Stephanie's Amazing Race

This is a story about Stephanie, a quiet and reserved woman who gradually finds herself taken out of her comfort zone due to dares by The Stranger...

*****

Nothing moved in the hotel room. A heavy, almost suffocating quietness had settled over the one bedroom suite, making itself at home for the past five minutes. The entire room, despite having yet to be serviced by the cleaning maids, gave off a sterile and calm vibe.

From the outside at least, the room's single occupant - a petite businesswoman who stood stock still in front of a full length mirror - seemed to share that sense of calmness. Her arms hung by her side, her brown hair hung neatly down to her shoulders and rested gently on the top of her business suit. She hadn't moved her a muscle in those five minutes, and seemed almost in a state of trance. Only the occasional flicker of her eyes, along with the momentary, involuntary clenching of her jaw, actually betrayed the fact that her mind was a massive battleground of emotions and desires.

It had been a long week at work for Stephanie Henderson. She'd never been to Boston before, and the packed nature of her work trip hadn't exactly allowed to her to see much of the sights. That might be about to change, she reflected, drily. Perhaps she might end up as one of the sights. That last thought arrived unprompted in her mind, and she spent more than a few moments trying to unsuccessfully dispel it.

She finally broke her trance by turning her head and glancing out of her hotel window. Beyond the wall of glass, the early evening light broke through several layers of clouds, casting a dull glow over the Boston Public Gardens. Stephanie had stared out at those Gardens every morning, as she'd dressed for another day in the Boston Office. Today had been her final day here. Tonight, she'd hop on a flight home, and collapse into a peaceful, relaxing, work-free weekend.

Stephanie found herself slowly dusting off some invisible speck on her business suit, as her mind began to wander further.

Before she got on that flight though, before she could get home and spend a relaxing weekend unwinding from the stresses of the past five days, there was the small matter of the message.

The message. Stephanie felt her throat go a little dry with excitement, anticipation, fear, exhilaration and uncertainty. The message had arrived just over five minutes ago now. She 'knew' who it was from, even if she had no idea who that someone really was. She'd even been expecting the message on some level, and still it had caught her off-guard when it appeared abruptly on her phone.

She tore her eyes away from looking at the Gardens beyond her window, and brought her attention back on to phone. The message was still open on the screen, and she let her eyes wander over the short burst of text one last time.

"Hello Stephanie," it started, "I hope you've had a good trip to Boston." Stephanie let a half-smile crack through her otherwise impassive face, "I've arranged a little entertainment for you before you finally head home. It all starts when you pick up the package from reception..."

And so that was it. There would be a package waiting for Stephanie at the reception. There was only one person in the entire world who knew what was in that package, and sure as night follows day, that person was not Stephanie Henderson.

Stephanie Henderson closed her eyes, and gently stretched her neck, rotating her shoulder muscles at the same time, as if to let go of some tension.

In theory at least, if she went and picked up that package, she wouldn't have to go through with anything. In practice, well, that was an entirely different matter...

*********

The hotel lobby was surprisingly crowded given it was the end of the day. She was staying at a major hotel in the centre of Boston, near to both the offices she'd been working at for the past week and the entertainment and restaurants that had similarly been denied to her by the efforts of that work. There was a small queue of people waiting at the reception desk, and Stephanie slipped quietly in behind them. Unobtrusive, unassuming, largely unnoticed. The 'Stephanie Henderson Way', she reflected.

This was her second trip to the reception desk today. Earlier in the morning, before her final trip to the office, she'd headed down to check out. She'd been halfway through explaining how she'd like to leave her luggage here until this afternoon when the staff member had politely interrupted her. Apparently, he explained, she was still booked in for one more night.

Well, that was more than a little odd. She'd booked the trip herself, her work had paid for only five nights, and she had a 10pm flight home. She was told "someone" had rung up to add another night on to her stay, and that it had already been paid for.

A strange combination of nervous and anticipation and rocked her world at that exact point. She had a very good idea just who that "someone" might be. Still, her flight wasn't until 10pm, and she couldn't deny that a shower tonight and a place to relax by herself would be welcome. Even if she knew that her mysterious benefactor had other things on his mind than her relaxation.

