Holy overwhelmedness, Batman! My apologies for publishing this month's episode so late, but I found myself having no time to transfer my edits to my word processor until last night.
Without further ado, here is October's episode of The Adjusters, "Whatever Did Happen to Marjorie?", wherein we learn the fate of Marjorie, and a few things more.
As usual, comments welcome.
10 - Whatever Did Happen To Marjorie?
Daniel was early, and had elected to wait for Jenn at the restaurant
bar, which was still empty. Nothing surprising there, since the
restaurant was one of the small town's very good -- and very expensive
-- places that in the main catered to parents. This was where you
brought your well-off parents when they came to visit. The restaurant
was therefore exceedingly busy in early January, at the beginning of
spring, and in late May, when visits were most common. The rest of the
year, it was exceedingly quiet.
And so it was tonight, in the middle of December. Because it was
Saturday, Daniel was not actually alone in the restaurant, but there
could not have been more than a dozen other people. The restaurant
staff had had the insight of drawing thick burgundy drape across the
dining room, cutting it in half and achieving a sense of intimacy.
Daniel adjusted his tie and tugged on his jacket, not used to the feel
of a suit. He felt vaguely ridiculous, like he was playing
dress-up. The evening warranted some discomfort, however, first
because of the importance of the conversation that would occur -- it
had been three weeks now that Jenn had told him about getting the
Blumberry, and they both had had time to think and reflect about the
future they wanted -- and second because it had been too long since he
and Jenn had gone out like grown-ups, as Serena liked to call it.
Perhaps it was his thinking of their friend, via some cosmic
synchronicity, but Daniel's cell phone rang at that moment, and he saw
Serena's name flash on the screen. He answered.
"Hey Serena, how goes it?"
"Pretty great, actually." He could hear traffic noises in the
background. "That Snowman guy, the one that got in touch with Lake for
drugs and that arranged for Marjorie to go see Lake --"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Well, you may also remember that I called him earlier this week,
saying that I was interested in hiring Marjorie -- MD -- for a gig,
and he just called me back, and he said sure and to come to The
Spirited Flesh, where MD is scheduled to dance tonight so I can have a
look at her and we can discuss business. I'm headed there now. Do you
want to come with?"
"Sorry, can't. I'm waiting for Jenn at Da Maurizio. We're having this
big dinner date..."
"Oh, right, right. It's tonight."
Daniel could hear the disappointment in her voice. "Can you call
Radhu?"
"He's still too out of it to leave his dorm room. No, I guess I'll go
alone. It's okay, I'll keep you informed, all right? At least I got my
pepper spray with me. You know, in case Mister Snowman gets fresh? And
Daniel -- good luck for tonight. Daniel? Are you still there?"
He was, but only physically. His arm was still holding the phone, but
it hung limply by his side. His eyes, and those of the whole male
contingent in the restaurant, were riveted on the vision of pure
loveliness that was currently strolling across the room towards
him. It was Jenn, of course, resplendent in a dark red evening gown
that hugged her body like a glove, baring just the merest hint of
cleavage but exposing her shoulders and sleek arms, and below flaring
slightly at the hips and continuing down to just below her knees. A
scarf, nylons, and a pair of spike heels completed the picture. The
click-clack of those heels on the floor grew louder in the sudden
silence, and Daniel remained motionless at his girlfriend's approach.
"Your mouth is open," she said, after stopping right in front of
him. She seemed pleased with herself.
"Huh..."
Jenn reached up with a hand, and gently pushed on his chin, closing
his mouth. "There, much better. You look less goofy now."
"Huh... right... I mean... wow. You look... wow..."
She laughed. "That's my native English speaker! Thank you. And may I
say, you look quite dashing yourself. Shall we sit? And why are you
holding your phone?"
"What phone? Oh, right. Serena." He lifted the phone to his ear, eyes
not leaving Jenn's. "Listen, I gotta go. Be careful, okay?"
Jenn had gotten closer to Daniel, and her mouth was near the
phone. "Bye Serena," she tossed in.
Serena laughed at the other end. "Okay, go, you two, and have
fun. I'll call you later."
Jenn never gave Daniel time to answer, tilting her head a fraction to
the right and give him a slow languorous lick on the lips, her eyes
looking deep into his. Arousal shot through him like electricity.
"I believe we have a seat waiting for us?" she said, after giving him
several seconds to recover.
He nodded, then shook his head as if to clear it. "Yes. We do. And I
think that's our waiter right there waiting for us."
A waiter was indeed waiting for them, and showed them to their
table. He held the chair for Jenn, and took advantage of it to steal a
surreptitious glance down her cleavage and, Daniel had the sneaking
suspicion, would have happily stolen a look at her thighs had she
pulled her dress up to sit. Daniel was in too jovial a mood to mind,
and Jenn seemed her usual oblivious self.
