The Study

By D. A. Bale

Copyright by D. A. Bale, 2012

Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Cover art by TB3

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.


For Tyler
The Study


When I agreed to join the study, I had no inkling of what was to come.  My physician, Dr. Fredricks, knew the money would come in handy after the plant shutdown, but I’ll never understand why she withheld the truth.
“Ten thousand dollars for a sleep study?”
Dr. Fredricks assured, “They’ll measure the effects of various stressors on sleep quality over a period of time.”
“How much time?”
“Probably in the neighborhood of thirty days, give or take.  You’ll be isolated but in very comfortable quarters.”
I hesitated.  “What’s the catch?”
“No catch, Katherine, but they’ll want to implant a tiny monitor just under the skin to measure body temperature, fluids, heart rate…in essence all bodily functions.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of surgery.”
“It won’t be like surgery, more of an injection.  The site will only be tender for twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
In the end I capitulated.  The doctor had me at ten thousand.  How could I pass up such money for a month’s work?  I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.
Or so I thought at the time.

Day One
The flight landed in the middle of a mountain lake and taxied into a cave near the mountain base.  Whoever funded the project obviously spared no expense.  My assigned quarters were immaculate, complete with a fully stocked kitchenette, whirlpool bathtub, and a king-sized bed all to myself.  The idea of being isolated from the outside world for the duration of the study didn’t seem quite so claustrophobic in such luxurious surroundings.
The medical staff seemed nice enough though a bit distant.  After all, I was their guinea pig for the next thirty days, not there to socialize with and become bosom buddies.  They swarmed my apartment, sifted through my luggage, took all sorts of vitals and prepped me for the injection.  It didn’t become apparent until later why they fully anesthetized me for a simple injection.
The anesthetic didn’t sit too well when I awoke, the nausea hitting even while I was still groggy.  Gentle hands held my hair back as I let fly into a nearby trash can, then held a cup of cool water to my lips before unconsciousness called again.  The hours slipped by as the cycle repeated time after time, gentle hands always ready to assist.  Thank God they didn’t leave me alone to fend for myself in such a state.

Day Three
The digital countdown board on the wall greeted me with the passage of time when I finally awoke in a relative state of normalcy.  It struck me as odd that it didn’t count down the days until the end of the study but instead reflected how many days, hours, and minutes had passed since the study began.  Well, Dr. Fredricks did mention thirty days, give or take.  I’d apparently already wasted about three days.  If illness was one of the stressors to measure the effect on sleep, I’d given them plenty to work with.
The tray beside the bed contained scrambled eggs, toast, water and juice.  Had Gentle Hands prepared this welcomed repast?  I steered clear of the eggs and juice, sipped water, and chewed small bites of toast to test my stomach’s endurance.
My mind didn’t register the sound of water flowing until the shower turned off.  Probably the night’s nursemaid, though it did seem strange they would use my facilities to bathe.  With the money behind this project they surely had showers elsewhere for the medical staff.
I had to chuckle at the thought.  Here I was only three days in the facility, barely conscious at that, and already feeling territorial.  My control-freak tendencies were showing.
The toast clattered on my plate when the half-naked nurse opened the bathroom door and smiled.  The red towel rested loosely on his hips just below the six-pack abs leading to broad shoulders and tousled, dark hair.  Disarming green eyes twinkled with merriment at my obvious discomfort.
“You’re up.  No worse for wear?” he asked.
I shook my head and dragged the comforter up to my neck to cover the thin, cotton nightgown.  My face warmed and had to be as red as the towel.  Maybe if I threw the comforter over my head the Adonis Apparition might disappear, but I really didn’t want him to go away just yet.  Put on a few clothes perhaps, but stick around for a little bit at least.  Just looking at him might make me feel better.
Instead he unwrapped the towel, tossed it on a chair and nonchalantly slipped into a white satin robe, while I nearly knocked the tray full of dishes onto the floor and succeeded in spilling the orange juice across my lap.  Perhaps the juice would help cool my situation.
Mr. Nurse picked up the tray and dabbed at the comforter with the towel.  “Hi, I’m Matt, and I’ll be your server this evening.”  His laugh rumbled a deep timbre.
The close proximity didn’t help matters.  I grabbed the damp towel, trying to forget where it had just fallen from, and blotted my orange speckled gown.  Matt stripped my security blanket from the bed and offered his hand.
“Let’s get you out of that sopping mess.  You’ll feel even better after a hot bath.”
The juice-stained sheet came with me as he peeled me off the bed.  “That’s okay,” I said.  “You’ve done enough, and I’m sure you’d like to go home.  I can take things from here.”
As I slammed the bathroom door, the confusion in Matt’s eyes lingered with me through the languid, steaming bath.  It sure would be nice to see him when his shift came around again, easier too when fully clothed.  Already I’d identified two stressors as part of the study:  illness and the opposite sex.  Hopefully Matt hadn’t just started his shift.  I could use a few hours to get my bearings and explore the new surroundings.
Alone.
Then a thought hit me – the study said I would be in thirty-day isolation.  Maybe Matt-the-Nurse had only been present to care for me after the illness became apparent.  That explained it.  Now that I was recovering, they’d probably remove him from the apartment to get on with the remainder of the study.
Thankfully the bathroom contained a white satin robe for me to utilize during my stay.  I’d run off and forgotten my own robe in the packing confusion.  The bedroom seemed quiet and empty.  Completely empty.  The drawers contained no hint of my clothes.  The closet held my luggage, but once again devoid of a single thread signifying my existence.  What had the staff done with the clothes I’d brought?
I remembered something about an intercom system in the living room for communication.  Ah, yes.  There by the entrance.
“Excuse me?  I think someone forgot to send back my clothes.”
The voice from behind startled me.
“We get them back at the end of the study.”
I whirled around to see Matt lounging on the couch, still dressed in his white satin robe and reading a book.  His presence made me anxious for some reason.
“I thought your shift had ended,” I said.  “I’m fine now, fully on the mend so you’re welcome to leave.”
Once again he gave me that curious glance, closed his book and stood.  I wasn’t sure if I was happy to see him or frustrated – in more ways than one.
I continued, “Well if you’re going to stay then at least put some clothes on.”
Matt spoke again.  “Like I said, we’ll get them back at the end of the study.”
The we’ll stood out like a helpless ship in a sea of confusion.  The intercom felt cold under my hand.
“Hello?  Is anyone out there?  Answer me.”
A warm and gentle hand circled my arm.  I pulled away from the grasp.
My dander stood up.  “Look, I’m not sure what you being in here has to do with this sleep study, but this is not what I had in mind when I signed on.  So until it’s time for you to leave, I suggest you stay over there and I’ll keep my distance.”
“Sleep study?”
Matt appeared more confused than ever, but his eyes also held a hint of concern.
He pressed the intercom.  “There seems to be a problem here.  Katherine has been placed in the wrong study.”
After a few moments hesitation, a clinical voice echoed throughout the room.  “This is the only study being conducted at this time.  Please proceed without further outside contact except in the event of an emergency.”
“But she thinks she’s in a sleep study, not a sex study.”
My knees went rubbery and a cold sweat dribbled down my back.  A what study?  I pushed Matt out of the way and pounded the intercom.
“Sleep study – I signed up for a sleep study.  You know, snoring, apnea and all that.  You’ve got me in the wrong room!  Someone listen to me…answer me.  Hello?  Anyone?”
Silence blared.  The room suffocated and sucked the air from my lungs.  My mind whirled until Matt spoke again.
“I swear, I had no idea.  I thought we were both here under the same pretenses.”
Slowly I eased to the sofa.  “Wait, just wait there.  Don’t come any closer.”
Like an obedient servant, Matt planted his feet near the other side of the room.  He looked as uncomfortable as I felt.  The white satin neatly traced the outline of his muscular body and….
Dear God, I was already falling into their hands.
The satin robe felt entirely too thin as I pulled mine closer.  “So let me get this straight.”  My cheeks warmed even as I thought it.  “I was brought here under the auspices of a sleep study, but you came thinking it was a s-s-s…a se…um….”
“Sex study.”
“With a complete stranger?  What’s the matter with you?”
The moment his foot shuffled forward my heart leapt into overdrive.
“Stay where you are.”
“Can I at least sit down?”
I furiously shook my head.
“Look, I’ll sit on this end and you sit at that end.”
After thinking about it for a moment, I consented and moved as far as the armrest allowed.  Matt still seemed too close, but he was considerate of my discomfort by holding his robe together and sitting as far at his end of the sofa as possible.
He picked up the book he’d been reading and stared at the cover as he spoke.  “I’m not sure what I was thinking when I volunteered for this.  Initially I’d rejected the idea, but my best bud kinda talked me into it.  He’s bugged me for years to get back into dating after….”
“Imagined I’d get back into the dating scene someday too, but figured there’d at least be a few dinners and a movie before ending up flat on my back,” I huffed.
A momentary silence hung between us.  I felt his stare, but it didn’t emanate anger.  That’s something I knew only too well.
My stomach churned.  “I’m not feeling very good at the moment.  I think I’ll go lay down.”
“Do you need me to hold your hair again?”
My memories weren’t an aberration.  Matt’s expression reflected genuine concern.
“That was you?”
He shrugged.  “You needed help.  I’ve had plenty of…experience.”
I’ll bet he did.  “No, I just want to lie down – alone.”
The bedroom door had no lock.  My strength wouldn’t allow me to move the dresser, so I laid my suitcases in front to wake me if Matt tried to get in.
Just in case I fell asleep.

