Once again, Olivia found that she could only nod in agreement. That seemed good enough for the acupuncturist. He left the room, shutting the door behind him. Finding herself alone now, Olivia took one more glance around the room. There were no sacrificed and mutilated chickens. No strange totems or skulls. Just a few tea light candles lit here and there.
“You need this,” she told herself aloud. “You want this.”
Hangers and a shelf provided a place for her to put her clothing. She slipped between the sheets, which must have been some exotic bamboo or Egyptian cotton. They felt marvelous. Relaxation came in waves as she heard a light rapping of the door.
“Are you ready, Olivia?” came the soft voice.
“Yes. I think I am.”
Dimming the lights as he entered the room, the acupuncturist began to explain some of the history and theory behind the practice. He spoke in a soft, lilting manner that only seemed to soothe her further. She was aware that he was speaking, but the words ceased to be distinct.
“Let us begin.”
The words hit her hard. But not so much so that she was going to change her mind. She was ready.
Deftly, he pulled back just enough of the sheet to expose her back. She could feel him painting on designs with some sort of oil. It was oddly mesmerizing. With her head spinning into the ether and her breath slowing, Olivia fell into a meditative state.
“Focus, with your greatest intent, on that which you desire the most,” the voice called to her. “Fix that image in your mind.”
She was dully aware that he had begun sticking the needles in her. She felt nothing. Euphoria came in ever increasing waves. This was everything she had hoped for and more.
