Eternity Ring

Drenched in sweat Rhonda shuddered awake. God, what a nightmare, and it had seemed so real. Even now, now that she was awake, she could still feel the throbs of pain where, in the dream, her anus had been violated. She stumbled from the bed and, staggering partially from the after effects of the beer but more from the after effects of the dream, grabbed her dressing gown from the back of the door. Switching on every light she could find, she made her way to the kitchen. She fetched a pint glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the cold tap; as much for the sake of doing something as anything else. For a long, long while she just sat at the kitchen table, sipping at the water trying to calm down. It had seemed so real, so vivid. At one point she went to the bathroom and examined her face, looking for signs of where her assailant had hit her. Not surprisingly there was none. She even looked, as far as she could, at her backside but that, too, was clear of any sign of the violation she had felt so clearly in the dream. Dazed, she returned to the kitchen. She ought to go back to bed but the thought of facing that again was too much. In the end she wrapped the dressing gown around herself and lay down on the sofa. And that's how she found herself, still tired and with an awful crick in her neck, when she came to early the next morning.

Partially to wake herself up, and partially to wash away the memories of the dream, she spent longer than usual in the shower that morning. Even so she was not at her best when she arrived at the institute. Half an hour later she had that feeling she was beginning to get used to and, glancing out of the window, she saw Jessica's Audi TTS pulling into the car park. When she got to the office Jessica too, seemed a little subdued but maybe that was just Monday morning blues. She came over to Rhonda's desk and held out her left hand.

"I'm sorry, Rhonda, I really tried everything but that damn ring wont come off. I've completely run out of ideas as to what to try next."

"Don't worry; I'm sure you did your best. Now..." Rhonda looked up at Jessica and was suddenly speechless. There, just above Jessica's right eye, was a bruise, right in the place where she had been struck in the dream. Jessica had tried to cover it with make up but the bruising was clear enough.

"What have you done to your eye?" Rhonda asked.

"I... I banged my head. I walked into a door. Wasn't that silly of me," Jessica replied.

"Walked into a door?" Rhonda stood up and looked closer. "Ooh, that looks nasty. Here, may I..." Rhonda reached up and brushed the bruise with her fingers. As she did so she heard Jessica voice, quite clearly, saying 'please don't ask, please don't ask'. Rhonda removed her hand and the voice went quiet.

"What did you say?" Rhonda asked.

"I didn't say anything," Jessica replied.

Rhonda was shaken, she could have sworn she'd heard Jessica speak. More than that, she had felt a twinge of pain from her own temple, a twinge that came from exactly the same spot. She looked at Jessica and saw the fear in her eyes. She ached to do something about it but the voice had pleaded otherwise.

"It's OK, I won't ask but, if you need someone to talk to..."

"I just walked into a door," Jessica repeated firmly.

And, with that, the subject was closed but, even so, Rhonda still had a number of questions running around her head. She resolved to keep a close eye on Jessica and noticed her wince as she sat down. This was crazy. Just because there were similarities between last night's dream and the bump on Jessica's head didn't mean she should jump to wild conclusions. Rhonda was well versed in the scientific method and had scant regard for silly superstition or belief in the supernatural.

Even so, Jessica, and thoughts of Jessica, occupied more and more of her time. This woman, whom she had thought of as just a nuisance, did have something about her, even if Rhonda couldn't quite pin down what it was. Despite the way she had dismissed Jessica's attractiveness when talking to Chris, she was finding that she would end up staring at her and, quite frankly, lusting after her. Of course, for all the reasons she had explained to Chris, she wouldn't dream of doing anything about it. Jessica wasn't her type, Jessica wasn't lesbian, and Rhonda had strict rules about not dating girls from work, three good reasons to keep away, but none of them stopped her looking.

The next day Malcolm arrived with a list of the pieces from the Brock bequest and asked to be shown through them. Rhonda called Jessica over and the three of them trooped down to the cellar. Rhonda had always been keen that praise should go to the one who had done the work and, in this case, she really wanted to ensure that Malcolm knew that it was Jessica who had put in most of the effort. Therefore, when they got to the cellar, she pushed Jessica forward and let her do the explaining. As she did so she heard Jessica and Malcolm discussing the finds but she also heard something else, almost as if there were a radio in the back of her head.

