Chemistry
A blast from the past
Something kept calling her back to his lair
Kit couldn’t concentrate. She tried to force her mind back to the list of enzymatic cofactors scrolling by on her screen, but her thoughts kept evading the task, slipping away to her damned annoying neighbor. Well, not to him, exactly, but to his hands and his tongue and the things he did with them.
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples against the first twinges of a headache. She saw kaleidoscopic lights, smelled cinnamon, cannabis and male sweat. She felt the soft fur of his beard brushing over her bare pubis. A bolt of electricity shot through her, leaving her damp and breathless in its wake. Damn, damn, damn.
“Kit? Kit!” Jill was shaking her. Kit blinked stupidly at her friend. “Where were you, girl?”
“Oh, um, I was just working on the bilateral polymerization reaction. Trying to visualize how the radicals would align. What’s up?”
“Lunch time. Want to come with me to the caf for a quick bite?”
“Um, I don’t think so. Thought I’d go home for lunch. I left some notes there, and it’s such a beautiful day. I could do with a walk.” Kit couldn’t meet Jill’s eyes. There were no notes.
“Well, suit yourself. But don’t forget we’ve got staff at 1:30. Bittenger will be livid if you’re late.”
“I’ll be there.” Kit grabbed her backpack and checked her watch. It was just noon. There might be time, if she hurried, if her neighbor was in and not too stoned, if she could keep him from talking and just get down to what they both wanted…
She didn’t notice the sun-splashed river, the salty breeze, the couples sprawled on the new grass. She wallowed in self-disgust, disgust at her shallow lie and even more, at the weakness that kept calling her back to the lair of that infuriating, fascinating relic.
It had started on Saturday. Normally she would have spent the weekend with Todd, but he was in San Diego at a legal conference, or so he claimed. Anyway, she had tons of work to do, and to be honest, she relished the idea of some time on her own. Todd was supermodel handsome, rich by her standards, and had a body as toned as her own which he used with considerable skill. Sometimes, though, she wished he would be a bit less — precise. Kit was a scientist. She appreciated discipline and control. Todd carried this to such extremes that sometimes she didn’t know if she was dating a man or a robot.
So Kit had spent Saturday working on her current big problem: the three dimensional structure of a protein that was strongly implicated in Alzheimer’s. If she could only characterize the folds and associated bonds, then Theragenics could begin to design a pharmacologic agent to mimic its structure and functions.
She made good progress during the day, and took a break at dusk to go running and bring back a Greek salad from the pizza place around the corner. Once she got back to work, though, she hit a brick wall. For hours she sat in front of her laptop, fiddling with the parameters of the bonds, watching as the modeling program redisplayed the new molecular configurations. She just couldn’t make the physics match her intuitions.
The harder she tried, the more ground she lost. It was hot and stuffy in her study; summer appeared to have arrived, though it was barely May. Pain pounded in her head. The multicolored spirals and rings on her screen blurred in front of her tired eyes. She got up and paced, hoping some clue would emerge from her subconscious.
Kit cranked open the window to get some fresh air. A blast of sound hit her in the gut. Someone was playing rock music, loud, flooding the alley behind her condo building with thumping base and wailing guitars.
Her watch told her it was half past midnight. What kind of jerk would be making this kind of racket so late? She scanned the buildings across the alley and noticed pastel lights flickering in one third floor window. As she located the source of the noise, the colors faded to be replaced by a brilliant white strobe, pulsing with the beat. The strobe seemed to be aimed right at her window. Crisp shadows danced on the far wall of her study.
All her fatigue and frustration boiled up inside her. “Hey!” she yelled out into the dark alley. “Quiet down! Don’t you know what time it is?” The throbbing music drowned out her shouts. The flashing lights nearly blinded her. “Damn it, have some consideration!” The volume actually seemed to increase.
Kit slammed the window shut and dragged the drapes across the glass. The music was muffled but still audible. The curtains diffused the beam of the strobe although the room still brightened and darkened with its rhythm. She sat down again in front of her computer, but her mind was a blank, all constructive thought erased by her anger and the pain hammering inside her skull. She brushed her teeth, took some aspirin, and threw herself naked on her bed, wondering if it was too early in the year to turn on the air conditioning. Finally, she fell asleep to the faint but insistent beat that still filtered in from the alley.
She woke early from one of her typical dreams. She was in the lab with Bittenger and the rest of the team, reviewing some test results. She knew she had made an error, a serious one, and she was terrified that they’d discover it. She looked around for Jill, but there were only the men, peering at her lab notebook, muttering among themselves and shooting suspicious glances in her direction.
