Letting Go
"It's kind of like a flash mob," she tells me.
"Uh-huh". Arms crossed and eyelids lowered as I stare at her in silent disapproval. In the middle of our damned vacation, she pulls this on me. And what's with these cheesy jumpsuits? She just happened to pack them accidentally on purpose, I suppose?
"I really do not want to do this" I repeat.
"You need to let go once in a while. It's good for you," she lectures.
I'll have none of that. "It is cold. It is late. I am hungry and I want a steak."
"Here" she curtly intones while dangling a teensy bag of chocolate chip cookies from the mini bar in front of me. "This will hold you off until dinner."
Oh, lovely. That's all I need on our bill.
*****
A short time later we are in our rental car climbing the winding streets to the top of the hill. I'm trying my best to stay annoyed but am finding it difficult as I navigate through the thick fog that floods the city. It's funny how the mist transforms this place. Though I know the way (since we'd visited yesterday in the bright sunshine), I'm really disoriented. The parked cars and low hanging tree branches coming at us out of the grey soup are of no use in helping me get my bearings. "Then opt for the Sat-Nav," she had told me. Nope. There is no way that I'll be made to pay for that rip-off when a good map and street signs work just fine. I know what I'm doing.
The road steepens and I downshift around a corner while reaching again into the crumpled ten-dollar bag of cookies sitting in the center console. Finding only crumbs remaining, my annoyance is deliciously stoked.
I let my eyes leave the winding road for a moment, stealing a glance over at her sitting in the passenger seat. The instrument panel lights just barely illuminate her features as she stares ahead silently, intently - beaming that I've indulged her. My annoyance subsides.
It is only at the last switchback of our climb that I finally catch a glimpse of the tower. At first it is a formless, ghostly white shimmer. But as we approach more closely, shafts of light from skyward pointing floodlights appear. The tower materializes and then it's gone just as quickly behind the black canopy of the trees. I can see the footstep terraces encircling its base and as we pass, the entire plaza glows in the artificial light.
A little farther on and I see that there are already several other cars in the little roundabout parking area. I find an open slot next to one and maneuver to take it. In the fog, the flashing of the economy car's parking lights create an orange halo as I press the remote lock. We walk away together and I can feel the curve of her hip and the small of her back as I put my arm around her. I gotta say, she looks (and feels) pretty good in the jumpsuit. Maybe we should just skip all this and head back to the hotel room, eh, honey?
She reciprocates, gently massaging my back. There are no pockets in the jumpsuits, so I have to put the keys in my overcoat. The fog swirls around us, chilling my bare ankles and dampening all noise but our footsteps; you'd never know that we were actually in the center of a bustling city. The withering shafts of light from the plaza's faint glow pierce the canopy, barely illuminating our path as the ghostly tower looms faintly above. Its upper echelons disappear beyond the reach of the powerful lights.
She knows our destination so I let her lead. As we are swallowed by the tree line's darkness, from behind us I can hear the muffled sounds of another car approaching. Eventually, we come to a small clearing and I can see that there are already people there - maybe a dozen or so.
My girl tenses and squeezes me tightly at the sight and we press forward. She seems to recognize someone at the periphery and changes our course to meet them - him. No, them. A man and a woman stand slightly apart from the rest of the quietly chatting group. They look on expectantly. As we approach, the pair sees us and soon we are face to face.
"It's good to see ya'll again!" the man drawls quietly, addressing my woman with a certain... familiarity. Is that a Texas accent I hear? No - Tennessee, maybe. Yes, definitely Tennessee; central, Northern with a hint of Kentucky thrown in. Probably Clarksville or thereabouts. I'm good with accents.
"I'm glad you made it!" he continues. "And who is this?"
"This is HIM, Mr. Smith" she proudly but quietly replies, referring to me. Again, she is beaming.
I really hate introductions.
"Pleased to finally meet you."
"Mr. Smith" holds out his hand. I accept it and we shake. Firm, warm - this guy is all right.
