4 comments/ 91682 views/ 24 favorites A+ By: zoeonfire When the pressure's on I can never seem to come up with any ideas. This is the thought tip-toeing through my mind as I leave the last Creative Writing lesson of term. The assignment's due first week back meaning I've only got three weeks. What am I going to write about? Just time for a quick cigarette outside the main entrance - cold wind whipping against my bare thighs, why did I wear such a short skirt on such a cold day? - before rushing inside for Late Victorian Fiction. It's one of my favourite lectures but, as usual, I'm late. It's a small, intimate class so I've no choice but to sit near the front. I sidle into the room sheepishly and slide into my seat. Sarah (the lecturer) looks at me, noting my lateness, but not seeming to be bothered by it. Looking down I notice that, with the cold, my nipples are protruding quite prominently through my top. I glance round, embarrassed, to see if anyone's noticed; Sarah catches my gaze and smiles slightly. "So," she's saying, "themes of female power and, indeed, sexuality, are common in the Fin de Siecle novels. There's a strong lesbian subtext in many of the pieces we've looked at, which was seen as dangerous at the time of writing." I feel quite relieved as this is the topic I wrote my essay on. I smile Sarah when she looks my way again. I get on well with Sarah. I'm a bit older than the rest of the class so we're quite close in age. I'm twenty-six (considered a 'mature student,' a label I'm not too fond of) and Sarah is in her early thirties, teaching and working towards her PhD. Our relationship's purely that of teacher and student, but I feel like she thinks of me differently than the rest of the class. It's like we're closer to being on the same level. It's true though that some of the students are scared of her. She almost looks like one of the characters from the Gothic novels we're studying with her jet black hair and pale skin. She has an air of confidence and authority that exudes power. I can see how that could be a bit daunting to some, but her confidence makes me feel confident too. She also has the longest fingernails of anyone I know - like elegant black talons - and I find them quite amazing. "I'm pleased to say," announces Sarah, "that everyone passed the essay assignment. As you know I'd like to see each of you separately for the Individual Feedback. I'll just read out the appointment times for you now." I'm hoping that mine will be early as I want to go out clubbing after. I'm disappointed to hear that my appointment is the very last: eight o'clock this evening. I'll have to change my plans, I think. I wanted to get the meeting out of the way so I could go home, get dressed up, have a bit of a drink, and meet the others in the pub. I guess I could just get ready first, go to the session in my 'going-out clothes' and head straight to the club from there. Why not? The feedback meetings take place at Sarah's house, which I know is nearer to town than my flat. It could work quite well. The lesson finishes and the class shuffle out, chatting, excited that the term's finally finishing. A few of us arrange what time to meet for drinks later. Bending down to pick up my bag I think I notice Sarah looking at my smooth, bare legs, but when I look round she's straightening her papers and packing up. I head back out into the cold, light another cigarette, and walk briskly home to get dressed up for the evening's revelry. * * * After a quick snack and a hot shower, I pour myself a vodka and tonic, put on some house music, and start to select my outfit. It's a relaxed club we're going to later, but I'm feeling good about finishing term so decide to get properly dressed up. I've also just bought some gorgeous white patent six-inch heels and I'm determined to wear them. I choose a stretchy little white skirt and a skinny white t-shirt with angel wings printed on the back. I slip into a white g-string that won't show too much through the skirt and decide to go without a bra - my breasts are quite small and really firm so I'm lucky enough not to need one. My hair stays the same as always: a short bob, straight fringe, bleached platinum blonde. I take a long sip of vodka and dance in front of the mirror a little, pleased with how my slender body looks as a wriggle around. I keep myself in good shape at the gym, and guiltily the tanning salon, and I'm proud of the way I look. I put on light eye-shadow, my trade-mark thick, black eye-liner, and shiny, candy pink lipstick and I'm all set. I light a cigarette, blow myself a kiss into the mirror and phone a taxi. * * * I arrive at Sarah's house just as the previous student is leaving. It's my friend Carly who I'm meeting later. We kiss hello and I compliment her on her outfit - she looks gorgeous, as always - and I knock and wait as she leaves. I start to feel a little apprehensive. Maybe it's because I'm about to get my essay grade, maybe it's something else. After a minute I knock again, and Sarah opens the door smoking a cigarette. This relieves my anxiety a little, as I didn't know she smoked. I follow her through to the living room and can't help myself from looking her curvy figure up and down as she walks ahead of me. "Do you mind if I smoke," I ask? "What do you think," she exclaims, rolling her eyes and forming a perfect smoke ring. We both laugh and I feel more relaxed. The living room isn't how I expected it. The house is early Victorian so it has lovely wooden beams traversing the low ceiling, with metal hooks on that look really old. But the room is done up in a modern style: bare laminate floor; low, ambient lighting; slick, firm, boxy leather sofa; small glass coffee table. There's a large, neo-Gothic mirror over the fireplace. The room is warm and smells of perfume and nicotine. I notice on the table an art photography book titled, 'Honey-Lingus,' which makes me smile. I light a cigarette and sit down on the sofa. "I'll just get your essay from next door," says Sarah, walking out, hips swinging smoothly. I'm quite taken aback by her appearance this evening. I'm not sure whether she's supposed to be coming out clubbing tonight, but she certainly seems dressed up. Her straight black hair, like usual, is in a high pony tail, but she's got more make-up on than earlier and a black choker round her neck. She's wearing a fitted black blouse and long sleek skirt with a slit up the side, through which I can see she's wearing spike heeled black boots. Absently I flick through the art book on the table. It opens on a close-up image of a black woman's shaved vagina, dripping with honey. Sarah comes back in and I close the book and blush, not sure if she saw me. She sits on the settee next to me and we both stub our cigarettes out at the same time, our hands inadvertently brushing against each other. I notice the difference between her pale and my tanned skin, and again her amazing long nails. "OK Zoe," Sarah says, "If you'd like to read me your essay aloud we can go though it afterwards." I begin, faltering slightly: "Sexuality and female power are intrinsically linked in Victorian literature. A good example is Bram Stoker's seminal novel Dracula." "You seem nervous. Would you like a glass of wine? I'm going to have one anyway." I accept, relieved, another drink is just what I need. Sarah pours us both a large glass and I take a sip. The wine's strong at tastes thick and rich. My head swims a little. I read OK, but I think Sarah can tell I'm pretty edgy. I've finished nearly two glasses towards the end. I'm also somewhat distracted: Sarah has lit another cigarette and keeps leaning forwards to flick her ash onto the ashtray, and every time she does her skirt rides up a little more. Through the slit in her skirt I can now see the whole of her knee high boot, and a fishnet-clad knee and thigh. I think I can feel Sarah's eyes studying me as I talk. I breath a big sigh of relief when I get to the end, and flop the pages of the essay down onto my knee. "Was it OK," I ask, unsure? Though I'm confident in day-to-day life I lack the same self-esteem in my writing. "There's really not a lot I can say," Sarah replies. "It's a great essay. A-plus. You really picked apart the novel and used some great quotes." By now I'm quite tipsy and a bit giggly. We finish talking about my essay - I got the best mark in the class - and go on to other topics. Sarah seems interested in my love life and by now it's quite clear that she's flirting with me. Of course, I reciprocate. She nips out to the kitchen to get another bottle of that intoxicating wine. I stand up, check my hair in the mirror, and gloss up my plump lips with my candy pink lipstick. I sit back down with my knees slightly apart, skirt pulled upwards a little, light a cigarette and recline on the firm settee. When Sarah comes back in with the wine, it's clear she's undone several buttons on her blouse. Her cleavage looks incredible, her large pearly white breasts pushed together. She sits next to me on the settee, closer than before, and pours me another wine, handing me the glass. We're both very tactile as we talk, touching each others' arms, shoulders, hair. Before long our knees are almost pressed together and it's clear to me that something could happen. As I take another sip of wine I drink a little too fast and some runs onto my chin. Sarah takes a slender finger and catches the drip, runs the tip of her finger along my bottom lip and puts it into her mouth. She keeps her finger in her mouth for a little longer than is natural, looking me straight in the eye with a sensual expression. She licks the tip of her finger, reaches over and takes my chin in her hand. I'm already moving my face towards hers as she pulls me in and we kiss, eyes open, slowly, gently. A surge of electricity shoots through my body and goosebumps raise on the back of my neck. I turn my shoulders to face Sarah and we're kissing each other deeply. I feel amazing, a bit drunk from the wine, and very eager. I'm pushing my tongue into her mouth, breathing deeply through by nose. Despite my pressure, it's clear that Sarah 's in control: she holds my face softly but firmly with one hand, the other on my waist. Nose to nose, I stare into her eyes. I feel almost ravenous now, desperate to make love to this woman. As I start to unfasten Sarah's blouse her hands are exploring my torso, my back, then come to rest cupping my pert breasts trough my t-shirt. Taking off her blouse I can see why Sarah's cleavage looked so good :she's wearing a tightly tied, black satin corset, pushing her plump tits together. We start to kiss again, deeply like before. I run my hands over Sarah's curvy figure, the top of her breasts, down her sides to her hips. Sarah's squeezing my tits through my t-shirt, hard but not too hard, caressing my nipples with her thumbs until they're two bullets pointing through my top. We're both breathing hard, I'm almost moaning as she moves her lips from my mouth onto my neck. She's kissing me, biting softly, my neck and behind my ears. I moan heavily, tingles of pleasure wherever she touches me. "Do you want me to take you," she asks? I moan some sort of affirmation. "Do you want me to TAKE you, you dirty little whore!" She says firmly, pulling away. "I want you to fuck me," I reply. Sarah kisses me hard for a few seconds before standing. "Wait here," she tells me heading to the door. Sitting there, my heart's racing. I take a large swig of wine and feel the buzz all over my body. * * * Sarah strides back into the room purposefully, drops a large make-up bag on the floor. I rise as she approaches the settee and she yanks me up by my slender wrist, pushing me roughly across the room. She unties a satin belt or scarf from her waist and ties it tightly round my wrists, then loops the other end over one of the hooks on a ceiling beam. I'm at full stretch with my arms above my head, and my body is vulnerable to her, in the centre of the room. I can see myself in full in the mirror over the fireplace; I look like a sacrificial virgin, bound, waiting for the ritual to begin. I watch Sarah as she lights another cigarette and drinks from a glass of wine. She's reapplied her deep red lipstick and it leaves a dark semicircle on the rim of the glass. She unfastens her skirt and lets it drop to the floor. I've never been able to make out how her figure looks before, and she looks incredible. Her body is curvy in all the right places. The tight, shiny corset brings in her slender waist even more, accentuating her big, round breasts and her broad hips. Below the corset she wears black fishnet stockings and those knee high stiletto boots. As she turns round to put down her wine glass I can see she is wearing a black satin thong, her buttocks are large, round and creamy white. Her thighs too look strong and glossy, with the tight stockings pinching them in and defining their shape. Suspender straps go up to the corset and pull tight against the flesh of her behind. Sarah paces round me, smoking, blowing smoke into my face and over my body. Her breath gives me goosebumps where I've been sweating slightly, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I examine her body as she circles me, the way her chest wobbles slightly with each step, the rolling motion of her perfectly round buttocks. She extinguishes the cigarette. I squirm around slightly, enjoying the feel of the material of my tight clothes as it pulls over the contours of my body. She comes up close behind me and whispers in my ear, "I'm not going to hurt you, you fucking slut." I can feel her hot breath on my neck and smell the rich red wine and cigarette smoke. I relax into her, feeling her body press gently against my back. Sarah's hands start to creep over my body, moving all the way up to my arms in the air, down across my neck, my flat stomach, my taut thighs. I moan gently and press my ass into her hips, feeling waves of pleasure wherever our bodies touch. I can feel her bulbous tits through the corset, wedged against my back. Suddenly, Sarah presses her curvy body firmly into mine, and reaches around to my front. One hand grabs my throat and the other clamps onto my crotch, pressing hard on my groin through my skirt. She hisses in my ear violently: "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't know what day it is, you filthy fucking slut!" I let out an involuntary groan in surprise and pleasure, and play my part by writhing my body against her grasp. She's biting at my ears, sucking on them hard, biting my neck as she squeezes and grinds my crotch. Now, as quickly as it started, she's let go of me again. Somehow the lack of contact makes me more aroused, and a shudder passes though me. She walks round to the front, to face me, kissing me very gently on the lips and neck. Now she's caressing me with those long, elegant fingernails, barely touching my skin as she explores every inch of my body: from my bound hands, down the sides of my arms, across my smooth armpits making me squirm, down my ribs and onto my hips. She takes hold of the flimsy skirt and peels it downwards exposing my thighs and my tiny g-string, I step out of the skirt and kick it away. Crouching, she kisses my flat stomach and the crease of my pelvis, before standing again and peeling my top upwards, hooking it on the beam. My high, golden breasts are now exposed and my nipples are rock hard. I have quite unusual nipples: a puffy areola with a long, pink nipple like the eraser on the end of a pencil, they point upwards slightly. Sarah continues to be tender, pinching my nipples gently and rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers. Now she's licking them, and taking them into her mouth. She sucks hard, squeezing my tender breasts that fill her hands perfectly. Kneeling, still licking and nibbling at my long nipples, she hooks her fingers through the side strings of my thong and pulls it downwards. I wriggle slightly to free the strap from my buttocks and it drops down to the floor. Sarah kisses my pubic mound where there's a small tuft of light hair; the rest of my pussy shaved smooth like my legs. She breathes in my scent before standing again and opening the make-up bag on the floor. From the bag Sarah has a bottle of gel - it's either massage oil or some kind of lubricant, I can't really tell. "Let's grease up that hard little body of yours," she sneers, "ready for a good hard fucking." "Come and fucking get me, you bitch," I reply. I'm feeling confident now, exhilarated by our role-play. "Don't talk back to me, slut!" says Sarah, walking round the back of me. She smacks my behind hard with an open hand, making it tingle in hot pain. I groan, gritting my teeth to stop myself yelping. Sarah squirts the slimy clear gel onto my chest and rubs it over my tits, making them glisten. She squirts more onto the small of my back, letting it run down a little onto my bare buttocks causing me waves of pleasure. She rubs the lube over my buttocks with her slender hands as I stand expectantly with my feet apart. Slowly her hand moves under my behind and onto my pussy, which is almost dripping as I'm so turned on. I can't help myself moaning as her fingertips touch against my clitoris, swollen. She comes round the front again, wiping the rest of the slippery fluid onto my neck and arms, and kisses me deeply, forcing her long tongue into my waiting, gasping mouth. She steps back again, and sits on the edge of the settee, legs open, back straight. "Look at yourself in the mirror," she commands, "a greasy little tart just waiting to be fucked." I look in the mirror, turning slightly. The low lights shine off every curve of my toned body. My smooth ass and thighs shining, my perky boobs glimmering like mirror balls. As I look at my figure, twisting around to see every angle, Sarah is unfastening the corset, studying my body too. We're both breathing deeply now, and it feels like a calm before the storm. Sarah slips off the corset and lets it drop to the floor. I see her magnificent breasts in full for the first time. Despite their large size (they must be at least a DD cup) they're firm and taut. Big, full and round like two fleshy melons. Her nipples, too, look amazing. They're large - maybe three inches in diameter - and perfectly round, very dark in colour against her pale flesh, with prominent bumps around the edge. Both nipples are pierced too, with silver hoops. She pinches the dark nodes against the rings, making them stand up stiff, and cant resist rubbing her clit through her shiny satin thong before she stands. She's only wearing the g-string, stockings, boots and that choker now, and she looks like a predatory burlesque vampire. "I'm going to let you down now," she tells me, "but you have to promise to behave." She grasps my face tightly in her hand and looks into my eyes. "Promise me, " she orders. "K, I promise to behave, " I say, obligingly. I don't feel scared of Sarah, though I know she could do anything she wanted to me. I feel safe in her power and it turns me on to think that I'm pleasing her. I slip my hands off the hook but keep my legs locked straight, pushing my buttocks back and my chest up. She undoes the knot and ties the length of satin instead around my neck, not too tight, leaving the end dangling like a dog's lead. She pulls me into her with the makeshift leash and we kiss deeply again, our breasts pressed together, slipping around slightly as the lube rubs onto her skin. With my hands now free I reach behind her to feel those magnificent, full buttocks. They're firm but pliable, and her snow white skin is like silk. Observing us in the mirror we look amazing together. Me, oiled, my golden tanned skin shining in the dim light. Sarah, pure, pale white; round and curvaceous figure and that shock of black hair in a high pony tail. A 10-Year Load A time-honored truth among men is that the longer you wait, the better the orgasm. Of course, no normal guy can physically hold out for ten years, but the mind can certainly hold a deep, lustful desire that long – even longer, I imagine. And, when the holding back doesn't have to be any more, it can certainly be worth a decade of waiting. I'd be lying if I said I don't know what made me track down Dean after ten years. I'd be telling a major lie if, having found him, I said I don't know what made me call him to meet for lunch. The truth is that I wanted to finally act on my unending desire for sex with Dean. My gut, which was churning with a combination of excitement and apprehension of doubt as I made the call, told me to forget it. Fortunately, he seemed really pleased to hear from me, and we agreed on a date to meet. Dean is now City Engineer for a top-ten US city. When the day arrived, I went to his offices. As I was standing in the lobby of his suite