Elsie let out a long, contented sigh as she shut off the tap to her shower. The last of the heated water trickled off of her shoulders and down her body, and she stood in the lingering steam for a few moments. Beneath her, the drain gurgled as it drank the last few puddles of water that remained.

She brought her hands up to her shoulder-length hair and gathered it in her fists, wringing it lightly to drain the excess water. It was a bad habit – she knew that. But she was impatient, and there were far more exciting things to follow.

Kneeling down, Elsie gathered any loose hairs that found themselves caught in the drainage trap, before depositing them into a small bin on her way out of the stall.

Her body shuddered involuntarily as the cooler air outside wrapped around her. More through muscle memory than any conscious thought, she dried herself off before shrouding herself in a thick, white towel that smelt pleasantly of warm dryer and fresh laundry. Quickly, she light-footed across the cold tiles of her studio apartment’s kitchenette and through to her bedroom-slash-living space, where the package sat patiently on her makeshift couch… which was really just a second bed with far too many cushions.

Elsie lived in a corner unit, overlooking a moderately-sized park. The view was usually spectacular, and she had wasted many hours people-watching out the floor-to-ceiling windows of her apartment. It was an activity that often helped supplement her with inspiration on the days she found it scarce.

But today, a dreary autumn shower had driven most of the park’s visitors to drier sources of leisure. She reached for the cord of her curtains and began to lower her blinds, preferring privacy for the activity planned for the day. The semi-opaque white cloth diffused the light as it lowered, scattering it and bathing her room in a soft, comfortable glow devoid of harsh shadows. A nearby wall clock read 2PM – it was finally time. Kay would be here in an hour.

The Kraft-paper-wrapped package was the size of a modest backpack and was held closed with brown twine. It was adorned with a tiny bouquet of dried baby’s breath and cotton, and a small, folded card was affixed underneath a bow knot.

Suit up.
- K.

“If you say so,” Elsie’s lips curled into a wry smile. Theatrics were more her thing than Kay’s… or so she’d tell herself. She set the card down on her coffee table and set to work on the package.

As she freed the contents from the Kraft paper jail that entombed them, the familiar, sweet, earthy scent of fresh rubber wafted into the air. Elsie took a deep breath, allowing the aroma to fill her lungs. Perhaps it was merely Pavlovian, but there was something about the smell of rubber that flicked a switch in her brain. It sparked a small fire in her lower abdomen, and she welcomed that ember to warm her body through.

Her first glimpse of rubber through the paper was of a bright, fiery scarlet. As she unraveled the heavy, folded bundle, it fell into two large pieces: one a deep, glossy black, shrouded in another of pure red. Elsie sorted through the oily latex, lower lip firmly bitten. The first piece was a red, double-breasted trench coat with an attached hood. Kinky, yet classy; but the second piece was far more alluring.

Elsie gulped, cursing herself for enabling the cliché; her throat had grown dry as she beheld what lay beneath the first fold. Before her, was a Russian GP-5 gasmask. It was black, unlike the grey-white one she’d stashed away under her couch, and it’d be similar apart from that, except this one didn’t have an edge. As she held the garment up by its face, gravity sorted the rest out for her. Attached to the gasmask, the suit fell open. It hung before her as a full-bodied catsuit formed of liquid ebony – a beautiful contrast to the red latex of the trench coat it was wrapped in.

The suit promised to enclose her fully and tightly from the feet to the top of her head. A discreet zipper ran along the spine, starting from the back of the scalp behind the gasmask, down between the legs, then back up to just underneath the navel. A small padlock hung from the suit’s zipper – it was unlocked but there was no key. Affixed to its shackle by a thin thread was another note, written in the same flowery handwriting.

Meet me at the fountain in the middle of the park.
Don’t be late.

Elsie stared at the note and the padlock for the longest minute, firmly gnawing her lower lip as the predicament Kay had set her up for fell together in her head. An inferno blazed in her lower regions, smoking out any rational thought that she tried to form in protest. She placed the padlock on the coffee table and draped the suit over her couch. Gingerly, she peeled back the blinds and peered out at the park.

‘3PM,’ Elsie repeated to herself, ‘the fountain in the middle of the park…’ Her voice came out dryer than she had expected.

She scanned the paths and benches as best she could from her high perch. The metropolitan park was large, and had a network of narrow, concrete paths lined with trees that snaked across its three-block by four-block footprint. At its center, framed by a little flower garden atop a tiny hill, was the old, bronze, three-tiered fountain.

As far as Elsie could see, the park was deserted. A single pedestrian, hidden under an umbrella, marched slowly away from her building, along the perimeter of the park. The rain had done a good job of chasing folk away, and Elsie briefly wondered if Kay had somehow orchestrated that... who knew the depth of her powers? She combed the park with her eye once more, again unable to find any signs of movement.

Besides, she argued, no one can see your face anyway. Elsie peered into the gasmask’s empty eyes. It stared back in a hollow gaze, as if begging for her to fill its void and give it form.

Elsie took another deep breath and switched her attention to her wall clock – quarter past two. Time was running out.

‘You’ll need an hour to get ready,’ she’d said. How about the other hour I needed to convince myself to do this?

She stole another look at the park – the same pedestrian, hidden under the umbrella, was now strolling down a path toward the flower garden. Elsie’s heart fluttered as the figure arrived at the fountain in the middle of the park. It paused for a moment, before turning to face the direction of her apartment. Slowly, the umbrella lifted to reveal a face staring straight at her through a pair of dark sunglasses. Elsie’s breathing stopped and she watched as the all-too-familiar woman brought one hand up to another. Slowly but firmly, she tapped her index finger against the top of her wrist, before settling down on a nearby bench.

Elsie flopped back onto her couch, baring her teeth in an expression that was somehow simultaneously a frown and a smile.

Kay is here.

The thought brought with it both comfort and a playful fear – she was already late. But… Kay changed things. Safety was now in sight. She only needed to cross half the park to get to her. She… could do half a deserted park on her own, right? She just needed to reach Kay – and then everything would be alright.