They ordered some wine, and the waiter left them to ponder the menu.
* * *
Meanwhile, Serena was coming within sight of The Spirited Flesh. She
was alone. She had determined that she would be safe enough, banking
on the fact that it was Saturday night and that the strip club would
be full.
The outside of the club had not changed since the last time she was
there with Daniel and Radhu, when they had come here upon learning
that Marjorie would be on stage, already more than a month ago. A
group of young men were mingling about, leaning against the wall of
the building and smoking and ogling every girl that walked by. They
spotted Serena immediately, and hooted when they saw her headed for
the club's door. Serena gave them a look that only seemed to egg them
on.
"Hey there, pretty lady! You gonna dance tonight? Wouldn't mind seeing
those bags of yours bounce around! Perhaps you and I can meet in the
back and I can show you what a white dick can do?" The man grabbed his
crotch while his buddies laughing drunkenly.
Serena elected for simply arching an eyebrow, and opened the door to
the club. The bouncer looked at her, giving her the once over, then
let her in after taking her money.
Inside, everything was as she remembered it, albeit more crowded. Few
seats were available -- but Serena had no interest in sitting down
anyways. On stage, a couple of blonde dancers with large artificial
breasts were kissing, hands rubbing each other's almost naked
bodies. Half the patrons were watching the show, the others busy
chatting or negotiating for lap dances. The evening was still early.
Serena flagged the man working the bar.
"You have anyone around named Snowman?"
The barman gave her a distracted look. "Not that I know of."
"You sure? Serena's asking. Snowman must have mentioned he was
expecting me."
The barman looked at her for five long seconds. "Snowman told me to
tell you to meet him in the back. Room nine."
Serena turned to the back of the club. "And how do I...?"
The barman pointed to a pair of red doors. He signaled to a large man
standing beside them, then pointed to Serena. The large man nodded
once.
"Thanks," said Serena.
She was excited, the thought of confronting someone that at least
could give her some concrete information about Marjorie, perhaps even
where to find the poor girl, made her heart race. Calm down, girl, she
told herself -- he may not even want to talk to you. She had no plan
to speak of. Too many unknowns. But Snowman was a man, and unless he
was gay, that gave her a slight advantage. She unfastened a few
buttons of her shirt, and pressed her breasts upwards to produce more
cleavage. She did not particularly relish the thought of having to
seduce him, but she really had nothing else with which to exert
leverage. They said all was fair in love and war -- that went double
for journalism and searching for friends.
The man guarding the double doors let her through, after staring her
down and letting his eyes slide down to her chest, following the swell
of her breasts. Serena did not rise to the bait -- her goal was
Snowman, and she would not let herself get distracted. She stepped
through the doors.
The noise from the club immediately dropped to a background buzz. She
was in a carpeted hallway leading to a T-junction perhaps a hundred
feet ahead. It reminded her of a generic hotel floor, with doors down
the corridor, every one of them closed and numbered. As she walked
down looking for room nine, a couple emerged from one of the rooms,
the man looking like a used-cars salesman complete with rumpled suit
and questionable tie, and the girl hanging on his arm -- either a
stripper here at the club or a date with atrocious fashion sense --
wearing a bikini and platform plastic heels, blonde hair straight out
of a bottle. She looked tired.
When they crossed her path, heading for the door, Serena nodded to the
girl, who dismissed Serena with a defiant glance. Serena was surprised
by the reaction, and then she asked herself how she would have reacted
had the roles been reversed. Had the girl read pity in Serena's eyes?
She decided on the spot to pitch a story about the strippers here at
the club to her editor. That should get the guy's interest.
She felt the man's eyes on her backside after passing the couple, and
shook her head. She'd need a good shower after this, she thought. One
figured that after spending all of one's time with horny college
students one would get inured to such treatment, but for all their
crassness, the college students she hung out with tended to inject a
sense of levity and fun in their sexism and machismo, something
utterly missing from this environment. Here, despite the fancy
surroundings and the upbeat music and the bright colors, despair and
hopelessness clung to everything.
She slid a hand in her purse when she reached the door marked nine,
and kept it on her pepper spray bottle. She knocked then opened the
door.
The small room was poorly lit, and held only a cushioned chair in its
center, obviously intended for private lap dances. Serena had almost
expected a cot in the corner for quickies. Then again, the carpeting
was thick enough that it probably served as a reasonable alternative.
There was a young man sitting in the chair, about eighteen years of
age, with short hair and a good physique. He kept tapping his foot and
looking around nervously. He trained his eyes on her as soon as she
entered the room. "Serena?"
