.
Soon, I reached Dr. Winters' office. After a few knocks that felt too loud, I stepped inside. The space was still as welcoming as ever, with soft lighting and comfy chairs. The air smelled like sandalwood and citrus, a blend I’d grown fond of.
“Good to see you, Theo,” Jamael said, extending his hand. I gratefully accepted it and sank into my usual armchair, feeling the relief of sinking into something familiar. “Thanks for fitting me in.”
“Of course,” he replied, settling into an open posture that made it easier to spill my guts. “I understand you just came from your medical check-in after your first Dark Room shift?”
“Yeah,” I said, fingers fidgeting with the hem of my robe, trying not to look like a nervous wreck. “All clear, physically.”
“And how are you doing otherwise? The Dark Room can be intense, even for experienced companions.”
I looked down at my hands, choosing my words carefully. “It was a lot. Both physically, mentally, and, you know, emotionally too.”
Jamael nodded like he got it. “Can you tell me more about that?”
I took a deep breath, the kind that feels like it could fill an Olympic-sized pool. “Part of me really liked it. The anonymity. Losing myself, letting my body be shared for someone else's pleasure. It was freeing, not having to think about anything except the sensations.” Heat crept to my cheeks. I mean, talking about this was cringe.
“That's common,” he said. “Many find liberation in that environment, especially those who carry a lot of responsibility. It can be a form of release.”
“Yeah, that vibes,” I agreed, thankful he wasn’t judging. But then I hesitated, knowing I had to address the elephant in the room. “But there was something else... a client I knew.”
“I see,” he said calmly. “How did that interaction go?”
Memories came flooding back like a tidal wave. “It was different from normal. More... real. Like we were just two people who wanted each other.” I looked him straight in the eyes. “I'm developing feelings for him. He definitely feels something too.”
There. I’d said it. The words hung between us, like an awkward emoji in a serious conversation.
Jamael didn’t freak out, just nodded thoughtfully. “This happens sometimes. The intimacy we provide can feel powerful, and it’s natural for emotions to develop on both sides.”
“So it's normal?” I asked, hopeful.
“Normal, yes,” Jamael confirmed. “But it’s complicated. May I ask who this client is?”
I hesitated, then said, “The duke. Ricard d’Moncloud.”
Jamael’s eyes lit up with recognition. “What specifically makes you believe he has feelings beyond the client-companion dynamic?”
I thought about it hard. “The way he looks at me. Like he's actually seeing me, not just a body he's renting for the night. And tonight, inthe Dark Room... when he realized it was me, it was like nothing else mattered.”
“I see. You feel a connection.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” I admitted, surprised at how easily that rolled off my tongue. “He reminds me of how I feel about Casey.”
“Both carrying heavy burdens, I see.” Jamael's tone was gentle. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Let's try something. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the intensity of your feelings for the duke?”
I shifted. “I don't know... maybe an eight?”
