Two weeks later, and the entire experience began to feel more comfortable and normalized. The routine was the easy part. It's funny how quickly a person's brain can acclimate to a schedule.
Each day unfalteringly started with a shot of the Cocktail and a protein shake.
Then morning workouts, which were still challenging. Master Anthony had me alternating focus each time. We'd do core one day, then lower body, then aerobic exercises, then repeat the cycle of the three again. After that we added in upper body.
"Since you're a man-- I mean," Anthony fumbled, "people ... similar to your body type ... naturally have more upper body strength, we'll do that less often. We'll keep up enough to have tone and some definition."
The stretching and protein supplements helped immensely. My body gradually became less sore in the evenings, and I felt more energetic overall. Not that I would fool myself into thinking I was in shape at all. I was still sweating buckets, and was absolutely wiped by the end of every session.
The Heels class remained the most brutal experience. I still relied on the handrail to walk in the lowest wedge heels. I looked like a baby taking its first shaky steps. "How is anyone expected to walk in these?" I asked exasperated.
"Hmph!" Vanessa scoffed with an eyebrow raised. She then proceeded to strut along the hardwood floor in her three inch heels, swishing her ass alluringly, and twirled around at the end of the flooring. She sashayed back, ending with quick trotting steps. She looked at me proudly while the other women in the class nodded to each other.
As if to prove her point further, she showed up the next day in black ballet heels. Her feet pointed straight down with all the weight of her body on her toes. The only other support were alarmingly thin heels that had to be nearly six inches. She walked on them through the entire class without relying on any rails or support.
"I've got a ways to go, I guess," I sighed.
Vanessa chuckled. "Baby steps, my dear!"
***
The other Talent were more warm and friendly than I could've hoped. A few days in, I mustered up the courage to join them for lunches and dinners. I found them all to be charming, personable, and funny.
The Asian girl, Mari, was particularly fiery. She was a diminutive 5'4", but carried herself as if she were seven feet tall. Her laugh was goofy and loud, reverberating throughout the large space. Her frame was thin and waifish, but covered with piercings. I spotted a few tattoos around her body, scattered on her neck and legs. She also adorned herself with a myriad of bracelets, rings, and necklaces. Her black Chuck Taylors were well worn.
She'd often get in heated debates with Ryan, and could drown out his loud voice with her own. They seemed to be comfortable friends, who could rib each other without taking offense.
"C'mon! Brady is the goat!" Mari exclaimed. "Look at all the rings! He even won the last one without Belichick. He didn't need ol' Frowny McSourpuss!"
Ryan shook his head. "I'm not saying he's not legit! But he had great systems around him. I think there are way more physically gifted QBs out there. That's all I'm saying!"
"Like who?"
"Lamar," Ryan offered.
"
Lamar!
" Mari rolled her eyes. "Okay, he's a specimen. But he can't win the big game even
with
a great system around him!"
"Okay, Mahomes," Ryan shot back. "Mahomes has won the whole dance multiple times. And dude's a beast."
"MAHOMES?!" Mari shrieked. "Brady
beat
his punk ass to win a ring, fool!"
Ryan just continued to shake his head. The rest of us laughed at the spectacle. Ryan looked at me for support. "Thoughts or input? Little help here?"
"I don't really watch football. Is Peyton still around?" I ventured.
"Ugh!" Mari and Ryan cried in unison.
***
Sreeni was the one who made the most effort to make me feel welcome. She'd ask my opinion in group conversations. And while we seem to shy away from personal stuff, she would always ask how I was doing and how classes were going. I liked her. She had a calm, nurturing energy.
On most nights, she could be found reading on a couch in The Loft. I noticed that she reads non-fiction books, mostly history. I decided to join her one night, armed with my own book.
"How are you so into history books?" I inquired.
Sreeni smiled. "I find them infinitely fascinating."
"Do you?" I thought back to agonizing stretches of time during History classes in school, bored to tears. "All those dates-- they just swept over me."
"Well sure, class textbooks tend to be pretty dry. But when you focus more intimately on the people ... learn about their lives, their loves, struggles ... it becomes so human."
