"
Eyes shut, Jenna. Straight ahead ten steps, then turn the corner. Halfway down the hall, then sidestep a photocopier. Smell that? That's the coffee room. Turn right. Walk. Turn left. Skim your fingers along the reception desk. The sound of the air is changing. You're approaching the doors. Hands out and push them open. Seven steps and you're at the elevator. Push the 'Down' button."
Ding.
"Step inside. Turn around and press 'G'."
Jenna Song listened as the elevator doors shut and felt the floor lighten against her feet. Eyes still closed, her lips pulled to a coy smile. So far, so good.
Ding.
Her knees buffered as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open.
She stepped out. As she walked, her slipper flats on the marble floor made a soft patting sound rather than a crisp tap had it been a weekday and she was in heels. On Sunday afternoons, though, she rarely wore anything uncomfortable on her feet.
"
Twenty steps. It sounds like a cavern. You're in the center of the atrium. Pivot to your left and walk straight ahead. Reach out and touch a glass door. Tap your fob against the panel."
Beep. Click!
Jenna opened the door, stepped into the company gym and finally opened her eyes. She knew the layout of the space in general, but sometimes a stray workout bench or weights made the path unpredictable. Best not to risk tripping and hurting herself, not while she was alone.
It amused her to know that she could negotiate her way from her desk to the gym eyes shut. She was at her desk only to water her plant since she was at the office anyway. The impromptu blind concentration test came on a whim. Of course, it would have been much more challenging if it were a weekday with coworkers scurrying about like ants in a dirt mound.
She walked to the gym's enclosed studio. This was nice, being at the office on a Sunday, even if it was a bright summer's afternoon. The peace and quiet was in stark contrast to the clamor of office life during the week.
Inside the carpeted studio, Jenna, already in her yoga clothes, dropped her purse aside. Looking around, she pulled her slippers off her feet with her toes. The sunshine from outside glazed the room with a hazy glow reflecting off the mirrored walls. No lights were necessary. This would do just fine.
Softly she stepped, not quite to the middle of the room, but to her "spot" where she felt the most balance.
She tied her dark, auburn hair into a tidy ponytail. After a few stretches, she settled down onto the floor, facing towards the mirrors, crossing her legs, and resting the back of her hands on her knees. Steadying herself, she found her center. Her lids settled over her grey eyes, one... two... three.
"Breathe..."
Solitude surrounded her.
She waited.
***
5 Weeks Ago...
Tyrone Briggs beat the crap out of the heavy punching bag; a flurry of furious blows bruised the leather with vicious thumps. Everyone else in the company gym gave the executive a wide berth, trying not to wince while listening to the resounding cracks of his fists and his stern grunts as he tore into his workout.
This was his way in the office as well, tearing through it, brandishing an air of angry confidence. His "scorched earth" methods took him very far in the company. He charged around the board rooms, challenged and dared everyone, and when he locked his sights on a client or a project, he was unstoppable. It earned him the notoriety and title of "The Bull" - dark, powerful, and driven.
As of late however, "The Bull" was feeling as if he had lost some of his vigor. His tactics and persona had seemed to be wearing thin... so he thought, anyway. To everyone else, the change was barely noticeable, if at all, but that meant squat to him. To Tyrone, it gnawed at him like maggots.
His recent workouts reflected his work. He was flailing, off balance and unfocused. His punches, though powerful, were ineffective, like hitting the bag with the handle of the hammer instead of the head. The more frustrated he grew, the less command he held, the less effective he became - a vicious cycle.
Tyrone erupted with a rampage of fists punctuated by a raging shout. He stepped back, huffing and puffing, sweat streaming down his face and along the deep lines of his rugged muscles, his dark mocha flesh glistening. His tank top was damp and stretched with perspiration. He scowled at the bag as if it was taunting him to blast through it.
He shook his head as he stripped off his gloves and tape. Not good. Pounding a bag didn't help. Grabbing his bottle of water, he turned towards the windows of the gym's studio. Normally, he wouldn't have given the studio classes a second glance; they weren't his style. Today however, as he guzzled the water, it caught his attention. He thought to himself for a long moment, then smirked and shook his head again.
"Yoga," he muttered. "Right."
Tyrone walked towards the studio.
***
Now...
Jenna often slipped into a mild trance as she sat in her meditative pose. The world could rattle around her yet she would remain floating in her own pocket of ease. Not that she was oblivious to her surroundings. She was just attuned to what her body and mind needed at the moment to remain balanced.
Today though, she couldn't quite find that balance. There was a miniscule waver in her breath, her heartbeat off by a microsecond. Like a pin drop on a perfect sheet of ice, a tiny chip scarred her pristine sense of balance.
Eyes still closed, she heard the door of the studio open, heavy footsteps, and the thump of a gym bag on the floor. The scent of luxurious cologne wafted up her nose and fill her lungs. Most noticeably, she felt the energy swell around her, shove at her like a stiff breeze. It was a demanding presence.
"
He's here."
She opened and rolled her eyes upward along the lengthy, solid body of Tyrone. He stood before her, the light from outside painting the muscles along his dark, mocha skin with strips of silvery-white. He was an imposing figure.
"Hey, Jenna," he said, speaking through a handsomely devilish grin. "Ready to do this?"
As he stepped towards her, her brow twitched. She knew by his look that he caught that like the alpha predator catches a scent. Her eyes locked onto his and she steadied her breath.
The chip on the ice fractured in a dozen different directions...
***
5 weeks ago...
Jenna's yoga class was just winding down. It wasn't a formal class, per se; she wasn't a certified teacher. A few weeks ago after work, she was alone in the studio just to practice some poses and free her spirit. Some onlookers asked if they could join her and she welcomed the company. Her placid nature was well-appreciated by the staff, weary and strung out after a stressful day at work. With a little encouragement, she agreed to offer a weekly after-work session.
Jenna guided everyone through a series of slow lunging poses. While not everyone did everything perfectly, the vibe in the room was relaxed and peaceful.
Just then, the door swung open and a tall, brooding man entered. Everyone other than Jenna turned their heads towards him as if on command. He glared back at them like they were prey.
Jenna could practically smell the intensity pervading the air, throwing everyone off. She finally glanced over towards him.
Tyrone shifted on his feet, his large frame swaying. After scanning the room, he leveled his sights on Jenna. Finally, he asked grudgingly, "Room for one more?"
With a passive blink, Jenna nodded. "Sure," she replied, "We're finishing for now, but you're welcome to join."
Hesitating momentarily, Tyrone made his way through the group -the Bull amongst the lambs- to the center of the room. A wide pocket formed around him.