"And this..." Mr. Smith Gestures to the woman standing next to him, "is Miss Jane."
"Pleased to finally meet you and you" she coos, smiling.
Hmm. British. Probably. Can't quite place it. They all sound the same, anyhow (I've seen enough Merchant Ivory films to know). Drop your Rs at the end of words and, Bob's-your-nephew, there you go.
She enthusiastically shakes each of our hands in succession. Brunette, nice rack (not that I stared or anything), tallish, hips. Not bad. I try to keep my eyes from wandering, but it ain't easy.
"Same here!" my girl beams at "Miss Jane".
Miss Jane gestures to us and offers to take our coats. I hesitate. "It's okay, honey. They're friends" my girl whispers to me as she rubs my back in reassurance. Reluctantly, I surrender my coat to the Miss but not without first checking to make sure the rental car keys are safely zipped up in the waist pocket. I don't want to have to pay to have them replaced. Before Gunga-Din takes hers off, she reaches into the pocket and removes a plastic bag from inside that she has been heretofore hiding.
Accessories. Lovely.
Miss Jane takes our coats and unceremoniously plops them on the ground in a heap. In the low light I can see they are at the summit of a small mountain of overgarments. Unprotected now as we are, the cold closes in. I hope this is all over before too long.
Mr. Smith puts his hands on our shoulders, gently pushing to turn us around as he begins guiding us over the rest of the group. "You got here just in time - we're expecting one more party to arrive and then we begin," he explains with a generous smile. I quickly glance over my shoulder as we walk, nervously checking the state of my coat and car keys - still there. Letting us go, Mr. Smith turns around to join his assistant and we push into the group. I make eye contact here and there with the others. Everyone is wearing the same thing as us - a white, loosely fitting jumpsuit with a high, snug collar. I assume that, like us, it's *all* they're wearing. Lovely. This couldn't get any nerdier.
The others seem to be paired off as well and most are quietly chatting with each other. Some seem nervous, like me, and I realize that I'm probably not the only out-of-the-know one here. Likewise, some are holding the same kind of plastic bag as my lady. I turn to face her and she reaches up and puts her arms around my neck.
"So, what? Is this going to be a pillow fight, or something?" I ask with a quiet sarcasm.
With a kiss she tells me "no" and that I'll like it.
"What's in the bag?"
"Shhh."
There is a rustling off in the distance and the group's attention is drawn to an approaching pair. A tense silence forms like a bubble over the group. Everyone is thinking the same thing: friend or foe? There is a perceptible relaxation upon seeing that the two are also wearing jumpsuits under their coats. I relax too, frankly, because I really, really don't feel like talking to the cops tonight.
As I turn my head back to my lovely, I meet the gaze of a nearby woman in the group who is standing with her man. She quickly bugs out her eyes at me and then rolls them up, shaking her head. The silent message is understood and I return it knowingly: "oh, the things we put up with," we convey wordlessly to each other (though hers may have been more along the lines of "I'm gonna kill him when we get home.") Still a bit chilled, I put my arms around my girl's waist again and draw her close. She smiles.
Mister Smith guides the two over to the rest of the group and then steps back to address us all. The quiet murmuring abates as all eyes turn to him. "Thank-you again - it's going to be a great night," he drawls in a loud whisper. "Initiations are always fun to watch."
A perceptible tenseness clutches the group as the words hang in the air. Initiation? Oh, great. My blood pressure drops a ways as dread saturates me. This was quirky and mildly annoying before but now I'm seriously wondering what the hell I'm doing here. I tense up and shift nervously on my feet in a subconscious preparation to flee. My girl responds by squeezing my waist more intensely to hold me back. I relent.
"Now, I know half of you are wondering 'just what the hell am I doing here?'" he continues. "Well, it's about trust. Trust is a wonderful but delicate thing. You would not be here tonight were it not for the trust you have placed in someone and it is not lightly that you have been invited to tonight's event."