Day Four
Sleep passed fitfully, but I didn’t want to leave the bedroom and face the reality of the situation.  The urgent rap on the door inconveniently brought the real world back to the forefront.
“Katherine?”
“Go away.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need to use the facilities.”
The sleep fog still hung over my brain.  “Huh?”
“The kitchen sink is getting awfully tempting but not so sanitary.  It’s been too many hours.  Please let me in.”
The strain in Matt’s voice swept away the fog.  The bathroom.  He needed the bathroom.
Oh, no.
The apartment contained only one bathroom and he needed to get into the bedroom to access it.  This arrangement was not going to work for the long term.
He managed a thank you as he snuck by and slammed the door.  At least his mother had taught him some manners.  I stepped out into the lights of the living room to allow for needed privacy.  The intercom begged to be harassed.
“Hey, I know someone’s there.  This isn’t what I was told.”
No response.
“This is false advertising.”
Nothing.
“You know, this could be considered kidnapping.”
Silence.
“I demand to speak with someone in charge of this mess.”
“It’s not going to work,” Matt interrupted.  “I’ve tried to get through to someone for hours, but they won’t respond.”
“So what are we supposed to do?”
A glance at the digital countdown clock, then Matt responded.  “It’s still a bit early, but how about I rustle us up some breakfast or dinner, if you prefer.  You haven’t had much to eat since this all began.”
At the mere mention of food, my stomach loudly relented.  “Breakfast sounds good.  I’ll make the coffee.”
“Deal.”
That disarming smile was going to be difficult to deal with.  Close proximity to this guy, no matter how nice and reasonable he seemed, would be dangerous.  After all, Matt had agreed to a sex study.  I hadn’t.  I wasn’t about to prostitute myself for the sake of some foregone medical knowledge.  I needed to get the thirty days over and done with as soon as possible.
While Matt set to work at the stove, I fussed with the coffee pot and found the silverware and dishes.
“You’ve had a head start on me in here,” I began, “and I’m still trying to find my way around.”
“That anesthesia didn’t sit well with you.  You were pretty sick there for awhile.”  Matt’s brow furrowed as he forgot about the sizzling bacon.  “To be honest, I was a little freaked out.”
The entire illness situation probably would have been difficult for most any guy to deal with, particularly with a complete stranger.  Considering the circumstances, I was thankful he’d at least been a gentleman about the whole thing and taken care of me.  The memory of his gentle hands came to mind.
“Sorry about the mess.  Probably not the way you’d envisioned things to start, huh?”
Even though the situation still felt awkward, it wasn’t Matt’s fault.  Might as well make light of it if at all possible.  After all, he didn’t seem like a psycho.  Then again, the really good psychos never do.
Matt shrugged.  “Like I said, I’ve dealt with illness before…when my wife was sick.”
I nearly choked on the coffee.  “You’re married?”
Maybe Matt wasn’t such a gentleman after all.  I mean, how could a guy volunteer for a…such a study and be married?
He cracked the eggs in the bacon grease and watched them bubble.
“Cancer.  She died over seven years ago.”
Now I felt like the heel.  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
The remainder of our meal cooked in silence.  I couldn’t bring myself to approach the sensitive topic.  Or maybe it was the shame I felt toward myself how I could yo-yo so much about someone I didn’t even know.  I’d already judged the guy without having a clue who he really was deep down or why he’d chosen to participate.  But no matter how I tried, I just couldn’t see why someone would participate in a sex study with a stranger except for one thing – purely physical.
Our meal half over, Matt started talking again, his eyes staring through his plate as if it weren’t there.
“Jill put herself through multiple rounds of chemo.  Through it all, the only thing I could do was hold her hair away from her face when she’d get sick, that is until it all fell out.  She had beautiful blonde hair.”
He seemed lost in his memories.  I found myself running my hand absentmindedly through my long blonde hair and immediately stopped.  I hadn’t yet taken time to comb the tangled mess since awakening, but Matt probably didn’t even care.  Likely he’d thought of Jill all over again when he was helping me.  No wonder his hands were so gentle.
The coffee cup in my hand was a security blanket to keep me from placing my hand on Matt’s arm.  I’d have to be a block of ice not to feel compassion for anyone having seen their loved one go through such hell, but I couldn’t risk getting too close.
“I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful subject.”
Matt looked up and smiled softly.  “After she died, I lost myself in my work for a long time.  It’s good to talk about her again.”
For a few moments he studied my face, my comfort level dropping like a brick through water.  Idle hands…oh, what was that old saying of my mother’s?  The dishes needed cleaning, so I hopped up and got busy.
“You did the cooking, so I’ll do the cleaning,” I offered.
“Fair enough.  You wash, and I’ll dry.”
Not quite what I had in mind, but I couldn’t come up with a good argument in my present state of mind.  If I was going to steer clear of this guy as much as possible in the next month, I needed to think faster and not succumb so easily to his suggestions.
Matt steered the questions back to me.  “So have you ever been married?”
Best to keep the answers short and to the point. “Yes.”
He fished a plate from the rinse water and cast a sidelong glance my way.  “Divorced?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Divorced or married?”
“Since your divorce.”
“About eleven years.”
I could feel rather than see his lip curl in a smirk.
“How long were you married?”
“Two years.”
“Good or bad?”
“Great for the last eleven years.”
“So you’re saying the marriage was bad?”
“Yep.”
He set the cup in the drainer and turned full toward me, leaning against the counter and waiting.  Why couldn’t they at least let us keep some regular clothes in here?  The drape of the satin robe revealed firm pectoral muscles.  He’d be willing if I gave him any leeway, any sign that I’d succumb to the temptation.  Those bastards were just playing us like animals instead of real, live human beings.  I threw the last fork into the rinse water and pulled the drain plug before whirling around to face him with fistfuls of suds.
“What do you want to hear?  That my ex-husband was a cocky bastard, strutted around and flexed his muscles to any willing young woman just months after we were married?  That I stayed around and put up with his abuse far longer than I should have?  That I feared for my life until he walked out the door every morning and cowered in fear when he walked back in every evening?  Is that what you wanted to know?”
Matt stood like a soldier and gave me some space.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…”
“Let’s just get something straight here, mister.  For the duration of this study, you stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.  The damn doctors aren’t going to get what they want and neither are you.”

