Page 11 of Under Pressure

“Oh, sure,” she says, stepping close behind me to look at my computer, her body heat welcome in the slight chill of the lab. “So this column right here is from the electromyograph. It measures electrical activity that causes the muscles to contract.” She points to the next column. “This one is heart rate, this one’s respiration rate.” She goes through the rest, explaining what the normal ranges are for each. Mostly we’ll be comparing each week to their initial intake readings, though.

“Actually, how about we do a session for you?”

I glance over at her. Come again?

She smiles at my skeptical look. “Come on. That way you’ll understand it better.”

I turn back to the screen. “I don’t think it’ll work for me.”

“You won’t know until you try.”

“Fine,” I grumble, sensing she won’t let it go.

I sit in the designated chair next to her desk that Brad vacated, glancing at her computer screen. What will my levels say compared to everyone else’s?

She leans in close, wrapping a band around my chest, a few of her curls tickling me as they land on my shoulder. This near, I smell something sweet lingering on her skin, like the cupcakes she brought the other week.

She places her hands on my wrists, turning them over to expose them, placing sensors on the vulnerable pulse points. Her fingers are soft and delicate, the gentle pressure she applies so different from anything I’ve ever used my hands for. Tingles rush up my arms involuntarily, but I can’t shake them out for fear of messing up the wires.

I submit to her touch as she positions sensors on my upper arms next, her gray eyes intensely focused on her task. As her slender fingers inadvertently brush my skin, I wonder where else they might touch. What it would feel like to have her—

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply in an attempt to slow my suddenly racing heart, but only manage to catch more of her sweet scent. How can it be so intoxicating? And how am I only noticing it now?

She sits down in her chair and turns the biofeedback machine on. Even I can see my elevated heart rate on the screen, the jagged spikes of my breathing. She glances at me briefly but otherwise ignores it, letting me keep my dignity.

It’s only from being tested like this, having electrodes attached to me. It would cause anyone discomfort. That’s the only reason.

And besides, she’s being professional. Nothing about how she’s touched me is any different from what she’d do to a participant. Nothing that could be misinterpreted. She’s just doing her job.

“So through the course of this study, we’ll explore your awareness of your body’s responses to stress and skills that will help you relax—”

“You don’t have to go through the spiel with me. I heard it six times today.”

Her lips twist. “Sorry, it’s already habit.”

She starts then, going through a modified version of her routine with me. Her voice is soothing, reassuring, and it does its job in finally calming my body’s responses down until I can actually pay attention to what she’s saying.

“Focus on each muscle in your arm relaxing, starting from the top of your shoulder, down to the tip of your finger.”

“You sound like some new age hippie.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I kind of do. The woman I observed during the patient sessions was like that. She had this long braid all the way down her back and turquoise jewelry she wore all along her wrists and neck. She even mentioned chakras once,” she says in a stage whisper. “I loved her.”

“She would have driven me nuts.”

She props her chin on her hand, grinning at me. “Am I going to drive you off the deep end listening to me twice a week?”

I focus my attention on the screen instead of her. “No, you’re okay.”

And I realize I actually mean it, even after such a short period of time.

I clear my throat of its sudden tightness. “Just don’t start spouting worldly mysticism. Telling me to go to my happy place or something.”

“That’s actually one of the relaxation techniques—using imagery to promote a sense of well-being. What’s something you find peaceful?”

“Boxing.”

She huffs. “You can’t use a violent sport as your happy place.”

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