'OMG! I can't do this, I'll end up looking stupid again. I really don't know what half this stuff is. I'll start with the china... don't drop it, don't drop it, don't drop it... The teapot. I looked that up, what was it? Wedgwood? Doulton? Spode, that's it, Spode... Oh, thank god I... That piece, green Chinese bowl...I don't know, I don't know, it's on the list, where on the list, I can't find it, I can't find it, I can't... ah here it is. Oh god, he's staring at my tits. I hope this blouse isn't too revealing, I wish Jeremy wasn't so keen on push up bras. It's easy for him; he's not the one who has to wear them all day long. Please, Malcolm, I'm up here, yes, they're tits, every woman has them, hello, hello....'

And, as Rhonda looked on, there was no doubt that Malcolm was, unashamedly, staring at Jessica's breasts. Her only surprise was that Jessica was surprised. Surely she knew when she displayed such cleavage that she'd have every man around her drooling. But maybe she didn't. And then Malcolm was enthusing over Jessica's hard work and diligence. Sure Rhonda had wanted her to take the credit but this was ridiculous. In the end she felt she had to step in and bring the conversation back to the collection.

"Do you see," Malcolm said afterwards. "I told you she'd be a valuable addition to the team."

"She's certainly more useful than I thought at first," Rhonda conceded.

"And such a pretty girl..." Malcolm mused.

"And such a pretty girl who happens to be engaged to be married," Rhonda pointed out.

"I can look, can't I?" Malcolm joshed.

"Make sure look it's all you do. You are a married man, you know." Rhonda wondered if she were overstepping the mark by telling her boss off like this but her protective spirit had come to the fore and if this old letch thought that....

"I know, I know, just saying, that's all," Malcolm replied taking the criticism in good stead.

And Rhonda found that, more and more, she had this urge to protect Jessica from all the predatory men around her. It was as if she had been blind before but now she was noticing how often Jessica was the victim of unwelcome attention. It came to a head as they rode up in the lift to a meeting on the top floor. The lift was crowded so they were all crushed together. Rhonda and Jessica were tucked into a corner and, simply by being in the lift, they were touching. That seemed to make the 'radio' clearer and, although she couldn't make out the words, she could feel how uncomfortable Jessica was with the situation. And then, as plain as day, she felt a hand cupping her buttock, squeezing it. She reached down and there was nothing there, nothing at all but it was so clear, she could feel the fingers, she could feel the hem of her skirt....

Skirt, she wasn't wearing a skirt, nor had she since she was a little girl. She glanced across at Jessica who was looking distinctly uncomfortable and, more pertinently, the 'butter wouldn't melt' expression of James, from Asian antiquities, who was standing next to her and whose arm was suspiciously out of sight.

"Get your hands off her!" Rhonda snarled into James's face.

"I'm not... I'm not...," James stuttered but his crimson face told another story.

"Don't you lie to me! Sexual harassment is a sacking offence and you know it."

"I'm sorry, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do, you pervert, groping Jessica's buttocks. Don't you try to deny it."

"I can assure you..." James started but, with that, the lift arrived at the top floor and they all started to troop out.

"I haven't finished with you," Rhonda said to James, but the rest got lost as they found their seats around the conference table.

Some time later they were returning to their office, James made a point of taking the stairs.

"Thank you," Jessica said.

"For what?"

"For... for... for telling James off."

Rhonda remembered the creepy feeling; it had been as real as if it had been her backside that James had been groping.

"You don't have to put up with it, you know."

"But... but... they're only being playful. That's what Jeremy says."

"Playful or not, never let anyone touch you like that unless you want it."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is that simple."

"For you, maybe. You're strong, you're tough, no one messes with you."

Rhonda reached out and took Jessica by the arm and, as she did so, she distinctly heard Jessica say 'she doesn't understand, it's so easy for her. I wish I could be so sure of myself'. Shocked at how clear the voice was, Rhonda withdrew her hand and it went quiet again. Once more she reached out only to hear 'what's going on, why is Rhonda looking like that?' Again and again Rhonda put her hand on Jessica's arm and removed it. Each time it was like switching a radio on and off again. Jessica just looked on as if she had gone crazy.

