Must Understand

Belinda stared at the ceiling. Around her, the apartment creaked and sighed. Outside the window, a car’s headlights flashed. The bedside clock read 3:14 am. She closed her eyes. First night in the new place, she thought. All the sounds and the street traffic would become familiar, even soothing, in a few weeks. Tonight, they kept her up.

She took a long breath, counting on the inhale and exhaling to the same count. A dozen cycles relaxed her, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Around her, her mind tried to turn the stacks of packing boxes and shadows on the walls into abstract beasts. She felt like she was five and imagining monsters coming out of her closet.

Breathing again didn’t help, and she turned on her side, facing the wall. She touched the ancient plaster, and a piece flaked away. She turned it over in her hand.

Then, she heard the voice.

Muffled, it came from the other side of the wall. She’d heard a conversation when she first went to bed. A man and woman had been speaking, and filtered through the plaster, it reduced to an uneven murmur.

This had rhythm, like three even notes. Word, word, word, then a pause. Word, word, word. Belinda smiled and matched it.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered. “I can’t sleep.”

After the novelty wore off, Belinda stopped, but the voice continued. Rising in volume, it gained tempo while holding the same three-beat rhythm: word, word, word.

Louder, the tempo increased. Belinda sat up. The volume had made Belinda wonder how loud it must have been in the next apartment. The old walls were thick. It was one of the reasons Belinda had chosen the place.

Then, it stopped, and a choked, lingering groan followed.

Silence followed. Waiting, Belinda wasn’t sure whether to offer silent congratulations or call the police.

Padding out of the bedroom, she passed through her living room and checked the peephole before opening her door.

In the hallway, no one else had stepped out. She looked towards the sound.

Apartment 314 lay at the end of the hall. She’d not met her neighbor during the move-in that afternoon. Her apartment was 312. It and 314 shared the short end of the hall like their own cul-de-sac.

The choked, lingering groan returned. Clearer in the hallway, Belinda leaned towards congratulations. It didn’t sound like a plea for help. It sounded like a plea for more.

Tip-toeing, she crept along the old floorboards, wincing when one creaked underfoot. Reaching the door, she touched the wall beside it and listened.

A male voice murmured through. The female voice didn’t answer at first. He’d spoken for a long moment before a feminine voice replied, then they began to converse.

Trying to make out the words, Belinda hadn’t noticed that they were approaching the door until she heard a footfall and the metallic turn of the lock.

Heart thudding, she flashed along the floor and winced when the floorboard groaned. She’d entered her door and prepared to close it when 314 opened. Caught, she stopped and turned around.

His violet eyes observed her from just outside his apartment. Aware of the long t-shirt she’d worn for bed, a blush rose in her cheeks. Belinda smiled. He blinked once, then pulled his mouth into one of his own. Lifting his hand, he held it out and crossed the distance.

“My name is Corvin. I live in 314.”

Belinda clasped his dry, warm hand.

“Belinda. 312.”

“You moved in today?”

Belinda smiled.

“It’s all in there, I suppose, but I wouldn’t say I’d moved in.”

He considered.

“Still need to unpack. Is that it?”

Belinda nodded.

Behind him, the door moved. Belinda looked over his shoulder. He held Belinda’s gaze for a moment before turning back.

An attractive redhead worked fingers through disheveled hair. Her blouse remained untucked, and the buttons had been buttoned cock-eyed. She swallowed and wouldn’t meet Belinda’s eyes.

“This is Doris,” Corvin said. “Please meet Belinda.”

Doris carried her shoes and approached.

“Hello Belinda,” she recited.

“A pleasure,” Belinda said.

Doris waited and said nothing else. Corvin looked between her and Belinda, seeming to think.

Tension built in the silence, and Belinda shifted from one foot to the other. Belinda looked to Doris.

“Late to be going out.”

Doris blinked. Corvin touched her shoulder.

“Doris has an early day tomorrow.”

“I have an early day tomorrow,” Doris confirmed and followed the pressure on her shoulder as it guided her to the staircase.

As Doris started down the staircase, Corvin pulled another smile and looked to Belinda.

“Welcome to the building. A pleasure to meet you, Belinda.”

“Me too,” Belinda replied and looked to Doris, who drifted down the staircase.

Corvin gave a short nod and followed.

When they had disappeared, their footsteps echoed up the stairwell. At the end of the hall, Corvin’s apartment door remained open. Belinda felt a tug of curiosity but backed through her door, closed, and locked it.

She went to the street-facing window. Corvin and Doris stood on the curb with him just behind her. He laid a hand on her shoulder and seemed to speak. Not moving, she listened with her strappy sandals dangling at the end of her fingertips.