"Who's asking?" She remained by the door, looking around.
"Come in. We may need some privacy for this."
"We'll see. You Snowman?"
He nodded. He still looked nervous. "I am. You're here about MD,
right? You asked about her availability?"
Serena stepped into the room. Finally, some answers. "I am. I'm
looking for entertainment for a party, and I've heard she's very very
good. You... I'm sorry -- you just weren't who I was expecting."
Snowman had sounded older on the phone.
"Well, there's a reason for that."
Before Serena could ponder that answer, a pair of strong arms grabbed
her from behind, pinning her own arms down. By reflex, she kicked back
with her foot and the heel of her boot sank into a shin, and she was
rewarded with a scream of pain from the man behind her. She bolted as
soon as she felt the arms letting her go, and was at the door before
the young man in the chair had time to react. The door was
locked. Before she could turn around, she was grabbed again, and a wet
cloth was pressed against her face. She tried to shout, but the
pungent smell made the world spin once, then twice, and then
everything went dark.
* * *
"So here we are," said Jenn. They had finished their meal, and had
ordered desert. By some unspoken understanding, they both recognized
it was time to talk.
"Here we are indeed," replied Daniel. He cleared his throat. "I'll
start. First off, let me just say that the last month has been utterly
mind-bogglingly fantastic. If your plan was to hook me more deeply, it
worked like a charm. If the last month is a preview of what life is
going to be like, then I'd be a moron to pass it up. And that's even
if I weren't crazy in love with you."
Jenn grinned, and sipped her wine. Daniel continued.
"And that's the point, really. Everything else is academic. I love
you, Jennifer Hansen, and I can't bear the thought of being away from
you. And I know that the Blumberry is like a dream coming true, and I
don't want to be the reason that you don't get a shot at that
dream. So I say: onto Austin."
Jenn shook her head. "I love you too, my sweet little romantic. And I
also want to see you happy, and if passing up on the scholarship and
staying in the northeast is what it takes, I'll happily do it with no
second thought. On the plus side, it would give me a chance to write
that Great American Novel. I'm already accumulating a few ideas. By
the way, can the Great American Novel be erotica?"
"All right, then. So we're pretty much where we were a month
ago. Great. It's a good thing I got this job offer from this place
spitting distance from Austin then, to do the kind of thing I want to
try doing. That'll save us some painful back and forth."
"What?"
It was Daniel's turn to grin. "I had a phone interview with them last
week, and they want to fly me down after Christmas for a more in-depth
chat, but they said the job is mine if I want it. I figure we could
make it a joint trip and go visit UT Austin at the same time."
Jenn was staring at him wide eyed. "Okay -- details, lover, details!"
And he gave her the rundown of the Advanced American Institute for
Democracy, what he had learned, the work for democratization and
increased access to resources and facilities and the work in minority
communities to train them and teach them and get them to participate
in the civic process. Daniel had warmed up to this more hands-on
approach to practical politics, almost activism, a far cry from the
more theoretical work he had been focussing on at the university. He
felt the change would do him good.
Jenn remained silent when he had finished, looking at her glass of
wine, lost in thought. Then she looked back up at him. "It's perfect,
then. Everything is falling into place. Wow."
"You sound like you weren't sure it would?"
She shrugged. "Crossroads are funny. Never can tell what's going to
happen when you get to one. I was serious, you know -- I would have
given it up to stay with you."
His tone of voice matched hers when he replied. "Which is what made it
that much easier to decide. I would have too. You're worth any
sacrifice."
Jenn grinned, stood up, and went around the table. She leaned down
towards him. "You so know how to talk to girls." She pressed her lips
to his, and the soft kiss turned into a long soulful one that made
Daniel completely forget he was seated in a rather classy restaurant.
Jenn ran a finger down his face, a playful gleam in her eyes. "I'll be
right back, lover." She turned around and walked away.
Daniel's gaze followed he swaying form, and he admired the way her
dress clung to her body like a sheath. She was perfect, and she was
his. Or he was hers. An older lady at a nearby table gave him a look,
and he shrugged sheepishly at her by way of apology for their display
of affection, not feeling sorry for one second.
He took out his cell phone, and sent Serena a quick text message
asking if everything was okay. She did not answer. Probably deep in
investigative mode, he figured. He hoped she was successful with her
meeting. She had been quite upset by what Daniel had told her happened
to Marjorie at the NADA thing, when she collapsed screaming in pain
for no visible reason. Serena was worried something really bad had
happened, and it was eating her up.
He looked up from his phone when he heard the tell-tale sound his
girlfriend's heel. Jenn sat back down at their table.