Invited? Oh, please - enough already with the melodrama.
The nervous murmur surges.
"All of you have something in common and tonight, you all enter a new reality."
Ah - so, it's drugs, then.
Another nervous murmur passes through the group, more palpable this time and I look over to my woman expectantly. She smiles back and squeezes me tighter. It doesn't help.
"Miss Jane?" With a sweeping gesture, Mr. Smith beckons his assistant to approach the group. She is holding in her arms a large plastic bag. Quickly circumnavigating the group of amused and not-so-amused people, she reaches into it and throws handfuls of its contents over everyone. A few handfuls land on us.
Balloons. She's throwing uninflated white balloons.
A quick series of thoughts make coincidence and then illuminate in my mind like a supernova, the realization floors me. "This... this is...." stuttering, I shrug off my girl's grip and turn to face her with shock and anger in my eyes. I can barely talk. My tongue is thick and dry. "Wh..what did you do? What did you tell them??" A massive shot of adrenaline courses through me as my heart pounds. I want to leave. Now.
She grabs my wrists and pulls me in. I can see the onset of tears forming in her eyes. "Shhh... Honey, it's okay. Please..."
"What...have...you...done??" I hiss angrily at her through clenched teeth. Around me there is the muted roar of parallel conversations.
"It...it's more than you could ever dream," she pleads, gripping my wrists harder and drawing me close. "Stay with me.... please."
I stand there, glaring but not moving. I feel as if I have been stripped naked in front of all these strangers. She loosens her grip and caresses my arm, trembling now and even closer to tears. A sense of disembodiment encompasses me (the flimsy jumpsuit does not help with this feeling) and I am again speechless.
"The world is not so ordinary a place as it often seems." Mr. Smith continues. His voice is hollow, penetrating the fog of my panic as I stare at my woman. "Deep down, each of you have always known this but have never been able to touch what you sensed."
He pauses for a moment. "Welcome to the club."
Another murmur rises. My girl places a quaking hand on my cheek. "Honey - trust. Trust me," she whispers, letting go and stepping back a pace. I am frozen where I stand, unsure of anything.
She reaches into her plastic bag and pulls out her hand, cupped and holding something, then promptly throws the something into the air over my head. I flinch. It's a powder of some kind. The grains shimmer in the air as they pass through the light streaming through the trees. It slowly settles over me. All around, the same is occurring with the others. As the glittering dust falls like snow, my girl reaches down to the ground and grabs one of the myriad balloons. One member of each pair around me does likewise.
Oh, God - what am I still doing here?
"Trust" she again whispers into my ear before kissing me on the cheek and stepping back. Her hands are clasped together in front, clutching the limp balloon. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head back slightly. A serene smile passes her lips.
A movement about her occurs that I don't fully notice at first. I stare at her for a moment in the faint light. Then I see it: the balloon in her hands is inflating. A high, sibilant pitch builds all around and the unmistakable scent of latex fills my senses. At my feet, I can feel movement. The balloons littering the ground have popped up and are swelling like bubbles, crowding each other out and brushing up against the mass of legs standing in the cold, damp grass. Around me I can hear gasps of astonishment - mine included.
I look up at her, eyes wide and questioning. Hers are still closed, but her smile is broader, sensing my reaction. The balloon in her hands is now quite large and still swelling.
At my feet, the balloons continue to grow, squeaking as they compete for room. One balloon squeezes free and pops up above the others, visibly expanding.
My girl opens her eyes and stares at me. She unclasps her hands and moves toward me, joy on her face. The balloon seems buoyant, waving back and forth between her fingers, seeking the vertical. Below, the tide of bubbles percolates upward. The hiss intensifies.
I stare intently at her approach. The balloon bubbles squeak and rustle aside as she nears. She playfully bops me on the nose with the now huge white balloon and then smiles. Again I flinch, my panic attempting to find a productive outlet in the form of annoyance at the act.