of offices I was kicking myself internally for wasting my time on this. "What the fuck am I doing here?" I mentally asked myself. What would Dean look like after ten years? How could I have thought of sex with him now, ten years after we went our separate ways? We had never had any sort of relationship other than being co-workers. What I did not grasp from our friendly smiles and warm handshake was that this was absolutely the right call. The clues kept coming, although I didn't realize them at the time. Ten years back, Dean and I worked together at an engineering firm. We were just out of college and worked in the same cubical. Day after long, slow day, I surreptitiously leered at Dean's body, and not having it is what made the time pass slowly. I'm convinced that I'm just average looking, but Dean was fucking awesome. Aside from his warm and friendly personality, he had a chiseled face, a well-toned body and a killer ass. On the weekends when we had to work, and Dean was in his cut-offs and t-shirt, I could almost cum in my pants just seeing his nipples though his shirt and that ass – that ass -- perching out holding his cut-offs like fine drapery. I spent countless hours that one year fantasizing about sex with him. I would turn around to see his back and his ass cleavage exposed between his t-shirt and shorts as he leaned over his desk, working. All I could think of was where and to what the crack led. I imagined following the trail down to the sweet spot. In the restroom, I sneaked peeks of his smooth, sizeable cock. I imagined it hard and in my mouth and ass, spewing body-warm loads of jiz. At the end of that year, he moved on and eventually got married. In the ten years since then, I spent countless hours beating off to those images. The real image as I saw him after ten years was awesome. Dean was even better looking, at least better than I remembered, which is saying a lot. The first clue of where this lunch date was headed was his telling the receptionist that he might be late getting back from lunch. We walked to the restaurant, ate and pleasantly shared stories we recalled. We talked about who had done what in the intervening years. The second missed clue was his telling how his marriage sex life had grown ice cold. Dean blushed as he admitted to his lack of two-person sex for over two years! As one might expect after this long apart, there were a few awkward silences. After one, though, Dean said, "let's go, I want to show you something." We walked a few blocks to an unoccupied, beautifully ornate building built in the 1920's. As we walked there, Dean said the City owned it now, and it was being renovated into City offices. He thought I might like to see it. We took the elevator to the top floor, which had been the executive floor of a big insurance company. This excursion revealed the third clue I didn't catch. When we arrived on the 25th floor, Dean for some reason said: "I have the only key to this floor." My mind was so locked into my desire to have Dean that I missed the clues that I really might get my wish. This floor was impressive alright. It was like a time capsule from 90 years ago. It was a jewel of the Moderne Style. He pointed out the ornate, whimsical plaster ceiling and old light fixtures created after only about 25 years of commercial electricity. As impressive were the architectural features, I couldn't keep my eyes off of Dean's still tight ass muscles pumping as he walked. Dean showed me the walnut wall paneling and oak and walnut floors. Beautiful wood was everywhere. He would turn around with his bangs down to his eyebrows and toss them aside as he pointed to some feature of the building. From the corner of my vision I saw his ,package. It started looking like another beautiful wood feature too. Was it, or was this all in my head? While my mind was on industrial sex over-production I didn't trust my judgment. I was getting embarrassingly hard. I was trying to redirect my mind to regain composure. Instead of my mind regaining its composure, all the clues clicked: his late return from lunch; his lack of sex for two years; his only key to the floor we were on in a completely empty high-rise; and now the fourth clue, his growing package. Dean put his arm over my shoulder ostensibly just leading me to an enormous window looking over downtown. My dick began to rage as I felt his warm, physical contact. As we approached the window, Dean dropped his arm from my shoulder, but kept it pressed against my arm as he pointed out this building and that with his other arm. The real, unspoken conversation was the warm physical contact. Dean then turned and stared at my dick straining against my pants, which he by now had noticed. Busted! He said, smiling, "you reeeeally must love good architecture." There was a nervous laugh. I stared into his eyes for a moment, and I felt my face turning red hot from the adrenalin rush from what might be his interest in my body – or humiliating embarrassment, not knowing his feelings. Who knows how long we stood there staring deeply into each other. I just knew or hoped he was rock hard without looking down. Dean finally broke the silence and asked still staring, "can I tell you something you absolutely, positively won't repeat"? All I could muster was "please." Although there was no other person to hear him within 25 floors of building, Dean said in a hushed voice, "I know why you called me. You finally worked up the nerve to ask me out to hook up. All those year we used to work together, I saw the way you stared at me. I knew you wanted me." Didn't you" he asked nervously. "You did, right?" Dean was desperate for confirmation of his incredibly honest, exposed feelings and desires, but all I could do was pathetically look down at my feat in embarrassment like having been caught stealing, and truthfully I had stole countless looks after all ten years ago. Vocabulary failed me again as I shrugged still looking at my feat. A pathetic "yeah" came out. Totally busted! Totally humiliated. "Yeah, I knew it," Dean replied, sounding both relieved and triumphant, although his brief victory lap was soon subdued back to pure inner, raw emotion. He confessed, almost sadly, "you know I never thought anyone would ever look at and think of me that way and was so turned on that you thought I was hot. I would sit at my desk working with a hard on for hours, knowing you were staring at me and hoping you'd get the courage to do something about it. I couldn't work up the courage either but hoped you could. When nothing happened, all I could do was go home and at least beat off thinking about you fucking me. I wanted you sooo bad. No one before or since really made me think of myself that way, especially in my situation now," referring I suppose to his now sexless marriage. He just looked down, a bit embarrassed too at his confession. I was literally speechless. Some inner drive, though, fueled by the sincerity of our confessions gave me the tiny bit of the courage we had lacked back then, and I gently put my hand under his chin and gently lifted it away from his pain. I stared into his steel blue eyes to at least offer empathy. He reached out and put his arms on my shoulder and pulled us close. Our foreheads touched, and we both looked down at our raging erections and heard each other breathing hard. Dean whispered, "I've wanted you ever since you made me feel this way." It had taken a decade, but I finally – finally – got the real courage to lift my head and plant a deep kiss on his full lips. I was finally getting the feel, taste and smell of Dean as our mouths opened wide and our tongues swirled. I was stroking his cock through his cloths as we kissed. I pulled Dean hard – figuratively and literally – against me. Sure we had had countless orgasms over the intervening year, but Dean had finally pushed me across the Rubicon; an apt metaphor for the river of desire building for ten years that was about to overflow. The dam broke. Dean pulled away abruptly and just stared into me again. What was he thinking, I wondered, as I stared back? He answered physically. Without even unbuckling his belt, his thumbs hooked into the waist of his pants and shoved them down to his ankles. He wasn't wearing underwear. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The hot body my mind's eye envisioned over the years couldn't come close to the real thing. His body was taught. His rigid dick curved upward from his dark bush, and his balls were already pulling upward. I moved in and immediately grasped and stroked it. Just that much was almost too much. He returned the favor and continued to feel me up. Dean again pulled back to break contact and turned away toward the walnut wall. I soaked in the vision of his protruding, round, tight ass I craved so long as he bent forward. It was almost hairless except for the dark patch around and over his hole. He spread his legs apart as far as his pants allowed and bent forward, pushing his awesome ass up. In a cracked voice that sounded as though he was about to cry, he pleaded, "fuck me." He stood there, shaking now -- praying – that I would, but this was far too hot and intimate to simply dump a quick load. I pushed my pants down and dropped to my knees. I leaned in to freely eat his ass that desperately wanted my cock. I parted his muscular ass cheeks and opened my mouth wide around his hairy hole. Saliva was pouring from mouth as I nibbled, sucked and licked. The feel of his course hair on my tongue instinctively made me reach in with my thumbs to stretch his pink hole wide. Having made it through the bush, my tongue punched as deeply inward as it could into his hole. All I could think of was going deep into him. All the sights, smells and feel were driving me wild. His hole was so tight; I knew this hole was virgin. Dean was moaning with each stroke of my tongue, as I tried desperately to work it in deeper. He begged again, "please fuck me!" I was stroking my meat during all this and was ready to make my fantasies this reality, and his too. I stood and ran my throbbing dick up and down his crack, pushing his round ass globes in against my dick with my hands. I thought an ass this tight will take a struggle to enter, but Dean fixed that. As soon as my prick head touched his warm hole, still wet with my saliva, Dean reached back to grab my thighs. He then urgently began to work his ass onto my pole. His voice let out an involuntary "unnagh" with each of his thrusts backward. He took a little time to burry my dick in his unbelievably tight hole clamping around my dick. Once all the way in he stopped to adjust, panting at the pain, but then started to push his ass up and back smoothly and completely to fuck himself on me. I grabbed his hips and helped pull him back. His smooth strokes in and out quickened. Soon he was pushing himself onto me as deeply onto me as he could. He his whole body was quivering. A he pushed back, his warm, firm, smooth ass massaged my front. He swirled my throbbing dick around in his hole, pulled up and pushed back again, over and over. I was ostensibly the "top," but Dean was top in reality as he fucked himself on my dick. I was left to just watch him fuck himself on me. My dick would become almost fully exposed, and then disappear into his ass. Fucking awesome! His ass devouring my dick in a smooth rhythm as far and hard back as he could was all too much. My muscles started to jerk, and an overwhelming electrical buzz increasingly drowned out every other sense until everything else in my brain was overtaken. I rolled forward on my toes, grabbed his hips and crushed my body into his gut and almost passed out from the orgasm that shot into him. I felt load after load after load shooting deep into Dean – "Dean" was all my mind would allow! In a low measured voice Dean softly said gasping for air, "fuck me" with each thrust of jiz into him. My whole body was jerking and trying to stroke, but it was no use trying. I felt my warm wet jiz inside Dean around my pulsing dick, as he felt the fullness, and cum pouring inside him. I finally had to bend forward atop his back and feel the warmth of my dick buried in his gut. I hugged and massaged his torso as my body involuntarily jerked and throbbed inside his ass. As my knees began to shake, I had to pull out. As I slowly moved back and down onto my knees, I watched mesmerized as my load slowly dripped from his hole, running down the hair on the back of his legs. And, even though I had just unloaded the biggest load of my life, I was still consumed in lust, panting. As Dean slowly let go of the wall and stood, I pulled myself up to yank him around to face me and went down on the penis I craved so long. Dean was still shaking in my mouth as I head-fucked his cock. He immediately began to jerk his cock down my throat. I vaguely remember his involuntary sounds of complete, intense orgasm with his thrusts as a river of cum began forcefully shooting down the back of my throat. All I could do was concentrate on swallowing fast enough to keep up. I don't have much of a gag reflex, but this was too much – too fast. I was drowning in cum. There was no logic to make me realize all I had to do was back away to keep from drowning. Instead, I began to panic, frantically swallowing as quickly as I could, to keep up, but it just kept coming, load after load. I couldn't suck, and there was no need. Keep swallowing; just swallow, I thought frantically. His thrusts then began forcing globs of white, hot cum from my mouth onto his pubes. I could feel all the wasted cum smeared on my face and smell it drenching his pubes. When it finally stopped, we were both panting, unable to catch our breath. I tried to suck and lick it all up, but it was impossible. When Dean's spent cock became too sensitive to continue, I collapsed backward to lie on the wood floor, and Dean dropped down on top of me. We were both still so turned on that we kissed deeply and ground our naked dicks against each other, still shaking and panting. FUCK, it was unbelievable. All I wanted was for it to continue -- and it did. We were not through. We were still desperate to consume each other. As we were finally beginning to catch our breath, I gently rolled Dean off of me. I turned the other direction and went down again on Dean's still throbbing cock. I concentrated hard and tried to give the best blow I know how, to give Dean all the pleasure I could. Dean took my still rock hard cock that had just fully fucked deeply into him and went down to complete the 69. Our attempts to physically consume each other were still frantic as if we were starting anew. We were reaching the point that I never dreamed of experiencing – never new such a thing existed and could not comprehend the enormity of it at the time, although we were living it. We together – and only together -- were becoming what we were doing. Fully consuming each other now – again -- was our only fantasy as every inhibition from reality between us was vanquished. Our living a decade's fantasies dreaming and hoping and wishing for each other separately, which brought us to our countless orgasms individually, was now a reality as if all our countless orgasms apart were now compiled into just one together. Our togetherness in fantasy and reality was itself a supernal orgasm where time and place had no meaning. The sides of our brains where logic resides were swamped in the river of cum we already placed into each other. I pulled Dean on top of me, his pants strapped across my chest. As Dean face-fucked the dick his ass had already fucked, I began to lick off my still-wet cum that had spilled onto his legs. My feet involuntarily tried to shed my pants from my ankles. Dean let my member drop from his mouth to complete making my lower body completely naked. I worked my way back up to his anus I fucked so well and licked all the spilt cum I could get, deeply eating his hole again. Dean pulled my freed legs up and apart and leaned in to eat my ass beautifully. We coiled together to have completely each other's hot holes. As we inevitably both reached the boiling point, we returned to the other's dicks and tried to savor each drop of the other from our unbelievably flaming, new orgasms together. Our chests heaved. Our bodies hurt. Our balls ached. The reality of our together-orgasm all too quickly fell victim to human limitations. It ended, and I won't bore you with the rest. So, was ten years apart of desperately wanting each other worth the wait for this brief time together? I vote yes but suppose that's really for you to decide. A 101 - d2c by Alex Greene writing as "Fiat Knox" Copyright © Alex Greene. All rights reserved. Brazil. September, 1982. 'Doctor Sharpton?' Hot, humid, sweaty, the ancient hotel room with its crumbling walls and ratty-looking mat on the rough wooden floor to its uneven, lumpy bed smelling of sweat, had never seen better days. Dr Thomas William Sharpton looked up from his book. Paolo had entered the room and stood in the doorway, batting away insects with one hand while holding an object in the other. Dr Sharpton stood up from the chair on the balcony where he'd been sitting. He crossed over to the barefoot young lad, and looked down at the item in his hands. 'Good lad,' he told Paolo. 'How much did this set you back?' 'One hundred cruzeiros,' Paolo replied. 'All the money you wired to me.' Dr Sharpton nodded, and crossed over to his bed. Taking out the wallet from his coat, he counted out a couple of bills and proffered them to the young boy. 'For your troubles,' he said. Taking the bills in hand, the boy handed over the object to Dr Sharpton and left the room. Dr Sharpton went back to the balcony chair. Sitting down, he picked up his half-consumed sweet caipirinha and sipped it, turning the item over and over in his hand. It was a small stone, fitting snugly in the palm of his hand. A stone bearing distinctive markings etched into its surface. A stone which offered conclusive proof of the existence of the people he had been looking for. The present day. Julia opened the door, and peered out at the strangers. The taller one was slim, clad in a full length red leather catsuit. Red hair, red heart-shaped sunglasses, red stripper heels. Her smile was natural; as she lowered her shades, Julia could see that the smile actually did reach this woman's eyes. 'Hi,' the woman said. 'The name's Tamsin. Dr Henderson's office sent me here. They say there could be some ... fun.' Julia frowned. 'Mandy? Is that you?' Tamsin stared. 'Julia?' Anna peered around the door jamb and into the corridor. 'You two know each other?' The other figure stepped forwards, looking at Tamsin/Mandy. 'Mum?' she asked. 'It's okay, Jenny,' Tamsin said. 'Look who it is.' The second woman glanced at Julia. 'Oh my God. Auntie Julia?' Anna slowly backed into the living room. The Sharpton Institute. The reception area was a clinical-looking expanse, with a vast, imposing reception desk at the far end. It smelled as clean as it looked; a place where dust particles dared not settle. A couple, a man and a woman, stood and chatted casually, smiling and laughing, in front of the desk. The man was tall and red-haired; the woman was petite, her blonde hair in pigtails. Both were stark naked. The woman held a gas mask in one hand, and the man's erect penis in the other. They were both hot and perspiring, as if they'd just finished some vigorous exercise. Alicia, the receptionist, sat listening to Anna on the phone. 'Okay. Got it. Thanks, Anna,' she said, putting the phone down. 'Okay,' she said, 'now that was freaky weird.' 'What is?' She looked up at Dr Henderson, who'd approached the desk while she'd been talking to Anna. 'That was Anna,' Alicia replied. 'Something unexpected has happened.' 'Report,' he said. 'Did you know that Julia and Handler One are sisters?' Alicia asked. 'What happened to you?' The lighter snapped. Blue cigarette smoke wreathed Tamsin's face. 'There was this chat room,' Tamsin said. 'Amanda ... I ... joined it. The details are fuzzy. The way I figure it is this. There was a link, I think. I clicked on it. There was a page. Something on it - I don't know what it was - caught my attention, and the next thing was, I had accepted an invitation to visit the Sharpton Institute. 'And they processed me.' 'Me, too,' Jenny replied, sucking on an electronic cigarette and blowing out a cloud of white vapour. 'I didn't know you smoked,' Julia said to Tamsin. 'Not till the Sharpton Institute recruited me,' Tamsin replied. 'When I go back to being Mandy, I don't smoke.' 'It's the nicotine,' Anna said. 