"Here, this is for you." She extended a hand, waiting for him to
extend his. He did, and she handed him a wad of red material. He
looked at it, not understanding, and Jenn's Cheshire-cat smile did not
afford him any clue. When he unfolded it, he blushed as he immediately
recognized it for what it was -- a shockingly sheer red thong. He
pocketed it quickly, and glanced around to see if anyone had
noticed. The old lady from earlier was looking at them with a
disapproving frown on her face. The older man accompanying her was
looking at Jenn with wonder.
"What the hell are you doing?" whispered Daniel.
"You can be such a prude sometimes!" Jenn's smile grew wider. "Life
right now is perfect. Everything's perfect. And you know me -- when
I'm happy, I get horny. You don't mind it when I'm horny, do you?"
Daniel swallowed, thinking about his girlfriend naked underneath her
dress, and was taken with the sudden urge to stand on his chair and
loudly announce that he loved this girl.
"Besides, I think I behaved very well. I did give them to you, after
all. I toyed with the idea of just laying them on the table, you know,
so that the waiter would see them, and perhaps start fantasizing about
me."
Speaking of the devil, the waiter arrived just then, carrying a bottle
of champagne. Jenn looked up in surprise. "What's this?"
"Something to celebrate with."
The waiter popped open the bottle, and poured them two glasses. Jenn
took hers, Daniel his. "To the Blumberry," he said.
"To the Institute for Democracy," she replied.
"To the most wonderful girl in the world."
"To the most charming man in the universe."
Daniel took a deep breath. "I think it's only fair that I give you
something in exchange for what you gave me a few minutes ago..."
"Huh, I don't think we girls have quite the same underwear fetish you
guys do, lover."
"Then it's a good thing it isn't what I had in mind..." He gently set
a small box down on the table before her, and opened it. "Miss
Jennifer Hansen, will you marry me?"
Jenn's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, her eyes
wide. She stared at the ring nestled inside the box for a long time,
then up at Daniel, who despite all of his blustering was nervous.
She looked up at him, softness in her eyes. "Of course I will."
Daniel let out a breath he was not aware he had been holding. He
grinned madly. She grinned right back, and before long they were both
giggling like teenagers in love.
She took out the ring from the book, and slipped it on. "It's
beautiful," she said.
"I did have some help in making the final choice."
"Serena?"
"Who else?"
"Wait... she helped you choose? It's not what I would have expected
her to go for."
"Indeed. I had three choices down, and I went for the one she liked
the least, the one with the simplest design. If it had been up to her,
you'd have ended up with a huge rock that probably would have messed
up your balance."
Jenn's smile slowly turned into a frown.
"What's wrong?"
"Well, I gave you something, and then you gave me something in return,
but I feel I got the most out of the exchange. Hardly seems fair."
"I wouldn't quite put it that way, to be honest."
"No, no, no. This partnership should start on an equitable footing."
"What do you suggest?"
"That we take care of the bill, and we go find somewhere quiet where I
can show you in exquisite detail how much I'm looking forward to
spending the rest of my life with you, Mister Malcolm. I mean, I
already took care of removing one particular... obstacle..."
Daniel motioned for the check.
* * *
When Serena came to, it took her a while to realize that what she was
seeing an old wooden ceiling. She could feel straps on her body
holding her down, but they were overkill. She could not move. Her
limbs simply did not obey her commands. Except for her head, that she
could move, though doing so made her dizzy. What happened? The last
thing she could remember was being at The Spirited Flesh -- Snowman!
"Ah, Miss Banks. Welcome back."
Serena turned her head in the direction from which the voice had
come. The speaker, a man perhaps in his late thirties, black hair,
wearing a white lab coat, was sitting on a stool before a computer
console lost on a desk amidst electronic equipment, notes, and what
looked like home chemistry sets. The man looked familiar.
"I'm sorry about the rather heavy-handed way my friends treated you
back at the club. They can be rather juvenile at times. Nevertheless,
you wanted to talk to me?"
She finally recognized him. He was wearing a lab coat instead of a
suit, but this was the man they saw with Marjorie in the back alley of
the strip club a month ago.
"You're... Snowman?" Speaking was difficult.
"The same," the man replied. "Although you can call me Cargyle. Doctor
Cargyle. Snowman was a bit of a joke carried too far too long. How are
you feeling?"
The doctor stood and walked to Serena, putting two fingers on her neck
as if checking her pulse, a rather redundant gesture since she seemed
to be hooked up to a beeping monitor displaying all her vital signs.
"Where's... where's Marjorie?"
The doctor looked at Serena silently for several seconds. "Yes, this
is what brought you here, isn't it? Your quest to find your friend?"