"Why... why are you poking me like that?" she asked.

"Jessica... look... I need to test something. Can we go into...?" Rhonda tried to think of a place where they could chat without interruption and ended up finding a quiet corner in the staff canteen. At lunchtime the room had been crowded but now, at mid afternoon, there was no one else around. Rhonda led Jessica to a table and motioned and they sat down facing each other.

"Please, Jessica, this is going to sound crazy but I want to try something, test something out. Just bear with me, will you?"

"Err... OK."

"Please, let me hold your hand."

"You what?"

"Please, just let me hold your hand for a moment. I promise I won't do anything you don't want."

Jessica held out her hand and Rhonda took it in hers. As she did so she was taken by how delicate it looked and was overwhelmed by a desire to protect, to nurture. The ring was still there on her fourth finger; the stone dark, almost black. What's more, taking Jessica's hand had turned on the 'radio' and she was now fully aware of Jessica's anxiety.

'What's she doing? What's all this about?'

"Please, Jessica, think of a colour, will you? Don't tell me what it is."

'A colour, why does she want me to think of a colour. I don't know, cerise, I suppose.'

"Cerise, that's what you thought about, isn't it?"

"How... how did you do that?"

Rhonda didn't want to answer, not yet, anyway. She looked down at Jessica's hand. The stone in the ring had changed and was now a deep red, burgundy perhaps.

"Please, Jessica," Rhonda urged, "just bear with me for a while. This time think of, oh, I don't know, an animal, think of an animal."

"An animal? What sort of animal?"

"Anything, anything at all, just don't say it out loud."

'I wish I knew what this was all about. Animal, well there's Popsy,' an image of an Irish setter came to Rhonda's mind, 'or Truffles,' this time it was a pony at an expensive stables.

"You're thinking of Popsy, your dog and Truffles, your pony, aren't you?" Rhonda stated.

"Stop it! Stop it right now!" Jessica jerked her hand back and, as she did so, Rhonda saw that the ring was now a flaming orange. 'You're scaring me!"

"Jessica, sorry, I didn't mean to upset you but... well, I know it sounds strange, but it's as if I can hear your thoughts. No, that's stupid, I'll be believing in magic next, but that's what it looks like and I think it's got something to do with the ring. I see you're still wearing it."

"What do you mean, hear my thoughts?"

"I don't know, exactly but, sometimes, I can tell what you're thinking and, well, it's stronger when we're touching. That's why I asked if we could hold hands."

"Do you know what I'm thinking now?"

"No, but I can see that you're pretty upset."

"Try now...." Jessica reached across and grabbed Rhonda's hand

'Get out of my head, I don't like it, it's creepy, really creepy. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Get out, you weirdo! Get out! Get Out!'

As Jessica snatched her hand away Rhonda saw a flash of electric blue from the ring.

"Please, Jessica," Rhonda began.

"Leave me alone, I'm going home." And, with that, Jessica stormed off. Rhonda, stunned, just watched her go.

Five minutes later Rhonda was at her desk when Malcolm arrived.

"What on earth have you been up to?"

"I don't know. What's up?"

"What's up? You tell me. One moment I have Jessica storming out in tears and refusing to tell me what's the matter except that you started it. The next I have James telling me that you've been making unfounded accusations of sexual harassment in front of other staff members. I know you can be outspoken, it's something I admire about you, but if you go round upsetting people then I will have to take steps. James, well, I dare say you were right about that one but don't go making accusations without evidence. Jessica, what on earth were you thinking of? I want that one patched up. I want her back here, so happy with her work that she's just begging daddy to make another donation. Understood?"

"Yes, I understand. I'm sorry."

"Sort it out and sort it out soonest."

And, for the second time that afternoon, Rhonda watched the back of someone storming off in anger. This was really a mess. Oh, James, she wasn't bothered about that little twerp, but Jessica, that was a problem. She had been really upset and, quite frankly, Rhonda could understand why. And it wasn't just the job thing that was the problem, Rhonda was actually getting to like her, to understand her and that made her want to reach out and protect her. Now Jessica thought that she was, what was the word she had used, a weirdo... Still, there was nothing she could do about it now, she'd have to wait and see what tomorrow would bring.