At length, a car pulled to a stop. Doris got in, and Corvin shut the car door. As the car vanished, he raised his eyes, finding Belinda. She started and backed away from the window.

Moments later, footsteps passed her door. The floorboard creaked, then a door closed.

Belinda spent the next day unpacking, and she left her earbuds in the following night.

Two weeks later, she dragged herself up the stairs. Just after ten pm, she had a backpack slung over one shoulder and carried a grocery bag. The new job had been what she hoped; she’d been given the lead on a small project and had spent the day getting the deliverable finished.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she couldn’t decide whether bed, food, or becoming a zombie in front of the television would be best. When she tried to slide her key into her door lock, it slipped from her hand, and the keychain chunked to the ground. Sighing, she knelt and lifted it.

In the quiet, she turned towards the door at the end of the hall. Three beats, even rhythm. The chanting had returned.

Closing her eyes, she tilted an ear towards it. Different than the first time, the voice was deeper, and the rhythm broke several times. In the breaks, a voice murmured. Corvin?

Blinking, she realized she’d been kneeling on the floor listening. The sound had grown and seemed closer.

Hefting her backpack, she rose and inserted the key.

The door at the end of the hall rattled and swung open.

Turning her head, Belinda paused. The man was gorgeous, not handsome but Greek God gorgeous. He wore an unbuttoned white dress shirt that revealed the cut of muscle between his pectorals and the flat squares of his abdominals. His blue eyes stared into her, through her.

Her mouth felt dry, and she lifted her hand off the key, leaving it in the lock. She ducked her head and flicked her hair behind her ear. He walked towards her, and she knew she’d fallen into a dream.

He wanted her, and in the next moment, he stood close. The warmth of his body enveloped her like an aura. He looked down like she’d been a desire he’d decided upon years before, and this was the moment when it had finally become real. She waited for him to ask for anything. The answer would be yes. He was perfect, like she’d summoned him from one of her fantasies.

“Victor,” a voice called from outside the fog of the dream.

He slid a hand along her arm and closed it, making her feel tiny and delicate like a baby bird. She leaned towards him. The fabric of his shirt brushed her cheek, and she wanted to rub against it like a cat and luxuriate in the fabric and the body beneath. Or, maybe he could wrap his arms around her, trapping her where she wanted to be.

“Victor.”

A head taller, she stared into the hollow of his throat, wanting and afraid to look into his eyes. She’d freeze or turn to stone if she tried to meet his gaze.

“Victor!”

He half-turned. Her hand reached and lay flat against the hard muscles of his chest. Supple and warm, his skin pulsed with the rhythm of his heartbeat. The necklace around his throat fit close. It glowed a radiant violet.

Her hand fell away, limp and still as he stepped away. Like she’d not breathed, Belinda gasped.

It wasn’t a dream. She stood in the hallway of her apartment. Corvin looked at her as the white-shirted man slipped past and re-entered the apartment.

Gathering herself, she shook her head, her mouth forming a question but not speaking it.

“Belinda. That was not intended,” Corvin said and began to close the door.

“But-,” Belinda began, not caring what was intended and wanting it to continue.

“I apologize,” Corvin said.

Apologize? For summoning the perfect man or taking him away?

Corvin stepped backward through the door and swung it closed.

Her face flushed, her heart pounding, Belinda took in the surroundings. Her apartment. 314 was down the hall. Her key waited in the lock.

Behind the brass 314, the chanting resumed. The gorgeous man. It had to be his voice.

A shiver ran up her spine. She shook her head. It couldn’t have been real. She really, really needed to sleep.

That Friday, her boss had stopped by Belinda’s cubicle. Because the project had gone so well, he said, no one would notice if she went out for lunch and didn’t come back until Monday. He paused, offered a small smile, then wandered away.

Yawning, Belinda had packed her things and slipped out. On the way home, she’d stopped at a pizza parlor.

Arriving home, she balanced the box in one hand and slid the key into the lock. She made sure not to listen as she pushed the door open.

Stomach bulging with too many pizza slices and regretting the indulgence, she lay on the couch and let the cooking shows play. Defiantly, she told it twice that, yes, she was still watching, and she’d begun to doze when a knock came at the door.

She sat up and brushed crumbs off her sweatshirt before rubbing her eyes.

At the door, Corvin appeared in the peephole. Belinda wiped her mouth and opened the lock.

“Belinda,” he said. “Hello.”

“Hello, Corvin.”

“The other night. Very inappropriate. I’m very sorry for the disturbance.”