He shook his head. "I told those kids it was a bad idea to keep her
activated her for such long periods of time. Besides the risk of
psychotic breakdown, I was worried someone would notice when she
disappeared for long periods of time. Like you did. But does anyone
listen to the doctor? No, of course not. They all like the doctor and
especially all the goodies he brings to the party and they are willing
to welcome him to the ranks, but listen to him? Blasphemy -- can't
have that."
Serena had no idea what the doctor was going on about. But the more he
talked, the more chance she had of learning something useful, and it
bought her extra time. She was clearly in some sort of laboratory, as
suggested by all the equipment, both computerized and medical,
although not a very advanced on. It looked as if it had been set up in
a basement. In fact, the walls were stone, indicating a cellar. Ever
the journalist, she tried to observe and remember as many details as
she could so as to be able to later reconstruct where she had been.
Her endeavors were almost forgotten when she saw who was lying down in
a gurney a few feet from her. Marjorie! The photographer looked
asleep, except that her eyes were open and staring up at the ceiling,
utterly expressionless.
"Marjorie! Hey Marge. It's me, Serena! I've been looking for you
everywhere. Marge! You okay? Marge? Fuck, what have you done to her,
you bastard?" She still could not move anything but her head, so she
settled for following Snowman -- doctor Cargyle -- with eyes spitting
venom as he circled her and approached the unresponsive Marjorie.
"Yes, well," said the doctor, after running a finger down Marjorie's
face, who did not react to the touch. "I guess you did find your
friend after all, Miss Banks. I have to congratulate you on your
perseverance. As to what happened to her, to be honest, I am not
entirely sure. If you allow me to be glib, then I would say that most
of her brain is fried. Utterly and irremediably fried." He shook his
head. "I told you, they don't listen to me. I warned them that the
programming I give the girls is crude -- I mean, look at this
equipment, it's practically prehistoric -- and becomes unstable when a
girl is kept activated for too long. Marjorie was my latest experiment
in making the programming more stable, by using a slightly different
technique to imprint behavior changes on a more permanent basis, but
she was still not ready. They wanted someone that they could not only
enjoy themselves but also send out to parties and other events and
provide the frat with some money, or status, or something. Who knows?
So they put her up to it. I tried to stay with her and keep an eye on
her, but to no avail. Now, her programming is pretty much all she has
left."
"Programming? Girls? Oh my God -- the dick girls! You've hypnotized
them!"
Doctor Cargyle looked at her with a mix of admiration and
disdain. "Dick girls! What a stupid term. But what else can we expect
from frat boys that can't be bothered to change their underwear? I'm
impressed, Miss Banks. But I have to correct you on one point. It's
not hypnosis. It's a mixture of drugs, direct neural stimulation, and
sensory programming. Somewhat artisanal, given my setup, and I guess
to a layman the effects might look the same as hypnosis."
"So you just take girls and what? Turn them into whores?"
Doctor Cargyle looked pained. "No, Miss Banks, that's not the
idea. I'm not turning them into anything. I'm simply continuing my
research into psychoneurology, trying to crack the code of the
brain. The potential benefit for mankind is incalculable: senility,
Alzheimer's, schizophrenia, crippling anxiety, all could be a thing of
the past. But I ran into some... huh... problems with former employers
of mine, and the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity was kind enough to
provide me a sanctuary to let me keep a low profile while my troubles
blew over. As a small token of gratitude for their kindness, I agreed
to provide them with... well, you know."
"The dick girls are programmed to be whores for the frat boys. How
nice. And thus, the bracelets..."
Doctor Cargyle nodded. "Yes, the bracelets." He looked over at a box
on the corner of the desk, which contained a large supply of silver
charms. "They serve as an anchor for the programming -- crude, but
effective. Plus it's a useful indicator to the kids that a girl is
available. And those girls are but a small price to pay to further
science. Besides, they are unaware of the programming they have been
subjected to, don't remember the time spent while activated, and are
generally unharmed by their experiences."
"Except Marjorie."
The doctor frowned. "Yes, except Marjorie."
He looked down at Marjorie, who was still staring off into space,
completely unaware of anything going on around her. A faraway look of
his own on his face, Doctor Cargyle ran a finger over her lips, then
inserted the tip between them. Instantly, Marjorie closed her eyes and
started his finger into her mouth, in a clear mimicry of a perfectly
executed blow job, thrusting her head up to meet the unmoving finger,
twirling her tongue around the tip and on the underside of the
invading digit as it went in. Her hips were moving in time with her
sucking, and she moaned softly. When the doctor pulled his finger out,
her tongue trailed after it, and a whine of frustration escaped the
girl. Then she went back to her catatonic state.
