The Skeptic’s First Descent

Diane adjusted her glasses as the car pulled up to the sleek glass building. Devotion Academy. The name alone made her lips twitch. She had agreed to this for Mike, but only because she planned to prove the whole thing was theater. Her fingers tapped the clipboard on her lap, the consent forms already printed and waiting inside. She would sign them, sit through one session, and walk out with enough notes to laugh about it later over wine.

Mike reached over and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he said, voice warm. “We can leave anytime.”

“I know,” she answered, crisp. “I’m here to see what the fuss is about. That’s all.” She didn’t add that she expected to feel nothing beyond mild boredom. Her analytical mind had never bent to suggestion before. Why would it start now?

They stepped through automatic doors into a lobby scented with lavender and something warmer, like vanilla. Soft lighting glowed against pale walls. A receptionist smiled and directed them to a waiting area. Diane sat with her back straight, legs crossed, already cataloging every detail for later dissection.

Jenny Austin appeared exactly on time. She was tall, elegant, silver threading through her black bob. Her tailored blouse and pencil skirt moved with her like they had been chosen to project control. Hazel eyes met Diane’s directly.

“Diane. Mike. I’m glad you’re both here.” Her voice was velvet over steel, each word measured. “We’ll start with the paperwork, then move to your first session.”

Diane took the forms without hesitation. She scanned the language quickly, noting the usual disclaimers about hypnosis and voluntary participation. Her pen hovered, then signed with a flourish. “There. All set.”

Austin’s mouth curved in the smallest smile. “Excellent. Mike, you can wait here. Diane, if you’ll follow me.”

The session room was small and dim, a single reclining chair in the center. Lavender hung heavier in the air. Diane lowered herself into the chair, crossing her ankles, already preparing to stay detached.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Austin said, settling into a seat just out of direct line of sight. “We begin with simple breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Let your shoulders drop on each exhale.”

Diane followed the instructions because refusing would have been childish. The first breath felt ordinary. The second stretched longer. By the fifth, the tension behind her eyes eased without her permission.

“Good,” Austin murmured. “Notice how your body already knows how to let go. Your mind can stay sharp while your muscles soften. That’s the beauty of it.”

Diane’s fingers loosened on the armrests. She told herself it was just relaxation, nothing more. Yet warmth crept along her spine, unexpected.

“Imagine a safe place,” Austin continued, rhythm steady. “Somewhere you feel completely at ease. Let the details fill in. The light. The temperature. The quiet.”

Diane pictured her apartment, but the image shifted on its own to a softer version of the academy room. She frowned inwardly. Her mind was supposed to stay hers.

“Now listen to this suggestion,” Austin said, voice dropping lower. “Independence can feel like armor. Useful, yes, but heavy after a while. Sometimes it is a relief to set it down, even briefly. You don’t have to decide anything. Just notice how that idea sits with you.”

Diane’s breath caught. The words landed too close to thoughts she had never voiced. Her thighs pressed together once, an involuntary squeeze. Heat bloomed low in her belly, surprising and unwelcome. She rationalized it as stress from the new environment, nothing else.

Austin’s tone wrapped around the next phrase. “Curiosity can open doors you didn’t know were there. When you hear the word ‘devotion’ spoken softly, you may feel a small spark of interest, a gentle pull to explore further. Nothing forced. Just a natural response.”

The suggestion slid in like silk. Diane’s pulse quickened. She felt the first faint throb between her legs and bit the inside of her cheek to steady herself. This was ridiculous. Her body was reacting to a voice, that was all. Yet the warmth lingered, spreading.

“We’ll stop here for today,” Austin said after several more minutes of guided breathing. “You did well. Notice how your body feels when you stand.”

Diane rose slowly. Her legs felt lighter than expected. She smoothed her skirt, refusing to acknowledge the dampness she sensed. “Thank you,” she managed, voice even. “It was… relaxing.”

Austin’s eyes held hers for a moment. “That’s a good start. We’ll build from here if you return.”

Outside, Mike stood as soon as he saw her. “How was it?”

Diane linked her arm through his, already forming the rational explanation she would give him on the drive home. “Fine. Just breathing exercises. Nothing dramatic.”

Yet as they walked to the car, the word “devotion” echoed once in her mind, uninvited. A tiny spark answered it, warm and curious, before she pushed it away. She told herself it meant nothing. She almost believed it.