Kit sat up and shook her hair out of her eyes. She knew she was as smart and talented as any other chemist on her team. She was the only one with a Stanford PhD. Why did she let these doubts possess her?
A good, hard run was what she needed. She splashed some water on her face, pulled on a jog bra and shorts, grabbed her keys, and hit the streets.
It was barely six. Memorial Drive was almost empty. She followed her usual route along the Charles, enjoying the feeling of her muscles stretching, flexing, pushing for more speed. The fresh morning air filled her lungs. It was still cool, but she was sweating by the time she finished her three mile circuit and turned to head home.
Her mind was blissfully empty from her exertion. At the corner of Howard, though, a block from her building, memory rushed back. The recalcitrant problem of protein 43–7(b). The strobe lights and raucous music. The house must be on this street, back to back with the buildings on her own. Maybe she should give her impolite neighbor a taste of his own medicine.
Kit slowed to a walk and turned onto the narrow road. It was lined with the three story, wood framed houses that used to be the norm before this part of town turned upmarket. Most had been renovated, their weathered shingles replaced with aluminum or vinyl in tasteful shades of white, gray or cream. In the middle of the block, however, stood a house with it original wooden siding, painted a lurid purple.
That had to be it. Paisley draperies hung in the picture window. Over the door there was a sign, aqua and yellow, in a font so distorted that it looked as though the letters were melting. “Frank’s Folly”, it said, and then underneath, “Head Shop”.
Anger made Kit bold. She climbed the steps and pressed the doorbell, twice. A parrot squawked behind the door. Otherwise, there was no effect. She rang the bell again, and then, impatient, banged on the door with her fist.
The door swung open. A sweet, smoky aroma wafted out. Kit found herself staring into a pair of amazingly blue eyes that blinked and squinted against the morning sunlight.
He looked at her long time without speaking. In his eyes she saw curiosity and amusement. She was acutely aware of her bare midriff and the sweaty shorts clinging to her butt. As for the owner of the establishment, he wore a tie-dyed tee shirt that only partly hid a hairy belly, and faded cutoffs so loose and tattered that she couldn’t avoid catching glimpses of his heavy balls.
The man’s steady gaze drove out all her angry words. He smiled, kind, apparently not caring that he had been awakened at such an early hour. “Good morning. Can I help you?” He swept his eyes over her skimpy clothing and his smile broadened. “Normally, I’m closed on Sunday — day of rest and all that. But if there’s something you urgently need, I’d be happy to see what I can do.”
“I — um — you — that was quite a party you had last night!”
“Party?”
“Music, lights — up on your third floor. You could hear it all over the neighborhood!”
A stricken look passed over his bearded face. “Oh, sorry! I was just relaxing by myself, spacing out after a long week. Did I disturb you?”
“As a matter of fact, you did. I was trying to work.”
He grinned, looking suddenly much younger than the gray strands in his beard suggested. “A pretty woman like you shouldn’t be working on a Saturday night! But really, I am sorry; I didn’t realize that anyone could hear me.”
“They probably could hear you over at City Hall.” Kit’s sense of righteous indignation returned. How could this old guy be so oblivious?
“Please, accept my apologies. It won’t happen again.” He gave her another once over. She felt a blush creeping across her cheeks. “Won’t you come in for a cup of coffee? I just made some fresh.” So despite his bleary look, she hadn’t gotten him out of bed after all.
“No, that’s okay. I just wanted to let you know about the problem.”
“Please, come in. Let me make amends. I’ve got some excellent Columbian.” Before Kit could protest that she didn’t drink coffee, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the dark, aromatic space inside. His skin was warm and unexpectedly soft. Accidentally or deliberately, his body brushed against her hip and she sensed hardness through the worn denim. She flinched, trying to get away from him. At the same time, she felt her nipples tighten, and a flutter of pleasure rippled through her cunt.
She made excuses. It was just because Todd was away.
“Sit down and make yourself comfortable.” The proprietor of the shop — Frank? — gestured toward a brass tripod table surrounded by carved wooden stools. “I’ll be right back.” His hand hovered for a moment, as if he was going to stroke her hair, then he disappeared through a bead curtain at the back of the room.
