In a big, ugly, ornate, old house Miss Joan Eunice Smith sat in Lotus on a mat in her dressing room near a large mirror and facing her nurse-companion-maid, also in Lotus. "Comfortable, Winnie dear?"
"Very."
"I think you're even more limber than I am. All right, let's get into the mood for exercise. You start it."
"All right. But, Miss Joan? What does it mean? Oh, I like it; it's very relaxing. But what jewel in what lotus, and why?"
"It means nothing. And everything. If you must have words, it means peace and love and understanding and anything that you think of as good. But it's not for thinking, dear; it's for being. Let yourself be open to it, don't think. Don't even try not to think. Be."
"All right."
"Start us. Remember the breathing. I'll get in step."
"Om Mani Padme Hum."
(Om Mani Padme Hum. See that aura round her, Boss? She must have had quite a night.) (Shut up, Eunice; these prayers were your idea.) "Om Mani Padme Hum."
"Om Mani Padme Hum." (Om Mani Padme Hum.)
"Om Mani Padme Hum." "Om Mani…"
(That's enough, Joan.) (So short, beloved? Clock says only twenty minutes.) (I use a different clock. We're warm all through, we're ready. Winnie is more than ready; you'll have to call her back.)
"Om Mani Padme Hum. Winifred. Winnie darling, hear me. The sun is rising and so must we."
The little redhead was still perfectly in Lotus, soles of her feet turned upward on her thighs, hands in her lap, palms upward. She was still intoning, with her breathing paced exactly with her prayers. But her eyes had turned up; only the whites showed. "Come back, Winnie. Time."
The girl's eyes turned down to normal; she looked puzzled, then smiled. "Already? Seems like only a moment. I must have fallen asleep."
"Happens. Are you ready? Warm and loose and your muscles soft as cotton?"
"Uh... yes, I am."
"Then let's try some singles." Joan Eunice flowed upward from the mat like a flower unfolding and was standing. "You criticize me and I'll criticize you. Then we can have companion exercises for dessert." Joan looked at herself in the long glass. "I think my belly is firmer every day. I keep telling myself."
"It's perfect and you know it." The redhead got up more slowly, caught herself in a yawn.
"Still sleepy, dear? No pleasant dreams last night?"
The girl barely blushed, then shrugged and smiled. "Pleasant all right but not enough hours. I hope we didn't disturb you."
"Didn't hear a sound. Wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't told me when you came in to kiss me good-night. Dear, if you're short on sleep, maybe you'd rather just criticize."
"Oh, no, I'm getting more out of our exercises than you are—don't want to miss a day. But—yes, I'm short on sleep. Paul— Oh, dear! But I didn't say his last name."
"Didn't hear you, I was rubbing my ears."
"Fibber. He didn't leave until half past two. So I did lose sleep. Not that I minded!"
"I'm sure you didn't. Winnie dear, I did not mean to snoop. Oh, normal curiosity—being a virgin myself."
The nurse looked startled, said, "But—" and shut up.
Joan Eunice smiled. "Sho', sho', hon, I know what that ‘But' means. Mrs. Branca was married... and Johann Smith was married four times, not to mention jumping out of windows. But Joan Eunice is a virgin—dig me, doll baby?"
"Well, looked at that way—"
"Only way I can look at it. So I'm curious as a Girl Scout. But telling me would still leave me knowing nothing, even if you wanted to tell, which I'm sure you don't. Someday—no hurry—I suppose I'll find out for myself. So don't you dare blush again and let's get on with our exercises. I'll run through the Tortoise variations and you push me if I need it."
After an hour of twisting and stretching and posing Joan Eunice said, "Enough. Much more and we'd be sweating instead of glowing. Ready for gruesome twosomes?"
The high note of the outer door sounded in the bath-dressing room. "Damn," said Joan. "I mean a ladylike ‘darn.' Damn. Into your tights, dear, and I'll drop your smock over your head. Tell ‘em ‘No ice today.'"
"Right away." Dressed in seconds, the girl left.
(How'd we look today, Eunice? Tits beginning to suit you?) (We're more than halfway there, Joan; in another week you can cut the time down.) (Not anxious to; it's the most fun of the day... except when our lord and guardian deigns to dine with us. Tell me, hon—have you been fretting about those negative reports?) (No, you have been fretting; they were what I expected. Nobody knows how memory works except that everyone is sure he knows and thinks all the others are fools.) (I've been thinking about those flatworms. If you can chop up a trained flatworm and feed it to another flatworm and then the second one seems to remember what the first one learned, then—)
(Boss! I keep telling you, I am not a flatworm! I told you a long time ago that the body remembers, and—let's table it; here comes the fuzz.)
"Miss Joan, it's Dr. Garcia and Mr. Salomon."
"Oh. Well, I'm not going to dress; we've still to finish. Grab me a negligee—not that plate-glass job. The London Fog is suitable, don't you think?"
"I guess. Makes you look only half naked instead of bare."
"Who taught me to dress that way, winsome Winnie?" (I did.) (Sure, Eunice—but she thinks she bosses me. I'm her good baby who always does what Mama says... until we get dear Doctor out of our hair.) "Please tell the gentlemen that I will be right out."
Miss Smith stopped to apply lipstick, decided that her face could get along with no other renewals, took a brushcomb and teased her too-short locks into fluffiness, stepped into stilt-high mules, put on the negligee and looked at herself in the long glass.
She decided that the selective opacity of the robe was just right—except that the upper part was a little too modest. So she delayed long enough to apply lipstick to areolae.
Now satisfied with her appearance—(Boss, we look like a high-priced pooka.) (Very high-priced, I hope. Were you criticizing?) (Not at all, I was applauding.)—she went out into her boudoir. "Good morning, Doctor. Hi, Jake dear. Won't you sit down? Coffee? Or we can find some Old Kentucky Rat Poison, bottled in the barn."
"Coffee," agreed Salomon. "You look charming, my dear."
"Snake charming. I've been exercising and smell like a horse."
"Not more than a small pony. I'll turn up the ventilation. Joan Eunice, Dr. Garcia wants to check you over."
"Really? What's wrong? I feel fine. Aside from these cold prison bars all around me, and my head on a pillow of stone."
"Dr. Garcia thinks we can do something about those cold prison bars. Joan Eunice, we agreed that it was not smart to go into court until you were discharged as well in all respects. He thinks it may be possible, now."
"Oh. Oh! How about that platoon of psychiatrists?"
"We'll have them. We may never need them. But we'll be ready to offset their expert witnesses. You will have to put up with long searching interviews; our own experts must go into court prepared." (Prepared to justify their fancy fees. Don't worry, Boss; I'll hide under a rock whenever a shrink is around.)
"That's okay. I'm delighted that Dr. Garcia thinks I'm well. Shall we step into my dressing room, Doctor? Come along, Winnie. Jake, the Wall Street Journal is over there."
Once she was alone with her doctor and nurse Miss Smith said, "Well, Doctor? Shall I stretch out on the massage table?"