Day Twelve
More than a week passed in relative silence, with little more than an occasional good morning and good night.  Matt was likely as bored as I, his workouts behind the sofa increasing in quantity and duration.  At least he had the decency to stay out of sight in case of a robe malfunction.  He showed consideration for our situation – in more ways than one.
In exchange for letting me have the bedroom to sleep, I ensured not to hog the bathroom and would vacate the premises when need arose.  Cooking had always come natural to me, so I made a point of preparing enough for two when I happened upon the kitchen first.  Matt reciprocated when opportunity allowed, but no more washing dishes together.  Domestication in tight quarters didn’t bode well for safely getting through the study period.
Nearly every day I made a point of staying busy, puttering around doing chores like dusting, though the filtration system made it unnecessary.  Books provided a good chunk of reading time, something I’d always enjoyed and never seemed to have the occasion to do.  When not working out, Matt lazed on the sofa or at the table reading any number of books and scribbling his gibberish on a pad of paper.
But as a woman I couldn’t stem my needs forever, which usually consisted of conversation and endless phone calls with my friends – personal interaction, to say the least.  What Matt and I experienced seemed way too personal and the interaction could only lead to more arguments or the unthinkable.  However, the more I stayed in my own head the worse it’d become and the slower the digital timer counted the minutes.  Besides, I really needed to apologize for my unhinged outburst at the end of our last real conversation.
“Matt?”
“Hmm?”
He said it like an afterthought, his nose never moving from the book.  I was pretty sure he hadn’t really heard me and responded more out of some sort of habit.
I spoke a little louder.  “Matt.”
“What?  Oh.”
He sat up and glanced around as if surprised by his surroundings before his jaw set as if expecting the worst.  The expression made my remorse greater.  Instead of looking Matt in the eye, I stared at a tuft of carpet.
“I wanted to apologize for my outburst last week.”
When I glanced up his expression had softened and a slight smile curled the edge of his mouth.  Every time he smiled whether small or big it seemed to radiate a deep happiness even in the midst of strange circumstances.
“It’s not your fault.”
It felt good to converse again.  “Well it’s not yours either, and I shouldn’t have taken my frustration at this situation out on you.”
The slight smile grew into a full-blown grin that twinkled up to his green eyes.  He had such nice eyes.  Through them I could see a genuine human being, probably here for more than he’d allowed himself to be talked into.
Matt responded, “I’m glad we’re talking again.”
“Me too.”
For two people who were glad to be conversing again, we didn’t for a few uncomfortable moments.  Then Matt broke the silence.
“So what are you reading?” he asked.
“Dickens.  You?”
“Churchill.”
“As in Winston Churchill?”
“Yeah – I read a lot of war history.”
Interesting.  “I had you pegged as a lover of thriller novels.”
“Used to be, but it’s been years since I’ve had time for pleasure reading.  Guess I’ve gotten out of the habit.”
Something I completely understood.  “I was just ruminating about the same thing.  Used to read a lot but somewhere along the way life took over.  Can’t tell you the last time I sat down to read a book, much less in one sitting.”
Matt nodded, his face wreathed in that far away look he’d had when talking about his wife.  A knot formed in my stomach.  Somehow I knew.  Even now I could never be able to explain it, but somehow it felt like I’d been drawn into his head.  He hadn’t read for pleasure since before his wife had gotten sick and died.
Safe subjects.  Safe subjects.  Stay away from emotional and connecting thoughts.  The air felt too heavy – dangerous.
“You know something I miss in here?” I asked.
The moment passed.
Matt responded, “What?”
“Music.  I’m a big music nut.”
“Really?  Any particular styles?”
“Oh, I like just about anything from classical and instrumental to rock and pop.  One of the first things I noticed when I arrived was that they didn’t have a stereo system in here.  That was surprising.”
“Disappointing too, I’ll bet.”
Before I could respond, The Righteous Brothers’ Unchained Melody hummed softly through a hidden speaker system.  A glance at Matt showed his surprise matched mine.
“I guess you got your wish,” he said.
So they could hear us, hear every single word of conversation without the use of the intercom.  My next reaction surprised me.  Instead of exploding in anger and feeling even further violated, my funny bone shot into overdrive.
I ran over to the intercom, even though I knew it wasn’t necessary anymore.  I just wanted to make sure they could hear me loud and clear.  I pushed the button and held it down, belting out the song as loud as I could.
“One hundred bottles of beer on the wall.  One hundred bottles of beer.  Take one down, pass it around.  Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.”
Second verse same as the first.  Ninety-nine.  Ninety-eight.  Ninety-seven.  Matt’s laughter caught me by surprise.  It was a deep belly laugh that sounded like it came all the way from his toes.  By the time I got to eighty-two, I thought he was going to be doubled over from the massive abdominal workout.  At seventy-nine bottles of beer, he sidled up next to me and joined in.  He had a nice baritone.
At seventy-three bottles of beer we had tears streaming down our faces.  At fifty-seven bottles I could hardly breathe and Matt had to take over pressing the intercom, continuing without me for a verse or two.  Somewhere around thirty-five bottles he put his arm around my shoulders like we were long time drinking buddies.  In the twenties we caught our second wind.  The last ten I think we were both ready to just get it over with, but we had to finish strong.
There are principles to uphold, even when singing a stupid song with a relative stranger.
As soon as it was all said and done, I discovered I had my arm wrapped across his back, my hand resting on his hip.  Out of breath, the only thing we could muster when we looked at each other was an uncomfortable chuckle.  Unchained Melody had died out sometime along the way, and the room quickly filled with silence.
Matt glanced down from my face and immediately his face flushed red.  He dropped his arm.
“Uh…‘scuse me a second.  All that singing about beer, you know.”
He acted as if I’d contracted bubonic plague and rushed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.  Within seconds I heard the slam of the bathroom door.  When I glanced down, to my horror I discovered that my robe had gapped open at the neck.  It didn’t take much to realize what he’d seen.
Mortification underwhelmed the fun.