Kit looked around her. It was like stepping into the past. Not her own past — maybe her mother’s. Tapestries portraying athletically conjoined Indian gods shared wall space with concert posters for Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, and The Grateful Dead. Rough wooden shelves near the doorway displayed water pipes, scales, and a wide range of paraphernalia that she couldn’t identify. A glass case near the door held assorted jewelry: silver chains, leather wristbands and long, ornate earrings. Marijuana leaves were a popular motif. Crystals dangled from the ceiling. One corner was piled with cushions and rugs. The small shop was crowded with statues of the Buddha, African masks, geodes with amethyst centers. On a shelf above her shoulder she noted an porcelain incense burner shaped like a massive penis.
She blushed again, though she was alone, and took a deep breath. The atmosphere was heavy with patchouli and sandalwood.
The beads clicked together as Frank returned holding two steaming mugs. “Here you are, then.” He seated himself on the stool next to her, close, too close. Invading her personal space.
“I don’t…” Kit began. But the rich aroma of the coffee made her mouth water. Just this once, perhaps.
“Sorry, I don’t have any milk, but there’s sugar.” He pointed to a ceramic bowl molded in the shape of a peace sign. He dumped a heaping spoonful into his own mug.
“Uh, no thanks.” She took a tentative sip, then drank deeper. The flavor was earthy and complex. She could feel the caffeine racing through her blood.
Frank was staring at her again, his eyes twinkling behind his wire-framed glasses. Absently, he scratched his unruly head. She could tell that he hadn’t showered.
“I guess, then, that we’re neighbors.”
“Yes, well, I don’t spend much time at home.” She licked her lips nervously. “Mostly, I’m at work.”
“You work too hard, I think. You need to take time to enjoy life.” He rummaged in his pocket and she caught another glimpse of his scrotum and his half-hard cock. Hastily, she turned to examine one of the posters.
“Want to do a number?” He was holding out a fat hand-rolled cigarette. Kit felt a sudden panic.
“No — um — I don’t do drugs. I know too much about them.”
“Oh?” He lit the joint himself and drew in a lungful of the fragrant smoke.
“Yes, well, I work for a pharmaceutical company.”
“Really. What a coincidence.” She didn’t understand. But she didn’t want to ask questions or prolong the conversation. Really, she didn’t want to talk about herself at all. She should be going home.
He took another toke and held it, closing his eyes. His expression was beatific. He reminded her of some hairy elf, or perhaps a giant, grizzled teddy bear. The smell of pot smoke drowned out the incense. Kit felt dizzy.
Frank stubbed out his joint. “Stand up — what’s your name?” His voice was soft, dreamy.
“Kit.”
“What’s that short for?”
“Katerina.”
“Oh, I like that much better. It suits you. I’ve always thought that ladies should have long, intricate names, names that dance on your tongue. Stand up, Katerina. Please. Let me look at you.”
She felt brief indignation. Nobody told her what to do. Yet she obeyed, coming to her feet in front of him, so close, too close, the reach of bare skin between her top and shorts inches from him. She was light-headed, not herself.
“Katerina,” he whispered. Then he reached out and grasped her buttocks, pulling her to his face.
His beard was softer than it looked, tickling her. For a moment he simply held her, breathing in, inhaling her as if she were another drug. Suddenly there was shocking wetness. His tongue circled her navel, dipped inside. Her sex clenched in a sudden, delicious spasm. He lapped in widening circles, then traced a wet path up her sternum. When he reached her bra, he deftly peeled back the stretchy material to expose her small breasts. He fastened his mouth on one swollen nipple. Kit moaned, embarrassed by her sudden need.
He sucked at her till the node of flesh was unbearably tender. Just when she couldn’t bear any more, he switched to the other breast, strumming the rigid bead at its tip while her clit vibrated in sympathy.
“Oh, please…” she sighed. Her shorts were sticky and uncomfortable. She wanted them off. Frank paused and smiled at her. “Just a moment, Katerina, if you can be patient. I have something for you.”
He scurried off to the glass display case, a comic figure, his shorts slipping down his hips to expose his furry butt. Her belly and breasts were soaked with his saliva.
Kit shuddered, desire mixed with revulsion. How could she let this smelly, hairy, untidy, old — anachronism — touch her? But God, it felt so good. Her cunt was sopping. Her pussy scent overwhelmed the smell of pot. I should go, she told herself, get out of here while I can. But Frank was back now, pulling her bra over her head, fastening a delicate silver chain around her waist. He eased her shorts over her hips. She kicked off her shoes, and he shimmied the lycra garment down to her ankles and off.
Kit stood before him, naked except for the ornamental chain. The silver strands brushed, ghostly, against her sensitized skin. Frank licked his lips. His eyes burned blue as gas flames. She basked in the heat of his obvious lust.
