Tracy squinted, momentarily blinded by the harsh brightness of her surroundings. The clouds which had been blocking the sun until then had drifted away, and the late-afternoon sun reflecting on the white roof of the office building forced her to pause for a moment while her eyes adjusted. The contrast between the dimly lit stairwell behind her and the expanse of the practically glowing roof surface was unsettling.

Her current course of action could jeopardize her reputation, relationships, career and possibly get her arrested, but strictly speaking, her behavior wasn’t life-threatening. Even so, when she briefly shut her eyes against the glare a few recent memorable events from her life flashed through her mind, making her wonder, “This is so not me, how did I get to where this is even possible?”

Tracy had enjoyed a good but unexceptional life until a couple of years earlier. Her Mom and Dad gave her a stable, loving household to grow up in. There were the usual conflicts between her teenage self and her parents, who were way stricter than those of her friends about how she could dress, when she could begin dating, how late she could stay out, but she never rebelled or defied their rules.

As she looked back on it, she wondered if wanting to get away from her strict upbringing might have been why she married her first serious boyfriend. Kyle wasn’t anyone’s idea of a wild guy, but he wasn’t as strait-laced as her folks, and she had never regretted getting married barely out of her teens. She was amazed at the stories her friends who had gone away to college told her about their casual hookups and spring break shenanigans, but couldn’t imagine behaving that way herself.

Tracy’s life began to change in her mid-twenties, so subtly at first that she convinced herself that the earliest symptoms of the neurological illness she would eventually be diagnosed with were caused by the stress of having to take care of a newborn daughter, Emily, as well as her first child, a lively two-year-old boy named Kevin.

Tracy loved both children and Kyle helped with them as much as he could, but since he worked long hours she was on her own much of the time. Getting too little sleep and eating poorly, she began to notice a tremor in her right hand. The tremor was intermittent and not severe, so she shrugged it off as simply a sign she needed more rest and soldiered on.

When Emily began to give up nursing in favor of eating solid food at nine months old, Tracy was thankful to be able to sleep for longer stretches, and also that Kyle could take over some of the feeding duty. She also felt a bit guilty, even though she knew she had no reason to. At Emily’s one-year-old checkup, her pediatrician was perceptive enough to see Tracy was still struggling a bit, and noticed her tremor, which hadn’t become any more intense but had begun affecting both hands. “I know Emily is my patient, not you, but I think you should get checked out to see what’s causing the tremor you’re experiencing,” the Doctor recommended.

“This,” Tracy asked, holding up her hands, “I had something like this for a little while after Kevin was born. It went away after his first birthday.”

“It may be nothing, but you should see your doctor to be sure,” the pediatrician told Tracy before saying goodbye.

When Emily was almost two years old, Tracy was ready to place her in a daycare center and Kevin into the preschool program at the school where he’d be starting Kindergarten in a few months. She was looking forward to being able to go back to work. There was a problem — her tremors had become both more frequent and more noticeable.

She could no longer convince herself that nothing was wrong, and was worried that she wouldn’t be very effective at the clerical and secretarial work she had done before Kevin was born. The way her hands often shook, she couldn’t imagine even getting past a first interview. She had her general practitioner refer her to a neurologist to get to the bottom of what was causing her tremors, and hopefully find a solution.

Her first-ever appointment with a neurologist was both unsettling and reassuring for Tracy. She was stunned to hear that she did indeed have a disorder causing her tremors, one which couldn’t actually be cured, but was encouraged to hear that any progression would likely be very slow, and was usually treatable with a prescription. “This isn’t something which can kill you, but it will always be with you at some level. “You’ll need to come in every six months to verify the medicine is doing what it should, and not doing anything it shouldn’t. If it isn’t working, or is causing troublesome side effects, we’ll adjust your dosage as needed,” he assured her.

“How much is this going to shorten my life?” Tracy asked; she was beginning to tear up, thinking of her children.

“It really isn’t the kind of disease which kills people directly,” the doctor said, “but if not treated, the worsening tremors can definitely affect your quality of life, and could make it more likely for you to die some other way, such as a car accident, a severe fall, or choking on food. The good news is that for most people, getting on the correct course of medicine will entirely prevent that sort of outcome.”