The air about me is electric and all around I can feel static bathing me. Its warmth disarms and buoys me and I relax my furled brow with a gasp. The hiss intensifies. Again she smiles - almost giggling as she coyly looks into my eyes. She is different somehow, her features softer. I cast my gaze downward to see that her shoulders, too, seem curvier and rounder.
She closes her eyes again and breathes in deeply. Her chest rises as she does, pushing out against the thin material of her jumpsuit. When she exhales, her chest... does not fall. Again her eyes are open, gauging my reaction. Her front is still swelling, pressing out against the material. I stare down, not fully comprehending as her chest continues to blossom. The pleats and wrinkles in the fabric of the suit unfold and begin to pull tight as she swells.
A woman in the crowd lets out a partial shriek before catching herself midway. The attenuated exclamation breaks through the fog for an instant and several other men and women gasp loudly in quick succession.
My woman's swelling breasts are held back by the material, their burgeoning curves traced by the suit's stitched seams. I notice that her shoulders, too, are expanding. My eyes dart around her figure now, taking inventory. Everywhere she is...
"You...you're..."
She presses forward, her inflated chest pushing up against me, squeaking as it makes contact.
"Ballooning." she says, placing a hand on my waist. "And I'm not the only one."
"Huh?" Again, the warmth expresses itself onto my senses; I'm not cold anymore - not even my feet and ankles. When did this happen? The suit softly clings to me and I can feel it sliding against my skin. I look down at her inflating chest as it presses outward against the jumpsuit's fabric. More surprising than that sight, though, is that I see my own chest pushing out to meet hers.
It's my turn to gasp and I do so with gusto. The corners of her smile turn down mischievously and her eyes sparkle as she wrinkles her nose. My hands instinctively reach up to my belly to where her hand rests and I can feel my torso grow. My skin is soft and pliant and gives as I press in. Unmistakably, it is - I am - growing. All about me, I can feel myself expanding against the fabric of the suit. The hissing rush of unseen gas is louder than ever.
"How?"
"Shhh." she smiles. Her chest is now huge - two ballooning globes pushing out against the suit. Seeing where my attention is, she steps back half a pace and teases their growing curves with her hands. An impish smirk passes her lips as she stares into my eyes beneath a lowered brow and slightly cocked head. My own chest continues to billow out, greeting hers with a squeak as she again steps forward to rub up against me. My shoulders are puffing up, pulling at the fabric around the high collar of the suit as we are slowly forced apart.
The balloons at our feet continue to billow; a rising tide rustling to meet us.
She shifts and her soft belly pushes up against mine, both of us inflating together. Again, she reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck, the balloon in her hand pressing up against the back of my head. I reach out, barely able to find her hips and I am amazed at how wide she is. I trace her new curves, soft and growing beneath my fingers.
Our suits are no longer loose. With the folds and pleats gone, the material must stretch with us. The balloons at our feet are still inflating as they grow deeper they pin us together. Rubbery skins squeak in protest of the loss of space.
A demanding upness buoys me as the atmosphere seems to thicken around us. Our ballooning skin relentlessly pushes outward against the fabric of our suits, feeding the irresistible static.
"I don't understand..."
"Yes you do" she smiles, her gaze penetrating.
"Is... is this really happening? Are we actually turning into balloons?" I ask the question, but the words do not escape my tongue. They perch on my lips but refuse to take flight.
"Yes, we are" she replies to my unspoken query.
The now giant, sibilant balloons continue to swell around us and the bigger I grow, the more sensitive I am to the electricity in the air. My skin feels as if it is but a thin barrier between two gasses.
The other couples embrace as they, too, are pinned together by the frothing sea of balloons. Electric tendrils entwine throughout the group and I can hear the squeaking of balloons and skin against swooshing fabric. The relentless lift pulls on us with greater intensity and I begin to feel light on my feet.