He waited. His violet eyes traveled over her face and along her shoulders. As they did, the expression didn’t change. She thought of Victor and how everything he did carried some implication. Corvin’s gaze, in contrast, felt like her dentist examining her teeth.

“You have good taste, Corvin. I was a little jealous.”

Corvin blinked.

“He was attractive?”

Belinda furrowed her brow.

“You’re joking?”

He thought, then nodded. A smile spread across his face.

“Yes. Victor was quite handsome.”

His words carried a delay, as if English wasn’t his first language, but he had no accent.

“Quite,” Belinda said.

“Yes,” Corvin replied. “I hope to make it up to you.”

He held out his hand. A square white box about four inches on each side lay in the palm of his hand.

“For housewarming too?” Corvin asked.

“There’s no need.”

“Please,” he moved it forward a small increment. “I’d like to correct the error.”

Belinda reached out and tried to lift it. Heavier than she estimated, it slipped, but Corvin caught it. On the second try, Belinda hefted it.

Corvin bowed his head.

“Thank you.”

Taking a step back, he turned towards his apartment. Belinda stepped out into the hallway.

“Wait. Don’t you want to see me open it?”

Corvin looked over his shoulder as he opened his door.

“I know what’s inside.”

He passed through and closed the door. Belinda stared after him, holding the box in both hands.

Stepping back inside, she locked the door and sat on the couch. The cooking show was having a contest about lemon cookies.

Belinda set the box down. Clasping the top, she lifted. It came away in a single piece, revealing a violet crystal which looked like a thick tube bent into a Mobius twist. Clear, Belinda thought it was filled with liquid, but when she leaned close, there were no bubbles. If it was liquid, the fill had been perfect.

She traced a finger along the surface, smiling as her finger returned to the starting point without lifting.

Leaving it on the center of the coffee table, she lay down and divided her attention between it and the show. Pretty, she decided. She’d thank Corvin the next time she saw him, even though she’d rather Victor come for a visit.

Dozing, she thought of Victor and his violet eyes. No, blue eyes, she remembered and realized she’d been gazing at the violet of the crystal. His shirt had been crisp and white, and he’d smelled so nice, fresh with a whisper of earthiness.

Opening her eyes, she found the crystal and heard the echo of a voice inside the apartment. The screen asked again whether she wanted to continue watching.

Turning onto her back, she listened for the source of the voice. She needed to understand where it’d come from. No sounds followed the fading echo, and in the silence, she noticed the heat between her legs.

She’d clenched her thighs together, and in the quiet, resisted rubbing them against each other. As she tried, she thought of Victor and his violet eyes, and her body answered with fluid heat.

Maybe Corvin would share him? It wasn’t unheard of. She’d settle for just having him lie on top of her. The weight alone would do it. Her hand slipped into the waistband of her shorts. His flat stomach would press down on her, and his thighs would…

She twisted and rose before stalking back to her bedroom. She propped herself on a pillow and reached for her Hitachi in the nightstand without opening her eyes. The buzzing found her center, and she gasped.

Victor. Violet eyes. White shirt. Wait, blue eyes, not violet. Violet, she decided.

Shuddering, she flipped the switch to high. Violet eyes.

Smelling soap and the wisp of earthiness, she clenched, and the knot in the base of her stomach came free.

Hands losing all dexterity, she searched for the nightstand and rattled the Hitachi back into it.

Staring at the ceiling, the apartment fell silent. The now familiar rattle of pipes and clicking of HVAC played in her ears.

No chanting came from the shared wall with 314.

She wondered where that rush had come from. She wanted to understand. How had this happened?

“I must understand,” she whispered.

The words echoed, and she closed her eyes, hearing the echo fade. Had she woken herself? Talked in her sleep?

“I must understand,” she repeated.

Sighing, she realized it had been her voice. She’d talked in her sleep. That made it ok, and she returned to imagining Victor. He was much more fun to ponder than her own voice. How had he affected her?

“I must understand,” she whispered.

A shiver went up her spine. Maybe Corvin could tell her? They knew each other.

“I must understand.”

Yes, she told herself. Corvin could tell her. She could ask.

“I must understand.”

She heard the tone of her voice flattening. It was like the voices she heard through the wall. Had they needed to understand too?

“I must understand.”

She nodded with a small lift and drop of her chin. Eyes heavy, she swallowed and let them close. One more time, she told herself.

“I must understand.”

Her jaw went slack, falling open, and Belinda slipped away into a quiet sleep.

She woke the following morning, the sheets twisted into knots around her. She’d dreamed, but as she tried to remember, the sensations retreated before she could grasp them.