“Oh, yes,” he breathed. “I thought that would suit you. Yes indeed…” His fingertips traced an airy path across her skin, touching but not touching, setting up currents that caressed her throat, her breasts, her belly, the smooth mound between her legs. “I don’t know why you do it, though.”
“Do what?” Kit almost groaned with frustration, as he appraised rather than caressed her.
“Shave, wax, whatever it is you do to remove your bush. A bare beaver looks so — unnatural.”
Annoyance almost overwhelmed Kit’s horniness. “Well, I haven’t had any complaints from anyone else. Also, without the hair I’m more sensitive.”
His mischievous smile returned. “Oh, is that true? Well, then…” He slipped to his knees and peeled open her lower lips with his thumbs. “I’ve always enjoyed sensitive women.” The tip of his tongue flicked across her swollen clit. Her back arched in reflex, forcing her pussy into his face. The old goat immediately took advantage, fastening his mouth on her sex and sucking like a human hoover. His tongue gathered the juices from her depths, then smeared them over her naked mound.
“Oh, um, ooh…” Kit writhed against him, wordlessly begging him to return his tongue to her throbbing clit. He seemed oblivious, though, focusing instead on her labia and the depths of her pussy. It felt exquisite, intense, but her clit screamed for some of the attention of that wet and agile tongue.
Then he stopped. “What…?” she began. She sucked in a surprised breath as he actually picked her up in his arms.
His curly chest hair tickled her breasts. He smelled a bit funky, sweat rather than soap; hints of pot smoke and incense lingered in his beard. Before she knew it, she was stretched out on her back on the pile of carpets and cushions she had noticed earlier, with the surprisingly strong and flexible old hippie kneeling between her spread thighs.
He rubbed his fingertip against the rigid bead of flesh at her center. She yelped, her pelvis dancing on the velvety surface under her. Apparently pleased with this reaction, he continued to massage her clit with one hand, while the other dabbled in her soaking cunt. One finger, then two, deep into her, but not deep enough. She moaned and twisted as both hands played her, one devoted to her clitoris, the other wandering, stroking, even gently probing her taut rear hole.
Luscious colors swirled across Kit’s closed eyelids, whorls and eddies of brilliant blue and emerald green that pulsed in time with the throbbing in her pussy. She breathed in gasps, sucking in smoke and sandalwood. She was melting, liquefying. She was crystallizing into a thing of pure pleasure.
The crystal shattered. Kit wailed, her body going rigid and then limp. Frank continued to stroke her gently, drawing wetness from her depths, trailing it along her inner thighs. For a long time Kit basked in the rosy after-pleasure, perfectly relaxed, forgetting that he was there.
He bent to kiss her. The salty seaweed taste of her own sex shocked her into awareness. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you, princess?” he murmured in her ear. “I told you that you shouldn’t work so hard.”
Kit opened her eyes to see his goofy, bearded face hanging over her. His cheeks looked sticky; a droplet of milky fluid clung to his bushy mustache. The odors of cannabis and cunt almost suffocated her. He stroked her cheek, absurdly gentle. She flinched, pulled away, extricated her body from underneath his and clambered to her feet.
“I’ve got to go. I’m way behind schedule.” She struggled to get back into her damp, twisted running clothes. He looked puzzled, wounded.
“But princess, we’re just getting to know each other. Why don’t you come on up to my room? I’ve got a truly groovy water bed, and an amazing stereo…” He reached for her. She twisted away, steadfastly trying not to see the huge erection poking out of his pitiful shorts.
“No — sorry, I can’t. I’ve got to go.” She jammed her feet into her trainers and turned her back on him.
“Katerina.”
She shrugged off the hand on her shoulder. “No. Sorry. Um, thanks for the coffee.” She could barely speak with embarrassment. She didn’t look back at his stricken face as she closed the door behind her, raced down the steps and around the corner to the safety of her own condo.
Once home, Kit slammed and locked the door behind her. She couldn’t believe what she’d done. What she’d let him do. It wasn’t that she was against sex, far from it. It’s just that he was so very wrong. So wrong for her. She should never have encouraged him.
Nevertheless, she had felt incredibly relaxed, and suddenly sleepy. She considered a shower, but didn’t make it that far. Must be the drugs, she thought as she drifted off. Contact high.
Afternoon sun was slanting in through the drapes when she awoke. She felt alert, refreshed, and ravenous. After a quick shower, she padded naked into the kitchen and got herself a cheese sandwich and a diet cola. She took her late lunch into her study and sat down, ready to get back to the problem of her recalcitrant protein.