I cocked my head at her. She clasped her fingers together. "Look, the books you read ... they're stories of drama, romance, tension between characters, betrayals, deceit,
murder.
"
"Yeah ..."
"That stuff all happens in real life too. And real people do crazier things than what anyone could imagine or write. The truth is stranger than fiction. It's true! People in real life are impulsive, contradictory, weird,
stupid
. It's mind-boggling some of the things that real people do."
I could see in Sreeni's eyes how excited she was. "Okay okay, you've piqued my interest. Maybe I'll pick up a non-fiction book next."
Sreeni grins. "Oh, I've got
many
recommendations for you!"
***
The classes I attended during the day were an interesting potpourri of topics. One day we'd discuss psychology, the next would cover social etiquette, and then philosophy. We also had more hands-on subjects, such as self-defense, yoga, and even drink mixology! It was an odd repertoire of skills we were amassing.
Some classes were full of Talent attendees, others were just three or four. In one amusing class, I noticed that only men were invited. The topic was on how to treat or interact with women. The format was basically talking out various scenarios together. The teacher, Lily, would propose a situation like being on a date when a sensitive subject comes up, such as a recent death of a parent. How would we handle it?
"Well, I think that's easy," Ryan piped up. "I gotta cheer her up. Take her mind off of things."
"And how would you do that?" inquired Evan, another male Talent.
"I don't know. Make her laugh. Do fun stuff," Ryan said.
"Don't you think that's a little callous?" Anthony asked.
"C'mon," Ryan replied. "Laughter is the best medicine."
"Hmm," Lily responded with narrow eyes. She looked over at me. "Mistress Lisa, how would you approach that situation?"
All eyes rested on me. I gulped. "I guess ... I guess, I'd say to her that her grief is a valid feeling."
I started thinking back to the loss of my mom. "That grief comes in waves. Sometimes you feel normal and okay. Then, it can suddenly hit you like a truck. It's not an easy thing to go through. But you should feel okay to allow yourself to have those feelings when they come. It's the process of missing someone that you love."
The men around the room processed my reply quietly. Lily nodded.
***
Another class, Speech Therapy, I was the only student. It didn't take place in one of the normal classrooms. I was led by Chloe through double doors from The Loft into a new area. I went past a reception room, which was spacious and sparse. There was a simple glass-top desk that was, at the moment, unoccupied. Behind the desk, on the wood wall, were thin metal letters, each backlit with light to appear as if floating. Four simple letters spelled out
EDEN.
We continued to a pair of doors on the opposite wall from where we entered, to a hallway, and into what looked like a suite in a fancy hotel. In fact, this entire new area felt like a luxury spa. The walls were velvety patterned wallpaper. The lighting was ambient and atmospheric. The furniture and decor all exuded a sense of luxury and seduction.
In the room, I met my instructor, who was introduced as Danielle. I could tell they were trans. They explained that they weren't part of Elizabeth's normal staff, and that they were brought in specifically for me. That might explain the change in location; keeping them out of the other area of Eden.
Danielle explained that speech therapy was to help me sound and speak in a more feminine manner. The purpose was to be more fully convincing and authentic as a woman. We would do speaking exercises and even singing techniques. I was to practice on my own in my room after classes. Our sessions were twice a week.
***
In the early evenings, the Talent will sometimes make use of the outdoor space, adjacent to The Loft. It's still brisk outside this time of year, but there are space heaters to make it bearable.
I've thankfully moved on from the all protein shake diet, but the joy of that first chicken dish has diminished greatly since all I ever seem to get served is some variation of chicken.
Tonight, sitting around a table, I catalog everyone else's dishes: summer veggie pesto pasta, grilled salmon with asparagus, lamb chops, lobster bisque.
"I'd kill for a pizza right now," I declare, while dejectedly looking at my chicken salad. The others laugh.
"You're still on an intense diet," a blonde named Julia admits. "They'll loosen up on you once you get up and running." She's thin and lanky, with an aura of No Fucks Given. Tattoos line her arms and peek out from the collar of her sleeveless shirt.
"Where's Sreeni?" I ask, looking around. I hadn't seen her at all yesterday or today.