Day Twenty-Two
Passed the halfway point and a little more than a week to go.  We got along fine as long as we ignored the flashing incident.  Conversation centered around Matt’s experience as a Marine ballistics specialist, the building of his business after the military, my lack of a job at the moment, hobbies and interests, and anything else we could come up with to fill the hours, knowing all the while our conversation was monitored.
I had to admit, Matt seemed like a really great guy – a gentleman even in the most trying circumstances.  I’d never met one of those in my thirty-seven years and probably wouldn’t have met a man like Matt in my normal social circles.  Try as I might I couldn’t help but be attracted to him, but never once did he try anything funny.
I felt conflicted – I wasn’t so sure I liked that.
Sometimes late at night, or at least what I thought of as night, I lay in bed imagining him beside me.  I couldn’t get our initial interaction with the towel incident out of my head, the memory of his gentle hands when I’d been sick.  At times I tried to convince myself he had to be gay, but then the conversation about his dead wife came back to haunt my thoughts.  In my experience, it just seemed almost unnatural for a man not to act on his desires – regardless of my wishes.
Maybe he found me unattractive.  That hurt my ego more than anything.  In my younger days I’d never experienced a lack of male attention – a lot of it unwanted from men much older.  After my divorce I didn’t want any notice and made sure those around me knew it.  Over the years the attention waned altogether.  I’d built my shell so thick as to be nearly impenetrable.
Perhaps I had truly become unattractive.  I wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and stared at my reflection.  Stringy, long hair and dark, haunted eyes stared back.  My figure had retained its shape, though maybe a little thicker around the waist from too much chocolate ice cream.  Sure I could stand a little toning, but who couldn’t?
If anything, my attitude had become bad – or indifferent.  But what did it matter?  In just a few days Matt would go back to his company, and I would go back to…what?
Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  No husband.  No kids.  No job.  Not even a pet to welcome me home, though it would have been dead from lack of food, water, and attention in my absence.  The ten thousand would be helpful to get me through until I could find another job, but that only gave me a sense of security.  Money didn’t warm you on a cold winter night nor cuddle away the loneliness.
I brushed out my hair and slipped into a fresh robe that magically appeared every day to replace the previous one.  When a robe first appeared, I’d searched the walls for secret doors, the floor and ceiling for a crawl space, but however they managed it was beyond my mental capacity.  I’d stopped worrying about it.
The living room lights were turned low, serene music in the background.  Matt still slept on the sofa, his body tilted on his side.  His arm lay across his forehead as if he’d just closed his eyes to rest from reading.  My heart almost stopped when I realized his robe had fallen open, revealing the muscular leanness of his backside.  I turned around and went back into the bedroom then stopped at the door, remembering the juice incident.  He’d been so bold when he’d ripped off that red towel in full view.  Could I not be so now?
I couldn’t help staring as I crept over and carefully laid the satin back across his gleaming skin.  The book caught my attention, wedged between his hand and the sofa back.  After gently removing it, I glanced at the cover – Alexander Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo.  He’d moved to my section of the classics.  I smiled.
From the corner of my eye I caught a sleepy return smile as Matt moved his arm and caught mine in his grasp.  The book tumbled from my hand.  We both immediately clutched for it.
As Matt stumbled from the sofa I tripped on his leg and crumpled to the floor on top of him.  My reaction should have been immediate, but his body against mine brought a rush of tension I’d only pretended not to notice in previous close proximity.  His arms circled my body and pulled me tighter.  The hunger in his eyes terrified me.  I struggled to free myself from his grasp and tore at his arms.
“Let me go!”
Immediately his arms went slack.  I rolled away until an ottoman stopped me, while Matt leapt up and paced like a caged lion until his fury broke.
“I can’t do this,” he yelled to the ceiling.  “You people are sick to keep us trapped like animals.  This isn’t right, do you hear me?  I quit!”
I tried to make as small a target as possible, waiting for the worst.  Memories of my ex-husband’s tirades washed over me like a wave.  Bruises, broken ribs, tossed furniture rose in my mind, the pain, fear and anguish that never seemed to end.
But this time none of it rained down on me.
A chance peek from my huddled position revealed a curious scene.  Matt gripped the book in his hands and pressed it hard against his forehead.  The pacing had stopped.  I waited a few more moments to see if the book would come sailing in my direction.  It stayed put.
Matt’s voice was husky and strained.  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.  Having you so close is more…difficult than I thought.  This is just crazy.  This whole thing was crazy from the beginning and I got suckered into it.”
When he looked at me my gut lurched at the pain I saw in his eyes.  The rawness.  The vulnerability.  The hunger.
I remained silent but fear washed away from me like unwanted filth.  Instinct settled the matter.  Matt wouldn’t…no couldn’t harm me.
He continued.  “You are so much like her – the hair, the eyes – and yet you have a will and strength in you that she didn’t.  It’s like fire.”
My silence broke.  “You mean like your wife?”
The word came out in a hoarse whisper. “Yes.”
The earlier doubts knocked at my mind.  “So…you do find me attractive?”
The book thudded to the floor, and Matt stared at me, incredulous.
“Are you kidding?”
My eyes wandered across his face.  He hadn’t shaved in a few days, his hair tousled from fitful sleep.  The puffiness around his eyes said he hadn’t slept much that night.
“You look like Jill and yet you don’t.  You’re beautiful.  I never thought I’d see the day when I could say that about another woman.  So many nights I’ve wanted to go into the bedroom and just lay there and look at you like I did those first few days, but after what you’ve…”
“Wait, wait, wait a minute.  What first few days?”
“Well, you know…when you were sick.”
“You were in bed with me?”
Matt closed his eyes and sighed.  His shoulders slumped as if he’d just lost the biggest game of his life.
“It’s not what you think, Katherine.”
“Not what I think?  So all this time of side-stepping each other and you’d already slept with me?”
“We didn’t have sex, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Oh, spare me the details.”
“I was under a completely different assumption at that time.  How was I supposed to know about the mix-up with you barely conscious and throwing up every five minutes?”
“Well excuse me for the inconvenience.”
Matt took a deep breath.  “Look, I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry.  We have eight more days and then we don’t ever have to see each other again.  We’ve made it this far.  Can we call a truce and get through it?”
I wanted to make a run for it.  Be anywhere other than here.  But the door remained sealed and the walls immoveable.
“Seems we have no other choice.”

