The Comfort Zone

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A few months ago, I accepted an invitation from Lili Taylor to join her for a yoga class at a new studio she hadn’t yet tried. Her latest role in a horror film had taken a toll, and she wanted to release some tension at this restorative session. Lili is generally a very down-to-earth person, but she’s accustomed to the swankier sections of L.A. I was a novice not only to the class but that area of the city as well.

The scent of jasmine greeted us upon crossing the threshold of a lavish studio, with its freshly polished teak floors and low lighting that helped immediately reduce our blood pressure. I felt an instantaneous state of Zen. Lili pursed her lips in an affected kiss when I cast her a sideways glance in wide-eyed surprise. The place was amazing!

She warned me, “Now, remember, I don’t know much about the class. An instructor I met on set recommended I come try it out.” Her right eyebrow rose slightly, and she tilted her head to one side. “She seemed a little flaky, though.”

Everything about the studio appeared legitimate — its fancy foyer and decor, a receptionist who greeted us with an indiscernible yet exotic accent, the upscale location. I asked Lili, “What? Does something make you distrust her judgment?” She met some kooky people from time to time.

Nothing in her facial expression made me doubt her, but the steep shrug of her shoulders worried me. “Um, let’s just say that Starfire has a mercurial personality. That’s all.”

I thought I’d heard her correctly but asked, “Your friend’s name is Starfire?” A dubious feeling crept into my stomach. My friends had names like Amanda and Kirsten. Or Lili, for fuck sake. Lili, who noticed a concerned furrow developing in my brow-line. “I’m not used to all this hippy dippy Hollywood stuff,” I whispered to her.

Lili only smirked a little and said, “Come on. It’s supposed to be in the back.” I think I heard her laugh as I followed her down a red, crushed velvet wallpapered hallway.

Starfire stood in front of last doorway, her petite frame ensconced in a short, green Kimono. A thick crown of curls sat piled atop the woman’s head in an unbalanced fulcrum. She looked liked she could tip over at any moment. Instead, she smiled and a bold greeting billowed from her wide mouth. “Oh, Lili, I’m so glad you could make it! You can change in there.” Her hand swept forward in a broad gesture toward an adjacent shower room.

“It’s okay. We’re dressed already,” Lili responded, wagging a finger back and forth between us. As Starfire stepped aside to let two other participants wearing bath robes enter the room, we saw a sign on the door behind her that read, “Yoga with Starfire – Clothing Optional.”

I don’t know what Lili decided to do. I turned and ran back out to the street too quickly to find out.

***

Generated from Studio 30+ writing prompt “mercurialStudio30

Wouldn’t it be fun to go to yoga with Lili Taylor???

(Image: Joel Nilsson Nelson used under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike license)

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3 Comments

Filed under fiction, writing

3 responses to “The Comfort Zone

  1. Hot yoga is one thing, nekkid yoga quite another. Funny and unexpected.

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