Tracy didn’t like the idea of being dependent on a forever prescription, but agreed to give the drug the doctor wanted her to try a chance. Kyle picked up her first supply of pills the next day on his way home from work. As soon as he handed her the bag she opened it and had a look at the long, long list of possible interactions with other medicines, not a big concern because she wasn’t taking anything else except an occasional acetaminophen.

She studied the list of common side effects more carefully, some of which seemed as bad as the illness she already had! The list of rarely occurring side effects was even longer, but the first half dozen or so seemed less troubling than the more common ones, so she put away the tiny slip of paper, saving it to be reviewed some other time.

As Tracy was nearing the end of the 90-day supply of her prescription, she had mixed feelings. Her tremors had almost entirely disappeared most of the time, but did sometimes flare up if she was tired or stressed out. The good news was that she seemed to be tolerating the drug well, with no sign of side effects. She called her neurologist, who suggested that since she wasn’t having any noticeable side effects, increasing the dosage of her anti-tremor medicine slightly might be worth a try. She agreed, and began taking the new dosage. After a few weeks at the higher dosage, her tremors were eliminated.

Soon after getting her tremors under control, she found a job as an administrative assistant at a non-profit agency in the center of her city helping homeless people find housing, her hands now steady enough to type as quickly and accurately as she ever had.

Tracy loved her new job, thoroughly enjoying being around adults after several years at home all the time with her kids. Kyle kidded her about all the shopping for clothes she did the first few weeks she was working, telling her he thought the real reason she wanted a job was to have an excuse to update her wardrobe. In fact, she was dismayed to find her pre-motherhood outfits either didn’t fit too well or were way out of fashion, so she really did need to get more outfits to wear to work.

Though Kyle told her she was gorgeous just as she was, she used a small part of her paycheck on a gym membership to get herself a little closer to the svelte look she’d had before her pregnancies, taking advantage of her workplace’s flexible rules to extend her lunch a few times a week to take a yoga class, lift weights or do some sort of cardio. Her minor splurges on clothes and the gym fit in with an attitude change which happened shortly after she found out about her illness. She realized she had spent basically her whole life doing what other people expected of her, and resolved to, at least some of the time, do what she felt like doing.

Tracy’s newfound independence showed in small ways. She used to habitually deny herself little pleasures like going out to lunch or buying some small thing like a pair of earrings. Not anymore. Having even briefly been faced with the possibility that her life could be cut short, she decided that she ought to do a little more living in the moment than she had been doing. Having to take a handful of pills every day just to appear normal kept her from forgetting how unpredictable life could be.

One afternoon, during her walk back to work after a strenuous session on a treadmill, an outfit on display in a shop window caught Tracy’s eye. She stopped dead in her tracks and thought, “Damn, that would be fun to wear!” She eyed the red halter top and asymmetric black chiffon miniskirt and tried to imagine herself wearing them, where, exactly? “Why, to work, of course,” she chuckled, remembering seeing a few of the younger women in the office wearing outfits not so different from the one she was looking at. “But those girls are what, maybe twenty, twenty-one, and haven’t been through a couple of pregnancies,” she thought. Despite some doubts, she suddenly felt like she just had to have the outfit; she was in and out of the store in less than ten minutes, happily toting her new ensemble back to the office.

At home that night, Tracy left Kyle to dry the dinner dishes while she put Kevin and Emily to bed. Seeing that he’d be busy for a few more minutes, she went to her bedroom and took off the clothes she had worn to work; her standard long sleeve button-down blouse and tan chinos. She put on the skirt, then tried on the halter, taking it off twice to adjust the ties at the back of her neck. She realized that between its mostly exposed back and plunging neckline, she had no bra remotely able to be hidden by the top, so her bra joined today’s blouse and slacks on the bed.