Day Thirty
Our empty luggage laid yawning open on the sofa, waiting for the return of our personal possessions denied us for the last thirty days.  Matt said he’d take his white robe if they let us keep them.  They could burn mine for all I cared.  I’d just savor the moment I wore my own clothes again.
For the first several hours we waited with stilted conversation.  Though I’d be glad to leave, I had to admit that I’d miss Matt.  Of all the study directives and rules Matt had received – and I hadn’t – certain personal information was taboo.  No last names, addresses, or phone numbers.  Last night we’d called a truce and whispered about exchanging phone numbers but had no place to hide the paper.  We thought about memorizing them out loud to shove in the study staff’s faces out of rebellion.  In the end we decided against it.
Probably a good thing.  Out in the real world we’d never work as a couple, much less friends.  It was obvious he and I ran in entirely different circles.  Even so, how could we come up with a plausible explanation to our friends of how we’d met?  Did we even want to relive how we’d met?  From my perspective resounded a big N-O.
The hours dragged by.  Every once in awhile one of us clicked the intercom to loudly remind them time was up and to let us leave.  We were ignored.  Dr. Fredricks’ voice nagged my mind with thirty days, give or take, but after all this they had no plausible reason to hold us any longer.  Hadn’t they realized we’d beat them at their game?  A few more days would serve no purpose except to drive us mad.
As the red digits on the timer clicked away the minutes and hours, my gut told me over and over again we were not going home that day.  Panic set in as I wondered how many more days they’d steal from our lives.
Had they abandoned us?  That didn’t ring true because music still piped in from time-to-time.  Food continued to replenish the kitchen.  Then a realization struck.  Why would they have provided fresh robes that morning if they were finished with us?  The facts piled up in my brain, but I didn’t want to consider the message they spelled.
Instead of forced volunteers we’d become prisoners.
As the truth dawned for us, Matt paced and searched the walls for hidden exits.  Perhaps a false ceiling, but we were unable to pierce it.  What initially appeared to be sheetrock was actually stucco-coated steel.  There simply had to be a way in which the staff entered and exited unaware.
“Check the closet and bathroom,” Matt directed.  “Run your hands along the baseboard.  Feel for any air movement.  There has to be an exit somewhere.”
In the bathroom, I considered the laundry chute where we dropped our old robes each day.  But after successfully tearing off the flap, the chute was little more than a duct about ten inches across, not wide enough for me, much less Matt.  The closet held no secret access panels nor an attic entrance thru the ceiling.  Not sure why I even thought I’d find anything similar to such found in a typical home.
Loud continual thuds brought me back to the living room to find Matt tearing at the doorway panel, his weapon of choice the wingback chair.  He swung it back and forth against the door only to have the chair splinter.  The second chair yielded similar results.  The door remained tight.
When he ran into and came out of the kitchen bearing a butcher knife, my heart thudded wildly for a few precious seconds.  I thought he’d finally snapped.  Instead he attacked the door, trying to shove the knife underneath and along the edges to break the airlock seals.
The effort bore defeat.  Matt dropped the knife and stared at the door, breathing heavy, sweat dripping from exertion.  Fear gripped me when he stared into my eyes, and I saw the same fear imprinted there.
“I’m a Marine, damnit.  I’ve been in worse scrapes than this.  So why does this one scare me so much?”
I didn’t dare give voice to the answer.