'It enhances the effect of the reagents we use in conditioning you.' She said this with a cold matter-of-factness; yet the other women just seemed to accept this fact. They were conditioned. They knew that they were conditioned. But they had been conditioned not to get worked up over it. The living room smelled of Febreze, and the window had just been closed to clear the cigarette smoke; so the air was cool. The face in the photo on the coffee table, belonging to some aging, bald, jowly man in an expensive suit, was vaguely familiar. Beside that photo was another; a stern-looking mature woman with a mane of blonde hair. 'His name is Arthur Michaels. He's a spad. Er, special advisor,' Tamsin said. 'They say he's in line for a Lordship some day. The woman in the photo next to him is his wife, Diana. She's not the second subject.' 'Who is?' 'I'll come to that in a moment. Look here.' Another photo skidded across the table. Arthur Michaels in a photo with the Secretary of State and the Prime Minister. 'There was an article on him. Something about exerting undue influence over the PM. Too much influence. A chance just arose to correct that.' 'Which is why we've got to do the p2p thing,' Julia replied. 'd2c,' Anna corrected. 'So who's the second subject?' Tasmin slid another photo across the table. Julia saw a pretty Middle Eastern woman smiling in the photo. Long, straight hair, dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, full lips. 'His mistress, Sahirah Farah Shamima,' Tasmin said. 'Interesting,' Julia said, looking at the photo. 'Why do we need her?' 'As much as he enjoys being married to his wife Diana,' Tamsin said, 'he loves Sahirah. We need that knowledge to turn him.' 'That's all well and good,' Julia said. 'But how do we do that, Mand- I mean Tamsin?' 'We start,' Tamsin replied. 'with a phone call.' She held up her smartphone. The phone rang. Diana Michaels, dressed in her gardening overalls, Wellington boots and gardening gloves, still carrying the scent of the garden with her, picked it up. 'The Michaels residence,' she said, her voice plummy and cultured. 'Hi,' came the voice over the phone. 'Who is this?' 'Time to sleep.' 'Diana's face went slack. She let out her breath. Her eyes glazed over. 'Unconscious mind,' the voice said, 'say hello.' 'Hello,' Diana said, her voice a hollow monotone. 'Begin,' the voice said. 'Follow your instructions.' The line went dead. Diana blinked and looked at the phone. She shrugged and put the receiver down. 'Wrong number,' she said to herself. She turned to go back to the garden; then checked herself and turned to go upstairs. In one of the spare rooms, Diana opened a Victorian armoire and reached for a heavy shoebox on the top shelf. Inside were two silvery metal gas cylinders, held together by a rigid frame, capped with a grey triangular device. Diana attached a short, transparent plastic hose to a nozzle on top of the device. Then she flicked a switch to arm the device - a red LED came on - and put it back in the box. In the echoing garage, she unlocked the Jaguar and opened the door. Diana reached beneath the front passenger seat and pushed the device under the seat, out of sight. Then, closing the door and leaving the garage, she returned to the phone. Dialling 1471, she let the number ring twice and hung up. A moment later she shook her head in confusion, unsure what she was supposed to be doing. Sighing, she returned to the garden. Tamsin looked at her phone. She looked at Julia, Anna and Jenny. 'Done,' she said. 'We're good to go. All we have to do is wait for Arthur Michaels to pick up his woman.' 'And what makes you so sure he's going to be taking that car, to pick her up?' 'Diana's been of great help,' Tamsin replied. 'None of his other cars are working right now. Various mechanical problems.' She smiled. 'Also, today is Friday night. Arthur always takes Friday afternoon off to pick up his woman and head off to his country house in Hampshire.' 'Does his wife know about their affair?' 'Oh, she does,' Tamsin replied. Anna chuckled. 'When do we move?' 'Twenty minutes,' Tamsin said. 'We need to have all the pieces in place by the time Arthur rolls.' 1984. Stephanie Sharpton looked closely at the delicate flowers, each isolated from the other under glass. 'What are they?' Dr Sharpton turned to Stephanie. 'Orchids,' he replied. 'Brazilian orchids, from the deepest part of the rain forest. Unheard-of outside of their tropical environment.' 'Are these what all the fuss was about at Customs?' Stephanie asked. 'They are,' Dr Sharpton replied. He crossed over to stand beside Stephanie. 'They are very important to my research,' he added. 'Why?' 'Don't worry about that,' Dr Sharpton replied, patting Stephanie on her shoulder. 'Let's just say that my research into human behaviour modification just took a massive step forward.' The present. 'We've set up the collection for this point here,' Tamsin said, pointing to the map. 'On the B3420, before the Three Maids Hill roundabout here.' 'How are you arranging it?' 'Collection van here,' Tamsin said, pointing. 'Fake traffic lights here. Cones here to narrow the road and create a bottleneck. B team wagon here, out of sight, ready to move in and clean up once the deed is done.' She looked up at the team. 'Does everybody know what they are doing?' The others replied in the affirmative. 'Then let's do it,' Tamsin replied. The Jaguar passed by the young Lycra-clad cyclist, forcing her to stop at the side of the road. 'Target acquired,' Jenny said, to her mic pickup. 'He's on his way.' 'Acknowledged,' Tamsin said, some way up the road. 'Get ready.' She called up an app on her smartphone, and remotely triggered the lights. Presently, the Jaguar hove into view, slowing down and stopping at the temporary traffic light. The collection van bore the livery of the local council. Sitting in the driver's seat, wearing a council worker's uniform and signal orange tabard, her face half-concealed beneath a cap, Tamsin could see Arthur and Sahirah sitting in the front seat. Arthur clearly preferred to drive his own car, rather than have a chauffeur. Tamsin waited for the right moment. Then she remotely activated the gas cylinders underneath Sahirah's car seat. 'What's going on?' Arthur asked. The lights had been red for what felt like an eternity. 'I don't know,' Sahirah replied. She looked up from her phone, where she'd been tweeting about how the journey always seemed to take forever. She blinked and shook her head. 'Is there a problem?' Arthur rubbed his eyes. 'Not sure,' he said. 'The lights are stuck on red, I think.' Sahirah nodded and began to yawn. Her head and arms felt heavy. 'Oh,' she said, as her phone slipped from her fingers. Beside her, Arthur yawned, beeping his horn for attention. It didn't look as if there was anyone around, apart from that one workman sitting in the council van. Arthur tried beeping the horn again, but there was no response. A creeping lethargy stole upon him. His hands slipped from the wheel onto his lap. Sahirah fumbled beneath her chair for her phone. She felt it, but she could not gain any purchase; her fingers were really clumsy. Unbeknown to her, her bending down to reach beneath the seat was bringing her face closer to the end of the hose, exposing her to a greater concentration of the releasing gas. 'Wait,' Sahirah said, yawning, her eyes half-closing. 'I've got it.' Her hands closed around something hard. 'No, that's not my phone,' she said. She coughed. Beside her, Arthur also coughed, followed by a huge yawn. 'Oh, this is taking forever,' Arthur said, irritably. For some reason, he could barely move his limbs. 'What is going on?' he said, the words slurring. 'What the hell's this?' Sahirah said, slurring her words. She pulled out the gently hissing gas bottles and the hose, and tried picking up the device with leaden hands. She only managed to pull out the hose from the device; gas rushed into the compartment, blowing into their faces. Sahirah's eyelids felt heavy, and her body was becoming unresponsive. She found herself staring at the device, wondering what it was and why it was making that noise; as she thought that, she passed out as Arthur succumbed to unconsciousness beside her, his head lolling back as his eyes closed. 'They're under,' Tamsin said, as the targets slumped in their seats into unconsciousness. She shut off the gas flow in the device, and remotely unlocked the Jaguar. 'Pick them up.' The back of the van opened. Julia and Anna emerged from the van, wearing council uniforms and tabards, their faces concealed behind gas masks. They were carrying more gas cylinders like the one in the Jaguar, but with tubes ending in medical masks. Quickly, they made their way towards the car. Opening the doors, they got to work, undoing the seat belts holding Arthur and Sahirah and strapping the medical breathing masks to their faces. 'Let's get them in the back,' Anna said. 'We've got to drive the car to Arthur's country house and leave it parked there for the weekend.' 'Is that where the second unit is?' Julia asked. 'Yes,' Anna said. 'They're waiting to take the targets to the Institute.' They hauled the couple into the back of the car. Anna got into the driver's seat. 'Julia,' she said, 'you go on back to the Institute with Tamsin. Take the payload here with you and secure it.' She gave Julia the gas cylinders which had been planted under the car seat. 'We only need one driver for this,' Anna said. 'Go. It will be fine.' Julia made her way back to the council van, as Jenny arrived on her bicycle. 'Let's go,' Jenny said, hauling the bike into the back of the collection van. Already, the lights were on green and the Jag was pulling away, the two unconscious targets slumbering in the back. Julia and Jenny closed the back doors of the van, and Tamsin began to pull away. Even as the van drove away, Julia could see a lorry coming along to pick up the cones and traffic lights. 'In a few minutes,' Jenny said, 'it'll be as if there was no-one there.' Julia pulled off her mask. 'Just how it should be.' Arthur could not remember how he came to this room. As far as he knew, he had always been here and had always intended to come here, to whatever this place was. The chamber he was in looked like a luxury hotel room. He was sitting on a leather sofa that had to be worth two grand, minimum. There was another one facing him across from a glass-topped coffee table on which rested a small wooden box and a lighter. There was what looked like a coffee dispenser at the far end of the room, opposite from him, situated beneath a large mirror mounted in the wall. For some reason, Arthur was wearing what looked like a bathrobe of kingfisher blue silk. Underneath the robe, he was naked. He couldn't remember undressing. The room felt hot and humid; a greenhouse. It reminded him of his own greenhouse back home, where he kept those marijuana plants growing between the tomatoes. His skin began to prickle with sweat. Persipiration covered his forehead. 'This is incredible,' Julia whispered as she peered at the CCTV display on the HD screen in the control room. In the image on the screen, Arthur could be seen opening his eyes and coming around. Anna leaned towards the microphone in front of her. 'Sahirah opens the door and enters the room,' she said. 'She is wearing only a short bathrobe. She crosses the room and sits opposite you, crossing her legs.' The door opened, and Sahirah entered. She, too, was wearing a bathrobe; short-sleeved, it only covered her to the tops of her thighs. Smiling, Sahirah crossed the room and sat on the sofa facing him, crossing her long legs. She smiled at Arthur. 'Wait,' Julia said, 'he's responding to Sahirah?' On the screen, Arthur turned towards the door, reacting to thin air; as they watched, he turned to follow something only he could see, crossing his legs and sitting back. 'He's got a hard-on,' Julia said, watching as Arthur tried to conceal his erection. 'Watch this,' Julia said, leaning towards the microphone. Sahirah leaned forwards as Arthur watched. As she opened the small box and took out a cigarette, the front of her robe fell open and he could see a glimpse of her breasts. He watched as she lit the cigarette, blowing a streamer of smoke into the air. 'You don't smoke,' he said, as she looked at him, her robe still lying open, her breasts still exposed. She took another drag of the cigarette. 'I don't,' she replied. She blew a streamer of blue smoke at Arthur, pursing her lips. Arthur coughed as the smoke reached his face. Julia watched Arthur cough and wave his hand in the air in front of him. She looked at Anna. 'Did he just react to non-existent cigarette smoke?' she asked Anna. 'Yes,' Anna replied. 'I had no idea the gas could do this,' she said. 'No, it just induces hypnosis,' Anna said, as Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 'This is one of the triggers I put into his mind while he was in a deep trance. Watch this.' She leaned towards the microphone. 'She is now getting to her feet and approaching you, undoing her robe ... she is standing in front of you, opening her robe and holding it open so you can see her naked body ...' Putting out the cigarette, Sahirah then got up to her feet and approached Arthur, loosening her robe. As he watched, she opened the robe and stood in front of him, exposing her nude body to him. Then she got to her knees in front of him. Her fingers were warm and firm as she gently parted his bare, hairy legs. Her eyes never looked away from his. Julia watched, wide-eyed, as Arthur lay back on the sofa, his erection standing straight up. Presently, he began to buck and writhe slowly, one arm reaching for thin air as the other gripped the base of his cock. Beside her, Anna sat back in the chair, regarding Julia with the look of quiet satisfaction of a professional at her work. Arthur kissed and kneaded Sahirah's breasts. Her skin tasted sharp from perspiration, and had a faint, lingering flowery scent. Slowly, Sahirah impaled herself on Arthur's penis, taking it deep inside her with a satisfied sigh. Arthur felt her body press down on his; felt the skin of her thighs, the warmth of her vagina sheathing his cock. He gasped. Sahirah raised herself the length of the shaft of his penis, and slid down it again. This motion turned into a slow rocking. Arthur began to moan softly, his breaths rising and falling in time with hers. Sahirah leaned forwards, still smoothly rocking her body on his cock. Arthur reached for her soft breasts and kept kneading them as Sahirah's breathing became moans of passion. 'He looks ready to explode,' Julia whispered. Anna continued to watch Arthur as the subject continued to make love to a companion who existed only in his mind. 'He is almost there,' Anna said. 'But he's not going to come until Sahirah says a trigger word. Until then, his orgasm's just going to build up and build up.' 'And when he blows ...' Julia said, looking at Anna. 'Oh, yes,' Anna replied. 'So just one thing,' Julia asked. 'Where's Sahirah?' 'She's being conditioned herself,' Anna replied. 'We've got her in a room with a real person.' 'Where?' 'Where else?' Anna said, smiling. 'Your favourite. Room A 101.' 'Huh,' Julia said. 'Who's the person that she's with?' 'You're going to love this,' Anna replied, flicking a control. The big screen changed, and Julia saw Sahirah inside Room A 101 - the room where Julia herself had been conditioned - and a woman whom she did not know. A 101 - d2c 'Oh, my God,' she said. 'Yes. That is Arthur Michaels' wife, Diana,' Anna said, grinning. 'They'll tear each other apart,' Julia said. 'I don't think so,' Anna said. 'They've been pumping Key 509 into the room for a few minutes, now, and both of them have been helping themselves to the coffee in the dispenser - coffee that is also laced with the drug. 'Any minute now, things are going to get very interesting for those two women in A 101 ...' 'I know,' Diana said to Sahirah. Sahirah looked up at Diana. She had been looking at this thick, glossy magazine. She had no idea what she was doing here. Her last memory was of waiting to be picked up by Arthur to head for their usual weekend away at his place out in the countryside. And now, here she was, sitting at a table in a windowless room, sipping lousy coffee and reading some sort of magazine with some woman sitting on the couch. 'Sorry?' 'I know who you are,' Diana said, getting up to her feet, a little unsteadily. 'You're sleeping with my husband.' That caught Sahirah's attention. Her head, which had been slowly sinking, now snapped up. Her eyes were wide. She stared at Diana. 'We've not met in person,' Diana said. 'You are Sahirah. Arthur's mistress.' 'I see no point in prevaricating,' Sahirah replied. 'I am. You must be Diana.' She slowly got up from the chair. 'Hope you don't mind if I don't shake hands.' 'That would be wise,' Diana replied, coldly. 'Well,' Sahirah said, 'what shall we do, now that the formal introductions are out of the way?' Her heart was pounding for some reason. 'I think,' Diana said, 'that I need some coffee first.' She made her way over to the coffee dispenser. The idea of getting coffee seemed like a brilliant idea to Sahirah. 'Mind if I join you?' she asked. Diana have her a sidelong look for a moment, then nodded. In close proximity to Diana, Sahirah could smell Arthur's wife's scent. Mixed with the lingering air of the garden, she was wearing something Sahirah knew, but couldn't quite place. Then she recognised the aroma. 'Oh,' she whispered. 'What?' Diana's expression was cold. More than that; there was pain in her eyes. 'I ... I had no idea,' Sahirah said. 'That's his aftershave. You're wearing his aftershave as your scent.' 'It reminds me of him,' Diana replied. 'I mean, I've got my own boys for fun, but when it matters ... I still love Arthur, more than he will ever know.' Diana sucked at her lower lip. Sahirah was so close to her that she could feel the woman's body heat. 'And you're afraid that I'm going to take him away from you,' Sahirah said. For some reason, she couldn't stop smiling. Diana looked so beautiful, up close, with that glow that all mature women have. Diana nodded. 'When we were friends at school, back in the day,' she said, 'we were inseparable. Then we fell in love, and by God we had to fight to stay together. Our parents never fully approved, not even when Arthur made his first millions back in the Eighties selling console games and simple personal computers. We just came from different stock. Breeding, my dear.' Diana briefly wondered what Sahirah would smell like. Momentarily, she thought of burying her face in Sahirah's luxurious hair and getting a good, long inhale of her scent. Her heart leaped at the thought. She frowned. Why was she getting excited like this? 'I know about breeding,' Sahirah said, reaching for Diana's forehead to brush aside a loose lock of the woman's hair which had fallen over her eye. Shocked, Diana slapped away the hand. 'Presumptuous upstart-' Sahirah looked stunned for a moment. 'YOU-' she screamed. The coffees forgotten, they screamed incoherently and moved together, hands reaching for one another, seeking purchase anywhere; hair, arms, face. Fingernails sought to rake facial skin like claws. Faces flushed and contorted, the women screamed like animals as they struggled to keep from killing one another - or at least to keep from clawing out each other's eyeballs or leaving permanent visible claw marks. Julia watched the fight on the screen, as Anna kept monitoring Arthur. 'I think Arthur's about to release,' Anna said. 'I'm more concerned about the fight,' Julia replied. 'Don't worry about that,' Anna said, smiling. 'In a moment, the Key 509 will kick in fully, and you're going to love what happens.' Arthur had never known sex like this before. He had gone far beyond his normal pleasure threshold, to another plane of ecstasy entirely. Gasping and moaning, his face and upper body flushed and sweating, he begged Sahirah to let him come. Sahirah, her breasts moving rhythmically in time with her hip movements, looked down on Arthur and smiled. 'Here we go,' Anna said. She said the trigger word that unleashed Arthur's orgasm. Arthur shuddered and came. The ecstasy of release burned through his consciousness, tearing down the walls, the little censors in his mind that reminded him that he was awake. The Key 509 in his system gave the waves of pleasure radiating from his groin a force of reality that his mind could not resist. As Arthur climaxed, he shuddered, his semen spurting over himself, onto the couch and the floor as, with a grunt, his back arched one more time and he fell slowly into a deep, deep trance. In A101, the screaming and fighting abruptly stopped. Sahirah and Diana separated, glowering at one another, growling. Their hair and clothes were in disarray. Their faces were flushed and contorted. Panting, they were not to know that every deep breath served to draw in a greater concentration of Key 509 gas into their lungs. 