The Trouble with #2629

by Mina Taylor
Source: dailydiapers.com

Part 1

There was something about #2629 that always made Wendy curious. She always noticed her more than any of the others that made the journey to Self Pleasure, the adults-only facility on the sixth floor of the nondescript office building on Brattle Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts. It wasn’t just that she was a regular customer. No, there were many of those and some far more memorable than #2629. It was something else.

It was an air about her, the way she held herself in the waiting room amidst the sea of customers dressed in loose-fitting sweats and hoodies, wearing sunglasses, doing all that they could to hide their appearance. While the others would chug sugary beverages and homemade potions of their own making, their duffel bags and backpacks at their feet, #2629 would sit quietly on the upholstered bench with just her purse, dressed in a more colorful and casual manner, fitting of one such as herself who looked to be in her mid-twenties. She would place her hands over her knees and would look forward at the doorway past the waiting room until her number was called.

The way she sat there was like a model posing for a painting, perfectly still but rigidly so. Her anxieties projected in this manner as opposed to the clumsy nature of the others. It always looked to Wendy as though #2629 had wandered into the wrong office and had never realized it, but Wendy knew that #2629 was here for the same reason as all the others; two hours of infantile regression in a state-of-the-art manner that had brought people here from around the world; diplomats, celebrities, politicians, men and women with something to cross off their bucket lists, bored trust fund babies… it took all kinds to keep this place humming, and hum it did.

A quick glance at her record, which Wendy was required to pull up every time #2629 came in, showed she had visited more than twenty times in the last year, and always precisely on the first and third Wednesday of each month. Today was the first Wednesday of April, chilly and rainy, but the only knew accouterment to #2629’s baggage this visit was a small navy blue and white striped umbrella. Not to Wendy’s knowledge, but she had freshened up in the lobby level bathroom prior to taking the elevator to the sixth floor, tying up her caramel-brown hair into a loose ponytail for what awaited her.

Wednesday afternoons were rarely busy (perhaps why #2629 would come at this time, Wendy thought) so she did not have to wait long to check in. Wendy greeted her as she always did, with a smile that was not returned. Not that #2629 gave her a displeased frown or scoffed, but simply that she seemed to be deep in her own thoughts to notice. Normally, Wendy’s pleasant demeanor would be met by many with a faint curl of a grin from any given customer, but not #2629. She entered her password, swiped her card, and waited for Wendy to confirm if the information was accepted and be given an estimate on how long to wait while her program was configured.

Wendy would often look up every once in a while at #2629, just to see if she did anything different, if she picked up a magazine or checked her phone, but her emerald-green eyes remained locked on the entrance door. Wendy’s short red hair would bob and bounce as she looked up from her desk and back down to enter the program into the complex and unique system.

Wendy was no stranger to what was behind the entrance door, having taken this job exclusively for an employee discount that allowed her a number of her own visits outside of peak “blackout” dates for the service. Though a number of the male clientele upset her with their flirtatious nature, she always felt a kinship with much of the fairer sex that came in. They would often sigh and smile, maybe exchange a friendly word or two, when they saw her and realized they were not alone, but not #2629, and Wendy could not help but wonder why.

It was forbidden to look up or examine any personal information about any clientele given the sensitive nature of the business. Confidentially was held to the utmost, but it did not stop Wendy from wondering what it would take to get a word out of #2629 and maybe get a hint as to what made her so different than the others. As the announcement voice softly called upon her and a number of others to their respective rooms, Wendy watched as the focus of her attention quietly gathered her things and briskly made her way through the metal door into the hallway, where she would disappear for two hours before returning again and leaving without a sound or glance. Wendy had once said “thank you for coming”. #2629 did not even bat an eye.

Today, however, was different. Perhaps it was that #2629’s routine of movement from when she walked into the office up until she left was so meticulous that she had not calculated for any variables, but not a minute after she left, one of her supervisors, dressed in a white smock apron and scrubs, came out to Wendy’s desk and handed her the striped umbrella. “Hurry! Give this to her before she leaves!”

As her mind raced and her heart leapt, Wendy seized the umbrella and stumbled out of the office, pacing briskly down the hallway to the elevator. At the lobby, she found #2629 looking furiously through her purse near the door, looking around in a panic. Wendy thought to call her name, but she did not know it and calling out “Number 2629!” in the middle of a busy office lobby would only serve to embarrass their clientele. Instead, Wendy mustered her courage and hurried to the revolving door, holding out the umbrella. As #2629 took it, she finally spoke.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly. “I thought I had lost it.”