Day Thirty-three – Captivity
Continued efforts yielded the same frustrating results.  Our cache of broken furniture was a tempting pyre, but we hadn’t matches to light it.  Neither of us was willing to sacrifice the protection of our robes to light from the stove burner.  We tried staying up in shifts for several days straight in order to see the entrance utilized to restock our resources, but in our circumstances, I always drifted off to sleep.  I assume Matt did as well, because upon awakening, he informed me we had fresh robes again.
“I imagine,” Matt began, “they are not only monitoring our bodily functions and conversations but also observing us via video feed.”
“Why do you say that?’
For the hundredth time Matt prowled the walls and moldings as he spoke.  “As a Marine, you learn how to give the complete appearance of sleep and yet remain fully alert.  Someone out there knows the subtle details of this training and can tell not only via the monitoring chip but also by body position and eye movement.”
“You mean they’re not just listening to us but watching us too?  Everything?”
The baths and showers, changing robes, even my sleep felt violated.  They’d seen it all.  The thought made me sick.  Still…they were waiting to see more.
However, I’d soon be in enormously dire and embarrassing straights.  Already I was late, thank God, probably from all the stress, but if we were forced to stay much longer I had no choice but to ask, no matter how humiliating.  I waited for Matt to give up his search and head to the kitchen before using the intercom.
“Excuse me, Herr Hitler, but the next time someone comes in here I’m going to need,” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “a few feminine products.”
I’d have given anything for even a little heavy breathing, but still not a sound.  No signal that anyone heard me.
“Did you hear me?  Any day now.”
“What’s any day?” Matt asked before munching into his sandwich.
I felt the warmth of redness creep up my neck and into my face.  The man had been married.  I’d been married.  It was an understood fact of life, a part I wasn’t used to sharing with the whole world.  Well, what had become my whole world in the past month anyway.
“There’s a well known monthly event in the life of every woman, and I find myself sorely unprepared.”
His brow furrowed.  “But you shouldn’t have to worry about that.  The chip is supposed to take care of your cycle.”
“The chip?”
Matt sighed.  “That’s right – they wouldn’t have shared this wonderful tidbit of information with you either.”
“Would you just tell me what you’re talking about?”
“The chip they injected is more than a monitor of bodily systems.  For me it contains a hormone to temporarily reduce sperm count.  For you it contains a hormone to temporarily stop your cycles.  It’s a built-in protection mechanism.  All part of…”
“Your study!  Your stupid study!  Well I didn’t sign up for that part.”
“Well obviously they don’t give a damn what you or I signed up for.  Matter of fact I’m beginning to think we won’t be released until they get what they want.”
The cold reality of his words washed over me.  The blood that had previously rushed to my face drained.  Until they got what they wanted we’d remain prisoners.  How long would that be?  Three months?  Six months?  A year?
“Dear God,” I breathed.
Matt acknowledged my expression of horror.  “I’m sorry.  I spoke too quickly.  Maybe it’s just going to be a matter of days.”
My voice sounded far away.  “Do you really believe that?”
He couldn’t look me in the eye.  “No.”

Day Forty – Captivity
We were certain now.  Copulate or continued captivity.  I could do little but ramble away the time.
“I’ll lose everything.  My house, my car – I paid ahead one month before I left but how can I explain this to my creditors?”
“At my company we were bidding on some large military contracts.  Nothing can be finalized without my signature.  What about my employees?”
“How will I recover when I can’t even look for a new job?”
“How will my company survive without paid contracts coming in the door?”
We just stared at each other, my desperation as palpable as what I saw etched on his face.  They would destroy us for the sake of one sex act?  Why didn’t they find someone else?  Why did it have to be us?
I tried to swallow my fear.  “So what do we do?”
Matt wouldn’t even look at me.
“We can’t let them win, Katherine, but I’m at a loss at the moment for how to resolve the situation.”
“My friends call me Katie.”
His anguished expression turned full force on me.  A sad smile tried to manifest.
“So we’re friends now?”
“I guess, in a strange and convoluted kind of way.”
“Well, Katie.”
The sad smile turned genuine and once again reflected in his eyes.  What was it like for Jill as his wife in those short years?  Even though sick, she must have felt his love each day in the way he cared for her and devoted so much of himself to her – both during and after she died.
The air felt thick, so I broached another topic.  “I know you said it’s taboo, but tell me more about yourself.  It isn’t like they can do anything much worse to us for breaking some rules.  Where do you live?”
“Virginia.  What about you?”
“Oregon.”
“Opposite sides of the country.”
“Did you live in Virginia…with Jill?”
“Yes – it’s where I started my company after leaving the Marines.”
“How did you two meet?”
Matt’s eyes took on a faraway stance as he spoke of the memory.  “A dinner party of a mutual friend.  I was three years into building my company, so settling down was not high on my list of intentions.”
“It’s funny how life throws a curve ball when least expected.”
“Yeah.”
I knew the question was coming before he asked.
“Would I be prying too much if I asked about your marriage?”
I shrugged.  “It’s okay.”
“What was he like?”
“Oh, he was charismatic, enjoyed working out, good-looking and knew it.  Only problem, that wasn’t the real him.”
“Why did you marry him?”
The question stopped me.  Why did I marry the jerk?  For a moment I couldn’t remember.  He was handsome and cocky.  I was from a small town and, well…me.  Dating and I hadn’t had much interaction in my high school days.  At the time I’d just been focused on getting away from, not stuck in, the small-town world.
“It was college, my first time away from home.  He saw me as a challenge, and I couldn’t believe he picked me.”
“When did the problems start?”
“Just a few months into our marriage, I caught him cheating with one of my friends.  She’d been a bridesmaid at our wedding.  Everything soon became my fault and he took it out on me.  It went downhill from there.”
Matt studied my face with intensity, almost as if he were probing my mind.  A couple of times he appeared about to ask another question then closed his mouth.  His jaw clenched before he finally spoke again.
“You deserved better.”
Simple words, and yet they carried such weight.  His gentle hands took mine and drew me to my feet.  Carefully Matt wrapped his arms around me and held me against him.  There was nothing sexual or self-gratifying in his gesture, merely care and concern.
It was a hug like I’d never received.  It was a hug just for me.  The gesture sank deep into my soul and warmed my heart.
The tears fell unbidden.