As she waited for her machine to boot, she took a deep breath and tried to focus her thoughts. She took a bite of her sandwich, savoring the smoky Jarlsberg and the crisp greens.
The curtains were open. She realized that he might, just might, be able to see into the room. A blush crept over her, starting with her cheeks to warm her earlobes, her nipples, her fingers and toes. What was she thinking of, sitting there nude? She glanced down at her naked body, and realized that she was still wearing Frank’s chain around her waist. She unclasped it. It lay coiled in her hand, glittering seductively.
Oh dear, she would have to return it. But not in person. Definitely not. She could package it up and leave it on his doorstep. She could mail it to him. Even as Kit mulled over the various ways she could get the chain back to its rightful owner without further compromising herself, she was putting on a summer shift, earrings, sandals. She was still arguing with herself when she found herself on Frank’s doorstep, the chain clutched in her fist.
She couldn’t help it. She didn’t understand. Frank opened the door wearing nothing but an Indonesian batik sarong and holding a half-full wine glass.
“Katerina! What a completely unexpected pleasure.”
Kit held out her palm. “I — um — you should take this back.”
“But I gave it to you, princess. It’s yours.” His eyes narrowed and his smile widened. “You know that. You didn’t need to come back here.”
“Well, I wanted to, um, apologize for acting so …” Normally the most articulate member of her team, Kit now found that she was unable to assemble a coherent sentence.
Frank laughed. “So wanton? So deliciously horny? No apologies necessary, princess. Quite the contrary.” He grabbed her wrist. “Come in, have some wine with me.” Kit seemed unable to resist. “We’ll just talk, that’s all. Don’t worry. I want to get to know you, find out about you and your life and your work.”
Before she knew it, Kit was sitting at the linoleum table in the kitchen at the back of the house, a full wine-glass in front of her. She couldn’t seem to explain that she didn’t drink. Frank raised his glass.
“To neighbors.” He sipped at the wine. “ To new friends.” A ruby drop hung in the thicket above his full lips. “To chemistry.”
Then all at once he was kissing her, his mouth a bewildering array of flavors: wine, sweat, pot, and faintly, pussy. A wildfire of desire raced through her body. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she met it halfway. His hands were all over her, snaking down her neckline to caress her tits, sliding up her hips under her dress, slipping between her damp thighs as he discovered she wore nothing underneath.
In less than ten seconds he had his fingers crammed in her cunt and she was humping them madly, moaning and twisting herself to force him deeper. He threw off the sarong and lifted her onto his lap, impaling her on the rod of flesh that jutted up from his hairy groin. He was both fatter and longer than Todd, but Kit was so soaked and ready that there was no resistance.
For a moment they were still. She could feel him filling her, stretching her exquisitely. His cock seemed to pulse, expanding and contracting within her in time with their synchronized breaths. Frank buried his face in her hair, gulping her scent. “Oh, Princess…” Then he began thrusting, ramming himself into her while she bounced on top of him.
They came together, in a thundering rush of sensation that drove every shred of rationality from Kit’s mind. The first thing that she was conscious of, after the echoes of the cataclysm died away, was the cum dripping down her thighs.
Oh no. No! Frank’s eyes were still closed. His cheeks were flushed. His glasses hung crookedly on his nose. His cock was still half hard inside her.
Kit climbed off his lap so quickly that she landed on the kitchen floor. That woke Frank from his blissful reverie, all right.
“Princess! Are you okay?”
“Okay? Of course not. We just had sex.”
“Yes, we did. Fabulous, wasn’t it?”
“Unprotected sex. No condom. Nothing.” Kit’s eyes blazed. “And I’ll bet that you do this all the time, getting it on with any unsuspecting female who has the misfortune to enter your shop. Mr. Natural.”
“Actually, I don’t. It’s been a long time, a very long time.”
“Hey, well, wake up. This isn’t the sixties. You can’t just screw anyone you fancy. You’ve got to be careful. Take precautions.”
Frank sighed and looked suitably chastened. “Yes, I know. It’s terribly sad, but you’re right.”
“So why did you do it? You’re not stupid.”
Frank smiled at her, but his eyes were serious.
“Why did you?” He wrapped the sarong around him and tucked the free end into the waist. “Sometimes there’s something there, you just can’t help yourself. Call it animal attraction, pheromones, whatever. You can’t ignore it. You can’t control it.”
He had watched sadly as Kit hurried out the door, but hadn’t tried to stop her. “You know what I mean. I know that you do.”