"A shame, really," continued the doctor, wiping his finger on his lab
coat, "she was such a wonderful research subject. And imaginative,
too. You see, programming someone is an art. You don't want a
robot. Well, some folks do want robots. But for best effect, you want
someone that can take elements of their own personality and wrap them
around their programming, so that the programming is enhanced --
magnified by whatever personality traits are in the subject. It's
really beautiful how it works. In Marjorie here, it was almost a
perfect combination. She took to sex like a fish to water. Did you
know she had slept with only two men before the fraternity got its
hands on her? You can say we opened her eyes to the world out
there. Of course, now, she is no longer in any kind of state to
appreciate it, except at the most primitive level. Such a shame."
Doctor Cargyle moved a hand to Marjorie's legs and slipped it under
the short grey dress she had on. She did not react, nor show any
emotion until he touched her crotch, or so Serena surmised. She saw
Marjorie throw her head back against the gurney, arch her spine, and
spread her legs while pulling up her knees. She thrust her hips
forward, and a moan escape her as the doctor worked his hand
rhythmically. He was finger fucking her, that was pretty clear, and
she was enjoying every second of it, that was equally clear. Her moans
grew gradually more intense, her trashing wilder, her pelvic thrusts
more violent, until her mouth locked into an O of surprise and she
tensed up like an elastic band about to snap before letting out a wail
as a massive orgasm hit her and caused her to shiver uncontrollably
until finally she collapsed back onto the gurney, eyes closed, a
serene smile on her face. The doctor pulled his hand out from under
her dress, and he again wiped his wet fingers on his lab coat.
"Amazing how responsive she still is, no? She's essentially catatonic
until she's touched in a sexual way, and then she goes into the
automatic part of her programming. I am not sure exactly the
mechanisms at play here -- by all accounts, even her programming
should be disabled. And yet..." He sighed. "If only I had more time
with her, I might be able to learn from this event. Alas, it has been
decided that we must get rid of her."
The doctor looked genuinely sad, but Serena was certain it was not
because of the ruined life lying before him, but rather his ruined
experiment. She was angry, and not a little bit scared. "What are you
going to do, kill her?"
The doctor reacted as if he had been slapped. "Dear Lord, no! What do
you think I am? A murderer? No, the fraternity has arranged to have
her transported to a facility where she will still be useful, even in
her degenerate condition. Her only skill right now is sexual
satisfaction, and she's been sold to a group in East Asia that will
employ her in a sexual-services facility that caters to more, shall we
say, extreme tastes than normal."
Serena was aghast. "You've sold her into slavery? That's... You're a
monster!"
"She will be useful, and have a purpose. Other than that, she's
completely brain dead. At least, this way, she gets to give pleasure,
and as you saw, receive it."
The man was insane, Serena realized. She willed her body to struggle
against her bonds, with no effect. When she looked up at the doctor,
he was filling a syringe carefully.
"What are you going to do to me?"
The doctor flipped the syringe and flicked the needle with a finger to
remove any air bubble. "Well, Miss Banks, you must admit that you have
been something of a pain lately, and you have uncovered more about my
presence here than I find comfortable. Granted, I do have a tendency
to talk too much. Now, since I need a new subject for my research,
seeing as my former subject is now out of service, you will fill that
role nicely. I have been meaning to experiment with selective memory
alteration anyways, so we can ensure that you will not remember what
has transpired tonight, or whatever happened to your friend
Marjorie. And if we can convince the frat brothers to treat you well,
you should not suffer from the adverse effects that Marjorie here has.
He glanced at Marjorie, still motionless on her gurney, then turned to
Serena. "You are a beautiful woman, Miss Banks, and the brothers here
will be more than happy to have you are around as their new girl."
The doctor tied an elastic band high on Serena's arm, then set the
needle of the syringe against the skin in the crook of her
elbow. Before she could fully comprehend what the doctor had in store
for her, a wave of dizziness engulfed her, and in the last few minutes
before the darkness claimed her for the second time in just a few
hours, she felt the doctor snapping a bracelet on her wrist and
welding it shut.
* * *
Daniel barely had time to unlock the door to their place before Jenn
attacked him. Her kisses were feverish, and she pushed his back
against the wall so she could press her body against his. He could
taste the champagne on her breath -- they had brought the bottle with
them from the restaurant and very nearly finished it on the cab ride
back.
Jenn ran her hands on the sides of Daniel's body, pulling his shirt
out of his trousers to reach his skin. Her tongue was deep in Daniel's
mouth, exploring, tasting, seeking his to fence with. He pulled her
against him, and she responded by thrusting her pelvis at him. His
hands ran down her back and pulled up her dress enough to be able to
palm the top of one thigh and a cheek, amazed as usual by the softness
of her skin. Jenn moaned in his mouth at the touch, then pulled out of
the embrace just enough to unbutton his shirt.