Day Forty-seven – Captivity
Time wore on like a clock without a power cord.  Dreary day folded into dreary day until we forgot whether it was supposed to be daytime or evening.  Sleep overcame boredom at odd times and then in sporadic bursts.  We wallowed in our misery.
“I miss the sunshine,” I said.
“I miss the exhilaration of a long hike,” Matt followed.
“The wind in my face.”
“Swimming.  I used to do laps every morning and evening.”
“Have you always been a workout junkie?”
“The military gave me a whole new appreciation for both the outdoors and exercise.  Plus it helped keep certain…urges at bay during my wife’s illness.”
That explained the madness of his frequent and exhausting workouts.  Sometimes I’d lay in bed and listen to him running back and forth or around the living room for an hour or more.  An occasional thump was either him running into walls or hurdling furniture as if at a track meet.
“Must be hard being a man.”
Matt stared with a strange look on his face then burst out laughing.
“That’s an interesting way to put it.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know, I know – sorry.  The comment struck me the wrong way.”
“Obviously.”
Perhaps the scent of chlorine first drew my attention.  Maybe more the look on Matt’s face.  Even now I can’t remember how we realized it, but without a single noise or tremor the living room wall opened.  At first we were stunned.  Then we thought they were finally releasing us.
Cruel joke.
The pool greeted us as we found our feet and rushed through the opening.  Matt spent the first few minutes searching for ventilation and escape.  I just stood on the pool steps, enjoying the lap of water and the possibility of a new activity.  The prospect of release flitted from my mind as quickly as it had arrived the moment I saw the pool.  They could have at least provided it earlier.
“Get out of there,” Matt cried.  “Something’s not right.”
“What do you mean?  It’s a swimming pool, for crying out loud.”
“Get out!”
The insistence stirred my fears, but what would be the point of hurting, or worse, killing us unless they were as tired of us as we were of them?  There’d be no trouble chalking up my death as a mysterious but forgettable disappearance, but Matt had too many connections to the outside world, what with his company and all.  Someone would eventually be curious as to what befell him.
Isolation from the outside world was making us both paranoid.  I grabbed a nearby towel and dabbed dry my legs.  No odd stinging or burning sensation, nothing to hint that the pool contained anything other than chlorine.  Strange that we’d never smelled even a hint of chemicals before.  The separation wall must be thick and airtight, the ventilation systems off the charts.
Like a dutiful Marine, Matt investigated the water, first dipping in a towel edge, touching it to his lips, then studying the contents from every possible angle before climbing to the diving board.
“You might want to turn your head,” he called.
The splash made me turn again to look as he dove into the pool.  Concern drew me to the waters edge when he didn’t come up for air right away, but his distorted image slid along the bottom in a pattern.  His robe lay crumpled on the concrete.
For some reason it made me smile.
Matt surfaced.  “The chemical content of the water itself appears fine.  I’m searching the bottom to ensure there’s nothing unusual in here or compromises in the concrete surface. How’re your legs?”
“They seem good.  You tell me.”
“Looks pretty good from my angle.”
His mischievous smile made me laugh.  I’m not sure if it was the chlorine in the air or the fact that we had another activity to wile away the days, but I felt almost giddy.  Each time Matt came up for air I sensed his excitement as we realized the pool was just a pool for the express purpose of our benefit and fun.  For a moment I think he forgot himself and swam lap after lap up and down the pool length.
All the while, I enjoyed the view.
My audacity surprised me.  Instead of turning away while he exerted pent-up energy, I grabbed a towel and stood at the end of the pool near the steps.
“Hey…hey!” I called until Matt stopped swimming and looked up.  “Haven’t you heard that old chivalrous saying, ladies first?”
“My apologies, me lady.  I have been a cad.”
Matt smiled at me as I unfolded the towel to block further viewing then turned my head.  I still felt his smile and energy as he walked up the steps and stood with only the towel between us.  I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and returned the smile.
“Here – this towel is for you.”
His hand touched mine and lingered.  My heart raced.  Did his as well?  Water gathered in the curled dark hairs of his chest and beaded off his broad shoulders.  Wariness leapt into his eyes when mine met his.  He gathered the towel around his waist and faced the wall.
“Enjoy your swim.”
I disrobed and let the satin drop to my feet before entering the water.  It swirled around my waist and caressed my skin in coolness after the heat of the moment.  I couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed the water so much.
After swimming to the deep end, I turned to make the trek back to the shallow water.  Matt stood near the doorway and watched me as I plunged back into the water, taking long and relaxed strokes.
When I looked up from the shallow end Matt was gone.