“It’s no problem,” Wendy said, noticing how completely frazzled she seemed. Over something like an umbrella, it seemed rather strange, and even more so since #2629 had just finished Self Pleasure. She should still be hanging onto the last wisps of blissful euphoria, but it seemed as though she was completely stressed out. Wendy bit her lip before addressing #2629 in a whispered tone.  “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem like you had a very relaxing session. Did something go wrong?”

“No!” #2629 blurted out, her cheeks turning red. “Why would you even say something like that out here in public?”

“I didn’t say anything revealing,” Wendy replied. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You’re one of our regulars. If something’s wrong…”

“There’s nothing wrong and it’s none of your business,” #2629 huffed as she fiddled with her umbrella. “Thank you for bringing me my umbrella, now please leave.”

Wendy felt she should, but as #2629 fiddled with the umbrella, finding it somewhat difficult to handle it, her hands shaking, Wendy felt she could not. Something had gone wrong in her session, and it was her duty to address it. She pulled out her phone and messaged her supervisor of the situation. As #2629 dropped the umbrella, Wendy went to pick it up, looking to #2629 with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sworn to confidentiality. If I told anyone anything outside of my superiors in a strict business manner, it’d be punishable by law. If you need to talk to someone, I can listen. After all… I’m a client myself.”

#2629 seemed wary as she looked to the door and back at Wendy. Everything in her told her she should just leave, but there was something else, something that had been pressed down for a very long time since she began her patronage of Self Pleasure, that she could not keep suppressed any longer. Pursing her lips, #2629 nodded softly at Wendy as Wendy took her hand and led her to a small coffee shop inside the building where they could sit down and talk softly and inconspicuously.

After getting their lattes, they took a small corner table for two, facing away from the other patrons so as not to be overheard so easily.

“We weren’t alerted by the emergency shutoff,” Wendy began, careful not to use any trigger words that would immediately give away the nature of their conversation. “The system didn’t hurt you did it?”

“No,” #2629 sighed as she took a sip from her latte, loosening up a little bit at a time. “It’s not that.”

“Did you set the dial to four?” Wendy asked, hushing her tone a little bit more. “I know some clients, when that happens, they don’t get release and…”

“NO!” #2629 clenched up as everyone turned to them, her face getting bright red as her voice lowered to as quiet a whisper can be. “No, I… I assure you it wasn’t that.”

“Miss…” Wendy said, the word hanging on her lips in place of an actual name. “We can’t help you get the best use of our service without knowing what we did wrong. If there’s anything we can fix we will.”

#2629 breathed deeply into her latte, steaming rising up over her face as she eyed Wendy, morose. “Can you fix my brain?”

Wendy took a sip of her own coffee to think about – or more, to make sense of – what #2629 had said. “Why would you need to fix your brain?”

#2629 looked behind her, seeing the commotion she had caused had died down, before turning back to Wendy with a guilty look. “What you said, about if you tell anyone, you go to jail, right?”

“That’s right,” Wendy said. “Same if anyone there said anything about me outside my job.”

#2629 sighed again, looking down at her coffee, hesitant. She gripped the cup as she turned her eyes up at Wendy with a grimace. “Your… services… they don’t work for me.”

Wendy didn’t understand. Self Pleasure had been lauded in every ABDL community because it did work better than anything else before it. It went the extra step no other ABDL service had; it made the client look and feel like a real baby again. No imagination required. “What about it didn’t work? Did the simulation break down?”

“No, the simulation worked great, but… I can’t get past it in my head, what all is happening. I’m constantly aware that I am an adult the entire time. I was told… I was told it would feel real, it would feel genuine, so every other week on my day off I’d drive up here and try again, but it never works, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Slow down, please,” Wendy said, holding up her hand in a stopping signal. “I’m not following. The problem is that you can’t get past what in your head?”

“That I’m not really… little,” #2629 replied, blushing slightly on the last word.

“Have you tried all the scenarios? Changed your preferences and specialties?” Wendy asked, running down the list of possibilities as far as why the system didn’t work for the client in question.