Now she was headed back, drawn against her judgment, against her will. Back to his untidy, old fashioned world, to his ridiculous nostalgia and his sweet, irresponsible innocence.
The paisley curtains were shut. A hand-carved wooden sign hung on the door: “Sorry. Closed for space walk. Please come again.” She stabbed at the doorbell, and heard the silly parrot squawk inside, but the door remained shut. Kit struggled between frustration and relief.
Maybe she could come back after work. Still, it was odd that he should close his shop in the middle of a Monday. On the other hand, he couldn’t have that many customers, hidden away as he was on this quiet residential street.
Kit tried the doorknob. It turned easily. How typical of him! Naively trusting. Irresponsible. She slipped into the dimness of the front room and locked the door behind her.
The air was hushed, heavy. Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Frank?” she called softly. There was no response. The click of the bead curtain was uncomfortably loud in the stillness. An empty teacup and a charred roach in an ashtray sat on the kitchen table. She headed up the stairway to the second floor, calling his name again.
On the second floor, she found two closed doors. The room to the right of the landing seemed to be storage. Piles of boxes littered the floor and were stacked against the walls. The window shades were closed. The air smelled musty.
She was shocked, though, by what she found behind the door on the left. Neat bookcases and filing cabinets lined the room. One corner held a huge desk with a twenty seven inch LCD monitor and keyboard. In the other, there was a compact lab bench packed with assorted glassware plus state of the art chromatography and sequencing apparatus. There was a faint odor of solvent.
“What the…?” Kit’s curiosity overwhelmed her sense that she was violating Frank’s privacy. The shelves held mostly technical journals: Analytical Biochemistry, Drug Development Research, Journal of Chemical Research, Nature, Science, all alphabetically arranged and going back at least ten years. There were also stacks of data CDs, and several rows of reference books. Kit recognized many of them.
One wall was hung with framed certificates and photos. Degrees from Harvard (in Latin) and Berkeley, granted to Frank Morgenstern. Patent awards. A picture of a much younger Frank, his head a unruly mass of reddish curls, shaking hands with Jimmy Carter. Another, informal, photo of him, sweaty and beaming, sitting outside a thatched hut with a dark-skinned child on each knee.
Frank Morgenstern. Kit racked her brain. Then she had it; he was the guy who had worked for Pfizer and created one of the earliest AIDS drug regimens. Brilliant chemist, according to his reputation. Developed an innovative therapy for malaria, too.
Frank? Goofy, horny Frank? It couldn’t be true. But apparently, it was.
All at once, she thought she heard something. “Frank?” Music, faint, coming from above her, the third floor. She tiptoed up the stairs. The eerie strains of a synthesizer filtered through the half-open door at the top.
The shades were drawn. Multicolored lights pulsed on one wall. Weird electronic melodies played in the background. The room smelled of Frank: earthy, musky, hints of cinnamon and pot smoke.
An enormous bed took up the center of the room. He lay there on his back, naked, his arms at his sides. His eyes were closed. Even in the dim light, Kit couldn’t miss his erection, arrowing up toward the ceiling.
Kit stepped to the side of the bed. He didn’t move. “Frank? Are you all right?”
“Oh, hello, princess. Lovely to see you.” He grinned crookedly. There was something wrong with his eyes; he couldn’t seem to focus.
“Why are you up here, in the middle of the day? Are you ill?”
He paused several heartbeats before answering. “Oh no! I’m just taking a little trip. I needed a break. Nothing like a tab or two of acid to give you a fresh perspective.” He raised his head and looked at her, suddenly serious. “I didn’t expect to see you again. But I was thinking of you. As you can see.”
Lazily, he stroked his rigid organ. It rose proudly from the tawny curls at his groin, beckoning her. He gave a sensual sigh that sent a thrill through her body. Saliva gathered in her mouth. Before she could help herself, she was unzipping her slacks, unbuttoning her blouse, tearing off her underwear. Leaving her clothes in a tangled heap on the floor, she crawled onto the bed.
It wavered and flowed under her weight. She felt slightly dizzy. Everything seemed unsteady, unreal. The only reality was her overwhelming need to taste his fat, juicy cock.
Kit straddled him and bent over his hard-on, breathing in his oddly appealing smell. He removed his hand. His cock seemed to wink at her. She flicked her tongue over the bulb. He moaned. She pursed her lips against the tip and applied a little suction. He arched toward her, begging for more. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, she swallowed him. She was amazed to find that she could take almost his whole bulk.