Showering and getting dressed, she prepared for work. Afterward, she stood in the kitchen and reviewed e-mails on her cell while coffee brewed. The violet crystal caught her attention over the top of the phone.

A warm knot in her stomach answered when she looked at it. Her eyelids drooped, and she heard her voice. Three even beats.

“I must understand.”

Closing her eyes, she looked at the floor and smelled the brewing coffee. She had to work. The crystal needed to wait.

Behind her lids, the image of it formed, and she saw her fingertip trace along its surface. If she looked, she’d understand…

Stop.

She poured a cup of coffee and took a long draught. The heat and bitterness let her focus on something else, and she finished the cup, grabbed her backpack, and departed before the crystal could reassert itself.

Work passed, and she negotiated with herself most of the day. She could go home for lunch, look at the crystal, and return. She’d forgotten her favorite pen. It was still at home. The blouse she’d worn was not her favorite. She should go change it.

When five blinked into the clock in the lower right of her screen, she told herself that she’d done enough and had earned some time at home.

Approaching her building, she fished her keys from her pocket. Climbing the entry steps, she stopped. Doris emerged from the front door.

As though Belinda didn’t exist, Doris floated down the stairs. Belinda stepped aside as Doris passed, descended to the sidewalk, and stopped.

“Doris?” Belinda called after her.

She didn’t move and didn’t turn.

The front door to the apartment building creaked open. Corvin stepped out. He paused and tilted his head.

“Belinda. I hadn’t expected you here.”

Belinda furrowed her brow. Where had he expected her? She put that aside and gestured to Doris.

“Is she ok?”

Corvin nodded.

“Yes. Depleted but ok.”

Belinda felt a chill. “Depleted?”

Corvin considered.

“Exhausted?”

Doris remained where she’d stopped.

Belinda went to her and touched her arm.

“Doris, is everything ok?”

“Hello Belinda,” Doris replied. “Everything is ok. Sleepy.”

“You’re certain?”

She nodded, a small smile forming.

“I wanted to know.”

“Wanted to know?”

Doris nodded, her eyes blinking slowly.

“So nice.”

Corvin appeared beside Doris and clasped her hand. He walked towards the corner. Doris followed and looked over her shoulder.

“Everything is ok.”

A car appeared when they reached the corner, and they both got in.

Belinda swallowed and climbed the stairs after the car had disappeared.

The door to 314 was open. She’d taken a step towards it before catching herself. With deliberation, she went to her door and unlocked it.

Approaching the Mobius statue, she closed her hand around it and hefted it from the coffee table. Her mind reminded her that she must understand.

“I must not turn into a depleted zombie,” she barked back.

Taking it, she pushed her door open and walked down the corridor to the opening into 314. She’d leave the statue on the counter and start looking for another place to live.

She crossed into the apartment. Its layout mirrored hers, except it had an extra bedroom. She turned to the kitchen and set the statue on the counter.

Turning to go, she reached the door and put a hand on the jamb. She looked over her shoulder.

The statue remained where she’d put it. As she looked, something inside the twist of its tubing moved. She turned. It was filled with liquid.

Curious, she took a step. Something inside continued to move, and she leaned against the counter. Filaments of violet, reflective and a shade lighter than the crystal flowed. They traced through the shape, stretching and bending until returning to where they started.

It hadn’t done this in her apartment. Why? She touched the crystal, and the filaments flowed towards her fingertip. She traced over the surface, and the filaments followed. It was like when she dragged a magnet through the dirt. Metal filings had been drawn out and followed the magnet.

“Why?” she whispered.

The air along her arms moved, making the hairs stand up. Deeper in the apartment, a liquid thump was followed by a movement of air.

Looking up, she stroked along the statue. Sighing, her shoulders relaxed, and she moved towards the sound. As she slid her hand off the statue, it began to vibrate.

The extra bedroom’s door stood ajar.

“I must understand.”

Twin Mobius statues stood against the wall. As tall as Belinda, longer filaments moved through the violet liquid. Before them, an abstract dome of violet crystal waited.

Stepping inside, she discovered a workstation beside the door with a closed laptop.

The dome reacted to Belinda’s approach, altering shape towards a kneeling chair or perhaps a saddle. She drifted towards it and touched the glossy surface.

Like an electric shock, a wave of pleasure rewarded her, and her knees weakened. She tried to jerk her hand back. It had stuck to the crystal.

“I must understand.”

The shifting shape pulled her stuck hand forward as it flowed around her ankles, adhering them to the material.

Caught between panic and desire, she jerked her ankles and shoved with her stuck hand. The device softened the jerk into an extended pull. It felt like she’d shoved a pillow.