Foreseeing that the entryway would not be the most comfortable place
to continue this, he hedged towards the living room, Jenn following
him with a slight whine as if to ask where he was going.
In the cab over, they had not talked, only drunk from the champagne
bottle and made out. Daniel had seen the cab driver, an older taciturn
man, look at them through his rearview mirror after surreptitiously
adjusting it to get a better view. Daniel had tried to say something
to Jenn while she had been lavishly kissing his neck, and all he had
gotten out of her was a shrug, and she had moved to straddle his lap
after pulling the skirt of her dress up, presumably giving the driver
a perfect money shot of her behind. Daniel had thought "what the hell"
and had surrendered himself to the heady feeling of his girlfriend --
his beautiful, loving, sexy girlfriend, now fiancee -- wiggling on top
of his now raging erection. His hands had rested on her thighs, as her
moans had suggested that was where his hands ought to be.
Daniel had almost put a stop to it when Jenn had playfully reached
back and pulled down the zipper of her dress and bared her chest. No
bra, he had noted -- the bustier of the dress must have played double
bill there -- and her nipples had been bright red and hard, clamoring
for attention, attention that he had been more than ready to
provide. He had dived in, sucking on them with the intensity of a
starving baby, in just the way he knew Jenn enjoyed, and he had been
rewarded by her tossing her head back, her hair spilling out of her
clips, and letting out a lust-filled groan that reverberated in the
cab. The driver, who had been undoubtedly enraptured by watching the
sexy brunette overcome by her emotions, had had to jerk hard on the
steering wheel to avoid driving into a pole. Thankfully, they had been
close to home by then, and Jenn had just had enough time to rearrange
her top and pull down her skirt before the cab stopped by the curb in
front of their place. Daniel had paid the cab driver, barely able to
meet the man's eyes, while the latter was telling him he was a lucky
boy. Jenn had lingered by the side of the cab, talking to the driver
through his door window, while Daniel had climbed the stairs to unlock
the front door. He had heard her crystal laughter ringing in the quiet
night air before she ran up the stairs to meet him and kiss him so
hard their lips would be bruised the next day.
And now they were in the living room and Jenn had pushed Daniel down
to the floor and had unzipped her dress again and had let it fall and
pool at her feet, and she stood above him like every mane's wet dream,
naked but for a pair of thigh-highs and red spike heels, long hair
wild after having been trapped in her clips for the better part of the
evening. She posed for a few seconds, smiling at Daniel adoring look,
then she pounced, kneeling on his legs, pulling on his still
unfastened trousers and boxer shorts, and exposing his hard shaft. She
cooed at it while wrapping her hand around it, and slowly rubbed her
hand up and down a few times, as if she was judging its heft. She
seemed satisfied because very soon she scooted up and straddled his
hips, the head of his cock lined up right against her pussy lips. She
kissed him again, a slow burning kiss that seemed to suck his soul out
of his lungs, and in that momentary distraction Jenn managed to reach
down and push his cock inside her, and Daniel cried out when he felt
an almost intolerable heat cradling his sensitive organ. Jenn merely
grinned and kissed him harder, rocking her hips back and forth in a
slow fucking motion that was more tease than anything else.
She straightened up, tossed her hair back, and in slow but forceful
strokes fucked herself on his jutting cock. His hands moved up to cup
her breasts, and her hands joined his and pressed hard, massaging her
breasts roughly. She looked down at him, and smiled a naughty smile.
"You think that cab driver would have liked to see us like this? He
did look like a bit of a perv, didn't he? Staring at us like that?"
So she had known the driver had been looking at them, thought
Daniel. "Love, any man that goes for girls would have been turned on
by you and would have given a ball and a half to see you naked like
this, and his remaining half-ball to fuck you like this."
She laughed, and rocked harder on his cock. "It turned me on to feel
his eyes on me, you know? I could just feel them on my back, when I
unzipped my dress, and on my ass when I pulled my skirt up. I wanted
to turn around and push my boobs up and go 'tada!' just to see him
drool over them. Does that make me a bad girl?"
Daniel thrust his hips up to go against her own pushes, achieving a
deep penetration that made Jenn moan. "You have a perfect body,
love. Makes sense that you want to show it off..." He was happy to go
along with her fantasy.
"Perhaps he would have stopped the cab," she continued, her eyes into
Daniel's, "and turned around and touched them -- my boobs. I would
have let him, you know, would have liked to feel that stranger's hands
on them, squeezing them, twisting my nipples, with you next to me,
watching, perhaps rubbing your hands on my thigh, up to my dripping
wet pussy. With you next to me, my perfect lover, my knight."