“All of it,” #2629 answered quickly. “Nothing works.”

“What about the dial settings? Have you tried the different intensities?”

#2629 got very quiet, holding her cup of coffee to her lips. She didn’t answer. Instead, her head kind of bobbed vaguely, as though she was embarrassed by the though and couldn’t clearly answer the question.

“Miss, if you don’t mind… what setting do you normally use?” Wendy asked, discretely as possible.”

“… don’t,” came #2629’s muffled response behind her coffee cup.

“What did you say?”

“I don’t,” #2629’s voice broke in a scared whimper as she gulped down more coffee. “I don’t use the dial.”

The dial in question was the pleasure dial, designed to customize the sexual pleasure each client got from the experience. Though it was considered controversial when the facility opened and was largely why the facility was adults-only, the positive reinforcement of pleasurable feelings throughout the simulation was key in the facility’s success. It put the clients at ease and made the experience less frightening and more fun. Wendy couldn’t believe there was a client, a repeat client no less, who had never even used it.

“Miss, it’s perfectly safe,” Wendy advised. “Maybe if you tried it…”

“No,” #2629 responded, adamant about the topic. “It’s weird enough without… that.”

Wendy grimaced a little at the word “weird” being referred to something she knew she and #2629 enjoyed. “If it’s so weird, why have you come here every other Wednesday for over a year? Would you have come back every time if you didn’t think maybe the next time it would work? I get being afraid, miss, but if everything else isn’t working, maybe it’s time to give it a try?”

#2629 remained still and quiet for about half a minute before her lips opened again. “What’s your name?” she asked. Her words made it seem like she wanted to change the topic, but her tone made it seem like it was still the same conversation.

“Wendy,” she replied with a smile.

“I’ll remember that,” #2629 said with a smile. “Thank you, Wendy. Goodbye.”

As #2629 got up to leave, Wendy looked back, feeling somewhere inside of her that, although her words seemed to be final, she had a feeling that two weeks from today, right on time, she would walk into the office, but she wasn’t entirely sure it would be the same as every other time before now.

PART 2

The third Wednesday of April arrived, and with it, so did #2629. Wendy nearly leapt from her chair when she saw her walk into the room, her hair surprisingly let down. She walked over to Wendy, scanned in, and smiled at her. Wendy wanted to say something, but was too shocked to speak before #2629 took her seat in the waiting area. As her number was called, she walked out, giving an aside glance to Wendy before disappearing through the metal doors.

Just the slightest change in her normal routine had rocked Wendy’s perception of the girl. She supposed she just needed someone to talk to about this. She couldn’t imagine like many of the clientele she had anyone that she could open up to outside of anonymous denizens of the Internet, and then how could she know she wasn’t being led on? Wendy smiled, knowing this time around from #2629, maybe she would be able to find the “little space” she was seeking.

Not two minutes had gone by though as Wendy was checking another client in, when suddenly, the door to the receptionist office burst open. The supervisor in charge of her and all the employees came in, looking as bewildered as Wendy did. “Wendy, come with me. Room F-16, now.”

“But what about…?” Wendy stammered before one of the operators in scrubs and white smock apron walked in to take Wendy’s place. Rather than fight it, Wendy did as she was told and followed her supervisor down the corridor to Room F-16. “She won’t give her order to anyone but you. She asked explicitly for you. Now you’re not trained on the simulator, so I’ll help you with that, okay?”

“I don’t understand,” Wendy babbled as she looked around. “Why am I here? Who’s asking for me?”

“We’d like to know that too,” the supervisor replied opening the door. “But right now, we have a schedule we can’t fall behind, so let’s ask questions later.”

Wendy nodded as her supervisor opened the door and she stepped inside. There, all prepped to her liking, her legs secure in their stirrups as she sat on the bottomless padded chair in the shirt she walked in with and nothing but a thick Bambino Bellissimo from the waist down was #2629.

“Wendy!” she called out excitedly, in such an exuberant manner Wendy’s heart skipped a beat out of shock. “Wendy, you came!”

“Miss, was there something I could help you with?” Wendy asked, maintaining her professionalism. “I assure you there’s nothing I can do that the others can’t.”

“No, it has to be you,” #2629 stated clearly. “I gave a lot of thought to what you said, that maybe I should try it the way you suggested. It works for you, right?”