Then, the material hardened and began to climb her legs.

Losing her balance, she fell forward. The material caught her, molding itself to her shape. Warm against her skin, it felt like being consumed by honey, and the pleasure grew as more and more of her came into contact with it.

She thrashed once, and the material softened, absorbed the energy, then became rigid.

Once she’d been maneuvered into a straddle where she leaned forward on her hands, like a perverse motorcycle, the liquid rose by increments between her legs.

Shuddering, she gritted her teeth against the rush of sensation. Before her, the filaments flowed through the Mobius statues. Her mind said it first, and her voice followed.

“I must understand.”

A movement appeared to her left, and she turned towards it.

Corvin stood in the doorway. His eyes moved over the moving crystal, Belinda, and the flowing statues as though monitoring the components of a machine.

“Corvin,” Belinda gasped. “Please.”

He had been looking at the statues and returned to Belinda.

“You wish to go?”

Belinda gasped as the machine searched, finding its way inside her. She began to shake her head, then stopped and closed her eyes.

“Or understand?” Corvin continued.

Head bent and gasping, Belinda nodded.

“I must understand.”

Corvin sat at the workstation and opened the laptop.

Unable to move, Belinda’s eyes drank in the flowing filaments from the twin statues. The mantra flowed out of her in time with the filaments’ movements, and the crystal held her in place, adjusting and increasing the pleasure until sensation reduced to the echo of her own voice and pure need.

She saw Victor and the first sexual fantasies where she only imagined boys lying on top of her. Her first boyfriend tracing his hands under the top of her swimsuit while they swam together, and the look of complete fascination on his face.

Later, her first kiss and first orgasm.

Somewhere to her left, typing clicked on a keyboard. Her first orgasm replayed. Jason had sneaked in through the window, his fingers moving gently while she coached him. She’d bitten her lip to keep her parents from hearing. He’d apologized when he saw the wound afterward. They’d laughed. She’d told him to get used to apologizing.

It all flashed over and through, and in the midst, she felt the rigid crystal soften as she thrashed in orgasm after orgasm, absorbing her movements.

“I must understand,” Belinda repeated.

Corvin observed the screen, typing and replaying specific memories.

Not sure if she’d blacked out, had a heart attack, or fallen asleep, Belinda opened her eyes.

She remembered images. Her boyfriend. Her first time. Fantasies. But there were also images she didn’t recognize: sex in an airplane bathroom, a man kneeling before her, sitting at a restaurant table and feeling fingers climbing up her inner thighs. They weren’t hers. She’d never fantasized about them. And as they appeared, her body responded, and her hips began to move.

Flushing, she exhaled and tried to calm down. Whose images was she seeing? Something she’d forgotten but had read somewhere?

She shook her head. They weren’t hers, but each time she reexamined them, her body flared with response.

In the next room, she heard Corvin. He would be waiting.

She lay on a bed. It wasn’t hers, and it wasn’t the crystal prison. Sitting up, she noticed that she was naked, except a hard collar had been fitted around her throat. It had the same texture as the statue.

Rising, she found her clothes folded on a dresser. In a mirror above it, her fingers traced along the violet crystal around her throat. There were no seams or catches.

In the corner of the mirror, she saw the bedroom door. Corvin watched.

“Belinda. You need to eat?”

Her stomach growled. She needed countless things, she thought. Food might be a place to start. She rose. Corvin remained at the door.

“May I at least dress myself?” Belinda asked.

“You often struggle to stand afterward.”

Belinda gestured to her standing body.

He returned to the other bedroom.

When Belinda had dressed, she emerged into the second bedroom. It had returned to how she first found it. The two Mobius statues stood dormant, and the malleable device had reformed into a smooth violet dome. Corvin looked up from the computer.

“I’d ask what you were doing, but I doubt you’d say,” Belinda said.

He lifted his violet eyes from the screen.

“Desire drives your world. We are here to study it.”

Not waiting for an answer, he rose and gestured towards the front of the apartment.

“What if I don’t want to study it?”

He tilted his head.

“What do you want, Belinda?”

The collar thrummed, and her knees buckled. Corvin caught her by the shoulders, pulling her against him. When her eyes opened, she looked up and met his gaze.

“I must understand.”

The thrum in the collar retreated, and she trembled as the rush of pleasure retreated with it. Corvin continued to hold her until the strength returned to her legs.

“I’ll show you how you will help,” Corvin said.

She swallowed, hating that she wanted to feel the rush of pleasure again.

“You made me want this.”

“Yes.”

They exited the apartment, and she passed by her door, feeling like the comfort and familiarity had become something she’d never feel again. Corvin gave her space as they descended the stairs and reached the sidewalk.