He tasted salty and a little sour. It was intoxicating. His furry thighs tickled the inside of hers, sending sparks racing to her pussy. She bobbed up and down, running her tongue along his length. His skin was silk stretched over stone. He twisted his hips, trying to force himself deeper.
“Oh, princess, that’s so, so sweet…” She sucked harder. “Swing yourself over here, baby. Let me have a taste.”
He managed to maneuver her so that her buttocks faced him, and stroked them gently. His touch was electric. Out of nowhere came an image of him spanking her. Her cunt flooded and spilled over. He ran his tongue through her cleft, from back to front, ending with a firm flick against her clit. She moaned, mouth full of cock flesh, and pressed her crotch into his face.
He slurped up a mouthful of her juices, then stabbed his tongue into her depths. Kit ground herself against him, mashing her clit against his nose. He got the hint. In a moment he was sucking hungrily on that aching bead of flesh, and Kit was climbing higher and higher. It was almost too intense, the pleasure shading into pain.
He backed off and let her breath, lapping at her swollen lower lips and swirling his tongue around in her hungry cunt. Meanwhile he was pumping his cock down her throat. She could feel the tension coiling under his skin.
He was close, they both were, and suddenly all she wanted to was to taste him. She worked him harder, sucking until her jaw ached. She willed him to come.
He seemed to sense her need. She felt the contractions rippling up his shaft. She forgot that she didn’t like the taste of cum, swallowing the bitter fluid as fast as it spurted across her tongue. She wanted it all, everything he could give her, anything that he would do to her.
His cock remained hard in her mouth. She wondered if he could still fuck her. He licked steadily at her clit, but she needed something to fill her, to satisfy the aching hunger in her cunt.
All at once she was full, something cool and hard and definitely not human sliding into her slippery depths. “Oh…” she began, and then couldn’t say anything else, the pleasure driving away words. Whatever it was, it felt heavenly.
“Like that, princess?” Frank’s voice was kind, with a hint of laughter. All Kit could do was grunt. He stroked once, twice, thrusting deeper each time. At the same time, his tongue danced over her clitoris. She hovered on the edge of ecstasy; he pushed her over and into free fall.
A whirlwind took her, fireworks, explosions of sensation. Endorphins raced through her blood, flooding all her senses with delight. Her mind was drugged almost to insensibility by pleasure. It was just so amazing…
Kit lay with her head on Frank’s furry chest. His arm around her felt natural, right. She could hear his heartbeat, smell his sweat. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness; over on the bed table she could see the penis-shaped incense burner she had noticed in the shop, still slick with her juices. The odd, haunting music flowed over them. She was floating, totally satiated, completely comfortable. It was an unfamiliar feeling.
“I really thought that I blew it,” said Frank softly. “I was sure that you’d never come back, Katerina. And I was so very sorry.”
“Well…” Kit began. She didn’t know how to answer.
“Anyway, I’m surprised that you’re here, on a weekday. I would have thought that you’d be at work.”
Work. The staff meeting. Kit felt a brief stab of panic. The comfort overwhelmed it. She settled back into his embrace. “I should be. But I decided that I needed a break.”
Frank’s laugh woke new tingles in her sex.
“But what about you? You’re a famous chemist. I didn’t know… I thought that you were just some weird old hippie, living in the past.”
“I am. I quit, quite a while ago. I just couldn’t stand to see profits be given a higher priority than people. Just a crazy idealist, I guess.”
“But the lab, downstairs…?”
“Well, I still dabble a bit. Play around. Try to keep up with the journals.” He circled one of her nipples with a lazy fingertip. His other hand crept across her belly toward her pussy.
He captured her clit between thumb and forefinger and squeezed gently. She gasped at the sudden surge of pleasure. As the ripples faded away, he followed up with a kiss.
His mustache was sticky with her secretions. He tasted like the ocean. It was sloppy and messy and delicious. Somehow there was a question, though, nagging at her. She couldn’t quite relax.
“So what are you working on now? AIDS? Parkinson’s?”
“Nothing so important. I’ve just been experimenting with a little private project. Something to amuse myself and a select few of my friends.”
Drugs, Kit thought, annoyed that this world-class mind should be focused on something so frivolous. But what else should she have expected? “Some kind of hallucinogenic? Or a new synthetic stimulant?”
He kneaded her breast in his broad, stubby-fingered hand. Her cunt contracted, echoing each caress. “No, nothing like that.” .
Her hand closed on his swelling cock and squeezed hard. “What then? Tell me!”
Frank groaned, then giggled. “If you’re trying to torture it out of me, you’ve definitely got the wrong technique.”
