Chapter 5

Asher

Another hotel room. A different city. As my fingers drum on the table after our away game loss, something about that night on Love Beach keeps popping into my mind. The soft sound of Elle's laughter and the way she told stories at the bonfire... She felt so familiar.

God. I’m losing it. I shake my head, trying to shake off the feeling. It just won't go away.

That's when I remember how I first stumbled upon the psychic phone line – it was after a particularly rough game, and I was feeling lost, unsure of how to prove myself to my team and the world. A late-night infomercial featuring Miss Tusaine's alluring voice had drawn me in, promising guidance and clarity. It's been months since I last called Miss Tusaine's Readings for the Divine.

Maybe it's worth a shot of getting resolution to this unsettling feeling I’m having. I hesitantly pick up my phone and dial the number. Then I wait, while taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves.

Thank you for calling Miss Tusaine’s Readings for the Divine, your personal guide to your future. In a moment, you’ll be connected with Lavender Meadows. To accept all that is waiting for you and the charges, please press one.

The line clicks over after I press one, and the psychic's sultry voice fills my ears. “Thank you for calling Miss Tusaine's Readings for the Divine, this is Lavender Meadows. How may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m John Dough…” I reply, and before I can say what I’m calling about. She cuts in.

"Welcome back, John," she purrs, her tone both comforting and disconcerting.

"Thanks," I reply, surprised she remembers me. "I've been feeling... I don't know. Off lately. Like there's something I can't quite figure out."

"Interesting," she muses, taking a moment before she speaks again. "Perhaps there's someone in your life who holds the key to unlocking the answers you seek."

"Maybe," I say, my thoughts drifting back to Elle. Her voice – it sounds just like the psychic's. Could it be? No, I’m completely losing it now. "Actually, I don’t have time to talk, I have to catch a flight soon,” I laugh. “I guess I probably shouldn’t have called since I don’t have time to talk. That’s kind of why people call in.”

“Right. That is generally the case.” She chuckles.

“Okay, I’ll have to call back tomorrow. Thanks."

"Of course, John," she replies. "I'll be here."

***

The next night, after an exhausting day, I flop onto my bed and pick up my phone. I dial the psychic's number again, excited to chat.

"Welcome back, John," she greets before I have a chance to even say hello, and I know that this has to be Elle. "How may I assist you this evening?"

"Hi again," I reply, grinning. Time to have a little fun. "You know what? Let's try something different. Tell me, do you think it's possible for someone to have a psychic connection with their... underwear?"

"Excuse me?" Elle stammers, clearly thrown off by my question. "I... uh, well, I suppose any object could hold sentimental or emotional significance, but..."

"Great, Lavender!" I interrupt, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because I've always felt that my lucky jockstrap has some sort of magical powers, you know? It helps me score goals on the ice." I wink, though she can't see it.

Elle clears her throat, obviously trying to regain her composure. "Well, John, while I'm not sure about the psychic properties of your... undergarments, perhaps what you're sensing is a strong personal connection to that specific item."

"Sure, let's go with that," I comment. "Okay, next question. What do you think about pineapples and their role in human sexuality?"

"Um, I'm not entirely certain how that relates to your spiritual journey, John," Elle replies, sounding a bit flustered.

"Hey, maybe it's a metaphor for something deeper," I tease, enjoying the way she’s probably squirming on the other end of the line. "But seriously, don't you think it's possible that pineapples hold the secret to unlocking true intimacy?"

"Listen, John, I'm here to help guide you on your path, but I'm not sure how discussing pineapples and underwear will assist in that." Elle's tone is both one of confusion and amusement.

"Fair enough," I chuckle, feeling satisfied with my teasing.

"Yes, okay," she replies. "I'm here to help, even if that means indulging in some... unconventional topics."

"Great, because tomorrow night? We're talking about the psychic implications of whipped cream and body paint," I say with a laugh, before hanging up.

I lay back on my bed, grinning from ear to ear, knowing that Elle and the psychic are one and the same.

***

The third night, I'm practically bouncing in my seat as I dial the psychic hotline once more.

"Good evening, John. I hope you're ready for another enlightening conversation," Elle answers cheerfully.

"Absolutely, Lavender," I reply with a grin, even though she can’t see it. "But first, let me ask you something. Do you ever feel like sometimes we're just... meant to connect with certain people? Like there's this cosmic force pulling us together?"

There's a brief pause on the other end, and I can practically feel Elle's brain churning. "Yes, I do believe that some connections are destined, written in the stars, so to speak."

"Interesting," I muse, feeling bolder now. "So, about that whipped cream and body paint..."

"Ah, right." Elle laughs nervously. "I'm not entirely sure where you're going with this, but I'll play along."

"Great. Let's start with the whipped cream. Would you say it has any spiritual properties or significance?" I ask, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Whipped cream, in and of itself, doesn't hold any inherent spiritual properties," Elle replies cautiously. "However, I suppose one could argue that using it to indulge in sensual pleasures might help open up new paths of emotional connection."

"Wow, you're really good at this, Lavender," I say, genuinely impressed by how she answers my nonsense questions. "Okay, how about the body paint? Is there anything mystical about expressing oneself through art on the skin?"

"Actually, there is," Elle responds, sounding more confident now. "Throughout history, many cultures have used body painting as a form of spiritual expression and communication. It can be a powerful way to connect with one's inner self and with others."

"See? I knew there was something deep here," I tease. "Last question: do you think these... certain topics have helped us connect?"

"Perhaps," Elle admits. "We've talked through some unique ideas. It's been… an unusual experience."

"Unusual, but memorable," I say, my tone sincere. "And maybe it's time we drop the pretense, Elle. I know it's you on the other end of this line. You're not just a psychic; you know I met you on the beach. I’m Asher."

There's a long pause before Elle finally speaks again. "Yes, Asher, it's me. I didn't know how to tell you, but now that you know..."

"Elle," I say, taking a deep breath in and letting it out. "Why don't we meet up again? In person, this time. I'd really like to take you out on a real date."

Another pause. I can almost hear her chewing on her thumb's nail as she considers my proposal. Finally, she speaks up.

"Okay, Asher," she agrees but still sounds reluctant. "Let's give it a try. A real date."

"Perfect," I say. "How about Giancarlo's in Love Beach tomorrow night? You know, that Italian restaurant on the beach? We can grab some food and talk about anything other than psychic readings and erotic oils."

"Yes, that would be great," Elle says with a soft chuckle. "I'll see you there."

"No, I’ll pick you up like a gentleman would. Say, 7pm?" I reply, knowing that I must first focus on tomorrow afternoon’s hockey game. My team is counting on me, and I can't let them down.

“Okay, but meet me at the entrance sign to the community, and we can walk to the restaurant from there,” she replies.

“Looking forward to it. Have a good night, Elle,” I say. With that, I disconnect the line, lay back on my bed, close my eyes, and wait for my dream state to take over because I know it will be consumed by fantasies of Elle.