Adding her highest heels to finish her ensemble, she studied her reflection in a full-length mirror. She was glad her post-breastfeeding boobs hadn’t lost all their fullness, giving the plunging neckline a generous amount of cleavage to show off. Tracy was also pleased to see how the shortest mini she’d ever dared to even try on made her legs look; she had always been self-conscious about her height, but this skirt made her 5′-3″ frame seem longer. She called out to Kyle, still cleaning up in the kitchen, “I picked up a new work outfit this afternoon, I’m interested in your opinion…”

Kyle’s jaw dropped when he turned around and saw Tracy in her new outfit. She twirled around to show him how it looked from all angles. “Wow, just wow,” he said, then continued, “You look amazing, I Love it, but is it really meant for work? I mean, Jesus, with your hair covering your neck, from behind it looks like you’re topless!”

“Thanks, and yes, several of the younger women in our office dress this way. I’m a few years older than them, but I think I can make this outfit work, don’t you?”

Kyle couldn’t honestly disagree and was happy to give Tracy a more detailed review of her new outfit when she took his hand and led him to their bedroom.

At work the next day, Tracy wore a light sweater over her halter the first few hours. Just before lunch she nervously slipped the sweater off, unsure how her new look would go over. She received several compliments and a few slightly risque comments; overall she was pleased by the reactions of her co-workers and was glad that she’d acted on her impulse to buy and wear the new outfit.

Over the next few weeks, Tracy began more and more often acting on ideas which she would previously have let second thoughts rule out.

While doing housework on a Hot day, instead of just complaining to herself about their AC being out of commission, she did what she could to make herself more comfortable, ditching her shorts and t-shirt to make vacuuming and doing laundry a bit more tolerable. The idea had occurred to her before, but she’d always been afraid someone would come to the door. The first couple of times she did housework wearing only lingerie she left a robe by the door just in case she needed to answer the doorbell, but since knocks on their door pretty much never happened, she gave up that bit of backup before long.

Another wardrobe adjustment became fairly common on Hot days, assuming she was wearing a fairly opaque blouse; she began going braless at work. Though she noticed a couple of male co-workers stealing glances at her, it seemed like a worthwhile trade-off for being more comfortable. She knew that with nothing under her blouse except herself she should have had at least as many buttons fastened as she always had when she always wore a bra, maybe even fastening one more. Something she couldn’t explain often made her do the opposite, unfastening a button or two more than usual.

Tracy’s gym outfit of choice switched from baggy t-shirts and sweatpants to clingy yoga pants and a sports bra; it didn’t seem like a big deal, most of the women she saw there dressed the same way. It only became noteworthy when one afternoon at the gym, she noticed was running behind and was sure to be late getting back to work in time for an important meeting. She knew the only way she could have a chance of being back before the meeting started was not taking the time to change back into her work clothes!

She saved at least 5 minutes by leaving her ivory silk blouse, lacy white bra, and black slacks in her bag, taking out only one item, an oatmeal-colored light cotton, mid-length belted cardigan. She put it on and checked herself in a mirror to be sure it was long enough to cover her butt, which was currently covered only with thinner than average yoga pants. Butt coverage confirmed, Tracy checked the look in front. Though comfortable to wear while working out, having her Hot pink sports bra peeking out from the gap between lapels would look way out of place in her office. “Better a hint of cleavage showing,” she thought as she peeled the bra off and stuffed it into her bag. She knotted the belt, closing the front of the sweater as best she could.

The cardigan was apparently not meant to close completely, or perhaps she’d misjudged the size when she bought it; whatever the reason, a 1 or 2-inch strip of Tracy’s pale spring skin was visible however she tied the belt. Even if she had enough time to switch back to wearing her blouse, shoving her sweaty sports bra in with the blouse had put an end to that option.

She hustled back to work, pausing at her desk just long enough to trade her running shoes for a pair of heels she kept there, drop off her bag and grab her notepad. She walked into the meeting, right on time, waiting for the comments she was sure her improvised outfit would prompt. Instead, the strangest thing about her appearance was the lack of any obvious reactions from anyone in the conference room.

Initially relieved that her bold ensemble hadn’t become a topic of conversation, Tracy eventually felt almost disappointed, wondering, “What would I have to do to get a reaction from these people?”