My whole body is expanding, inflating against the suit. It aches to escape from the pressing weight of the world. "No!" I tell myself, fighting it. This cannot be happening. This does not happen. Have I been drugged, after all? Is it mass hypnosis? People do not inflate like helium balloons and they certainly don't float away into the sky.
The inner dialog panics me and I am short of breath. My mouth is dry and there is fear and confusion on my face. I meekly plead with her. "H-honey...no. I can't. Please."
"Shhhhhh...." she gently whispers as she gazes up into my eyes. "It will be okay. We'll be okay - just let go." I feel her fingers caressing my neck.
On the edge of weightlessness, my feet barely seem to contact the wet grass. A frisson washes over me and the fear and dread quickly recede into the tide. As I pass through the frontier, something else stirs in me: a hollowness, a stunning perolation overcomes me, welling up under my skin. Its tickle is overwhelming.
I can no longer deny it. "Yes" I whisper to her, my hushed voice barely audible. "I want this."
Her smile broadens and the twinkle in her eyes flares as she draws me in for a kiss. I feel her body softly rebound off mine as she effortlessly pulls herself up to press her lips against mine.
The hissing and the swelling intensify.
The balloons around us are huge now and they engulf us up to our shoulders. Here and there, a few begin to pop up above the tide with a squeak and hover for a moment before, one-by-one, they slowly begin to rise.
The air thickens and warms even more.
The suits seem to be at their limits and from all directions I can hear the low creaking of our suited, fellow travelers. My limbs begin to stiffen and I reach for her hand, entwining our fingers. Together, we now hold on to the balloon. With my other hand, I trace the enormous curve of her hip upwards along the seam of her suit, stopping just below her giant, ballooning breast.
The fabric is tight as it holds back her soft, inflating skin.
The sparkle in her eyes becomes wide-eyed astonishment for a moment and she seems to rise to the tips of her toes. Tightening her grip on me, she seeks my free hand with hers and holds on for dear life.
The giant white balloons are slowly lifting into the air around us, bouncing off each other and the pneumatic participants. With each contact, the invisible tendrils of static attach and pull, tugging us upward. We are lost in a sea of rising bubbles.
Up she goes, pulling my hands with her. "Follow Me," she breathlessly whispers into my ear. Our noses touch as she goes past, our hands locked together. The ocean of balloons accelerates as it lifts and disperses into the foggy night.
The percolation is almost unbearable and for a moment I fear that I cannot follow her; that she will slip away and be gone. With arrested panic, I clasp her hands tightly and as I try mightily to pull myself up towards her, my heels come out of my slippers. Up on my toes I am for a moment and then...
Release; I cannot feel the ground.
I heave myself up to her and we embrace around our swollen chests. The balloons float with us like bubbles and I see that, like us, the other couples have followed them as they fall into the air. The darkened shadows of the canopy engulf us but as we pass above, the ghostly shimmer of the the tower bathes us in light. The darkened canopy falls away and then disappears.
From out of the mist comes an infectious giggling and we join in, unable to contain the giddiness. Rising face-to-face, we look into each other's eyes before engaging in a passionate kiss.
We continue to ascend through the haze as the balloons seem to wander about us like chaperones. The glow begins to fade and then the light quickly transposes with darkness as we pass through the fringe. The stars shine above us, crystal clear against the ink of space. Wisps of the mist curl around us, trying but unable to halt our effervescent rise. More balloons and couples pop up out of the glowing blanket around us, chasing the night sky.
The higher we go, the more the blanket of mist resembles a floor of cotton, mottled with glowing whites and oranges. Here and there, the spires of the taller buildings and bridges pierce through. An airliner quietly passes overhead, outbound. Its red and white beacons are disembodied against the Milky Way.
It is just she and I, now; rising. Nothing else matters. I look down at the luminous blanket beneath us and, briefly, a tally of all my worldly cares passes through my mind: our vacation schedule, our room, our car... our coats. I contemplate them for a moment.
And then, I just let go.
- Printer-friendly version
- Login or register to post comments