‘I know a bank where the wild thyme blow
Where oxlips and nodding violet grows
Quite overcanopied with luscious woodbine
With sweet musk roses and elegantine.’
Other chapters of this story can be found here.
“I appreciate you meeting with me, Mr Vasilias.” Cora uncrossed and recrossed her legs in the cushy visitor’s chair, already nervous.
“Antonio, please. And I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” He leaned back against his desk, smiling, but letting his eyes linger a little too long on the place where her skirt met her bare legs.
From where Cora sat, his crotch was positioned exactly in front of her face. Do men stand like this intentionally?
The way he smiled down at her made her think of the way a hawk must look at a rabbit. Her breathing was already shallow.
His smile widened, as if he had noted her discomfort, and it pleased him. He cleared his throat. “As I said in my email, I’ve been following your work for some time. I’m particularly impressed with your work with serotonin reuptake inhibitors; quite ingenious, how you’ve managed to find a way to counter the aorgasmia side effect.”
Cora blushed. “It’s not just an SSRI. It’s a proprietary combination drug.” She bit her lip, wondering why she was even here. “And if you’ve followed my work…you must know that it doesn’t quite work as intended.”
Antonio nodded. “I do, but I’ve read the papers, and I think you … I mean, your drug, of course, is uniquely positioned to become a treatment cornerstone here at Dreamtime Rehabilitation Clinic.”
She looked at him, trying to decide if this was all a cruel ruse.
Her research team was out of money, and she was at the end of her rope. “Mr Vasilias, it doesn’t work. It…” She blushed harder, not relishing telling him more about the greatest failure of her clinical career. “It doesn’t actually treat the subject’s aorgasmia. It just causes intense, unending arousal. They’re still completely unable to orgasm.” She studied his pleasant, expectant expression. “The drug makes the problem… worse.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, pushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.
The director of the facility nodded, as if he knew this, too. “In a way, I suppose it does. But we’re a forward-looking facility, and I’m positive your drug can make a real difference here.” He sat back in his chair, across from her. “Let me facilitate an informal clinical trial here. I think you’ll see where I’m coming from.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t. You have to be aware of how unethical an unsanctioned clinical trial is. I could lose my job at the lab.”
She thought about that. Truthfully, she had been losing her interest in drug development, the constant pandering for funds and lab space and equipment… It was becoming a nightmare. Coupled with the failure of the drug, she wondered if the loss of her job would really be that bad.
Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I understand. Believe me, I do.” He leaned toward her. “But I run a unique treatment center here, in need of unique treatments. I think your work will revolutionize our rehabilitation efforts. Here, let me show you.”
He turned his laptop to face her, and her eyes tracked across the feeds from the center’s CCTV.
The screen was split into four grainy, black and white quadrants. A dozen women, more or less, went through the motions of their day, working, cooking, cleaning around the facility. Everything appeared normal… except for one detail.
“Oh my gods, they’re… naked. They’re all naked.” She looked at him in disbelief. “Why are they all naked? What the fuck kind of place is this?”
And how could this possibly be related to her drug development?
Anger darkened his features, and made Cora’s breath catch in her throat.
“Before you go judging my program, let me tell you I have a 100% recovery rate,” he said.
She stared, dumbfounded, with so many questions swirling through her head. Eventually, the scientist in her won out. “No one has a 100% recovery rate. That makes you a psychopath, and a liar.”
Antonio laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I assure you, Cora, that I am no liar.”
“I think we’re done here, Mr Vasilias. Whatever you’re involved in here –” she took another, almost too-long look at the screen, “– but I want no part of it.” She stood up and started to gather her things.
He grabbed her wrist as she moved to walk past him. “Look, Cora. I know the drug is a critical failure. I know how long you worked on it, and I know how much your lab is set to lose on this. Just wait. Cora, I can help you.”
Her eyes darted wildly from his face, to the iron grip around her wrist. “Please,” she started, and her voice sounded small and desperate, even to herself. “Please, just let me go. I don’t know what you want with… the drug…” Cora winced as his grip tightened. “Please. You’re hurting me.”
A knock at the office door startled them both.
Antonio let her go, and Cora cradled her hand between her breasts.
He cleared his throat. “Come in.”
A gorgeous dark-haired beauty entered, and Cora’s mouth gaped. This woman was the perfect sex doll caricature, her outrageous proportions seemingly poured into what might have passed for proper office attire, on a less scandalous form. The dress looked painted on, and only served to highlight every luscious curve. Cora blinked, stunned silent.
“Julia!” Antonio smiled warmly. “We’re just finishing up here. What can I help you with, darling?”
The woman had a voice to match her body, a sultry timbre like smoke and vanilla. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Mr Vasilias, but, um…” She stopped, blushing. “I need to speak with you. …Privately, if possible.”
Antonio reached out his arms and drew her closer to him, his hands resting on the lavish swell of her hips, right below her tiny waist. “Now, Julia, you sweet, dumb little thing. When in the last five years, have I ever granted you privacy? Come now, sit, and tell Ms Cora and me what you have on your mind.” He looked at Cora. “Surely you’ll grant Julia an audience before our deal is finalized today?”
As if in a dream, Cora sat back down, unable to take her eyes off of the living sex toy that demurely sat as well, blushing and wringing her hands.
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