Corvin had been using his cellphone when he stepped onto the street. A few moments later, a car slid to a stop before them. She pulled the door open and slid inside.

Victor turned and smiled, his blue eyes bright. Belinda tried to remember. Had they been violet?

“Victor?” Belinda asked.

He frowned.

“How did you know that?”

“We met. A couple weeks ago.”

He shook his head but smiled.

“I drove you? I think I’d remember those violet eyes.”

“No, we met-“

Corvin entered the car from the opposite side. He gave an address. Victor faced forward, and the car began to move.

Riding in silence, Belinda split her attention between Victor and the street outside her window. As handsome as before, he was different, as though his silhouette moved at the edges. It seemed a ghost inhabited the same space as his body.

The car stopped. Corvin pulled the door handle.

“Thank you, Victor.”

The edges of Victor’s silhouette stopped moving, and his eyes closed.

Belinda pushed her door open and stepped onto the sidewalk.

They stood before a neon-lit diner. Half-full, people sat across from each other in booths, conversing over burgers and pancakes. Sparse foot traffic brushed past.

Like Victor, their silhouettes were human, but at the edges, they moved like the heat waves off the street in summer. As a couple passed, the woman’s arm swept close to Belinda’s. The sensation of lips against hers washed over her.

Jerking her head towards the woman, a tendril extended from her halo and remained coiled around Belinda’s arm. It faded as the couple moved further away. The sensation on Belinda’s lips faded with it.

Corvin had gone to the diner entrance and watched. He looked from Belinda to the couple, then back to Belinda.

Belinda tilted her head towards the couple. Corvin nodded and beckoned her to the door.

Inside, they got a booth and faced each other. Unlike the others, Corvin’s silhouette had no moving halo.

A waitress appeared and slid glasses of ice water onto the table and presented them both with menus before retreating.

“You see,” Corvin said.

His eyes traveled over the diner. Belinda followed his gaze. Like Victor and the couple on the street, a haze clung to each person, shifting and moving.

“We study these desires.”

Belinda lifted her hand and turned it over. In the light, she saw it, shifting with each movement.

“The couple on the street,” Belinda said.

He nodded, then gestured to her throat.

“It will help you understand.”

She stretched her neck, feeling the collar beneath her shirt. The waitress approached from behind Corvin. Small and flat, her aura lay over her tired shoulders like a worn coat. She lifted an order pad from a pocket.

“What can I get you?”

“Scrambled eggs. Orange juice,” Corvin said.

“White or wheat toast?”

“No.”

The waitress made a quizzical face, then scratched a line before turning to Belinda.

Belinda looked to Corvin, then to the waitress.

“I didn’t see onion rings?” Belinda asked and held up the menu.

The waitress came to Belinda’s side and bent her head to it. She pointed.

Belinda leaned forward, lifting her finger towards where the waitress pointed. Their auras touched, and Belinda saw a digital clock and wanted it to be midnight. Instead, it was just before nine. A wave of fatigue followed.

The waitress pulled her hand away, her expression suspicious.

“Just a burger and fries,” Belinda said.

The waitress jotted it down and took the menus.

Corvin’s mouth spread into a smile, but his eyes did not change.

“You see. Tired, wishing to return home.”

Belinda looked at her hand.

“What do you see in me?”

“Same as the first day. You must understand.”

Hearing the words sent a pulse through her. Her fingertips trembled.

“The first day?”

“Yes. It was why we chose you.”

“For what?”

“To help us understand.”

The food arrived moments later, and they ate in silence. Belinda watched the people. A man and a woman leaned towards each other, auras moving and twining around each other. An older couple passed by the window, auras fixed, separate, and unmoving.

Corvin chewed each bite with precision, mixing a sip of orange juice between each so that he finished the eggs and juice at the same time. Belinda devoured her burger and fries to quell the hunger that burst through her fascination with watching people and their auras.

As they finished, Corvin rose and led them out. Following a half step behind, he led them two blocks up the street. Belinda let people brush close, categorizing the images that arose when their desires touched: fear tied to the image of a police badge, hope with a feminine face as its object, thirst with a glass of water.

A quiet man wearing a hoodie walked with hands stuffed in his pockets. Barely watching the sidewalk ahead. Belinda adjusted her steps to brush her elbow against him. Lust, glossy black leather, high heels, and cold metal around his wrists. Not a desire. The echo of it.

He stopped. Belinda faced him. A blush bloomed on his cheeks, and he backed, then turned and trotted away. Belinda had started after him, the strength of the desire pulling her like a cry for help.