“Come on, Frank! You can trust me.”
“You promise that you won’t be angry?”
“Angry? Why should I be angry?”
“Well …” He was suddenly coy. “You might feel that you’ve been manipulated. Just remember, though, what a good time we’ve had.”
“What in heaven are you talking about? What is this project, Frank?” Kit was feeling more and more suspicious. Then he slipped his fingers back into her wet depths, and she nearly swooned.
“It’s an aphrodisiac.”
The pleasure welling up inside her was distracting. “What?”
“An aphrodisiac. More precisely, a hormonal augmentation trigger. It amplifies sexual responses in the subject and also in members of the opposite sex who are exposed to the subject.”
Kit pulled herself away from him, struggling to sit upright as waves oscillated through the mattress. “And your subject is …?”
“Myself, of course. I need to make sure that the substance is safe. And it does seem to be. None of the risks or unpleasant side-effects of Viagra or Cialis or Spanish fly…”
“And I was the guinea pig ‘member of the opposite sex’? How dare you!”
He pulled her back down, hugging her to his chest. Despite her indignation, she couldn’t deny the sense of peace, of physical well-being, that washed over her. His erection bobbed flirtatiously against her thigh, then slid upwards toward her still hungry sex, leaving a trail of pre-cum on her skin. “Come on, Katerina, don’t spoil it. Life is just too damned short. Take your pleasure while you can.”
“But — it’s not real. It’s artificial pleasure.”
He jerked his hips, embedding his cock in her folds, then rolled her over onto her back. “Not real?” He began to thrust, gently, rhythmically. Sensitized from her previous climax, she sensed a new orgasm hovering close. She arched up, grinding her pelvis against his, aching for the release that was just out of reach. “What could be more real than this? This isn’t plastic or electronic. This isn’t cyberized or sanitized. This is flesh and blood, saliva and sweat and pussy juice and come, the whole organic stew that makes sex so glorious.”
Kit was panting with desire, yet somehow she still struggled to keep up her end of the argument. “But — I’d never have wanted you … if you hadn’t … if you didn’t…”
Frank pulled his cock out of her, and she cried out, empty and disappointed. He raised himself off her, weight on his forearms. His blazing blue eyes searched her face. “Are you so sure, princess? What if I told you that I was just kidding, that there wasn’t any aphrodisiac? That I just made it up to see how you’d react?”
Kit whimpered in frustration and confusion.
“Tell me, princess, do you want me now?”
“Yes,” she moaned. Frank answered by ramming his cock into her with such force that the waves almost tossed them off the bed.
After that, there was no more discussion. Frank fucked her hard. She wailed with delight at every stroke, clutched as his shoulders, dug her fingernails into his hairy back. Her burly lover growled and muttered as he slammed away at her, knowing that the time for gentleness had passed. They grappled together, rolling from side to side, struggling to hold tighter, delve deeper.
Finally, Frank roared, and. Kit felt a rush of liquid heat deep in her sex. It kindled her own climax, which raced through her like a forest fire fanned by summer gales, burning everything in its path: confusion, uncertainty, fear, guilt and regret. All that was left was an open vista of pleasure, swept clean, empty and peaceful.
The red-gold light filtering under the drawn shades told Kit that sunset was not far away. She had missed staff, missed a whole afternoon of work. She tried to summon the requisite spike of anxiety and failed.
Frank was lying on his side, his back to her, watching the patterns of light on the wall and humming to himself. She touched him lightly on the shoulder. He rolled toward her and swept her into a wet kiss that Kit felt in her fingers and toes, her breasts and her clit.
“Hey, princess, you’re awake. Are you still mad at me?”
She snuggled up against him, breathing in his special scent. “No. I can’t manage to stay mad at you. That first time, I came over to ball you out for making so much noise, and look what happened.”
“Yes, well, there was some balling done…”
“Oh, you old goat!” She licked at his ear lobe.
“That tickles! And I’m no more ruttish than you.”
“And who’s responsible for that?”
“My lips are sealed.” In fact they were not; they were sucking energetically at Kit’s nipple, making her squirm.
“But seriously, is it true?”
He paused briefly to look up at her. “I’ll never tell. Anyway, does it matter?” Not waiting for an answer, he slithered down and began applying his agile tongue to her clit.
I suppose not, Kit thought, as he took her steadily higher. Either way, it was chemistry.
Copyright © Lisabet Sarai
Trust the ladies of Las Vegas to show you a good time
Vegas Babes: The Complete Series
By Lisabet Sarai