The queue gradually shortened, as the reception staff worked hard to satisfy their guests. Stephanie's pulse was now unnaturally high as she found herself the next in line to be served, and a number of different possibilities were beginning to flash in front of her mind. Stephanie and her mysterious benefactor had discussed a... game. A game for Stephanie Henderson. A special game with a special purpose. They'd been talking about it for a while now, and had agreed that they'd go through with it and get Stephanie to play at some point over the coming month. She'd even had suspicions, even desires, that he'd pick this business trip to get her to play the game. Now though, now that this was really going to happen, her stomach churned with the fears of how exactly he'd choose to interpret the loose rules that she'd laid down for him.

Was she ready for this?

"Yes miss?" a voice intruded on her thoughts. She looked up. A man behind the reception desk coughed politely, indicating she should come forward. Behind her, a larger older woman harrumphed at the way Stephanie was dawdling and clearly slowing down the rest of the waiting guests behind her.

Stephanie shook herself back to the more immediate concerns of the moment, and stepped forward to the desk.

"I'm Stephanie Henderson, room 1012. There's a package for me?"

The man behind the counter consulted his computer for a second, and Stephanie saw a flash of recognition spark in his eyes.

"Ah, yes, Ms Henderson. Something arrived for you today. Wait here please."

The man disappeared into a back room for 30 seconds, allowing Stephanie enough time to visualise all manner of weird and wonderful objects that he might bring back. When he finally did return, he returned with a small-to-medium sized suitcase on wheels.

Wordlessly, Stephanie took possession of the suitcase. With her mind racing now as fast as her pulse, she started back to the lifts, barely remembering until the last second to give the man at the desk a quick thank you smile.

With her package received, Stephanie Henderson returned to her room.

*********

Stephanie gripped the card tightly and scrunched up her eyes just as she finally finished readings its contents. When she opened them again, the action was accompanied by her suddenly exhaling, a faint gasp emerging from between her lips. Her breathing was ragged at this point, and her chest noticeably rose and fell as she struggled to regain control over herself. Staring wildly ahead, Stephanie once again came face to face with the woman in the mirror. She looked familiar, in some strange kind of way, but at the same time the woman seemed so very different.

With a few more deep breathes, Stephanie Henderson retook some small measure of self-control, and managed to - at least temporarily - halt the trembling that had afflicted her hand.

Slowly, carefully, still not quite trusting herself to not lose it again, Stephanie let her eyes glance back down over the card.

There wasn't much text on the card, but what there was spoke volumes. In a clear, bold font, the title at the top of the card simply said: "Detour". Beneath it were some instructions, and the choice that had just sent Stephanie Henderson's composure into a tailspin..

The card had a subtitle, playfully laid out in italics, and that read: "Go for run, or go for a swim."

Stephanie now forced herself to re-read the entire card, to make sure she fully understood what she was being asked to do.

"In 'go for a run', you must put on running gear and run for three miles around the city. Don't worry about the weather, we've ensured you'll be dressed appropriately." Stephanie's heart raced at that seemingly innocent attempt at reassuring her.

"In 'go for a swim', you must put on some swimwear, and swim fifteen lengths in the hotel pool. Do not take a towel or any other clothes with you on your trip to - and from - the pool. Once you have completed one of these two tasks, you may read your next card."

She didn't have a bikini, or a running top. Actually, it was more accurate so say that she hadn't packed a bikini or a running top. There was still the small matter of the suitcase that she'd been given. When she'd opened the suitcase after returning to her room, she'd been greeted with the sight of three medium-sized boxes, snuggled neatly against each other, taking up the entirety of the suitcase. Each box was labelled with a number: 1, 2 and 3. Attached to each box was a card, and it was the card for box 1 that she had now just read for the second time. She hadn't opened the box itself yet, but she realised that there was no more delaying to be done. It was time to open the box, and understand exactly what she was being asked to choose between.