She’d taken a step when Corvin closed a hand around her arm.

“No,” he said. “This first.”

The man in the hoodie looked back once before turning a corner and disappearing. Despite Corvin’s stopping her, she wanted to chase and press the man against a wall and bathe in the intensity of what she’d felt.

“Belinda,” Corvin said and tugged her arm.

She turned away and followed, feeling the images fade from her mind like waking from a dream.

Corvin stopped across the street from a thumping nightclub. A red neon script announced it as Circle. A line of people extended away from the entrance. Crossing the street, he approached the front of the line.

A bouncer spotted his approach and blocked the entrance, extending his hand towards Corvin’s chest. Corvin stepped into it and touched the extended hand. Their eyes locked, and the tension in the bouncer’s arm evaporated. He stood aside. Corvin pulled Belinda with him as they plunged through the velvet curtain.

Thick bass invaded their ears. Belinda’s chest vibrated with the pulsing sound. At the edge of the dance floor, moving lights lanced through a haze of fragrant smoke and illuminated twisting bodies.

As the lights flashed, Belinda gasped. In the space, the twisting auras thickened into a substance. Unable to untangle individual shapes, the mass of the dance floor appeared as people wrapped in twisting lines. It reminded her of magnetic fields interacting, breaking, and reforming.

Sometimes finding each other, partners switched and moved towards each other as their desires closed around one another.

Corvin’s lips almost touched her ear.

“Find one to study. We must understand.”

The collar pulsed. Touching it, Belinda stepped forward and joined the dance floor.

Bodies brushed against hers, and a riot of images flowed through her mind faster than she could categorize: The sensation of being held. The touch of lips against her neck. A hand closing in her hair.

The current song rolled into another, and part of the crowd flowed towards the bar. Belinda discovered a delicate hand on her hip. She turned towards it. A woman pulled Belinda towards her.

Hips undulating, they danced with lips millimeters apart. The woman’s warm breath brushed over Belinda’s cheek. Smiling, she leaned away. Belinda bent towards her, keeping them close, then the woman bent towards Belinda, and Belinda bent away, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

Losing the beat of the song, the woman turned her head sideways and brushed her lips against Belinda’s throat, placing a kiss. Then, she hooked a finger in the collar, tugged Belinda forward, and led her off the dance floor.

They found a dark velvet couch and began kissing before descending onto it.

Belinda saw silk sheets and tall windows with billowing curtains. The woman straddled her, hands exploring. Belinda imagined with her. She imagined the scent of ocean salt and the feel of cool air brushing them both.

The woman sighed, her kisses growing more intense. Belinda imagined her hands sliding over thighs, teasing along the surface of skin. She touched the curve of a hip, causing shivers.

The woman shivered.

“Fuck,” she said into Belinda’s ear. “You better be ready to finish what you started.”

“Come with me,” Belinda said.

Rising, she pulled the woman’s hand like a leash. She rose and followed.

Corvin sat in the front seat of the car that waited at the curb. As Belinda and the woman slid into the back seat together, Victor looked back and smiled.

“Violet eyes,” he said. “Good to see you.”

Belinda put a hand to her eyes and looked from Corvin to the woman.

“They’re violet?”

The woman’s eyes softened, and she nodded.

“So hot, like you’re looking through me.”

She slid across and draped her body against Belinda’s. The coils of desire wiped Belinda’s thoughts, and she put her lips to the woman’s mouth. They both sighed as the car began to move.

Still twined together when the car stopped, Belinda resisted when Corvin’s hand touched her shoulder. She tossed it off and pulled the woman close.

“Belinda,” Corvin said from outside the car, “What do you want?”

Belinda faltered. She wanted to understand. Corvin touched her shoulder.

Disentangling herself, Belinda backed away from the woman and met her eyes. The woman’s face went blank. Her desire churned within her but remained still at the edges.

Belinda beckoned, and the woman’s aura reached as her body followed. A wave of pleasure pulsed from the collar. She wanted the woman to follow, and she had.

As they stood on the sidewalk, Belinda put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and began to guide her. The woman’s body and aura moved at Belinda’s command as they climbed the apartment building’s steps.

While Belinda shepherded the woman, Corvin led them to 314. Belinda passed through the open door and went to the back bedroom.

Standing with the statues behind her, she kissed the woman’s neck. The woman relaxed into Belinda’s touch. Belinda eased her to the violet dome.

It began to move, flowing around the woman’s ankles. Blank-eyed and compliant, the woman offered no resistance, her body trembling at the pleasure the violet crystal fed her.