Wendy nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s why I suggest-“

“Wendy, it’s because I trust you that I chose you. Will you help me finally find my little place?”

“Of course,” Wendy smiled warmly as she took the goggles and earpieces and secured them around #2629’s head. She picked up a small mike and clipped it to her collar. “Can you hear me? Nod if yes.”

#2629 nodded and Wendy continued, checking the accessories #2629 had chosen for her session. She hadn’t chosen any tubes but a small white cord was hanging out of the front of her diaper, connected to the pleasure dial. Wendy smiled knowingly as she began to ask questions into the microphone as the clock counted down. She had put up such a fight they only had two minutes before the program would start.

Wendy worked diligently as the supervisor signaled from the door, unable to get in the small room, where everything is, gathering pillows to cushion her arms, neck and head as she quickly strapped the emergency stop handle to her left arm, though Wendy had a feeling she wasn’t going to need it.

“English or Metric System?” Wendy began, going down the checklist.

“English,” #2629 replied. “131 pounds. Urinary pleasure.”

“Please slow down,” Wendy asked. She was such a regular she knew the checklist by heart, but Wendy still had to calibrate the system. “Toddler or adult baby?”

“Toddler,” #2629 said matter-of-factly.

“Is it safe to assume you would like changing services following your session?” Wendy asked, checking the operations board.

“Yes,” #2629 said adamantly as Wendy punched in the room code to signal for an attendant when the session had finished.

“While in Self Pleasure, Pampers, Huggies, or Luvs?”

“Pampers please,” #2629 answered with a slight lilt to her voice.

“High chair, floor, crib, supermarket carriage, car seat, or changing table?” Wendy asked hurriedly, the clock was flashing red as there was only a minute to go.

“You pick,” #2629 asked. Random was not unheard of, though it was a rare occurrence. Wendy circled her finger around the button, closing her eyes and pressing where it landed. She didn’t even know which one #2629 would be experiencing as the panel changed to hydration options.

“What flavor of fluid would you pref-”

“Apple,” came the immediate response. “With a medium size mouthpiece.”

Wendy hurried as the clock passed 30 seconds to attach the tube to the tap and fit the sterile mouthpiece around #2629’s mouth. “Please signal with your fingers on your right hand the level of pleasure you would like to receive.”

As the seconds counted down to zero, a small bead of sweat rolling off of #2629’s chin, she slowly, timidly, raised her index finger. With a gentle smile, Wendy set the dial for one with only a few seconds left and affixed a metal square on the front of her Bellissimo. “Enjoy your time,” Wendy said encouragingly as the clock struck zero, the mike immediately shut off, and #2629 began to fall away into the fantasy of her own design…

…

Lottie… Lottie…

#2629, Charlotte Wheeler, breathed loudly through her nose as the room turned silent. The soft gentle calling of a female voice broke the stillness. She had usually used a male caregiver in her sessions, but now that the pleasure dial was actually in use, she didn’t feel so comfortable with one this time. “Lottie, sweetie, wake up. We’re here. Time to go shopping with Mommy.”

As she opened her eyes, she thought Wendy had chosen the car seat simulation, but she could feel the straps tightening and loosening as she looked at her surroundings. Giant hands were fiddling with her seat buckles as she looked up at a woman so much taller than she was, wearing jeans and a pastel green blouse. She had shimmering green eyes and short brown hair worn in a bob cut. She smelled like jasmine with a hint of baby powder. Charlotte gasped as she felt the woman’s hands scoop her up as the chair shifted, making the motion of being picked up and cradled against the woman’s shoulder feels so incredibly lifelike.

She turned her head back at her car seat, littered with Cheerio crumbs and an empty baby bottle before turning back and being made to face the person the simulator had chosen to play her mommy. “Oof, such a big baby girl,” Mommy teased as she reached beneath the seat of the minivan and picked up a royal purple diaper bag covered with a rubber duck pattern. “Mommy thinks you need to sit in the cart this time. Would you like that, sweetie?”