In the absence of any repercussions resulting from her acting on her now somewhat frequent urges to wear something provocative, Tracy continued to push the envelope of what she thought of as acceptable, both at home and out in the wider world. Short skirts, yoga pants and noticeably less opaque tops became regular workday choices. She graduated from doing housework in lingerie to doing it stark naked.

One night she walked out of the bathroom into her bedroom after a Shower wearing only a towel on her head. She froze when she noticed the blinds at the sliding glass door leading to the patio behind their house were wide open, thinking, “Kyle must have gone out to have a beer on the patio.” She quickly turned back to the bathroom to get a towel to cover up, but hadn’t even taken two steps before she was seized with an urge to join her spouse out in their backyard just as she was. “Maybe not dressed exactly like I am,” she giggled, unwrapping the towel on her head and tossing it on a chair before sliding the door open and stepping outside.

Mind if I join you?”, she asked Kyle.

“Not at all, I’m just enjoying the mild night, doing some stargazing,” he answered without turning around to face her.

“See anything interesting yet,” she asked, walking up behind him. She reached down and began massaging his shoulders.

“Not really. I was just about to head inside when I heard you opening the door.”

“It does seem like a good night for stargazing, but I think we’d have more luck farther from the light from inside the house. Come join me?” she asked as she trotted away from her shocked husband and lay down on the grass. She didn’t have to wait long for his answer, and had never enjoyed being outside under a sky full of stars more.

Tracy was enjoying her newfound confidence and willingness to try new things; Kyle wasn’t entirely sure about some of her recent fashion choices, but any misgivings he had on that front were more than outweighed by her more frequent lusty moods. Other than one or two older women, none of her co-workers seemed to mind her new look. The only negative thing in her life was the re-emergence of an occasional tremor. It was not too frequent and limited to her right hand, but it worried Tracy enough that she had her regular bi-annual visit to her Neurologist moved up a few weeks.

Dr. Pizoni told Tracy that as long as she wasn’t experiencing any side effects, he didn’t see any problem slightly raising the dosage on her prescription. He saw in his notes that she hadn’t mentioned any problems with the drug, and asked, “Nothing new as far as side effects?”

“Occasional nausea if I take my morning dose on an empty stomach, but no problem if I make sure to have something to eat a little while before the pills,” Tracy answered.

“Okay, let’s try an increase from 4 pills a day to 5. Instead of two at 8 AM, one at 2 PM and one at 8 PM, up your 2 PM dose to two pills. As well as you’ve been reacting to the drug I’m not expecting any new side effects, but make sure to let me know if any pop up.”

Tracy thanked him and began her new dosage right away; as she hoped, in a week or so the increase did away with her tremors.

A month or so after her visit with Dr. Pizoni, Tracy was folding laundry one quiet Tuesday night when Kyle was away on business. She noticed it was nearly midnight; she and Kyle always had a call before turning in when he was out of town. She realized she had left her phone in her car, so it was possible he’d been trying to call.

She felt a little dizzy for a few seconds, but as soon as her dizziness passed, she forgot all about the laundry, grabbed her keys from the hall table and, completely nude, headed out to the driveway. She unlocked the car, climbed in and looked for the phone. Since she normally kept the phone in her purse, there was no normal spot for it to be in the car; she had checked the glove box, a center console and several cubbies to no avail when she got some unexpected help.

The ringtone she’d assigned to Kyle’s cell rang, the sound and the light from her phone making it clear that the phone had slipped below her seat. She retrieved it and answered, “Hi Hon!”

“Where have you been, I’ve been calling all night!” her annoyed husband replied.

“Sorry,” she answered sheepishly, “I left my phone in the car when I came home; I was just folding some laundry when I remembered we hadn’t had a call tonight and realized my phone was probably out in the car. I was actually looking for it right when you called, you calling helped me find it under the seat.”

“So, you’re in the car right now? Please tell me you put something on before going out,” he asked, knowing that if she’d been doing laundry there was a good chance she would have been naked!