4. Mentor Allocation #3
Unable to train at the local gym anymore, her time was already spread too thinly; she'd set up a makeshift space in the old living room.
It was nothing fancy, just bars, weights, kettlebells and a bench.
It was enough to maintain her physique and refocus her mind a few times a week.
Usually, the intensity and frequency of her workouts were dictated by her stress, training being the only thing that calmed her.
This week, however, the weights felt extra heavy and for all the wrong reasons, failing spectacularly in their job of clearing her mind.
Margot still consumed her. Every time she closed her eyes, Margot was there, burned into the back of her eyelids.
Dylan would physically shake her head as if to clear the Etch A Sketch behind her eyes, but the image always reset.
She needed things to go back to the way they were; fucking Margot for one or two hours a week, coming home to masturbate in a cold shower and back to real life on Monday.
Repeat. She didn’t want the memory of Margot’s hot breath on her neck or the smell of her perfume in her nose.
She didn’t need the unfathomable lingering taste of her, the feeling of Margot’s probing fingertips just inside her, or the sight of her soaked as she pulled her knickers to the side before fucking her over the hotel chair.
Sitting on the floor mat, heart hammering almost in time to the nineties house music filling the old front room, Dylan stared at her feet, twisting the toggles of her laces between her fingers. She looked like she was biding time in between sets, but she was really just waiting.
‘Book me, Margot,’ she whispered in the empty space. ‘For the love of fuck!’
***
As usual, Dylan trained until she was dizzy, before forcing down some food and heading into the shower. After dressing in grey shorts and a muscle back vest, she sat on the edge of her bed, thumbed her phone open to reply to the email from Dr McClure, making sure to hit reply all.
Subject: Mentor Program Allocation
Dear Dr Vincent and Dr McClure,
Thank you for your email.
Dr McClure, I appreciate the time you have taken in these allocations.
Dr Vincent, I’d be grateful if you could find time in your no doubt heavy schedule over the next few weeks for us to meet. Your specialism is one I am particularly interested in, so I am delighted to have been introduced.
I’m very much looking forward to meeting you.
Kind regards,
Dylan St John.
(She/Her)
She pressed send, slid her phone into her pocket, and made her way downstairs to her mum.
***
A ping from her inbox broke Greta’s focus.
Looking over her glasses at the laptop screen, huffing out a breath, she read the subject line: Mentor Program Allocation.
While she had hoped the mentee would wait before reaching out, she respected their eagerness.
There was something oddly appealing as she read the name Dylan St John, and the inclusion of ‘she/her’ pronouns beneath the signature caught her eye.
Greta was always glad when people included them, even if they were cisgender; she felt it simply normalised the conversation and created a safer space for others.
Inclusivity was something she valued, mostly because it had been totally non-existent when she was growing up and navigating her younger years.
She immediately typed a reply.
Dylan,
I have last minute availability on Friday of this week. I will not be on campus, however; I will be at The Pankhurst Cancer Institute. If you do wish to meet, I am free at 3pm. I am willing to meet face to face but also happy if you prefer to meet over Teams.
In either instance, please do not make an appointment with me and then not attend. If you cannot make it, let my secretary know. Paula is cc’d. No need to reply to me directly. Please liaise with Paula.
Paula: please ensure Dylan knows the location of my office at PCI if she does, in fact, wish to attend in person.
Regards,
Dr G Vincent MB ChB, PhD, FRCP
(She/Her)
Consultant Medical Oncologist (TYA)
Honorary Senior Clinical Lecturer
Greta was free, the result of a deliberate gap in her calendar. She didn't trust her resolve where Remi was concerned, and the thought of starting fresh with a new escort felt too exhausting. She had no desire for it. At least not yet.
***
After reading Dr Vincent’s reply, in the stern tone she assumed was intended, Dylan smiled to herself.
‘Fucking hell, Greta, you old charmer. Stop flirting with me,’ she said aloud, her voice dripping with facetious charm.
As a disappointing result of Margot’s silence, she too was unexpectedly free on Friday.
For one final desperate check, she opened the Scortare app, but there was nothing.
After pinging a message to the bookers to confirm no oversight had been made, she resigned herself to reality.
She typed a reply to Paula and accepted the kind offer to meet on Friday, specifying that she would prefer to meet face to face, in Dr Vincent’s office, at the Pankhurst Cancer Institute.