The question was of course rhetorical as Mommy carried Charlotte across the parking lot with one arm strapped around her back and the other supporting her by the seat of her pants. So far, everything was as Charlotte expected. Though everything was so realistic, her mind continually focused on the aspect that this was, by all means, a simulation.  But then, it happened…

It was such a tiny thing, just a tingle really, as Mommy traversed the parking lot with Charlotte in her hands and the diaper bag slung around her shoulder. As Charlotte looked around, she felt the soft gentle patting of Mommy’s hand on her bottom, playful and ticklish. She had never felt this sensation before in Self Pleasure. Was this the work of the dial? It made her feel warm and loved, and she herself began to feel very affectionate. She had feared it would feel wrong and violating, but there was something so cozy about the sensation of having her diaper patted that she pressed closer to her mommy in hopes she would be coddled more.

“My, someone’s very affectionate this morning,” Mommy cooed as Mommy kissed her on her forehead and patted her diaper some more as they walked into the store. It was then that the sensations stopped as Mommy adjusted herself to hold Charlotte with one hand, tightly, while she removed a cart from the corral. With her free hand, she maneuvered to fetch a baby wipe from Charlotte’s diaper bag and wipe off the seat and handle before setting Charlotte inside. “There we go. Ready to go shopping, pumpkin?”

Charlotte jerked her body up and down in the grocery cart seat, wanting to feel those loving sensations again, but Mommy interpreted her actions as her being a playful little girl. “Now now, sit still, we wouldn’t want you to fall out, would we?”

Charlotte frowned as she bounced on the thin plastic bottom of the cart seat. Mommy sighed and reached into the bag, pulling out a full baby bottle of sparkling apple juice. She placed it in Charlotte’s mouth as she reached her hands around it. The bottle was enormous, so much she had to hold it with both hands to keep it supported. She gasped and breathed through her nose as her mouth flooded with sweet bubbly juice, pumping into her at the same rhythm a baby would be expected to drink. The juice she was drinking though was heavily fortified with diuretics, unlike actual apple juice, in order to make sure her diaper was as well-used as she desired by the time the simulation was over.

She settled down as she focused on the juice. As the cart pulled forward, clattering on the dingy white tiles of the grocery store floor, the rattling of the wheels shook the cart and vibrated against the seat of her pants. The ticklish sensation, light and pleasant, returned as Charlotte smiled and drank her “juice”. As she let go of the nipple while mommy pulled the cart into the produce section, she looked at herself to see what she was dressed in; baby pink overalls, a white t-shirt, and her little kicking feet were fitted with white sneakers with designs of pink and purple flowers. She smiled at her infantile apparel and went back to drinking her bottle while Mommy filled the cart with various fruits and vegetables. She wasn’t even halfway through her bottle when the urge to wet came over her.

As the cart pulled forward past the produce section towards the deli counter, Charlotte released the first of her wettings into her Pampers. She smiled around the nipple of her bottle as her cradled bottom and padded girl places began to feel warm and steamy. She luxuriated in the sensation as the vibrating of the supermarket cart seat tickled and tingled encouragingly. Mommy talked some loving baby talk to her in between ordering pounds of deli meat. Charlotte giggled, her sweet mommy so completely oblivious to what she was doing in her diaper.

So it continued as they traversed every aisle for bread, spaghetti, pizza, hamburger helper, applesauce, COOKIES! As they passed the cookie aisle, the boxes of sugary confections seemed to leap off the shelves at Charlotte as she reached out excitedly. “No no,” Mommy coaxed her gently. “You’ll get a tummy ache if we buy all of those.” But Charlotte began to pout as the “juice” set off her second heavy wetting, the diaper getting soggier and saggier beneath her as she took her bottle and through it on the ground.

In real life, her mommy may have harshly scolded her, but in Self Pleasure, all mommies, daddies, and caretakers were as patient and sweet as the client could imagine. She picked up the bottle, placed it back in the diaper bag and put another bottle of apple juice in Charlotte’s mouth. “Now now, if you’re a good girl, maybe Mommy and baby can make some chocolate chip cookies at home.”

She felt the urge to want cookies now, but something about Mommy’s sweet voice promising cookies later put her at ease as the cart pulled past the aisle of tasteful temptations as Mommy began to gather toilet paper, tissues, cleaning and bath products. Charlotte felt her heart race as the cart seat vibrated more and encouraged a third wetting.

By now, the diaper was at capacity and the second bottle wasn’t even finished, but she couldn’t stop herself, not now. Every time before she had done this simulation, she had only gone up to three wettings out of disinterest and unacceptance of the program, but now she was Lottie, the little toddler in the cart seat grocery shopping with Mommy, and she wanted it to never end.

