The week following the booster session was full of gentle aches and slow, thoughtful movements. Adriana had never been so aware of her own body — especially when sitting. Each wooden chair, soft cushion, or bus seat gave her the same message: You were brave. You did something hard. And you’re still carrying it.

She would shift in class, eyes flicking to the clock. The soreness in her sit spots was a strange kind of company — not painful, but firm. Lingering. A presence.

And she didn’t hate it.

In quiet moments, she’d press her palm against the spot Francisco had called a “gentle reminder” and smile to herself. It was a soft kind of strength. Proof of what she could handle. Proof of what he knew she could handle.

So when Francisco texted “Next dose tomorrow. Same place. All chilled.” — she didn’t flinch.

She prepared herself.

⸻

He had everything ready when she arrived. The room was dim and calm, with a warm blanket laid out. The cooler sat beside it, lid open, syringes neatly arranged. Each one was filled with the same clear, chilled liquid — some small and narrow, others broader and longer.

Adriana raised an eyebrow. “Different sizes?”

Francisco nodded. “The smaller ones are surface-level. The larger ones go deeper. All in the bottom today.”

She gave a small exhale, then slowly lowered her shorts and lay over the blanket, her body relaxed and trusting.

The first shot stung sharply — fast and cold. She gasped.

The second came quickly after. Slightly deeper. A slower burn.

By the third and fourth, she was wriggling just a bit, reacting more to the cold than the needle itself. “They feel colder than last time,” she muttered into her arms.

“That’s because they are,” Francisco said gently. “Pulled straight from the cold tray.”

But as he prepared the two big ones for the sit spots, Adriana’s body shifted — subtly at first, then noticeably. Her bottom tensed up, muscles tightening in anticipation.

Francisco paused. “You’re locking up,” he said softly.

“I know,” she whispered. “They’re the biggest, aren’t they?”

He didn’t reply at first.

Then, without warning — smack — a light, playful swat landed across her lower cheek.

Adriana jumped. “Hey!”

Francisco grinned. “Sometimes a little surprise helps.”

She blinked, confused — but a little amused.

Then came another, a bit more direct. Smack.

To her own shock, she exhaled — relaxing just a little. Her body let go of some of the tension.

“There we go,” he said. “Much better.”

He administered the first of the two big injections. Deep, cold, intense — but bearable now that her muscles had softened.

The second followed easily. She barely flinched.

Once it was over, Francisco rubbed the spots gently, warming them with his hands and then covering her with a blanket.

The silence was soft and sweet.

Adriana, cheeks still warm, turned her head slightly. “Okay… so that thing you did…”

“The spanks?”

She nodded, then hesitated. “I actually… liked it. It helped. It was surprising, but it made me relax. Like it short-circuited the fear.”

Francisco smiled, eyes kind. “Then I’ll keep it in mind.”

He folded the blanket over her thighs, then — smack, smack — two playful spanks to her sit spots.

She gasped and laughed at the same time. “What was that for?!”

“Activation,” he said simply. “Consider your reminders refreshed.”

Adriana buried her face in her arms, grinning wide. The sting lingered — but so did the warmth. Of trust. Of care. Of knowing someone understood her so well.