Lena sat on the edge of the padded bench, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her oversized sweater. The soft hum of the room's climate control was the only sound, muted and constant, like a white noise meant to soothe. It didn't. Not yet.

She glanced at the clock on the wall—three minutes past the scheduled time. Her foot tapped once, then stopped, the motion feeling too loud in the sterile quiet. Despite the thick privacy panels and gentle lighting, the room felt clinical, curated for comfort but not yet comfortable.

She hated how exposed she felt—not physically, not really, but emotionally. The consent forms had been clear. The pairing was temporary, unless both of them wished to be paired long-term. Two hours, stillness, warmth, connection. But no one had warned her how intimate that would feel before it even began.

She rubbed her palms against her jeans and took a slow breath. Her hair was already twisting itself into chaos, strands falling in front of her eyes. She should've tied it up.

Still, she didn't leave.

This was supposed to help. Everyone said so. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to know what it was like to be that close to someone again—not in the rushed, accidental way she'd grown used to, but in a way that asked nothing except to simply stay.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss, and Lena's shoulders stiffened. A staff member in a pale grey uniform stepped inside first, their clipboard tucked under one arm. Behind them, her new partner for the session lingered in the doorway.

Lena didn't look at him directly. Not yet. Her eyes stayed fixed on the staff member, who spoke in a calm, practiced voice.

"Session time is set for two hours," the staff member said, glancing briefly at their notes. "You'll remain in this room until the timer signals completion. Remember—this is about relaxation and connection, not performance. No movement is required once you've settled. Just breathe and let the body's natural rhythm guide you."

Lena's throat tightened as she shifted on the bench. The words felt clinical, but there was something undeniably intimate about them.

"Communication is optional," the staff member continued, their gaze now moving between the two of them. "If either of you feels uncomfortable at any point, you can press the request panel by the bed. A session supervisor will respond immediately. Otherwise, we'll respect your privacy."

Lena stole a glance at her partner, her breath shallow but steady. He looked calm—or maybe just unreadable. She couldn't tell.

The staff member offered a small, professional smile before stepping aside, gesturing toward the padded resting couch at the center of the room. "Take your time getting settled. When you're ready, we'll start the timer."