Her hands still betrayed the underlying tension and nervousness that permeated through her body, and she fumbled at the lid of the first box for a moment before stopping, laying the palms of her hands on her sides, and regathering her composure. As she brought her heartbeat down ever so slightly, and felt the trembling subside again, she placed her hands back on the lid of the box with exaggerated care.

The box was a plain brown affair, although the sturdiness of the construction spoke of an undeniable quality. The lid of the box fitted perfectly, but also came off effortlessly when Stephanie applied the right force at the right spot.

As she placed the lid gently to one side, Stephanie surveyed the contents of the box. There was a pair of white running shoes - in her size of course - with light red trimmings providing a bit of colour. Matching the colour of the trimmings were two small packages, neatly arranged in gift wrap of the exact same shade of light red.

Stephanie paused for a moment, before delicately lifting both the packages out of the box and placing them on her bed. She left the shoes in the box for the time being, and went to undo the gift wrapping, before suddenly jerking her hands away. Taking a few steps back, she leaned back again the table unit opposite her bed, her eyes wide open. Stephanie couldn't help glancing back at the stranger in the mirror, and she fancied for a moment that she could see a strange hunger in the eyes of the woman who stared back.

Tearing her eyes away, she turned her head to now look out of the window again, and saw the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. The weather forecast had predicted persistent light showers, and nature seemed to be reaffirming that prediction.

She could just leave. Pack up the clothes, close the suitcase, and walk out of the hotel. She could go catch her flight in three hours, and be home in five hours. What was stopping her?

Even as she entertained a dalliance with the idea of simply leaving, the reminder of why she couldn't barged it's way to the front and centre of her mind.

She couldn't just leave, because part of her had known she would just leave. And so that part of her had given the game master... something. Something... deeply personal. A letter. A letter with an embarrassing secret that the game master was not to open. A secret that Stephanie didn't want the game master to know, but that special part of Stephanie had reassured herself that this was okay, because the game master was not to open the letter under any circumstances at all. The game master would never open the letter, never learn the secret, and nothing would be revealed. Another part of her had wondered why she was trusting the game master with this - with her - but the part of Stephanie who needed the game master to have the letter had won the day.

Wait. Some of that wasn't quite true. The game master was only to open the letter in one circumstance - if Stephanie Henderson did not complete her amazing race.

But she could still just leave, couldn't she, Stephanie thought. She could write a report, tell the game master about how she'd done her amazing adventure, and fake the details of how she'd dabbled in the arts of exhibitionism. She could do all of that from the safety of the airport lounge, dressed in the same, safe business clothes that were such a hallmark of Stephanie Henderson's wardrobe.

Except he'd find a way of knowing that she was lying. Perhaps her report might betray something about her deception. Perhaps he has people keeping a discreet eye on her. Either way, she couldn't risk it.

As she leant back on the furniture and focussed on the options laid out on the bed, she knew that the small part of her that wanted to force Stephanie Henderson - conscientious, hard working, prim and proper Stephanie Henderson - to go through with this, had won.

She took a deep breath in and took two steps towards the bed. Feeling almost like an observer watching a robot go about it's work, she saw herself slowly undo the colourful paper wrapping around the two sets of clothes.

The first to reveal it's contents was 'go for a run'. Stephanie quickly took out a white running top and shorts, and then gave an involuntary gasp when she realised that the only remaining item in the packaging were a pair of simple, plain white anklet socks. There was no sports bra at all. For a brief moment she lifted the wrapping paper up to check it hadn't fallen out without her noticing. She was no more than half way through the act of doing so however, before she felt the absolute certainty hit her that the sports bra's absence was far from accidental.

She steeled herself for the worst, and picked up the running shirt. It was a simple white colour with no gaudy branding or advertisements. Two short sleeves would cover the tops of her arms, but nothing else, and as she ran a hand over the material, she knew the t-shirt was a blend of polyester and lycra. She shook her head to try and clear her mind, and took a deep breath in as she lifted the garment up to inspect it more closely.