'Worthless bitch-' Sahirah screamed. 'Uncouth vulgarian trollop-' Diana hissed. They looked at one another. They caught one another's eyes. A moment later, they were back together, their hands roaming over one another bodies, looking for purchase. Lips locking, breath mingling, soft moans coming from the women as another passion emerged, seeking purchase in their minds, demanding its own release. Diana stopped kissing Sahirah, grabbed a handful of her hair and buried her face in Sahirah's locks, inhaling her scent. Sahirah sighed passionately. Her hips ground against Diana's. With a soft moan, Diana responded in kind. They kissed again; deeply. Passionately. Hungrily, with wet lips and probing tongues and hot breath and moans drawn from the depth of the body. Separating for a moment, Sahirah and Diana looked at each other with undisguised lust for a moment, before moving back together again. This time, with feverish hands they began removing one another's clothing, desperately eager to expose the other's skin. Diana's blouse and Sahirah's top flew through the air, to land on the back of the couch. Their bras followed not long afterwards. Kissing passionately, the now-topless Sahirah and Diana made their way to their couch, Sahirah gently raking Diana's body with light strokes of her fingernails as Diana caressed and kneaded Sahirah's ample breasts with her firm fingers. Diana's skin tasted of perspiration and some exotic cologne; Sahirah's tongue explored the hot skin of Diana's throat, her shoulders and chest. Diana moaned as Sahirah began to nibble at her smaller breasts, Sahirah's hands roaming over Diana's hot, soft skin. Diana's hips ground against Sahirah's thigh. They separated again to remove the rest of their clothes. Now naked, they moved back together, falling onto the couch, kissing, their fingers finding each other's waiting vulvas, parting soft flesh, seeking out each other's clitorises. Presently, Sahirah and Diana began to breathe regularly, heavily, in unison, as both began to approach climax. With a groan and a shudder, Sahirah came first, followed a few seconds later by Diana. 'Oh, my God,' Sahirah said, stroking Diana's hair, 'that was intense.' Diana murmured sleepily. 'What the Hell did we just do?' Sahirah asked, her words slurring. Drowsiness was stealing upon her, making her limbs heavy and limp. Gradually, she joined Diana in slumber. 'They're all ready,' Anna said to Julia. She tapped instructions on the keyboard in front of her. Presently, white-coated men and women, dragging hospital trolleys behind them, entered the chambers where Arthur, Diana and Sahirah lay sleeping. The lab technicians were all wearing gas masks. Behind them, Tamsin entered the room containing Diana and Sahirah, and Jenny the room containing Arthur. As Julia watched, they picked up the three and placed them on the trolleys, before leading them out of the rooms. Just before leaving the room, Tamsin looked directly into the video feed and gave a thumbs up to Julia and Anna in the control room. 'And that's them sent off to Central Processing,' Anna said. She looked up at Julia. 'Job done. Let's go and get something to eat.' Three weeks later. The Jaguar approached the yellow Vauxhall Vectra parked in the layby on the road up to the Three Maids Hill roundabout. The bonnet of the Vectra was propped open. The pretty Middle Eastern-looking woman stood over the exposed engine. She was wearing a short-sleeved yellow blouse and an impractically short skirt. Arthur got out of the car and approached the woman. 'Can I help?' He was carrying a rolled-up newspaper. 'Yeah,' Sahirah said. 'The car won't start or something.' 'Ah,' Arthur said. 'Here. Hold this a minute.' He handed the rolled-up newspaper to Sahirah. Arthur went around the front of the car and peered into the engine compartment as Sahirah leaned against the side of the car and lit up a cigarette. Briefly, Sahirah caught the eye of Arthur's wife, who sat in the passenger seat of the car, using an electronic cigarette. There was the briefest of nods from Diana. Sahirah smiled slightly. 'I think I have it, Miss,' Arthur said. 'See if you can start her up now.' Sahirah put out the cigarette and got into the car, dropping the newspaper on the passenger seat. A moment later, and the Vectra's engine caught and began turning over. 'There you go,' Arthur said, closing the bonnet. 'That should do the trick.' After a few moments listening to the car running smoothly, Sahirah leaned out of the window, smiling. 'Thanks,' she said. 'Any time, Miss,' Arthur replied, getting into the Jaguar and driving off. Sahirah sat in the car, and turned the engine off again. She sat and listened to the rustling of the wind in the trees and the silence in the road. Presently, another car approached. An identical yellow Vectra. It parked in the layby just up ahead of hers. A white woman got out, with auburn hair. Her red dress was even more impractical than Sahirah's short skirt. Sahirah got out of the car, clutching her car keys, and approached the auburn-haired woman. Without a word, they fell into each other's arms, kissing one another passionately, their hands roaming over one another's bodies, caressing each other's breasts and firm skin through the flimsy material of their clothes ... An articulated lorry approached, beeping its horn. The driver leered at the two lesbians as he drove past. Shocked, the young women abruptly separated; staring at the departing truck, they looked sheepishly at one another. 'Maybe another time,' Sahirah said. 'Yeah,' the auburn-haired woman replied. 'Some other time.' Sahirah got into a yellow Vectra, and drove off leaving Tamsin behind alone in the layby. She watched as the young woman drove the car out of sight, before getting into the Vectra that was left behind in the layby. On the passenger seat was the rolled-up newspaper. 'Tamsin here,' said Tamsin into her mobile phone, as she peeled off and turned the car around to go down the lane in the opposite direction to the one Sahirah had taken. 'Switch made. A few miles away, Julia sat in a people carrier in another layby. Beside her was Jenny. In the back were two members of the Sharpton cleanup crew. Presently, the Vectra drove up to the layby and parked behind it. The B team got out of the people carrier and passed by Tamsin, who got into the back of the people carrier. The keys of the Vectra were still in the car. 'Did you get it?' Julia asked, as they drove back to the Sharpton Institute. Tamsin looked at the rolled-up newspaper in her hand. She opened it out. There was a small brown envelope inside; opening it, Tamsin shook two 64-gigabyte flash drives into the palm of her hand. 'Looks like it,' she said. 'Let's get this data home so we can get it analysed.' 'Why all that rigmarole with the cars?' Julia asked Tamsin. 'What was the point of the vulgar display?' 'Misdirection,' Tamsin replied. 'If anyone saw anything, all they'd likely have seen were two lesbians making out in the layby. I don't think they'd have paid attention to the cars at all. Also, there was no way of knowing who had come to the layby in which car.' She chuckled. 'Also, it was an excuse for me to make out with Sahirah for a bit.' 'Do you think up spy stuff like this all the time?' Tamsin smiled. 'Why do you think I'm designated Handler One?' Her mobile phone vibrated. She picked up the call. 'Tamsin,' she said. A moment later, she smiled. 'That's brilliant. I'll tell them.' She hung up. 'What?' Jenny asked. 'That was Home,' Tamsin said. 'As soon as we get the payload delivered, we're to go straight to the boss's office. Doctor Sharpton is in, and wants to thank us personally.' Back at the Institute, Tamsin placed the flash drives in Dr Henderson's hands. Dr Henderson smiled. 'Thanks,' he said. 'Go and see Dr Sharpton now.' The team made their way along the corridor. They bumped into Anna, who was wearing a lab coat and a gas mask, and carrying a clipboard. She waved at the agents as they passed. The lift at the end of the corridor took them down four floors. This floor was busy; lights shone on the white-coated, masked technicians as they tended to the rows upon rows of flowers. The antiseptic odour competed with the heady floral scent of the orchids. At the far end of the room, the team approached a door. Tamsin knocked and entered. The room was occupied. They saw someone sitting behind the desk, turned away from them, staring at the big screen behind the desk. On the screen was a BBC report announcing that the government had committed a large sum of money towards human response research. 'All is well,' Tamsin said. 'It looks as if one of our obstacles has been removed.' The figure in the chair turned to face them. 'I believe that we can now proceed with the next phase of our operation without interference,' said Dr Sharpton. 'Doctor,' Julia began, 'I -' 'Please,' Dr Sharpton said. 'Call me Stephanie.' A 101 - Field Test by Alex Greene writing as "Fiat Knox" Copyright © Alex Greene. All rights reserved. 'Poisoned?' Anita blew a stream of smoke into the air. 'Yes, Tom, poisoned,' she replied, looking at Julia. 'That's what I wanted to call you all over for,' Julia said, looking at the three neighbourly married couples in her living room. Tom and Anita Carlisle from next door looked like each other, Tom having the same kind of short brunette hair, the same light tan and the same style in shell suits. Serena and Jeff Sutton from across the road looked like a typical middle class couple. Jeff, in his square glasses, white shirt and powder blue jumper, brown slacks and shoes, looked every inch the computer nerd that he was. Serena was taller, slender, with long straight brunette hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a stylish yellow dress and matching shoes and handbag. Her car, parked in the drive across the road, was the same colour as her clothes and accessories. Finally Harry and whatshername Travis from Number 15, just up the road were another middle class, not exactly well-to-do, couple. The wife had a square jawed, wide face, high cheekbones and a mane of blonde hair, whereas Harry was big boned, with dark skin, short black hair, stubble and sideburns. 'You did want to know what happened to the tree, Tom,' Julia added. 'Well Jane and Simon Thompson – your neighbours at Number 17,' she said, pointing to the Travises and the Suttons – poisoned that tree.' 'Bloody inconvenience,' Jeff muttered. 'Ruined my garden.' 'Ours, too,' Tom agreed. 'The crown of the tree destroyed my fence and landed in our ornamental pond. Killed off our koi.' 'I still have you all beat,' Julia said. 'For four weeks, now, I've had to take a taxi to work, and I still had to pay to get the wreckage of my old car off my own drive.' 'But we know all this,' said Mrs Travis – just as Julia remembered that her name was Catherine. She looked at Julia, lighting a cigarette from the ornate wooden box on the coffee table. 'Why are we all here?' 'Well, my insurance company at first weren't going to pay up,' Julia said. 'Said it was force majeure, what they call an Act of God. Trouble is, when the Council came back they said that the tree had indeed been poisoned by the Thompsons.' 'Why in God's name would they do such a stupid thing?' 'Oh, money,' Julia replied. 'The Thompsons were trying to get a better asking price from the sale of Number 17, but the Council weren't budging on the tree. It was healthy, and it was over 200 years old so there was a preservation order protecting it.' 'So ...' Tom asked, looking at Anita. 'So they went out some night, and put poison in the tree,' Anita replied. 'You know; maybe they drilled a hole into it and poured, what, bleach?' She looked at Julia. 'Industrial solvent, according to the Council,' Julia replied. 'Killed the tree from the inside out. And then it fell over and ...' She mimed the tree's fall. 'And what does that mean for our claims?' Catherine asked. Julia grinned. 'We can go ahead and sue the Thompsons after all,' Julia replied. 'Also, since the cause of the damage is officially not force majeure but accidental destruction indirectly inflicted by sabotage, our insurance policies can pay up for all the damages.' The neighbours looked at each other, joy registering in their faces. 'My friend in the Council is willing to submit a report to each of your insurance companies,' Julia said, taking in the smiles on the faces of her neighbours. 'So you can get cash from your insurance and you can still sue the Thompsons. So are the Council, for destruction of their property - the tree. But do you want to know the best part?' 'What could be better than this?' Harry asked. 'When the tree fell, its roots came away with it,' Julia said. 'That weakened the foundations of the Thompson's house.' Serena and Anita chuckled as they cottoned on to what Julia was saying. A moment later, as they caught on, the rest joined in. 'The Thompsons' house has been condemned as structurally unsound,' Julia concluded. 'It's now worthless. And their insurance company won't cover the loss, either.' Catherine breathed out one last cloud of fragrant smoke and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, followed by Anita. 'Well, that sounds like cause for a celebration,' she said. 'It has been a long four weeks since the tree fell,' Julia concurred. 'I brought along a couple of bottles of bubbly for our celebration. I think they're still in the car. Hang on. I'll get the keys.' She bent down to open a large black leather handbag at her feet. The old fashioned handbag had a gold plated clasp, and almost looked like a Doctor's bag. 'Oh. They're not in here,' Julia said. As she reached into the bag, she found what she was really looking for: the little wheel on the valve on the small silver gas cylinder inside the bag. Fixed to the nozzle was a length of transparent tubing, its end barely visible poking out of one side of the bag. Julia turned the wheel, and a thin streamer of gas began to leak invisibly and inaudibly from the bag and into the room. Julia closed the bag and stood up, smiling. 'Won't be a second,' she said. 'I'll see what's keeping Anna with the food in the kitchen, too.' Quietly, she made her way out of the room and shut the door behind her, sealing the neighbours into a room filling slowly with the colourless, odourless gas. In the kitchen, Anna was waiting for Julia, a latex gas mask held out for Julia to take. Anna herself was wearing a gas mask already. Julia slipped the mask on over her head. 'They love the smokes,' she said, before settling the mask over her face. Anna chuckled, the laugh muffled by her mask. Now all they had to do was wait. Wait, and play the DVD. Catherine took out an old fashioned silver cigarette case which her Mum had left to her. Opening the ornate wooden box, she began taking some of the cigarettes from inside it and slipping them into her case, saying 'I'm having some of these.' 'Where'd she say she gets them from?' asked Tom, helping himself. Closing the box and her case, Catherine lit one up and sat back. 'Turkey, I think,' she said. 'She told me last time there's plenty more where they came from. She gets them in from someone at work, she says.' Tina coughed, swallowing a yawn. 'Cool.' Catherine elbowed Harry, who looked half asleep. Harry jolted awake with a snort, and looked about the room feeling slightly embarrassed. A sudden burst of upbeat music startled them; the ident jingle of a TV show. 'Hey,' Harry said, startled, 'the TV's come on.' 'Who turned it on?' Catherine asked. Serena yawned and shrugged. Everyone looked at the large wall-mounted flat plasma screen. 'It's that show, whatsitsname, Early Bird,' Tom said. 'You watch the show, don't you, Nita?' 'Yeah,' Anita said, as the smiling faces of Early Bird's presenters, Paul Scholey and Honey Weatherby, appeared on the screen, talking. 'Turn it up. I want to know what they're talking about.' '- and as you are well aware, one of this country's most famous self-help gurus is, of course, the neurochemist Doctor Thomas Sharpton.' Paul was the quintessential TV show presenter; slick, professional, with a square, earnest, clean shaven face and short silver hair. Beside him, Honey Weatherby was a pretty honey blonde with a round, wholesome-looking "girl next door" face, a wide, smiling mouth and high cheekbones. Honey wore a white blouse of a thin fabric, through which her arms and torso could faintly be seen. Honey's white bra was also faintly visible through the material. 'And we have him here on our programme,' Honey was saying. The camera cut to Doctor Sharpton; a man with heavy glasses and a serious expression on his long face. He sat in one of the studio's comfy chairs, facing Paul and Honey across the studio. 'It's lovely to have you on the show, Doctor,' Paul said. Dr Sharpton smiled. 'It's great to be here on the show, Paul, Honey,' he replied. 'Now earlier in the programme, we had Doctor Jane Seavers from LA talking about her Seavers self-help technique.' 'And very interesting it was, too, and her technique does have some validity,' Dr Sharpton replied, 'but I've got to admit that I've been in this business a bit longer than she has. Fifteen years longer, to be exact.' 'So you think her technique has some merits?' 'Some,' Dr Sharpton replied, 'but the Sharpton Method is still more versatile and can be applied to a much wider range of problems, such as coping with house moves and the stresses of divorce – not just quitting smoking or controlling your eating.' 'Can you show us how it's done?' Paul asked. 'I'll start with the basics,' Dr Sharpton said. 'Oh, and those of you in the audience can join in as well,' Honey added, looking at the camera. 'This looks interesting,' Harry said. His wife tapped his arm to silence him. The couples sat straight, looking at the screen. 'It actually begins with you gathering your thoughts. Try to relax, and start taking deep, easy breaths,' Dr Sharpton said. On the screen, the heads and shoulders of Paul and Honey got up from their comfy sofa and stood facing the audience, side by side. Both of them began breathing deeply and slowly, their breaths coming together and synchronising. 'Breathe in deeply ...' Dr Sharpton said. 'Then breathe out again, slowly.' On screen, Paul and Honey breathed out as instructed, smiling. 'And continue,' Dr Sharpton said off screen. 'Breathing in ... and out ... in ... and out again.' In the living room, the couples were now all watching the screen, silently breathing in and out in time with the couple on the screen and the instructions of Doctor Sharpton. As Dr Sharpton continued on the screen, the gas being released from the bag on the floor continued to fill the room all around the couples, slowly having an increasing effect on them all. On the screen, Honey began to yawn and blink on cue. Paul blinked as well, nodding and jerking his head. In the room, the couples were being affected by the gas, and by the apparent sleepy behaviour of the screen presenters. Anita was yawning openly; Catherine'e eyes were rolling into her head. Jerking her head, she shook herself, leaning forwards to stub out the cigarette in the ashtray before she dropped off with a lit cigarette in her hand. 'Oh,' she said, wondering why her body was so heavy and clumsy. Beside her, Harry was slumping in the chair, yawning. Anita's head was slowly sinking forwards; Tom was also succumbing, his head lolling to one side, his eyelids fluttering. Dizzy and sleepy, Catherine slumped to one knee, trying to keep her eyes open and failing, her head sinking to the coffee table. The Suttons, closest to the bag with the gas cylinder, slowly sank sideways on the sofa, Serena's head coming to rest on her husband's shoulder. And on the screen, Honey and Paul continued to breathe gently in and out, Dr Sharpton's voice having lapsed into silence. Anna and Julia came in, masked and naked. Julia opened the bag and shut off the gas flow. Anna took out a video camera. Standing on either side of the screen, facing the couples, Anna turned the video camera on the neighbours. 'Now,' came Dr Sharpton's voice again, 'everyone watching the programme now just open your eyes. Open your eyes. That's it. You're not asleep; only in a trance. Listen to what I say. Whatever you see in the room is perfectly and completely normal, and everything you do is also normal.' The couples stirred, opening their eyes. Catherine got up slowly from the coffee table, blinking, elbowing Harry. 'Come on,' she hissed, 'get up.' 'I must have ... must have dozed off,' mumbled Harry sleepily as he got to his feet. He looked down at his uncomfortable erection, and then around him. The others were all standing up. Harry knew that he could see two naked women wearing gas masks, standing on either side of the TV, and that they looked like his host Julia and her friend. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. For a moment he thought that he ought to say something about this. But a quick glance around at his neighbours convinced him that he should keep quiet about this. Nobody else seemed to be making a fuss about the naked women, so he decided to keep quiet about it. Let somebody else do the worrying. 'Now I want you to look at the screen,' said Dr Sharpton's voice. 'Just follow the lead of the people you see on the screen.' The screen cut to Paul Scholey and Honey Weatherby, who were now slowly removing their clothes. Mesmerised in more ways than one, Tom watched the screen, his eyes wide, his breathing heavy and his erection building. Anita touched the bulge in his trousers. Tom looked at her. 'I didn't know she turned you on,' she whispered. 'I just ... just always had this fantasy about Honey Weatherby stripping naked on the telly,' Tom replied. 'You never told me,' Anita said, stroking Tom's bulge. As Paul proceeded to undo his shirt on screen, and Honey continued to unbutton her white blouse beside him, the camera slowly pulled back to reveal their whole upper bodies, as far as the waist. The couples in Julia's living room followed suit. Anita and Catherine were the first to start removing their clothes, revealing their trim figures. Next were Tom and Jeff, followed by Harry and lastly Serena, who simply slipped her dress down her body, revealing her bra and panties and her slim body. 'By now,' said Paul, 'you should have taken off your tops, like me and Honey here.' Paul was bare chested; Honey was indeed topless. Both stood squarely in front of the cameras. Honey's breasts were magnificent, and her stomach flat and trim. Paul's clean, hairless chest spoke of many months of working out. Of the women, Catherine's tits were large, soft and all natural, compared to Anita's firm peaks. Serena's were the smallest pair, but Serena's nipples were pierced. Catherine and Serena had tattoos. Catherine's was a cherub on her back, just on the shoulder; Serena's tattoo, on her right arm, was a rose. 'Now we can't be there in person to meet all of you lovely people,' Paul continued, 'but I'm sure you will be feeling grateful at Dr Sharpton for helping you to relax.' He began tugging at his trousers and unzipping. Beside him, Honey began opening her slacks, sliding them down and revealing plain white panties. Honey's panties had a tell tale wet patch. Now wearing only their underwear, Paul and Honey stood facing the camera. Paul's erection was straining to burst free of his underwear. Honey's nipples were hard, and both their faces were flushed and red, with slightly confused expressions as if they could not quite work out why they were doing what they were doing, in the Early Bird TV studios at that, but unable to stop either smiling or stripping. 'This is making you want to rub your sausage, isn't it?' Catherine said to Harry, her voice gentle yet earnest and betraying her sexual arousal. Harry, blushing, nodded. Catherine stroked Harry's erect cock through his taut underpants, and Harry's breath shuddered, his face red and flustered. 'Good job I let you talk me into wearing clean undies,' Jeff muttered to Serena. Serena elbowed him in the ribs, and continued to stare at the couple on the screen, her heartbeat racing, her breath rapid. Honey stepped forwards. 'And now we're ready to take the next step. Aren't we?' The couples nodded in agreement. The cameras panned back, revealing Honey as she bent forwards, pulling down her panties. When she stood straight again and stepped out of her knickers, she finally stood naked on the screen, the hairs of her bush glistening with little beads of moisture. A chorus of moans of arousal filled the room. Now five women stood naked in Julia's living room. 'And now, guys, it's your turn,' said Paul, slipping his pants down and stepping out of them, his erection standing stiff and proud, as were the penises of the three men in the room. Now Honey turned to look at Paul. 'Do what I do, girls,' she said, stepping close enough to Paul to run two fingertips up and down the length of Paul's cock. 'Like this,' she said, looking into Paul's eyes, catching the strain on his face. 'Do you like this, Paul?' she asked Paul, who nodded vigorously. 'Are – are we st- still ro- rolling here?' Paul said, his words a squeak, perplexity vying with lust on his red face. In the living room, Serena, Anita and Catherine were pleasuring their bewildered husbands with deft strokes of their polished nails the length of their fleshy, red shafts, smiling as they looked into the eyes of their men. 'And now,' whispered Honey, slowly sinking to her knees, 'you know what to do next to your men, don't you?' Turning so her mouth was on a level with the tip of Paul's cock, Honey Weatherby gently blew on the rim of his glans while running a delicate fingernail about the tip, eliciting a strained moan from Paul – and from the three men whom the women in the living room were eagerly processing. 'Start by licking,' Honey said, kissing and licking Paul's cock, 'and proceed to sucking when it's nice ... and ... wet.' Julia glanced across to Anna, who continued taping the three women kneeling and fellating their husbands. Gasps and moans of pleasure from the men were mingled with slurping, sucking sounds from their partners. Catherine was humming, her lips wrapped around Harry's thick penis. There was a slurping sound. 'That's enough for now,' Honey said on the screen. The women looked around and saw that Honey, holding Paul's penis in her hand, was now standing up. 'Let's do this next bit to some music,' Honey said, gesturing. A low, thrumming African drum rhythm began, and Honey and Paul, facing one another, began to dance together. Julia turned up the volume, filling the room with the beat. The couples began to dance together, the women moving their hips close to their partners' dicks, toying with their nipples and pussies as they emulated Honey on the screen. 'Boys,' Paul said, 'kneel.' Jeff, Harry and Tom now knelt, as Anita, Catherine and Serena continued to dance over them, their vaginas close to the men's mouths. 'Men,' Honey said, 'pleasure your women.' As the camera panned down to see Paul delivering cunnilingus to the on–screen Honey Weatherby, Jeff, Harry and Tom climbed onto their hands and knees and went down on their prone women. A few minutes later, on-screen Paul climbed onto Honey and slid his penis deep into her. Harry and Catherine were the first couple to turn cunnilingus into full penetration; Catherine's legs wrapped instinctively about Harry as he began to thrust deeply into her, grunting in time with her heavy panting. Anita turned the tables on Tom, rolling over so that she was on top, straddling him and impaling herself on him. Jeff also lay on his back as Serena climbed onto him, this time in the reverse cowgirl position; she began to move her hips up and down slowly, as she faced Anna's video camera. As Anna taped, and Julia watched, the couples' breathing deepened, became more rapid as they approached climax. On screen, Honey had adopted the same reverse cowgirl position as Serena, straddling Paul, facing away from him, her body sliding up and down his cock, her breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of her hips. Jeff and Serena were the first to come, Jeff grunting and panting as Serena suddenly slumped and relaxed. Catherine was next, groaning and shuddering as Harry came inside her a moment later. Last to come in the room were Tom and Anita. 'Oh, my God,' whispered Honey as she came on screen. 'I just felt Paul fill me.' Julia crossed the room, kneeling and opening the bag which held the cylinder of the experimental gas. From the bag, she took out a mobile phone, which she gave to Anna, and an aerosol spray bearing the stencilled word SOMNOZINE. She began to spray this into the room, over the couples. A 101 - Field Test Slowly, coughing and yawning, their eyelids closing, their eyes rolling into the back of their heads, Jeff, Serena, Catherine, Harry, Tom and Anita succumbed to the anaesthetic, collapsing in satisfied slumber to the ground. 'Looks like the chlorodormathane worked,' Anna said. 'Induced the trance state, enhanced suggestibility. We only had to increase the oxytocin mixture to three percent.' 'So it's good to go, then,' Julia said. 'I'll recommend it for shipping,' Anna said. 'It'll be sent off to our agents in all our branches.' She texted "DONE" to a number on the phone, to summon the snatch squad which was waiting in the van nearby to take them all for processing. On the screen, Honey Weatherby got up from the supine Paul. Accepting a cigarette and a light from someone off screen, she looked at the camera, blowing a cloud of blue smoke into the air. Stepping into the centre of the screen, she smiled that perfect smile again. 'And now, someone is probably dosing you with sleeping gas. But don't worry.' She took a drag, the red coal of her cigarette glowing. 'You're going to be in safe hands,' she continued, breathing out blue smoke. 'I guess that's all we have time for in the studios, guys,' Honey said, turning around to plant a foot on Paul's stomach, shoving down and making Paul double over with a whoosh of expelled breath. She glanced back at the camera one last time, dragging at the cigarette. 'We'll be back this time tomorrow. Live, and for real. So until tomorrow, it's goodbye from us.' The phone rang on the reception desk, the trilling sound echoing off the mirrored walls. A pretty young woman answered it. 'Sharpton Human Response Research Institute,' she began, in the usual slightly bored ritual manner adopted by receptionists the world over. 'Alicia speaking. How may I help you?' As she spoke, she nodded, smiling, at Hank, one of the lab techs. A smart, fit young man wearing a white lab coat and carrying a clipboard, he had just entered the reception area and was crossing the foyer, leading a couple. The man was tall, ginger, with a goatee. The woman was shorter, pale, a little curvy, with shoulder length straight brunette hair. Both wore a glazed expression on their vacant, dazed – looking faces, and both were stark naked. The man sported an obvious erection. Alicia found her gaze following the male subject dreamily. The voice on the other end of the line interrupted Alicia's reverie with a couple of short, sharp words. Alicia started, surprised; then her face paled. 'Yes, sir. Putting you through to Dr Henderson now, sir,' she stammered, straightening up and reaching for the telephone keypad to divert the call. The phone rang. Alicia patched the caller through without announcement, and sat back in her chair, breathing heavily, concern on her face. Then she waited. One of the assistants emerged from the half – hidden side door. A tall, slim young man in a white lab coat, his black hair was tousled. Alicia gestured and he approached the reception desk. 'Joe,' Alicia said, 'I just got a call. I put it through to Dr Henderson a minute ago.' 'Okay,' Joe said. 'And?' 'Go and have a word with the Super,' Alicia said. 'In a minute, it's going to be all hands on deck. You'll want him to get all the staff ready.' Joe wandered off back to the offices. Another call came through, a few minutes later, from Dr Henderson's office. Alicia answered it, calmly listening to Dr Henderson's instructions. When she put the phone down, she was pale. She touched a couple of keys. 'Control,' came the voice of the Supervisor. 'Did Joe get to see you?' 'Yep.' 'It's confirmed,' Alicia responded. 'Get it going. All resources to be activated immediately. This is from Dr Henderson.' There was silence on the line. 'Shit,' replied the Super on the other end. The line went dead. Alicia sat in silence for a moment, gazing at the ceiling. Then she leaned forwards and began dialling numbers. A call came through from Dr Henderson's office. Alicia answered it. 'Yes, Doctor?' 'We're going to have to activate Miss Markham,' Dr Henderson said. 'Call her handler – I think she's with her right now.' 'Yes, Doctor.' 'And Alicia?' 'Yes, Doctor?' 'I need you to make one more call. I want you to bring in ... bring in Handler One.' Alicia gasped. The line went dead. Wide eyed, Alicia reached for the phone again. Julia, sitting on the sofa next to Anna, chortled. Anna guffawed next to her. They were now alone in Julia's living room, and a half-filled bottle of white wine and two glasses were on the glass coffee table in front of them. 'And then,' Anna continued, 'he gets up, looks me squarely in the eye, and says "I only came to read the meter!"' Their laughter echoed around the house. Julia picked up her wine glass, took a sip from it and sighed. 'So this is the life you lead,' she chuckled, as Anna took a sip from her own wine. 'Did he realise that he still had the makeup on his face?' Anna chortled. 'Not till the wife saw it!' Julia let out another peal of laughter. They laughed it out of themselves, then settled for quiet contemplation again. 'How's Brian?' Julia looked at Anna. 'He's ... well, I haven't seen him this week,' she said. 'We've been drifting, I think. Feels that way.' 'A pity,' Anna replied. 'And Karen?' 'She's sleeping with someone,' Julia said. 'A lad from the catalogue office, I think.' 'Is it serious?' 'I dunno. It's only been going on a week or so. She still comes over to see me every couple of days, and we tell each other that this time we're just going to have a chat, but ...' 'But then you both end up in bed together anyway,' Anna replied, smiling. 'I don't have a hand in any of that,' she added, noting the concerned look on Julia's face. 'You're both doing that entirely by yourselves, of your own free will.' 'But how can we tell when we're acting of our own free will?' Julia asked. 'Or whether we've been conditioned by the crap you lot have exposed me to?' 'You can't,' Anna replied. 'You just have to take it on faith that it's you that's taking Karen to bed, and not Key 509 swimming in your bloodstream.' Julia remembered something. She turned to face Anna. 'Oh, speaking of, I've been meaning to ask you. How and when did you get into all of this crap?' she asked. 'Sharpton and all.' Anna looked at Julia in silence for a long moment, thinking about her response. Then she put down her glass and drew in a long, deep breath. 'An accident,' she began. 'What? How? When? Where?' 'There was a truck overturned in the road one day, on my way in to work,' Anna said. 'I turned left, looking for a shortcut. I didn't want to be late. 'I drove around the wrong corner, and came across a snatch squad in the act of collecting someone.' 'Oh.' 'She was only nineteen, a blonde,' Anna said. 'She was still in her nightgown. Barefoot. She was staggering about, supported by two big, ugly brutes wearing gas masks and coveralls. 'They turned, saw me, and the next thing was, before I could call the cops, one of them was leaning through the open window. There was a sting in my neck, and that was it.' She drained her glass and refilled. 'How did they ... convert you?' An expression of incredible pain crossed Anna's face. 'I'd rather not talk about it right now,' she said, leaning forwards. 'I'm sorry.' 'Okay,' Julia replied, putting her glass down and putting her arm around Anna's shoulder. Drawing Anna to her, Julia held her close for a while. Anna's phone went off. She separated herself from Julia and stood up. 'Go,' she said. A moment later, she nodded, said 'Acknowledged,' and hung up. 'Julia,' she said, turning to face her, 'Something is happening, and we're needed.' She looked at Julia. 'This is your first field job for us,' she added. 'What do we do, then?' Julia asked. 'We wait here,' Anna replied. 'Alicia's just told me that she's called in one of our more experienced operatives to help out. Dr Henderson's orders.' 'How long will this operative take to get here?' 'Alicia said she'd be here in about twenty minutes. She lives close by, according to her.' 'Convenient,' Julia replied, getting up. 'Where are you going?' Anna asked. 'The kitchen,' Julia said. 'I might as well put the kettle on and get a brew going while we're waiting for our guest.' 'Alicia, is Handler One ready?' Alicia looked up from the laptop screen in front of her. Dr Henderson had entered the foyer, and was standing over her, a look of concern on his face. 'Doctor, yes, of course,' Alicia replied. 'I called her a couple of minutes ago. She should be on her way as I speak.' 'Good,' Dr Henderson said, nodding sagely. 'Let's hope things go a little more smoothly this time.' Alicia looked up at Dr Henderson, sharing a common memory. She went a little pale at the thought. A sleek black Audi arrived in Julia's street. Parking several metres from Julia's house on the opposite side of the road, the doors opened. Two women emerged, standing in the quiet road. Turning in the direction of Julia's house, they crossed the road, one pair of kitten heels clicking sharply on the tarmac. The other wore plain, soft-soled flats which made no sound. One of the two dialled a number on her mobile phone. 'On our way,' she said. Julia heard the squeak of the garden gate, the footsteps coming up the drive. She got up from the sofa. Looking down at Anna, who was nursing a mug of coffee in her hands, she shared a glance with Anna, and nodded. The doorbell rang as Julia came into the hallway. Julia could see two figures through the frosted glass of the door; it looked like two women, one a little shorter than the other, her silhouette standing just behind the taller one. Julia opened the door, and peered out at the strangers. The taller one was slim, clad in a full length red leather catsuit. Red hair, red heart shaped sunglasses, red stripper shoes. Her smile, though, was unforced, natural; as she lowered her shades, Julia could see that the smile actually did reach this woman's eyes. 'Hi,' the woman said. 'The name's Tamsin. The Institute sent me here. They said there could be some ... fun.' A 101 - Forced Perspective by Alex Greene writing as "Fiat Knox" Copyright © Alex Greene. All rights reserved. The sound of a chainsaw jolted Julia Markham out of her dream. She opened her eyes suddenly and gasped. For a moment she could not register where she was. Gradually, awareness came to her. She was in her bedroom, back in her house. It was the morning, with early sunlight filtering through the curtains. She was naked and hungry. And the chainsaw started again, outside. Cursing under her breath, Julia slowly got out of bed, staggering, wondering why her body felt so heavy and clumsy this morning. Stumbling over one of her shoes, she tumbled forwards, her arms bracing herself. The impact of her arms against the bedroom wall jarred her, and brought her out of the dream she'd started to slip back into. Nursing her sore wrists, Julia caught the edge of the curtain and pulled it back. The sunlight fell full on her face; she blinked and scowled, looking down. Half a dozen men wearing yellow hardhats and fluorescent yellow Council tabards were working around a tree which had fallen over, taking out Julia's car in the driveway and blocking the street. Busy as they were chopping up the huge tree, they did not pay attention to Julia standing in the window. Julia made her way downstairs. When she got to the foot of the stairs, she realised that there was a smell in the air. Somebody had been smoking. In her home. Confused and angry, and more than a little frightened, Julia entered her living room and looked around the lounge. Everything seemed to be in order. Shaking her head in confusion, Julia wandered out of the room. She did not seem to notice a glass ashtray, a cigarette lighter and a small ornate wooden box sitting on the glass coffee table in the middle of the lounge. A moment later, Julia was in the kitchen. Standing in the doorway for a minute, she shivered, the soles of her feet chill on the linoleum floor. A fresh croissant was waiting for her on a small covered plate on the kitchen unit, along with jam, butter and a knife. Julia lifted the glass cover and looked at the croissant. It looked as thought she'd prepared it the night before; she just had no recollection of doing so. She looked around her. The kitchen was exactly the way she'd left it the morning before. Julia frowned, trying to remember what she'd done that other day, when the tree had fallen on her car. Julia had a vague recollection of seeing her crushed car, the tree across the road, the bystanders staring at the huge tree trunk and scratching their heads. The telephone rang in the kitchen. Julia picked up the cordless handset. 'Hello?' she asked. 'Hi,' said the familiar female voice on the end of the line. 'Karen here. How are you, Julia?' 'Oh, hi, Boss,' Julia replied. 'I'm sorry I didn't get back in touch with you yesterday. I –' 'Yesterday?' Karen exclaimed. 