Rhonda was at her wits' end. When you're a trained scientist and the only rational explanation to an observed phenomenon involves such nonsense as "magic rings" then the world has turned upside-down, and nothing makes sense any more. What's more, there was no one in the facility she could discuss it with. They had enough trouble as it was with "New Age" nutters ascribing mystical powers to ancient artefacts and, if she went to Malcolm or any of the other staff members with tales of telepathy and magic rings then, once they had stopped laughing, her professional credibility would be destroyed in perpetuity. No, she would have to keep quiet, have to keep it to herself until she had hard evidence, something incontrovertible, something that even the most convinced skeptic couldn't deny.

On the other hand, if keeping this from her colleagues was essential, not telling anyone was also not an option. This was too mind-bending, too huge to keep locked inside and she had to tell someone, if only to convince herself of her own sanity. Choosing who that someone would be wasn't hard. As ever, when in times of trouble, the someone she turned to was Chris. Not only was he a close friend but, in addition, his degree in psychology might help throw some light on the matter. She called him up and they agreed to meet in the Golden Ball for eight o'clock. When she got there Chris was already seated at a table with a pint of beer in front of him. She bought one for herself and went over to join him.

"OK, let me guess, the big bad Rhonda has fallen for the bimbo and now she doesn't know what to do about it," Chris said as she sat down.

"No, it's not like that at all," Rhonda replied firmly. "Well, maybe it's a bit like that but... OK, smartarse, what makes you think it's the bimbo? Her name is Jessica, by the way."

"Well, there's a big give-away, right there. Only a few short weeks ago she was the spawn of Satan, abusing her father's power and influence to deprive poor postgrads from their rightful employ. Now you're giving me a hard time because I can't remember her name. There is only one possible reason for this change of heart: Rhonda is smitten. I seem to remember you summing her up as 'cute arse but no conversation'. Do I gather that, nowadays, you'd forgo the conversation for a little taste of that cute arse?"

"No, that's not it. Please, this is serious. If I tell you something will you promise not to laugh?"

"Well, I can't promise that, but I will promise to take you seriously."

"I can hear her thoughts," Rhonda said quietly.

There was a pause while Chris wondered if he had misheard.

"Say that again."

"I can hear her thoughts," Rhonda repeated.

"How do you mean, hear her thoughts?" Chris asked, slowly and carefully. He certainly wasn't going to laugh but this sounded crazy.

"I mean that I can hear what she is thinking, sometimes as clearly as if she were saying it out loud."

"So, you're saying that you're telepathic." The disbelief was clear in Chris's voice

"That's it."

"And yet no one has ever successfully demonstrated telepathy under laboratory conditions," Chris insisted.

"You don't believe me." Rhonda couldn't hide her disappointment.

"I don't disbelieve you either. I do believe you think you can hear her thoughts but I'm a fan of Carl Sagan. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence."

"Well, that's where we get to the hard part. It took a while to work out what was going on and, when I did, I wanted to try some basic tests, set up some parameters, see what I could find out about what makes it work. For a start it looks like it's far more effective when we're touching. I wanted to see whether that is just a proximity thing or whether it needs to be skin on skin. Maybe there's some sort of induction or something like that. Anyway, as soon as I started testing, she freaked out. Last time I saw her she was storming out of the office calling me creepy and a weirdo."

"So, you tell the bimbo, OK, OK," Chris held his hands up at Rhonda's obvious anger, "I get it, she's not a bimbo. Anyway, you tell Jessica that you can hear her thoughts and immediately start pawing her to see if it's affected by touch. The next thing you know she's storming out in a strop. I don't suppose for one moment that it crossed your mind to think about it from her point of view. First you tell her you can read her intimate secrets, then you treat her like a lab rat. No wonder she was upset."

"But I have to find out what's going on. I have to know what's what," Rhonda insisted.

"And what about Jessica? Does she need to know what's what? How does she feel about all this? Have you asked? Did you even think to ask?"

"I...." Rhonda was quite taken aback at this onslaught.

"You didn't, did you? I might have guessed as much. That's why you've got yourself in a pickle and want me to sort it out for you. Let's start at the beginning. When did you first think that you could 'hear' her thoughts'?"