There was a wall to wall shag rug of brilliant turquoise and green shag. Quiet music was playing in the background. Two uniformed staff walked about, picking up empty glasses, handing out food on simple white trays. Rudolf immediately took off his hiking boots and put on a pair of sockmocs lined up near the door. He smiled at me, frowned down at my feet, then tossed me a pair that looked like they'd fit. "There's a bathroom downstairs if you need one," a young woman said. She wore tight black ski pants, a bright red sweater, and I realized, perhaps looking at her chest a fraction too long, perhaps no bra. Must be cold, I thought to myself as I headed downstairs. I found the bathroom, then felt for the switch. When I flipped it on the light revealed a huge space with three spacious shower stalls, a large Jacuzzi, a separate bathroom area with two bidets and two toilets. After washing my hands and checking my face in the mirror I noticed reflected behind me curious devices. The scent hit her square in the face. Pungent, a little fruity, a little meaty, a little like nothing she could place — and a lot like garbage. A terrible, massive heap of garbage, some parts of it burning. The smell enveloped her like a thick fog, raced up her nostrils, and pooled in her throat and mouth, triggering instant reactions in the most primitive parts of her brain. It was god-awful. She would never be clean again. She would never forgive Mark. She was going to gag…she was…she…she was…she… Amanda took another sharp inhale. She felt the fart hovering around her like a miasma, and was glad. Glad? Part of her brain felt funny. Loose…loose. Her nostrils flared. The fart was finally starting to fade. One more great big inhalation, one more attempt to capture a little more of that, to keep it, to know it, that… ‘Amanda?’ Mark said, stepping down from the stool. He was still smiling. ‘Amanda, you look like you’re really enjoying that fart.’ She nodded, eyes unfocused, a dreamy.
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