'Yeah, Monday,' Julia replied. 'Girl, today's Thursday!' Karen said. Julia nearly dropped the handset from shock. 'Thursday? How the hell could this be Thursday?' 'Don't ask me, girl,' Karen replied. 'You're the one who's been incommunicado for almost three days!' Julia stood stunned for a moment. 'Julia?' Karen asked. 'Julia?' 'Karen?' Julia asked. 'What?' 'Did I close the sale?' Karen chuckled. 'Did you ever!' 'I should be punching the sky right now,' Julia murmured. Somehow the thought of her receiving a commission from the sale of products from the magazine she was an agent of no longer seemed so urgent. 'Julia?' Julia shook her head. 'Yeah. That's fantastic news, Boss,' she said. 'Look, I can't remember what I'd been doing since Monday. It's weird, but I really think I should be able to remember what happened after Monday.' 'It's okay, hon,' Karen said. 'Look, I'll talk to Admin. I'll put you down as taking a few days' leave since Monday.' 'Okay. Thanks.' 'Tell you what,' Karen added. 'You're on my commute route. I'm going to come on over.' 'Oh, you really don't have to –' 'Ah, come on, it's okay. Old school chums and all.' 'I wouldn't want to impose -' 'It's fine, girl. You just sit tight. I'm gonna come on over and check out the damage to your car. Somebody told me it's a complete write off.' Julia sighed. 'You could say that,' she replied. Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. Julia jumped, startled. 'Okay, Karen,' she said. 'Come on over, then. I'll be here.' 'Okay, Julia,' Karen replied. The line went dead. The doorbell rang again. Julia sighed, and made her way to the door. A smiling woman stood in the doorway, carrying a fruit basket. She was wearing a sleeveless red knee-length dress and red high heeled shoes. Short brunette hair framed a heart shaped face. Her face seemed achingly familiar to Julia. 'Anna,' she said. 'Yep, that's me,' said Anna. 'Mind if I come in?' 'Er,' Julia stammered. Anna brushed past her and entered the house before Julia could object further. Julia stood a moment in the doorway, looking at the workers. They'd all stopped cutting the tree, and were staring at her. 'What?' Julia said, slamming the door on the men. 'Mind if I smoke?' Anna's voice was coming from the living room. Julia ran into the room. She stopped in the doorway, stammering. Anna was already sitting back on Julia's sofa, taking a long drag on a cigarette. A cloud of blue smoke already hung in the air. 'Look,' Julia began. 'Y'see,' Anna said, leaning forwards, the hand holding the cigarette pointing at Julia, 'we already met. You know it. I know it. Only problem is, you can't ...' 'Can't remember,' Julia replied, finishing Anna's sentence. 'What happened?' 'What's happening, you mean,' Anna replied, taking another drag. 'We weren't finished with you.' Julia shook her head. 'What do you mean?' 'What do you remember?' 'Er, not much,' Julia said. 'There was a reception area, and a girl, called ... Alicia?' 'Alicia,' Anna replied, nodding. 'Remember anybody else?' 'Doctor ... Henderson?' 'Good,' Anna said. 'Memory's coming back.' 'No,' Julia said. 'I feel I should know the names. I know your name's Anna. It's just ... I don't remember what I did there.' 'Did you get the good news?' Anna asked. 'About?' 'The sale,' Anna replied, executing a French snap and inhale and blowing out a thin streamer of blue smoke. 'You closed the sale. He bought a whole wardrobe from your catalogue, and you got your commission. You should be very happy.' 'It won't be enough to cover the purchase of a new car,' Julia replied, jerking her thumb towards the outside. Anna stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and shook her head. 'Don't worry about that,' she said. 'Just wait and see.' 'What do you mean by that?' 'Well, for one thing,' Anna said, sitting back, 'you might have noticed how you haven't been picking up the phone and calling the police, even though there's a strange woman sitting in your room, smoking. And you don't smoke, do you?' 'No,' Julia replied, shaking her head, 'I don't.' 'And for another thing,' Anna said, her voice gentler. She got up, and crossed over the living room to Julia. She touched Julia's arm. Julia looked down. And gasped. She was still naked. She had not put on one scrap of clothing. Blushing deeply, Julia reflexively crossed one arm over her breasts, her other hand covering her bush. Anna chuckled and shook her head. 'Get – get out!' Julia cried. 'Just – just get out! Now!' Anna shrugged and smiled. 'I'll see you later,' she said. 'When you're ready, call me. My number's on the card.' She pointed to the fruit basket on the coffee table. Julia looked over, and saw that indeed there was a card on the top of the fruits. When Julia turned back to say something, Anna was already heading for the door. Just once, Anna glanced back at Julia; and for a moment, Julia saw something in Anna's eyes. Pain. Then the smile came back, and Anna turned and was gone. The door closed behind her. There was a knock on the door. Julia, now clothed in a plain white blouse and her favourite dark blue slacks, came up to the door. She peered through the frosted glass, and saw dark skin and frizzy hair. She opened the door, and Karen stood in the entrance, smiling. Karen was a little shorter than Julia, with coffee coloured skin, dark frizzy hair and deep brown, almost black, eyes. She was wearing a black business suit over a cream blouse. The top button of her blouse was undone. 'You gonna let me in?' Karen asked. 'Yeah, sure,' Julia replied, letting Karen come in. 'I'll put on a cuppa for us,' she added. Karen went into the living room. Julia went into the kitchen. 'Whoof,' Karen exclaimed, from the living room. 'Who's been smoking in here? You?' She chuckled. 'You never told me you'd started smoking, girl!' 'It wasn't me,' Julia said. 'It was -' 'Who?' Julia looked up from the kettle. She shook her head. 'Nobody,' she replied. 'I got a visitor this morning. Insurance. You know, the car.' 'And he smoked? On duty? In your house?' 'He carried the smell in with him,' Julia replied. 'Hold on. I'll get the air freshener.' 'Don't worry on my part,' Karen replied. 'Long as someone's been smoking here already ...' Julia heard a lighter snap, and she groaned inwardly. 'Karen ...!' she moaned. 'Relax,' Karen said. 'I'll clean out the ashtray when I'm done.' 'Ashtray?' Julia murmured. 'What ashtray?' She bent down to the closet beneath the sink, where the cleaning stuff was kept. She began to rummage around inside, looking for her usual Otrazon spray, but there wasn't any. 'Funny,' she said to herself, 'I could have sworn ...' Her hands found an aerosol bottle. She took it out and looked at it. It was an unfamiliar brand name. 'I don't remember a spray called Oxytocin,' she said to herself. 'Well, if it works ...' A few minutes later, Julia entered the living room, where a large smoke cloud hung in the air. Karen was lounging back against the sofa, breathing out a stream of smoke. 'Who left you all this stuff?' Karen asked. 'What stuff?' Julia asked. 'The fruit basket?' 'Yeah,' Karen replied, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray, 'and the Turkish smokes.' 'What Turkish smokes?' Julia asked. Then she saw the box, open, containing cigarettes. 'Hold on,' Julia said, puzzled. 'The ... the box ... she didn't bring the box in. Just the basket. The box was ... She shook her head. 'The box was already there. Why do I remember the box?' 'What are you talking about?' Karen said. 'Oh, hang on,' Julia replied, coughing. 'Damned smoke. I can't think straight in this fug.' She crossed to the window and opened it to let the smoke out. Then she went back to the middle of the room, shaking the aerosol bottle. 'Here,' she said, spraying towards the ceiling. A fine mist descended on them both. Julia felt her skin faintly tingling where it came into contact with her face and neck. She shivered. 'I thought this was air freshener,' Karen said, waving her hand to clear the air. 'So did I,' Julia replied. 'Doesn't seem to have done much good,' Karen said. She smiled and sat back on the sofa, patting the seat beside her. 'Anyway, come and sit here. Talk to me about why you disappeared for three days straight. What have you been up to?' Julia sat down, looking at Karen. Her friend's eyes seemed darker than usual. Her pupils were dilating. Julia felt a thrill as Karen smiled. It felt good to have a friend like her. Julia smiled, and Karen leaned forwards. 'You know what?' Julia said. 'No idea, hon,' Karen replied, her voice soft. 'I really can't remember jack shit about the last three days,' Julia said, her own voice softening. Something about Karen's soft, low voice just ... 'I went to that address you sent me to, what was it called ...' 'I got a number and a street,' Karen said, 'and a name. Doctor Henderson. That's all.' Karen bit her lower lip momentarily. 'Well, Julia said, 'it turned out to be his business premises. Something something research institute.' A moment later, the name came to her. 'Sharpton! Sharpton something!' 'Okay. What next?' 'I can't remember,' Julia said. 'There was a woman. Anna. Short dark hair. I ... I remember her from the place.' 'What do you remember?' Karen asked. Her face was flushing. 'I ... nothing,' Julia replied, feeling an odd glow in her cheeks. Karen's face was close. Very close. 'I don't remember anything. Anything at all.' 'That's a shame,' Karen replied, biting her lip again. 'I ... the next thing is,' Julia added, 'I woke up, and I was ... well, when I came down, it was like somebody'd been smoking in the living room, and ...' She waved at the box. 'The box was already here, I think. But Anna, she brought the fruit basket later.' Somehow, the thought of this Anna being on such intimate terms made Julia feel more horny than frightened. 'And ... and there was something else, too,' Julia ventured. 'What?' Karen asked. 'I ... I was ...' Julia could not finish the sentence. 'You were what? Smoking?' Karen grinned. 'Naked?' Julia flinched. Karen caught the look on her face. 'No,' she said. A moment later, Karen giggled. 'You were! Oh my God, you were naked!' 'You don't have to broadcast it,' Julia replied. Karen went on laughing. Karen slowly settled down, sighed and looked at Julia. 'I never put you down as the barefoot hippy type,' she said. 'You were always so uptight in school.' Her hands were resting close to Julia's. Julia found her fingers touching Karen's, and then covering them. Karen didn't seem to mind, even when Julia began sliding her hand up Karen's arm. 'Hang on. Anna? Anna from the lab?' Karen asked. Julia nodded. Karen turned her face away for a moment to look at the fruit basket. Julia found herself desperately wanting Karen to turn her face back, so she could look at those eyes again. 'So the box with the cigarettes was already here, and Anna from the lab came back with a fruit basket? Girl, what the hell have you gotten into? What's her number again?' Karen began to lean forwards to look at the basket. Julia also moved, leaning forwards to touch Karen's chin with a slender finger, turning Karen's head back towards her. 'What ...?' Karen asked. She looked at Julia's face. They locked gazes for a moment. 'I ... I never realised how much I want to ... to kiss you before,' Julia said. 'Till now.' 'Me too,' Karen whispered, her blush deepening. They kissed, Karen's lips warm and dry, her breath still smoky and strange from the "Turkish" cigarette. Every touch of Karen's lips sent electric thrills down Julia's body. Her arms snaked around Karen, drew her tighter towards Julia. Karen responded by winding her own arms about Julia. Together, kissing deeply, their eyes closed, Karen guided Julia down onto the sofa. Julia woke up slowly. Someone was lying on top of her, and she felt stiff and sore from sleeping on the sofa. Her body tingled in the afterglow, particularly between her legs. She'd had one hell of an orgasm. She could still feel vaginal juices warm and slick, drying slowly on her fingertips. Opening her eyes, she saw Karen, her face a few inches from her, breathing gently, still asleep. Julia's arms were still around Karen's waist. Julia gasped as she realised that Karen was naked; the bare skin of her back was in direct contact with her bare arm. She gasped again as she realised that her own arm was not the only part of her that was bare. Once again, she was naked. 'You've got a tattoo,' Julia murmured, looking at the design of pursed lips above Karen's left nipple. 'I thought the company frowned on tats. When did you get a tat done?' Karen stirred slowly, opening her eyes. She looked at Julia. 'Honey,' she murmured, sleepily. Despite herself, Julia kissed Karen on the mouth, slowly sucking at her lower lip. 'Hey,' she said. 'I ... I don't know what to say ...' Karen said. 'I can't stop thinking about you.' 'Nor me,' Julia replied. 'But I'm not a lesbian.' She tried to think of the last man she'd had sex with. A stranger's face flashed in her mind, hovering a few inches from Julia's face, straining; the name "Ted" bobbed up from the depths. Julia gasped. Karen looked at her. 'What?' 'There was ... was a man ...' Julia said. 'And a woman, too. I think she could have been his ... his wife.' A memory flashed into her mind; a blonde, seemingly drunk, naked, dancing in front of her, gyrating her hips at Julia, and Julia doing the same. She had another memory, of being naked and dancing, and touching a man's erect cock. 'Damn,' Karen chuckled. 'I always knew you had to have been bi like me, but ... damn.' 'These ... I think they're memories,' Julia said. 'I think I'm recovering my memories. Karen; why did the two of us just end up making love like this?' 'God knows,' Karen replied. 'All I can say is, I feel like I could still go another round with you any time.' 'I know.' 'It's like all at once, I couldn't keep my hands off you.' 'Me neither,' Julia replied. 'But I've got things to do,' Karen added. 'This has put the kibosh on my whole day's schedule.' She got up. Julia looked at Karen's naked body. She felt that same thrill she'd experienced when they'd kissed earlier. 'I've just gotta ask, though,' Karen added, turning around and bending down over the coffee table, 'if anyone can tell you what has been happening to you, most likely this one can.' She turned back, disappointing Julia – who'd been enjoying the sight of Karen's dark, furry snatch and her glorious butt – and showed Julia something in her hand. The business card. The one Anna had left on the fruit basket. 'Wonder what'll happen when I call this number?' Karen asked. 'I don't know,' Julia replied. 'She told me that when I was ready, I should call her back.' Karen pushed Julia's legs to one side and sat on the sofa beside her. 'Well, I think you're pretty damned ready now.' 'Better put our clothes back on first,' Julia said. 'Answering the door to Anna naked, twice in one day, is bound to get the neighbours talking.' 'Girl,' Karen replied, chuckling, 'they've got you into some seriously kinky shit.' When Anna returned, it was late in the afternoon. The BBC's afternoon detective shows had come to an end, and there was nothing to watch on the TV. Karen zapped channels and sighed. 'Digital telly's supposed to have all this great stuff on it,' she yelled. Julia, in the kitchen, stuck her head into the hall. 'I don't watch it much nowadays anyway,' she replied. The doorbell rang. Julia answered it. 'Did you try some of the fruits?' Anna asked, as Julia opened the door. 'Did you spike them?' Anna shook her head. 'Nope. Bought them myself from Sainsbury's. Better than getting one commercially – florists put wax on the fruits in their presentation fruit baskets. Give me an allergy every time. It's easier to just buy a wicker basket and fill it up yourself.' 'You've got some explaining to do,' Julia said, grabbing Anna's arm and yanking her into the house before slamming the door shut behind her. 'Anna turned to face Julia. 'Where do you want to start?' she asked, apparently unphased by Julia's hostility. 'Well, for a start, my Boss is here,' Julia said. 'What's in those cigarettes you've left for me?' 'Whatever do you mean?' 'They're not Turkish smokes, are they?' Julia asked. Anna shook her head. 'They're a ... special blend,' she replied. 'But they aren't Turkish. And no, they're not grass, either.' 'But ... but I don't smoke!' Julia said. 'What made you leave me something like that?' Awareness, and memory, dawned. 'Hang on,' she said. 'You left me them behind ... because you've been here.' Anna smiled. 'Those three days? The three missing days? I was here. The whole time.' A 101 - Forced Perspective 'Smoking those damned cigarettes.' Anna nodded. 'Me too?' 'Not all the time,' Anna replied. 'Just once or twice.' Julia felt appalled. 'Why would I have let you in here at all?' 'Because I was assigned by the Sharpton Institute to keep an eye on you, to make sure no harm came to you,' Anna replied. 'Harm?' 'Can I show you something?' Anna asked. 'It'll only take a few minutes.' 'Can Karen watch as well?' 'Sure,' Anna replied. 'I want to show you a DVD I brought along.' Karen sat up as Anna entered. Anna had a handbag; she rummaged about inside it for a moment, producing a DVD in a clear jewel case. Crossing the room, Anna knelt to insert the DVD into the player, before standing up again and turning to face the women. Julia sat down next to Karen, and both of them looked up at Anna. 'I brought along some footage of what went on ... on Monday,' Anna said. 'When you first came in to the Sharpton Institute.' She pressed PLAY on the remote, and an image appeared. A windowless room with furniture, a coffee table with an ornate wooden box, lighter and ashtray, a table and chair at the back and a small closet. 'This is room A 113,' Anna said. 'Doctor Henderson assigned you to this room to start with.' As she spoke, Julia entered the room on the screen with Anna. Anna cued the image; on screen, Anna went through the introduction before leaving Julia behind in the room, waiting for Dr Henderson. 'What's going on here?' Julia asked. 'Here it comes,' Anna replied. 'Here's where we ... we ...' 'Turned Julia into a guinea pig,' Karen interjected. As Julia and Karen watched, the TV image of Julia got up and paced about the room. With Anna still cueing everything at twice normal speed, they saw Julia as her behaviour slowly began to change. 'What did you do to me?' Julia asked. 'Key 509,' Anna replied. 'As a gas, slowly fed into the room, and in liquid form in the coffee as well as those "Turkish" cigarettes. We also threw in some subliminals as well. You couldn't hear them, but they were there, in the music.' 'What's this "Key 509" stuff, then? Nerve gas?' 'Hell, no,' Anna replied. 'Main ingredient's harmless. It's a hormone called oxytocin.' Julia gasped. She raced out of the living room and made her way into the kitchen. A moment later she was back, carrying the aerosol can which she thrust into Anna's face. 'You mean this shit?' she yelled. 'Yeah,' Anna replied. 'It's a bonding hormone. Mothers and babies are awash with it. It helps them to bond together. Lovers feel it, too. It engenders trust like nobody's business.' 'And what's stopping me from spraying you all over with it now?' Anna smiled. 'What if we're all under its influence already?' she asked. 'What do you mean?' Anna looked back at the TV, where Karen sat watching the show, gripping the remote, transfixed by what she was seeing. On the screen, the TV image of Julia was walking around with her blouse undone, her bra visible. As they watched, Julia found a thick book that looked like a catalogue. Sitting at the table, she began to pore over it. 'This is where the subliminals kicked in,' Anna whispered. As Julia watched herself on the screen, her jaw dropped as she saw herself slowly undressing, lighting cigarettes, drinking the vile coffee and looking at the images of naked women in the book. 'Right,' Julia muttered. 'That's it. I'm gonna call the police. Karen, you watch this one. Try to make sure she doesn't do anything funny.' Karen grunted, mumbled something, but stayed put. 'Karen?' Julia asked. Karen looked lost, staring at the screen. Karen looked down, and saw that Karen's fingers were dipping into her slacks. She was focused on Julia's hypnotised antics on the screen, and masturbating furiously. 'Did Karen smoke one of these cigarettes today?' Anna asked, holding up the box for Anna to look at. 'Yeah, she did earlier,' Julia replied. 'I sprayed that oxy ... stuff into the air to clear it up. It wasn't much cop as an air freshener, I can tell you.' Anna smiled. 'Wasn't meant to,' she replied. 'What happened then? I mean, between the two of you?' Julia blushed furiously at the memory of the two of them, locked together in sexual passion. 