The cart was almost full when they pulled into the final aisle over their grocery trip. Self Pleasure was always so good about saving the best part of any scenario for last and the supermarket carriage was no exception. Charlotte bounced in her seat as her sense of smell was overtaken by the light, clean fragrance of diapers and baby powder as the shelves of diapers, baby wipes, powders, lotions and oils towards over her as Mommy smiled down on her.

“That’s right, Lottie. It’s your favorite aisle,” Mommy cooed. “Do you want to help mommy pick out your things?”

Charlotte babbled as she finished her second bottle, shaking it around as Mommy took it from her. They went through the aisle slowly, allowing Charlotte to savor every moment of it as Mommy displayed every wonderful item to her one by one.

They had just reached the baby food when Charlotte felt it coming on, the fourth wetting, and she wondered if the diaper would hold it. She had never leaked in the simulator. She didn’t even know if it was possible, but babies don’t care about things like that. When it’s time to go, it’s time to go!

As Mommy was going over the different baby foods for her, Charlotte let her fourth wetting go. The steamy sensation around her diaper area grew but was quickly replaced by a new feeling on her thighs, growing down her legs and up around her waist as she soon heard the soft pitter-patter of little droplets splashing on the supermarket floor.

“Or maybe we can get mashed turkey and… Lottie!” Mommy exclaimed surprised. Charlotte squeaked as she looked down at herself while Mommy picked her up out of the cart. “Oh sweetie, look at you. You’re soaked.” Charlotte felt like wanting to cry, as though she had done something bad, while Mommy looked in all directions thinking what she should do with her baby girl still dripping all over the floor. Then there was a pause as Mommy’s eyes lit up as Mommy picked up Charlotte’s diaper bag and carried her past the baby food and formula into the diaper area. She pulled their cart over to the side as she took Charlotte’s vinyl changing mat and spread it out on the grocery store floor.

Charlotte kicked and squealed as she realized what was going on. Mommy was going to change her right in the middle of the diaper aisle! She had never seen or heard of this actually happening, but it had always been a constant wonder of hers throughout much of her ABDL experiences, what it would be like to be changed, surrounded by all kinds of baby products, all in reach of mommy to pick and choose whichever one she wanted to use.

She watched as Mommy took down a new pack of Pampers Premium diapers and Pampers Baby Fresh wipes as she opened them (saving the wrapping with the bar codes of course, knowing she would still have to pay for them) as she unsnapped Charlotte’s overalls and pulled them off to remove the ruined sodden diaper around her. Charlotte pouted as Mommy took out a pacifier and put it in her mouth, the suckling making her calm and sleepy. “That’s my good girl,” Mommy cooed as she undid her diaper and lifted her legs up. “Just relax, mommy will have you clean in a jiffy…”

She began to drift away from the simulation as her eyes began to close, the nursing of the pacifier putting her to sleep as Mommy changed her. Everything began to disappear and go dark as she heard Mommy’s last words; “Such a good baby,” and then everything stopped.

…

Many reviews online of Self Pleasure equated the service to being like a lucid dream, constantly too short and always ending at the point where she didn’t want it to, but always leaving you glad for the experience. Charlotte understood what they meant now as her heartbeat slowed down and she took in deep breaths through her mouth, the mouthpiece having been removed. Her drenched Bellissimo had been replaced by one of the company’s diapers, thinner and more discrete. She would remove it before she left but it felt good to be clean and fresh again.

Her restraints had been removed and as she stirred, the automated system told her she had three minutes to gather her things. Normally, she had been prompt about it, but the experience still weighed on her mind. It had felt so good, she did not have time to question the reality of the experience. It had just washed over and submerged her deep into the baby play she had sought so long. Wendy was right, the key to immersing herself in little space wasn’t simply acting the part, but relishing in it, and relish she did.

She gathered her things as she walked down the hallway back out to the waiting room. Wendy was back at her perch and Charlotte wondered if it had been her who changed her, not that she would find out even if she asked. The changing process was always done while the client was asleep to ensure efficiency and avoid unpleasant experiences. She smiled at Wendy and Wendy smiled back. They both knew they would see each other again the Wednesday after next.

—The End—