Stephanie Henderson was an accomplished runner, and was by no means a stranger to the concrete pavements in her neighbourhood. People frequently saw her running along - with a graceful, almost effortless gait — in her loose, modest t-shirts and baggy shorts.

She instantly realised that modesty was not going to be a significant feature of this run. She'd never owned a figure-hugging t-shirt before, but she'd seen enough of them on more showy women to know that this particular item was a compression t-shirt. Useful for running, she had to admit, but also tight and prone to detailing every curve and line in her upper body.

She let a strangled gasp out as she realised the implications of this tight, figure-accentuating garment in the light of the fact that she'd also be without any form of bra.

An impartial judge would most likely have described Stephanie Henderson's chest as "petite". However, while she may have shopped for bras in the A-cup and B-cup sections of the department stores, if she'd asked any red-blooded male their honest opinion, she'd also have been told that she made up for any possible lack of quantity with an undeniable sense of quality.

The tight compression running t-shirt, coupled with the absence of anything underneath it, would perfectly frame her breasts for a public showing. And that didn't even factor in the question of the weather. Should it rain... oh dear, what if the rain came!

Stephanie clenched her fists and had to close her eyes again. It didn't help though. The image of her running in the rain, her tight white t-shirt becoming progressively wetter and wetter, the shocked stares of the pedestrians as they gawked at her increasingly exposed chest. She felt momentarily dizzy, and had to place a hand on the bed to steady herself.

For a moment she was lost in a possible future. A future in which Stephanie Henderson dashed along the streets of Boston, thousands of people milling around, all witness to her first ever act of exhibitionism. In her future, the rain came down persistently, steadily, and without mercy. She could feel every drop of water that hit the front of her -t-shirt. Every collision of water and material set off a nerve firing wildly in her body, until she felt like she was going to be consumed by the raw physicality of the weather.

She had her eyes fixed on the road ahead, deliberately not looking down to see what damage the water had done to her top. That was of no great help though. Looking ahead, it merely allowed her to realise what impact she was having on others. Wherever she went, the men of Boston would stop what they were doing, and their eyes would focus tightly on future-Stephanie. Not on her face, no. Never on her face. None of the men made eye contact, none of the men would remember the pretty face or the flowing brown hair that cascaded down to her shoulders. Still, she was undeniably the centre of their attention. As she ran past, she could actually feel heads move to follow her, and while the wet clingy t-shirt material might no longer be visible, she could sense their eyes drop to the hot pants that now adorned her backside.

Stephanie's love of running had provided her with an athlete's body, a fact that she'd spent the past ten years of her adult life largely hiding from everyone around her. As she flashed-forward, future-Stephanie could no longer say she was hiding anything from anybody.

Future-Stephanie could feel the reaction of every man on the street burn through her mind, leaving a trail of mixed emotions in it's wake. Embarrassment, fear: yes and yes. However, thrown in with those emotions were other feelings: elation, excitement, and a once-deeply-buried desire to be lusted over.

If the reactions of the men around her caused future-Stephanie to feel like she was a tumultuous sea of sensations, then the looks from the women really set her body alight. She could see in the eyes of some women the unmistakable sense that they saw her as a threat. Those out for a walk with their boyfriends or husbands gave future-Stephanie a flinty look and tried - largely unsuccessfully - to pull their partner's attention back on themselves. She saw two women mutter something under their breaths as she ran by, and even without hearing the words, Stephanie could feel her ears burn red.

A few women even treated her to admiring looks, and as future-Stephanie dashed down one street, she could have sworn that one women even winked at her, while playfully biting her lip. Future-Stephanie felt herself immediately look away from the flirting woman, but then forced herself to look back and return the woman's attentions with a shy smile. A shy smile, she thought to herself! There was nothing else shy about Stephanie on that run.

As she felt herself carried through the streets of Boston, future-Stephanie was nearing her hotel again when something suddenly broke her out of her day-dream. Back in the hotel room, Stephanie could feel something tracing a line up her thigh, and the shock of the real-world sensation dragged her - reluctantly - away from her vision.