Page 49 of The Love Position

‘Well, your friend picker ain’t broke, even if your boyfriend one needs a reboot. Come on, let’s go meditate.’

They strolled together in the darkness towards the ashram, Jessica whispering out of the corner of her mouth.

‘As soon as we get a bit of privacy, you gonna give me all the deets on Hanu-he’s-so-your-man?’

‘He’s not my man.’

‘If my grandmother had wheels, she would have been a bike.’

‘What?’

‘The way he looked at you, he almost made me pregnant.’

‘It’s impossible for him to be attracted to me!’

‘Because of the chastity thing? Girl, that vow’s got about as much strength as a piece of overcooked spaghetti.’

Sophia opened her mouth to reply, but they were shushed from front and behind, so she continued on in silence, arms away from her sides to balance in case she tripped on the uneven ground. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and under the trees it still felt like the middle of the night.

Outside the temple, Sophia toed off her flip-flops and entered the building. It was situated behind the reception block, two of the open sides facing the pristine, and out of bounds, beach. Inside, the floor was terraced so more people could see where the swamis sat.

Anisha, Mohan and others dressed in orange and white were already in position, hands resting on their knees and eyes closed.

Edging past a large metal statue of a Hindu deity in the half-light, Sophia and Jessica took cushions from shelves along the far wall and sat on the floor. The previous night she’d been comfortable for ten minutes, but then her knees, hips and back had been screaming at her for a chair. She gazed across the crowds. How did they sit like this for hours?

A movement outside caught her eye, and her breath quickened.

Isaac.

He was walking alongside his guru towards the temple.

The previous evening, Khloe-Narcisse had spoken in hushed tones about Swami Vishnu, the head of the Devanandara organisation, and how lucky they were that he was visiting the ashram from India.

Dressed in orange robes, he had piercing blue eyes and closely cropped fine grey hair that ran around the sides and back of his head, framing a bronzed bald spot. He appeared to be in his late fifties and had a commanding presence, even though he was a few inches shorter than Isaac and had yet to say a word.

Isaac opened a low gate at the back of the building for the Swami, then followed him to the front of the temple. Everyone else was sitting on the floor, but an ornate gold chair with an intricately embroidered seat pad and garlands of flowers hanging off the arms was waiting for Swami Vishnu. Pulling his robes to one side, the older man sat, his eyes going to the back of the room where Sophia and the other people new to the ashram were seated.

The man’s gaze was searching, and a shiver ran across Sophia’s skin. She had the sudden thought that he was the eye of Sauron and she was an oversized Hobbit trying to avoid detection.

Dipping her head, she stared at the white tiles of the temple floor, only looking up again when she heard a bell.

Isaac was holding it out for his guru to strike. After the third chime, Isaac carefully placed it on a cushion and sat back, eyes closing. This was the cue to meditate, but Sophia didn’t feel relaxed enough to close her eyes. Everything was uncomfortably unfamiliar. And no amount of mental preparation for the trip could have prepared her for Isaac being there, too.

Gaze unfocused, her mind went back to what had happened the last time she’d seen him in Foxbrooke. His house and garden had been heaven on earth. Sure, he’d seemed uncertain about her being there, but then he’d loosened up. Smiled. He’d even cracked jokes. Even though she wasn’t silly enough to imagine her crush would be reciprocated, she’d been so happy in his company and felt he was comfortable around her.

But then it had happened.

Something so extraordinary, so otherworldly, so utterly bizarre that even now she couldn’t explain or understand it. She’d never taken LSD before, nor had a religious experience, but she imagined both things might have been similar to what had occurred when she was sitting opposite Isaac on the deck.

And accompanying those experiences had been an even bigger component that had nothing to do with drugs or religion.

Shifting on her cushion, memories passed through her, leaving ghosts of feelings in their wake—feelings of extreme arousal.

To begin with, Isaac’s face had swirled and changed, as if he were a surrealist painting come to life. But then the swells of pleasure had begun, until it felt like every cell in her body was orgasming, over and over again like waves moving across the surface of an endless ocean.

It had been scary at first, but she trusted Isaac implicitly, so went with it, holding his gaze, feeling the two of them wrapped up so intimately in an experience that went beyond sex, beyond pleasure, to a place she never wanted to leave.

But then he’d broken the spell, and everything had changed. He wouldn’t look at her. Wanted her off his property. Denied that anything had just happened between them.

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