Soon, Belinda stepped back as the woman had been bent forward to all fours. The collar pulsing at Belinda’s throat, she stepped before the woman and lifted her chin, guiding her eyes to the statues.

Behind her, Belinda sensed the statues and their filaments coming to life. The woman’s expression fell into an empty adoration as her eyes traced the filaments. Belinda stepped out of the way.

“Belinda,” Corvin said.

She tore her eyes from the woman as the machine began to work on her body and mind. Belinda trembled at her memories of the experience. Corvin touched her shoulder and pulled her to the workstation. With gentle pressure, he pushed Belinda into the chair.

A display showing moving lines, like magnetic fields, played on the screen. Belinda followed the lines. They matched what she’d seen in the auras of people on the street and in the nightclub. Turning to the woman, Belinda compared the woman’s aura to the moving lines on the screen. They matched.

Corvin’s hand slid over the keys. The display showed a second set of movements. Behind Belinda, the woman gasped. Over the next minute, the first and second movements synchronized.

The woman’s breathing became labored. Corvin made a small adjustment with a click of keys. The woman’s breathing clenched into an orgasm. Like a guitar string, the lines on the display vibrated in regular waves. Corvin adjusted again, and the woman resumed panting.

“Now, Belinda,” Corvin said. “Guide her.”

Corvin’s warm hand lifted Belinda’s and placed it on the keyboard.

Uncertain, Belinda shook her head. Corvin touched the back of her neck, and the collar pulsed.

Lifting her hand, her aura moved in sync with the collar’s pleasure. With trembling fingers, she began to type, and a wave appeared on the screen that matched what Belinda saw in herself.

The woman’s aura and Belinda’s wave began to synchronize. Belinda’s collar pulsed again.

“Jesus,” Belinda said and closed her eyes.

Behind her, the woman spoke.

“Jesus.”

Snapping her head around, Belinda saw the woman’s eyes had closed.

Belinda had put her feelings and the pleasure into the woman’s mind. How had she done that?

“I must understand,” she whispered to herself.

Corvin’s hands lifted away. Belinda turned back to the keyboard. She saw the pattern in her hands and felt the words.

“I must understand.”

Curious, she typed. The pattern in her hands appeared on the screen, and the woman’s pattern followed. Behind her, the woman spoke.

“I must understand.”

A shiver of pleasure rolled up Belinda’s spine. She typed again. The pattern’s waves thickened and took on weight.

“I must understand,” the woman began to repeat.

Belinda turned. Desperate and needy, the woman continued to recite. Orgasms rippled through her at regular intervals, and Belinda’s body answered with its own.

Trying different patterns, Belinda took the woman through a variety of experiences as Belinda pulled fantasies from her mind, from things she’d read, and from what she’d heard from others. She began to see their shape in the waves and translated it to the screen.

Losing track of time, she continued until Corvin’s hand touched her shoulder.

“Stop.”

Belinda’s eyes snapped to Corvin’s.

“I must understand.”

“Exhaustion.”

Belinda blinked and looked to the woman. Bathed in sweat, her body slumped between the ripples of pleasure.

Corvin leaned over the keyboard and typed. The waveform settled and fell. The woman sagged, and the crystal began to untangle itself.

At length, the woman lay on the ground. Corvin bent and lifted her before carrying her to the bedroom.

With gentleness, he laid her onto the bed and pulled the covers over her. Returning to the lab, he retrieved the woman’s clothes, folded them, and laid them on a table in the bedroom before returning to Belinda.

Belinda stared at the display and the flat lines. She’d just begun to figure it out. She needed more. She needed to understand.

Corvin stood beside her.

“You wish to understand?”

Pleasure. Belinda nodded.

“I must understand.”

“You will continue our research into desire.”

“Yes.”

“Undress.”

Belinda stood and stripped off her clothes. Corvin gestured to the statues. Belinda walked to it. It closed itself around her, and the pleasure began.

Time passed, orgasms ripped through her, and she heard her recitations. She must be trained each day. She must care for her body. She must care for her subjects. She must understand.

Drained, hair soaked with sweat, she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Around her, the building creaked and sighed. Out the window, a car’s headlights flashed. Familiar and comfortable, she relaxed.

Corvin lifted her to her feet.

“Goodbye, Belinda.”

“Goodbye, Corvin.”

He exited the bedroom, and the door to 314 opened and closed a moment later.

In the bedroom, the woman sighed and turned over. Belinda strode across and smiled down at her. Refreshed, she smiled up at Belinda. Her aura read as hungry. Belinda smiled.

“You’re hungry.”

“I am.”

Belinda would be sure the woman’s health was good, then continue with another subject. She must understand.