Day Fifty-six – Captivity
Utensils clinked in a steady cadence as we enjoyed yet another meal together.  An earlier swim had energized me and put me in a mood to show off my excellent cooking skills:  beef medallions in a rosemary and white wine sauce.  Matt wiped his lips and raised his wine glass after swallowing the last morsel.
“My compliments to the chef,” he said.
I raised my goblet and accepted the soft clink of crystal before we drank.  Matt’s green eyes twinkled with too much wine as he stared over the lip of the glass.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re quite an enigma.”
“How so?”  I tossed back the last of my wine.
“You’re beautiful, surprisingly intelligent, and quite the gourmand.  At first glance, I’d never imagined you could create something so amazing.  From what little you’ve shared, it sounds as if you come from humble means and lack confidence in any ability you possess.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I retorted.
Matt swirled the remaining wine in his glass and stared at the amber liquid, his brow furrowed in thought.  Shame gripped me as I realized I’d let my anger get the best of me again.  My sharp tongue all too often lashed out before my brain could contain or restrain it.  I wished I could take back the stinging question.
“Right or wrong, I have to say this,” Matt continued.  “Through normal, everyday channels, our paths would’ve never crossed.  Our lives run in completely different circles, wouldn’t you agree?”
The wine bottle called to me, but his hand wrapped around mine as I gripped the neck of the bottle.  The warmth seeped through my skin as he held it fast.  His silence drew my gaze.
“Katie, you are an incredible woman of integrity.  No matter how our introduction came about, I want you to know how much I’ve come to admire you…how much I’ve come to care about you.”
My heart pounded.  When he released my hand I almost missed the feel of his palm encasing mine, the touch of another human being.  Tears gathered strangely in my eyes.  I tucked the wine bottle in my arm and gathered the dishes from the table all under Matt’s watchful eye.  The counter held me up as I leaned against it and watched through tears as the suds billowed around the dirty dishes in the sink.
Such simple words.  Such power.  No man had ever spoken such things to me – called me someone of integrity.  Most of the time I’d been called a stubborn and selfish woman.  Most of the time I’d been notated as dumb or stupid.  The only time any man had ever called me beautiful was in attempt to get me into the sack.
If Matt thought me an enigma, I too felt him to be the same.
Matt’s voice startled me.  “Can I help?”
I didn’t trust my voice and handed him a dishcloth.  As in the beginning, we worked side-by-side to clean up the evening’s meal.  It felt comfortable.  It felt natural.
It felt so right…yet so wrong.
As Matt tucked the last clean goblet in the cabinet, I made a decision.
“Matt, for nearly two months you’ve been a gentleman and given me the bedroom while you’ve made do with the couch.  Tonight you take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
A smile crept across his face.  “I’m a Marine, remember?  I’ve learned to make do.”
“I insist.”
Almost imperceptibly his shoulders relaxed.  “Just for tonight.”
“Agreed.”

Day Fifty-seven – Captivity
The night dragged on.  How did Matt survive so long sleeping on the lumpy couch?  Once again I tossed to my other side, fluffed the pillow and tucked the blanket back around me.  I considered another glass of wine to help me sleep, but all it’d do is make me have to run to the bathroom.
The day ran over and over in my mind, Matt’s simple words swirling in a tangle of emotions.  All this time together he could have just taken what he’d wanted from me, and we’d be free of the place.  Experience told me the majority of men would probably have done so long before – but not Matt.  Maybe that’s what this study was really all about.  He’d called me a woman of integrity, but the longer I thought, it seemed the integrity lay heavily in his favor.
What had it been like for Jill to be married to such a man?  Had she appreciated what she’d had in Matt before getting sick, or had her illness changed him to be the man he’d become now?  He’d obviously loved Jill – probably always would.  Was there even the slightest chance he’d have room in his heart to love again?
The question burned in my soul.  All the tormenting messages of the past told me I was unlovable, but the new messages Matt had implanted washed over me: a woman of integrity, a good cook, intelligent, beautiful.
Someone he cared about.
Yearning to know more drew me into the bedroom until only the drawn bed curtain separated us.
“Matt?” I whispered.
Immediately he cast the bed curtain aside.  “Something wrong?” Matt asked, his voice groggy from sleep.
“Did I wake you?”
A weary smile curled his lips.  “I guess I sacked out pretty hard.”
“I’m sorry.  It can wait ‘til morning.”
As I turned to go, his warm hand grabbed mine and held me fast.  A tingle passed up my arm along with a warning to my brain.  My heart fluttered.
“No, it’s okay.  What’s on your mind?”
Matt propped himself up, never letting go of my hand.  His hair had grown longer during our captivity and lay tousled across his forehead.  My tongue felt like peanut butter had glued it to the roof of my mouth, and the words I’d wanted to speak earlier wouldn’t spill past my lips.  My thoughts were a tumbling mess.  Instead I smoothed away strands from his forehead and softly kissed the smooth skin beneath.
My lips lingered.
The warmth of his hand spread to my face as he nestled it against my cheek and drew my lips to his.  Their touch sent a jolt through my body.  My breath stopped.  My heart raced.  My pulse thundered.
I welcomed his embrace.
The weeks of avoidance and unspoken want melted as we yielded to one another.  Our bodies entangled in a rhythmic dance, encompassing a passion I’d never known, a desire unquenched, a love unattainable.
Until that night.
The tears trickled warm down my cheeks and spilled onto his chest as he cradled me in his arms.  Over and over he gently stroked my shoulder and brushed his lips against my hair.
“I’m sorry, Katie.  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean for this to happen – not now.”
“No, it’s my fault.”
“They don’t know.  The bed curtain is drawn, so they don’t know anything for certain.  We can just continue on as before.”
I stared into his shadowed face.  “But I don’t know if I can.”
He kissed me again and sighed.  “If they couldn’t tell before, they’ll see how I feel about you now.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Well for starters, tell me your full name and where you live so I can find you when we get out of here.”
Before I even had a chance to speak, the curtains slid aside and hands seemed to appear out of the darkness.  Mine and Matt’s cries of alarm were drowned out by the shouts and commands as we were manhandled apart.  I fought and scratched to avoid submission but the needle silenced me.  As unconsciousness blackened my vision, I could hear Matt yelling my name somewhere in the recesses.
I awoke back in my own home, in my own bed, surrounded by my luggage.
Alone.
***
Dr. Fredricks was appalled by my imprisonment and relinquished ties to the organization responsible for the study, but not before attempts to secure more information about Matt.  I searched and searched with what little information I had, trying to locate him somewhere in Virginia.  No success.  The military couldn’t provide me with any information either.  Internet searches yielded no matching pictures of any major or minor company executive profiles throughout the state.  Months passed as I searched photo after photo for any hint or clue to his whereabouts.  I even had the audacity to search obituaries for his deceased wife.
My mortgage was paid in full.  My car – the same.  They deposited $100,000 into my bank account.  I didn’t want any of it.
I only wanted Matt.
After all I’d endured, Dr. Fredricks insisted on providing me with free medical care and a job.  In the fall, I’d started back to nursing school.  After all, I had to have some reliable way to provide for you.
My growing belly threatens to pop any day.  I can hardly wait to hold you in my arms for the first time.  Will you look more like me…or him?
The tears come more often now as I’ve come to the realization that I’ve failed you.  Unless a miracle happens, I live each day knowing that I will raise you alone.
And you will never know your father.

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Additional works by D A Bale

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