'You had sex, didn't you? The two of you?' Julia nodded, her cheeks glowing. Anna nodded, biting her lower lip a moment. She looked at Karen, and back at Julia. 'She's well into it now, isn't she?' Julia looked at Karen. 'Looks like it,' she replied. 'Julia,' Anna said, 'you bonded with her. She's yours. Give her a minute. Then go up to her and talk to her.' 'What do I say?' As Julia watched, something changed on the TV. The image of Anna came in. She gave Julia an instruction. By now, Julia was naked. 'I looked stoned in that,' Julia said. She looked at Karen. 'She looks like that now.' Anna looked at Karen's face. 'Uh-oh,' she said. 'What?' Julia asked, looking at Karen. 'Is she supposed to be looking like that, with her eyes rolling up in her face?' Anna shook her head. 'TML,' she said, her voice urgent. She grabbed Julia's shoulders. 'Too. Much. Love,' she said. 'Quick. She's overdosing. You have to do something.' 'Like what?' 'You have to let her love you. Now.' 'Or else what?' Julia asked. 'Or else,' Anna replied, drawing her finger across her throat. 'Oh,' Julia said, turning to face Karen. A knot of fear rose up Julia's spine. 'What do I do?' she asked Anna. 'Just ... just call to her,' Anna whispered. 'But do it now.' 'Ka- Karen, honey,' Julia stammered. Karen looked up at her, her lust plain on her face. Karen reached out for Julia; Julia embraced her, Karen kissing Julia passionately like a starving woman. With a grunt, Karen tugged at Julia's clothes. Julia felt the fabric of her blouse part. She began undoing Karen's clothes. The couple fell to the ground, wrestling one another out of their clothes. Now down to their underwear, Karen began kissing Julia's neck, shoulders and throat as Julia, gasping, began to unclip Karen's bra. As she struggled with the clasp, for a moment she found herself thinking of one of her exes, Brian Goodwin from the Fifth Year at the graduating party. 'So now I know what he went through,' Julia murmured as the clasp finally came away. Julia cast the bra to one side, and Karen's soft, coffee coloured breasts were free. Karen pressed herself to Julia's body, her breasts pressing on hers. Julia's were still constrained by the bra; she struggled again for a moment to remove hers. Julia heard a sound nearby. She looked up. 'Here,' Anna whispered, leaning over Julia to remove her bra. Julia felt Karen's legs slide around hers, to twine about her body. She felt Karen's hips grinding against her own, and Julia's hand darted down towards Karen's hot, wet quim. With gentle, deft touches, Julia began to stimulate Karen's clitoris as Karen's fingers probed frantically inside Julia. Their breaths deepened, synchronised, became rapid. Both women flushed as they approached orgasm. Finally, Karen reached a shuddering climax; her breathing, indrawn gasps, stopped. Her body quaked. She let out a deep, shuddering breath and collapsed gently against Julia, whose own climax ran up and down her perspiring body. Karen rested her head on Julia's shoulders, and closed her eyes, relaxing into Julia as Julia began to sob gently into Karen's shoulder. Julia felt a warm hand on her arm. She looked up and saw Anna looking down at her, concern on her face. 'Don't,' Julia said. 'Don't even try to pretend that you care.' Anna shook her head. 'Actually,' she replied, 'I was going to tell you that you did good. I'll talk to Dr Henderson about -' 'I'm in,' Julia said. 'What?' 'You recruited me for some reason,' Julia continued. 'I'm in. Give me your secret decoder ring or give me your funny handshake. Whatever it is you do. Only, you leave Karen out.' 'Look, I'll talk to Dr Henderson about this,' Anna began, 'but I don't really think it'll be up-' 'No,' Julia said. 'Karen stays out of this, and for three very good reasons. One; she is an innocent. Two; she is my best friend.' She ran her fingers through Karen's hair. Karen moaned sleepily, and snuggled Julia's shoulder. 'And three, I love her.' A look of pain and sadness crossed Anna's face briefly. She thought about it a moment. Then she stood up. 'All right,' she said. 'She stays out of it.' 'Then I'm in,' Julia replied. 'Give me the contract. I'll sign my name in my own fucking blood, if you want. If I'm going to be damned, I'll only condemn myself. Karen is not going to be a part of my damnation.' 'Okay,' Anna said, reaching down to help Julia get up. 'I'll clear it with Doctor Henderson. I'll tell him what's what. He won't have the option of saying no.' Together, they helped Karen up off the floor and onto the sofa. Anna reached into her pocket and took out what looked like a strip of nicotine patches. Peeling one off, she applied the transparent sticky plastic circle to Karen's arm, smoothing it down with her fingertips. 'She'll sleep now,' Anna told Julia. 'We also used this derm on you. She'll wake up with no memory of what just happened. You'll have to make up some story or other for her. I'd recommend that you tell her you both went clubbing. You two went out on the pull, got hammered and had a great time.' She gently tousled Karen's hair. 'She's yours, Julia. You're her handler, like I am yours – or supposed to be yours at any rate. But I've got to tell you this before I go back to the Sharpton Institute to make my report to Dr Henderson.' She touched Julia's shoulder. Julia turned to look at Anna, whose expression was deadly serious. 'There's more going on here than you know,' Anna said. 'And before this is done, we may all be going down to Hell. But we need you, Julia. More than you could imagine.' 'But Karen won't be joining us.' Anna shook her head. 'No, she won't.' Julia nodded. 'Then tell me,' she said, 'what I have to do.' A 101 - The Smoking Room by Alex Greene writing as "Fiat Knox" Copyright © Alex Greene. All rights reserved. It was to be, for Julia Markham, a most interesting day. Boredom was the bane of Julia's life. She had a boring home, a boring boyfriend, a boring job. Even her holidays were boring, with the same boring people in the same boring resorts. Every year they would plan a different resort: each year, they'd find that the same boring people had booked the same bloody boring resort as they, almost as if they were following Julia and Brian around. Today, however, was different. Julia got up at the same time she usually did, began to get dressed, and looked out the window, in mounting dismay. Out in the suburban street, one of the neighbourhood trees had been knocked down or somehow fallen over, blocking the entire road. Worse – it had fallen squarely on her car. There was no way Julia was going to be able to get to work. The landline was also down, as was her broadband connection, as the tree had sliced through the telephone cable. Her mobile phone was also unusable – try as she might, Julia could not get a signal on it. Frustrated, Julia called out to Brian; but there was no answer. Nor did Julia expect there to be one, since Brian usually got up half an hour before she did, to go to work. Julia sighed, went back upstairs and got herself prepared for work. She knew where there was a public callbox nearby: if the phones were working there, she had a chance of being able to call work, tell them she'd be late, then maybe call a taxi that would get her to the station. Finding a working telephone booth took longer than Julia realised. The fallen tree had caused more damage to the phone network than she'd thought, and the nearest phone booths, outside the Traveller's Rest pub on the corner by the newsagent's, were all dead; as was every phone in the shops. Only the mobiles were working, and fortunately Julia managed to get to a clear space long enough to pick up her network's signal. Someone picked up: a pleasant female voice. 'Brendan & Sons, family clothing retailers. How can I help you?' 'Karen, it's me, Julia.' 'Hi. You know how late you are?' 'Can't be helped; my car's been written off, and I've been trying to get to a working phone booth for ages to call you. The same accident took out all the local phones. Everything on landline. My mobile barely works. The reception's bad.' 'What do you mean, written off? Have you been in an accident?' 'No, I'm fine, just that I'll need to catch a taxi now, to get to the station.' She checked the time. 'I might be able to get in for this afternoon.' 'Don't sweat it, hon,' Karen said. 'If you're out and about, why don't you do me a favour?' 'What?' 'I've got no field agents available to deliver catalogues,' Karen said, 'but I've got a client, Dr Henderson, rang me up last night just on closing. He says he could do with a copy of a catalogue; something about his wedding anniversary.' 'I've got a few spare catalogues back home,' Julia said. 'I can take him one.' 'I was hoping you'd say that,' Karen said. 'Tell you what, you take him the catalogue, and I'll put you down on payroll as having done a full day's work. Deal?' 'Deal,' Julia said, fishing for a pen and writing the address down on the back of her hand. 'Did you get that?' Karen asked. 'Yeah, thanks, Karen. Gotta go,' Julia said. 'Oh, Karen, can you call my local taxi firm, Mandy's Taxis, and ask them to pick me up from my home address? I think I'm about to run out of credits on my cell.' 'Will do.' The taxi dropped Julia off outside the address Karen had given her. Julia stood on the pavement, briefcase in her hand, looking at the location in bemusement. 'I thought this was a home address,' she said to herself. The address to which she'd been delivered was a large construction of brick, with a flat roof and no windows on the facing side. It looked like commercial premises – a factory or warehouse of some kind. There was no hoarding to indicate whose company it was, and a parking space on one side. Julia crossed the road, walked around the building towards the parking area. Turning to face the building, she saw what looked like the building's only entrance, a set of double doors without any corporate signage, not even the word ENTRANCE. The car parking area was empty. Julia approached the doors, which slid aside as she neared them. Inside was a hallway leading to a reception area at the far end. The lobby was large, with mirror-faced pillars and mirror-panelled walls to add the illusion of space. A bored-looking young woman with red hair sat at the reception desk, apparently busy at the keyboard of her flat screen computer. The phone rang as Julia approached the desk. The receptionist answered it. 'Sharpton Human Response Research Centre. Alicia speaking. How may I help you?' she began. A moment later, she smiled. 'Oh, of course. I'll put you through to Doctor Thomas. Hold the line.' She pushed buttons and then hung up. As she hung up the phone, the receptionist's face sank back into boredom. Alicia then looked up at Julia. 'Yes?' 'Hi. I'm Julia. Julia Markham. From the catalogue company. I was asked to deliver a catalogue here to a Dr Henderson?' Alicia nodded. 'Dr Henderson's busy right now,' she said. 'I'll take you to a waiting room, and he'll see you in person.' 'Okay,' Julia said, 'but I'm okay with dropping off the catalogue here.' 'No, that's okay,' the girl said. 'He wants to order from the book right away.' Julia brightened. That meant getting a commission from any sales closed on site. 'Okay. Well, then I think I will wait,' she said. Then she thought of something. 'Do you have a working phone? My cell's run out.' The receptionist smiled. 'There's an extension in the waiting room,' she said. 'You can call whoever you want there.' 'Okay.' Julia turned to look at her suit in a mirrored pillar. The girl touched a key on the intercom. 'I'm busy, Alicia,' said a male voice. 'Dr Henderson, the catalogue's arrived,' the girl said. 'Ah, good,' Dr Henderson said. 'Looks like Room A 113 is free. I'll send Anna in to take her there.' Alicia looked up at Julia. 'Someone will be down shortly to take you to the waiting room,' she said. 'Please take a seat.' Julia sat in a nearby chair, set against the wall. A few minutes later, a woman emerged from one of the entrances at the back. She was dressed in a white lab coat. She was pretty, with a heart shaped face and short brunette hair. 'Hi, Julia.' said the woman, approaching Julia. 'I'm Anna Walker.' Julia rose to greet Anna, shaking her hand. 'Doctor Henderson sends his regrets,' Anna said. 'He's busy wrapping up an important experiment right now. He's sent me down to take you to our waiting room. You can call whoever you like from there, and as soon as he is ready he will be along to pick out something from the catalogue.' 'Okay,' Julia said. 'No windows,' Julia asked Anna, as Anna slid a card key in the slot for Room A 113. 'Came with the building when we took it over,' Anna said. 'We've got a lot of light sensitive equipment on the shop floor.' 'Okay,' Julia replied. 'Here you go,' Anna said, as the door clicked open. She handed Julia a keycard. 'Use this to get out. If you need the facilities, ladies are at the end of the corridor. You'll find the phone on the table, and on the counter on the far wall there's a vendor for tea, coffee, whatever you need. Press 9 to call out; if you want to call me, press 0. Okay?' Room A 113 was a large room, large enough to accommodate a group of people. It was indirectly lit by soft mood lights. The walls were a drab brown, as was the carpet. A small TV set was placed in the far corner, set high up in a corner mount; soft Muzak played from hidden speakers. Julia noted a glass coffee table and a sofa in the room, with an empty ashtray, a table lighter, a small wooden box and a TV remote on the coffee table. At the opposite end of the room, behind the sofa, was a hot drinks dispenser on a counter, with two cupboard doors beneath it beside a small dining table and a single chair. 'Will Dr Henderson be long?' Julia asked, just inside the room. 'Nah,' Anna said. 'He'll be along soon.' The door closed. Anna wandered over to the phone, picked up, pressed 9, then Brendan & Sons' phone number. She got an answerphone message. 'Hi, Karen,' Julia said, 'you're probably out at lunch right now, so I'll just let you know I'm at the address you gave me, and it looks like the client's interested in closing a few sales on spec. Hope I'll be walking away from here with a few choice commissions by the end of the day. Okay? Bye.' Then all Julia had to do was wait For Dr Henderson. Back in Reception, Anna bumped into Dr Henderson, who'd just emerged from another door half hidden behind one of the mirrored columns. This door was positioned such that it could not be seen from the outside, nor from Reception itself, since potted plants and a mirrored column happened to be placed just between the line of sight of the desk and the door itself. 'Ah, Anna,' Dr Henderson said, in a clipped British accent. A shortish, middle aged man with a receding hairline and a thin moustache, he looked every inch the dapper British boffin in his tweed suit, over which he had casually draped a large white laboratory coat. 'Good, good. I'm glad I caught you. I only just completed the writeup for the last experiment, and I will need you to take care of things for me there.' 'Who was that?' 'Miss Edwards, Room B 124.' 'Gas experiment?' Anna asked. 'Introduced it through the vents while she was watching the TV.' 'What did you use?' 'Key 509,' Dr Henderson replied. 'Libido stimulator.' 'She must have had fun,' Anna said, chuckling. 'She did, that,' Dr Henderson said, grinning. 'The dreams she'll be having tonight ... Now, how about the new test subject?' 'That saleswoman from the catalogue? She's waiting for you in Room A 113, just as you asked.' 'Excellent. I've left her for you.' 'Are you sure?' 'I'm giving you carte blanche. I'm going to let you fly solo with this one.' 'Okay,' Anna said. 'Give me a few minutes to prime her, then bring in those other newcomers. That couple from this morning.' 'The drop ins?' Dr Henderson asked. Anna nodded. Julia sat and fidgeted uncomfortably. The wait was testing her patience. She got up, crossed over to the door and unlocked it with the keycard. Julia peered out into the corridor. It was empty. She sighed and returned to her seat. Five more minutes, she thought to herself. Five more minutes, and then I'm out of here. In a control room without windows, Anna sat at a bank of screens and controls, watching Julia from various cameras secreted about the room. She watched her as Julia began to fidget and look at her watch. She was getting uneasy; Dr Henderson was busy, but Julia clearly had a lot on her plate as well. Anna picked up the extension, dialled the phone for Room A 113. Julia reached forwards, picked it up. 'Hello?' 'Hello, Julia. Anna speaking. Dr Henderson regrets he's been delayed slightly by something. He will be with you in five minutes, okay?' 'Okay,' Julia said, and hung up at her end. Anna watched as Julia checked her watch, looked around, stared at the keycard, stared at the locked door. Anna sat on the edge of her seat. Would Julia do a runner? Julia sat back, relaxing. Anna also sat back, smiling. This one was going to be a keeper. She hit speed dial. 'Henderson. Ah, Anna. How's our latest subject?' 'Julia's making herself comfortable in A 113.' 'Good. Start it up.' Anna hung up, grinned, turned her attentions to two slide controls in front of her, marked "Regular Muzak" and "Sublim". Slowly, she faded out the regular Muzak, and slid the volume on the Muzak. She also turned up the thermostat slightly. Beside the control panel were a set of gas bottles, affixed to the wall with feed pipes leading into A 113's ventilation system. The bottle on the left was metallic green. The words KEY 509 were stencilled on the side. Two others, one black, one blue, carried different markings. The blue cylinder's stencil read SOMNOZINE. The black cylinder simply read O2. At the top of the gas cylinders were round, knurled silver knobs. Anna turned the knob of the green gas cylinder, mixing it with a little O2 feed, and let Key 509 gas slowly begin to fill Room A 113. It was getting hot and stuffy in the room. Julia found herself sweating, slightly stifled by the heat. She looked around for a thermostat: finding none, she slipped off her suit jacket instead, and sat back. The phone rang. Julia answered. 'Hello?' 'Dr Henderson here,' said the voice. 'I'll be with you soon, but can you do me a favour, Julia?' 'If I can.' 'Can you look through the catalogue, please, for some nice ladies' evening wear? Something smart casual, something that'd go well with a thirty something on a, a, company bash.' 'Okay,' Julia said. The phone went silent. Julia ran her finger under her blouse collar. It was still too hot; she loosened the top button as she spoke, before taking out the catalogue and putting it down on the table before her, pushing the wooden box and lighter out of the way. Out of curiosity, she opened the box to peer inside, scowled and closed it again in slight distaste. Cigarettes. The phone rang again. 'Julia; Anna here. Dr Henderson asked me to pass on further details. He wants something stylish,' Anna said. 'Any colour except black. Oh, or mauve. He can't stand mauve.' 'Okay, I'll look at a list,' Julia said, undoing the second button. She was sweating profusely, although the temperature hadn't actually increased at all. 'If you just look through the book, maybe pick something nice out for him, he'll be with you shortly. Must dash.' 'Okay, Anna,' Julia said, hanging up. She felt thirsty, and got up to go to the drinks dispenser. In the control room, Anna sat and watched Julia, who now displayed a very satisfactory cleavage, at the drinks machine. Julia was perspiring. She began to look over the counter for anything resembling a paper wipe. Nothing. Julia then opened the cupboard doors underneath the counter. 'Oh, good,' she exclaimed. There were a few wipes. Julia reached in for them. Her hand dislodged something, which fell at her feet on the floor with a heavy thump. Julia poured herself a coffee from the dispenser as she flicked through the first few pages, took a sip, grimaced – it tasted foul. Julia then bent down, looked at the catalogue. It looked to be some sort of glossy catalogue of some sort. 'Oh. The competition,' Julia said, picking up the book. She sat at the table and leafed through it. The magazine showed pictures of women like herself. Cool, smartly-dressed, confident, clean. Smiling for the cameras. Some of the photos were taken in studios, others out on some beach somewhere. It looked like a clothes catalogue, only Julia could find no item descriptions, brand names or other advertising. Curious, Julia carried the thick glossy book over to the sofa with her, holding the half – empty cup of black coffee in the other hand. Sitting down, she began to leaf through the guide. At first, it showed just pictures of women. Women wearing summer clothes, walking about on beaches. Then, as Julia read on, the pages began to show interior shots of women taking off their coats, sitting on chairs and sofas wearing a variety of blouses and skirts and trousers. So far, there was no men's section; only women. Julia sighed, sat back, idly began playing with the buttons of her blouse. She leaned forwards to sip some more of the incredibly bitter coffee, and found herself reading the odd book once again. This time, as she read, she idly unbuttoned her blouse all the way, loosening it yet not removing it. At the same time, she slipped off her shoes and kicked them under the coffee table. Julia finished off the coffee and went back to the sofa with her blouse loose about her, revealing her bra. She picked up the competitors' catalogue and continued to read. There were four women featured in the book: a blonde, a brunette, a redhead and an Oriental girl, all looking to be between 25 and 35 or so. All four were extremely pretty, and Julia felt a slight pang of envy at their apparent physical perfection. As she pored over the book, to her astonishment the next pages showed the women taking off their blouses and other clothes, and sitting on their chairs in their bras and panties only, drinking coffee. This puzzled Julia, since no catalogue she'd ever seen had featured the women actually stripping, let alone drinking coffee or performing any actual activities in their underwear. The more she read, the more this catalogue began to resemble a big, thick soft porn mag. Still, Julia read on, only pausing to get another coffee and bringing the book with her. At the vending machine, Julia stopped to slip off her blouse and skirt, sitting at the table in her underwear, sipping more of the odd-flavoured coffee and staring at the women on the glossy pages. She turned a page: the Oriental woman was lighting a cigarette. Julia went to the table and retrieved the ashtray, lighter and box. Opening the wooden box, she took out a cigarette. Dutifully, she lit up, sat back and leafed through the book, drawing the smoke deeply into her lungs. As well as drinking their coffees, the women in the book were now also smoking cigarettes, all the while sitting in their underwear. Julia breathed out a stream of blue smoke and continued to flick through the pages of the book, feeling a strange sense of sexual arousal and excitement. It all seemed so strange, yet Julia felt more horny than disturbed by it all. It was time. Anna changed the subliminals CD to another track, suggesting obedience rather than envy. By now, the subject had drunk what amounted to a good, solid dose of Key 509; she could see, by her state of undress, that it had taken effect. Now, it was time for the next phase. Anna got up from the chair. She picked up the phone, called Reception. Nobody answered. Anna shrugged and wandered out of the control room. All thought about her reason for being here had fled Julia. She was engrossed in the contents of the thick book in front of her, showing pictures of the women in their underwear, smoking, drinking coffee. She was on her fourth cup of coffee by now, and smoking the cigarettes which also had a funny taste, though being a non-smoker herself, Julia was not to know this. In fact, there was not much that could concern Julia at the moment: the drug in the coffee, the oddly flavoured tobacco in the cigarettes, were having their full effect by now, and Julia's mind was a pleasantly obedient fuzz of cotton wool. She turned a page; one of the women was undoing her bra. On the following pages, the other women were also removing theirs. Diligently, Julia removed hers also, leaving her breasts to swing free. On the next page, it was their panties: a moment later, Julia was naked. By now, Julia was past knowing what she was doing, or why she was doing it. She just sat at the table, naked, just as the women in the book were doing. On the next page, the women were lighting up cigarettes again, so that's what Julia did, a cloud of blue smoke swathed about her as she drew the smoke deeply into her lungs. The door clicked open. It was Anna, carrying a clipboard and pen. Julia looked up and stared at her with empty eyes. 'Put out your cigarette,' Anna said. Julia found herself extinguishing the cigarette in the half-drunk coffee in the cup. 'Get up,' Anna ordered. Obediently, Julia did so. 'You're about ready,' Anna said to Julia. 'Come here. Stand in front of me.' Julia obeyed and stood in front of Anna, awaiting the next order. Anna nodded, ticked off a box on a form on the clipboard she was carrying. A 101 - The Smoking Room Anna gently stroked Julia's cheek, then touched her breast. Julia didn't flinch. 'You are ready,' Anna said. 'Very well, Julia. Follow me.' Calmly, Julia followed Anna out of the door, into the corridor, still naked. On the way, they encountered a man and a woman, both being led by a middle aged male scientist in a white lab coat. The man and woman were both naked. The woman was tall, well built with heavy breasts; she had hair so pale that it almost looked like silver. The man was shorter, with sandy hair and blue eyes. He was clean shaven. 'Julia,' Anna said, 'this is Doctor Henderson.' Anna did not react. 'Julia, kiss Doctor Henderson,' Anna said. Julia kissed Dr Henderson passionately. 'That's enough, Julia,' Anna said, after a while. 'Step back, now.' Anna watched as Julia separated herself from Dr Henderson and took a step back. 'Okay, now look at the couple here,' Anna said, pointing to the naked man and woman. Julia looked at them, her eyes blank. 'Their names are Carolina and Ted Wells. They are for you,' Anna told Julia. 'Ask me questions, now.' 'Are they married?' she asked Anna. 'They are,' Anna replied. 'Happily married and faithful to each other, until they came here.' 'How did they come here?' 'Same way you did,' Anna replied. 'By accident. They were canvassing neighbourhood buildings to promote their religion.' 'And you brought them in, gave them a drink ...' 'And did the same thing to them that we just did to you,' Anna said, smiling. 'Which is?' 'All three of you,' Anna said, 'start jumping on the spot.' Julia watched as the naked couple began to jump up and down. To her amazement, she felt the urge to join in. The scientist stepped to one side to stand beside Anna. 'The three of you, continue jumping on the spot in front of one another,' Anna said. Anna moved a little closer to the couple and continued to pogo on the spot with the others. She watched the other woman's breasts jiggle; the man's cock was stiffening as they watched him, a flush growing on his face. 'Stop jumping,' Anna said. The three stopped, but continued standing in a circle. 'Come with us,' Anna said. The three turned to face her and followed her along the corridor. Eventually, they reached a room with a plaque on the door which read A 101 SMOKING ROOM Julia, the man and the woman followed Anna into the room. The interior of the room appeared identical to the room where Julia had just been in. It, too, was windowless. 'Come into the centre of the room,' Anna told Julia and the couple. The three obediently filed into the middle of the room, and stood facing Anna. 'I want to test your obedience further,' Anna said. She crossed the room and came back with another cigarette box. She took out a cigarette, got out a lighter from her lab coat pocket and lit it before presenting it to Carolina. 'Smoke this,' Anna said. Carolina took it and began smoking. 'Ted, here you go,' Anna said, taking out another cigarette and offering it to Ted, lighting it for him. As she approached Julia, offering the box to her, Julia shook her head. 'No thanks,' she said. 'I don't smoke.' To her surprise, she found herself automatically taking out a cigarette from the box and slipping it between her lips. Anna leaned over and lit the cigarette, the flame's light shining on Julia's face. 'Draw the smoke in deeply,' Anna said, stepping back to let the three people enjoy their smokes. Julia drew in a great lungful of the aromatic smoke, breathing a blue streamer into the air. Carolina executed a perfect French snap and inhale and Ted blew a smoke ring which floated in the air before him. 'Hope you don't mind if I join you,' Anna said, taking a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lighting one. All four stood in the room, filling the air with cigarette smoke. 'Okay,' Anna said after a while, 'put them out. There's the ashtray.' Julia, Carolina and Ted put out their cigarettes in the ashtray. 'Stand up and face me,' Anna said. They stood straight and turned to face Anna, who had lit up a second cigarette and who stood smoking in front of them. Anna took a deep drag of her cigarette. 'Face each other like you did in the corridor,' she said, blue smoke wreathing her face. The three obeyed her and stood facing one another once again, with Julia facing away from Anna, who leaned forwards to put out her second cigarette in the ashtray. 'You; you; start dancing,' Anna ordered, touching Julia and the woman on the arm. She fished out a remote control and pressed a couple of controls. Music began to pour out of the speakers; a loud track with a thrumming, insistent beat, heavy on the bass with a deep African drum rhythm. Julia and the woman began to dance in front of the man, whose erection began to grow harder than ever. 'Don't' he said, his voice slurred. 'Some resistance,' Anna said, smiling. 'Carolina, Julia, put a bit more effort into it. You're trying to make Ted as hard as possible. Both of you, do what it takes to turn him on.' Julia heard Carolina giggle a husky laugh. Carolina began to gyrate her hips at Ted suggestively, one hand toying with a breast and the other sliding into her bush. Julia felt strange. She looked down at her own hands, and found herself doing something similar; her fingers were slipping into the wetness between the folds of her vulva, teasing her clitoris and sending shots of pleasure up and down her body. She jerked her hips at Ted, whose penis was now stiff and swollen with a purple head. Julia found herself wanting to take that cock deep into her body. She glanced at Carolina, whose expression of blind lust was all too clear. 'Carolina's really into it,' Anna said. She came around and looked at Julia. 'Pick one,' she said to Julia. Julia looked at Ted and Carolina. Carolina was slowly moving closer to Ted, who was just standing there, erect and breathing heavily. Then she looked back at Anna, and Julia realised that she was standing there, naked, masturbating, in front of this strange woman and hugely enjoying exposing herself. 'Ted,' Anna said, 'you can dance with Carolina. Julia, watch it and enjoy the show. You can keep dancing and masturbating, though. No sense stopping you having fun.' Anna coughed once, clearing her throat and glancing down at the clipboard. She looked slightly puzzled for a moment, as if wondering what she was doing with the board. Julia was on the verge of coming, but she continued to dance naked in front of Ted and Carolina. The couple seemed oblivious to her presence; they were dancing very close, now, the tip of his cock swinging as his hips moved, almost close enough to touch his wife's burgeoning bush. 'Ted, close your eyes,' Anna said. Obediently, Ted shut his eyes. 'Carolina,' Anna said in a whisper, 'step back a minute. Let Julia take over.' She looked at Julia, blinking for a moment. 'Julia,' Anna whispered, covering up a yawn, 'take over for Carolina.' Anna rubbed at her eyes for a moment. Julia stepped forwards, dancing close to Ted. This close, she could hear Ted's passionate breathing as they danced together. She could see the sheen of sweat on his skin. As Julia dipped her hand towards her bush again, it accidentally touched Ted's cock. Ted gasped; so did Carolina. As it swung back again, Julia touched the tip again, and this time she held it. Ted gave a little shudder as Julia began to stroke Ted's cock with both her hands. Julia looked over at Carolina, whose expression of jealousy and hate was clear. 'Both of you, stop dancing,' Anna said, touching Ted and Julia on the arm. Julia stopped, grateful for the chance to rest. She continued to stroke Ted's cock as Ted stood, gasping, his eyes shut, his face taut. 'Do you like that?' Julia whispered to Ted. Ted gasped. 'You're not Carolina?' he whispered, hoarsely. His eyes were still closed. Ted was frowning. Julia glanced at Carolina to her side; Carolina was still dancing, as instructed, but her face was red with anger and humiliation. Carolina rubbed her eyes, yawning, and carried on dancing. 'Carolina,' Anna said, blinking, 'you are now dancing – yawn – dancing for Julia.' Julia found herself yawning as well. All four of them were yawning. It was getting hot in the room. Julia looked about her, suddenly aware that the door of the room was closed. Then she saw that Carolina was dancing closer to her, yawning and blinking and gyrating her hips in Julia's direction. She glanced at Anna, and saw Anna slowly sitting down on a nearby chair, rubbing at her eyes. Julia let out a huge yawn of her own. It was getting really stuffy in the room. She began to feel dizzy, and wondered if somebody was filling the room with some sort of sleeping gas to make them all feel sleepy. Drowsily, Anna got up onto unstable feet. She made her way over to the door, fumbling for her key card. As Julia watched, craning her head around, she saw Anna swipe the keycard in the slot. The tiny light stayed red. Anna swiped the card a couple more times, before giving up and throwing the useless card away. Julia watched as Anna stumbled into the middle of the room, coughing and struggling to loosen the collar of her blouse. Julia herself continued to stroke Ted's penis, one handed, cupping his straining balls in her hand as she reached for Carolina with the other. 'Anna.' The male voice over the PA came as a surprise. 'Anna, this is Dr Henderson.' Anna looked up, her eyes half closed. 'Wh – what's ...' 'Just do as I say, Anna, and everything will be all right,' Dr Henderson said. 'I haven't put enough gas into the room to knock you out; only to make you feel drowsy and warm. And I've mixed in some Key 509 libido stimulator to make you all feel a little horny. You should all right now be feeling like you've had a good couple of shots of strong whisky right now.' Anna giggled. Dr Henderson continued. 'Julia; Carolina; both of you can have some fun with Anna. Anna, from now on you will take your orders from Julia. Julia; you can tell Anna, Ted and Carolina whatever you want them to do now. You're in control of all of them, and you must now take orders from me.' 'And what about me?' Carolina asked. 'You both still also take orders from me.' The PA cut off. 'Carolina,' Julia said, 'come to me.' Carolina groaned, stumbled forwards sleepily into Julia. Drowsy and aroused, Julia caught Carolina, kissing her passionately. At the same time, she playfully gave Ted's cock a tug, following it with the tip of a manicured finger drawn around the rim of his foreskin. 'Who wants to be first?' Julia asked, after separating slightly from Carolina. 'Me!' Ted cried, sleepily. 'Oh, me, please,' drawled Carolina, grinding her hips against Julia's. Julia moaned softly, nuzzled Carolina's neck. 'Me,' said Anna from behind Julia. Julia turned around, and saw that Anna was getting up from the chair, shedding her lab coat, one hand undoing the buttons of her blouse. Julia watched Anna as she struggled with her blouse. She looked at Carolina and Ted. 'Guys, do you two want to have some fun?' She looked at Carolina, who nodded, a hungry look on her face. 'Help Anna out of her clothing,' Julia said. 'Anna, have some fun with Carolina. Ted, you're with me.' Grabbing Ted by the balls, one hand stroking his cock, Julia led a straining Ted to the sofa as Carolina peeled off Anna's bra. 'Come here,' Julia said, lying down on the sofa. As Ted began to climb onto the sofa with her, she laid a hand on his stomach. 'Wait,' she said, leaning forwards. 'I want to do this first.' As Ted gasped and shuddered, Julia leaned over the tip of his erection and gently breathed, her warm breath pouring over the taut red tip. Then, gently, she ran her tongue over the tip as Ted groaned. Moistening her mouth, Julia slowly slid her lips over the crown of Ted's penis and sucked it deep into her waiting mouth. Ted groaned loudly. Elsewhere in the room, Anna moaned as well, as Carolina kissed and nibbled her nipples, stroking the curve of Anna's soft breasts with her hands. Anna undid her jeans and slid out of them, pulling her panties down with them so she could lie naked beneath Carolina. 'So you want me to find your G spot, honey?' Carolina asked. 'It – it doesn't exist,' Anna replied. 'It's a myth.' 'So they say,' Carolina said, sliding two fingers deeply into Anna's sopping twat. 'Does this feel like a myth to you?' Anna bucked, and gave a yelp of surprise followed by a long, shuddering breath. Her face softened, and a soft, dopey grin appeared on her face. 'Want me to carry on?' Carolina asked. 'Sure,' Anna replied. 'As long as I can do the same to you.' Carolina kissed Anna, gently sucking her lower lip into her mouth and holding it between her teeth for a moment. 'Anything you say, sweetheart,' she said, her fingers gently working against the wall of Anna's vagina. Julia looked at Anna and Carolina for a moment. A groan from above brought her attention back to the man she was fellating. She slowly pulled up, her lips making a soft sucking sound as she disengaged, and grabbed the cock with one hand. 'Come on,' Julia said. 'You're ready for the rest.' She leaned back, arching her hips and guiding Ted down to her waiting hole. With a look of deepest gratitude, half blind with lust, Ted pushed his cock into Julia's vulva and worked it up deep into her, until their hips met and he lay fully on top of her. As Ted slowly began to hump Julia, Anna's fingers found their way into Carolina's vulva, probing into her. 'Where is your G spot, then?' Anna asked, gasping as Carolina's probing fingers continued to work their magic. 'I think you're almost there,' Carolina replied. 'Almost ... almost ... oh. There.' Anna began to work her magic, and Carolina gasped. 'Oh, that's it, honey. Oh!' Carolina ground her hips against Anna's hand. She leaned forwards, their fingers tickling one another's G spots, kissing one another deeply, breathing as one. Julia's fingers found the perineum, the spot between Ted's testicles and his anus. She began to press at that spot. She'd read enough sex manuals to know the effect this would have on Ted. Sure enough, it worked. Ted groaned, but he could not come. Not until it was Julia's turn, at any rate. Julia felt the oncoming rush of the orgasm, but her finger pressure held, and Ted continued to thrust into her, his expression almost bestial. Finally, Julia crested, the orgasm an explosion inside her, filling her whole body. Shuddering, her breath ragged, she let go. With a cry, Ted released his load deep into Julia in a series of gushing pulses. As he collapsed on top of Julia, Carolina and Anna uttered cries of release as they too climaxed. Julia coughed as she extricated herself from underneath Ted. Ted was already falling asleep. 'Poor thing,' Julia said, forming the words around a yawn. 'It's turned out to be too much for him.' Julia got to her feet, somewhat unsteadily, and looked over at Anna and Carolina. 'He's all yours again, Carolina,' she said. Carolina murmured something sleepily, and sank back against Anna. Anna was already asleep. Julia wondered why the room was now spinning around her, and why she felt so heavy and sleepy. Belatedly, she realised that the controller might have turned up the sleeping gas, and now all four of them were heading for the Land of Nod together. As she sank to her knees, Julia found herself thinking about her job selling fashion catalogues. Her old life now seemed a million miles away from her current one. Just before her eyes closed, from her position lying on the floor facing the door, Julia watched in a curious state of detachment as a phalanx of white – coated figures opened the door and entered it. One figure approached her, knelt and brought his face close to her so that she could see the black gas mask, the blank mirrored glass of the visor. 'Karen,' Julia whispered as the gas took hold. Briefly, she wondered whether her old boss would like to come here some time. She heard the filtered breathing of the masked figure as gloved hands reached for her. The latex felt smooth, strange on her skin. Julia had no idea whether the hands and blank face belonged to a man or a woman. A moment later, as she succumbed, she no longer cared. All she knew, as she passed out, was that this day had turned out to be far from boring, after all.