Daniel moved his hands down to her sides to pull her down on him
forcefully, and she gasped, her hips jerking out of control for a
second.
"Fuck, that felt so good! Fuck me hard! Fuck, I'd have given him a
good show, too -- I'd have leaned back in the seat, spread my legs
wide and played with my pussy, rubbing and pinching before thrusting
one then two then more fingers inside. With both of you watching,
getting hard, both of you wanting to take me, to fuck me, you, the
perfect lover and love of my life, and him, the stranger, the old
pervert, who probably fantasizes every night about all the young sluts
that take his cab and that never offer him anything in return."
She leaned over Daniel and lowered her voice. "Perhaps I should have
payed for all those girls that turn him on day in day out, and let him
fuck me? Do you think he might have enjoyed that, to sink his cock
into this tight pussy of mine? I mean, he certainly seemed interested
earlier, when you were unlocking the door and I tipped him by giving
him my thong."
That stopped Daniel in his tracks. "You did what?"
"I slipped it out of your jacket in the cab, and gave it to him. You
should have seen his face too -- he got all red, I thought he'd pop a
brain vessel. You know he's probably jerking off into my panties right
now, rubbing them over his cock, imagining it's me all around it,
squeezing it and milking it, his sexy passenger with the tight dress
making out with her fiancee in the back of his cab."
Somehow the image was too much for Daniel, who took hold of Jenn
before flipping her onto her back and thrusting himself between her
legs. She moaned and laughed at the same time, spreading her legs wide
to offer him better access and pulling him to her, kissing him once he
had sheathed himself fully once more.
"Fuck yes," she groaned as he pulled out and thrust in again, the
sound of their skin slapping together loud in the empty
apartment. "Come on, fuck me -- just like that cabbie wanted to --
hard, so hard. Fuck me!"
She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he was driven wild by the
feel of her nylons against his hips. He put his hands on the ground on
either side of her head for leverage, and drove into her at a frenetic
pace. He vaguely noticed when she clenched and went rigid as an orgasm
ripped through her, and kept fucking her madly, thrusting into her so
hard that he was pushing them both across the floor. He shouted when
he came, thrusting deep into his girlfriend, while she gently ran her
hands over his back, soothing him as he emptied himself inside her. He
collapsed in a heap next to her, and they lay on the floor, spent.
Daniel eventually broke the silence. "And here we are," he sighed, "on
the floor again."
"It is a particularly comfy carpet."
"We'll have to make sure we get one like this when we get our house."
"Listen to you, Mister Domestic."
"It'd be nice, no? Having our own place?"
She was silent after that. "You know how sometimes your life seems to
change very fast in a short period of time. That last month was like
that for me. Lots happened."
He pushed up on one elbow to look at her. She was staring at the
ceiling, hands behind her head. "Too much?"
She looked back at him. "No. Just enough."
They kissed.
* * *
Doctor Cargyle was at the computer when Serena came out of her
drug-induced unconsciousness. Her programming -- her adjustment, as
his old employers had called it -- had gone without a hitch, like most
of the girls he had supplied to the fraternity. The only question mark
was the modifications he had made to support the memory alterations, a
variation from what he had used on Marjorie Duquesne.
Serena's stirring brought him out of his reverie. He went to her side,
glancing at the monitor that summarized her vital signs. He looked at
the silver charms bracelet on her wrist. He had disliked the bracelets
at first -- they were a constant reminder of how backwards was the
technology he had to work with here -- but they had grown on him. They
were a testimony to the fact that no matter what happened, he had the
wits to survive. Every bracelet he put on a girl was an assertion of
his resourcefulness and wherewithal.
"What happened? Daniel?..." Serena was disoriented, a common
side-effect of the drug cocktail necessary to facilitate the
programming.
"Miss Banks? Serena?" Doctor Cargyle leaned down and gently turned her
head towards him. Her eyes had some difficulty focussing. He said the
code words that the frat -- those stupid kids -- had elected to use as
their trigger: "I am your dick brother." Her eyes immediately flashed
to his left hand, where he sported the fraternity ring that the
president had given him, and her body stiffened momentarily before
relaxing once more.
He noted that reactions with clinical detachment. The core programming
seemed to have taken. Of course, he had ways of accessing the
programming of his subjects in different ways that did not necessitate
the ring, but this ensured that she responded to the trigger that
would be most commonly used. The doctor then ran Serena through his
usual post-programming tests, to which Serena submitted without
complaints, never losing her calm neutral expression.
So busy was he with his test suite that he almost missed the two
fraternity brothers at the laboratory door. "Hey Doc. Sorry to
disturb, but we're here to take care of the retard. The truck's
arrived. She's supposed to be on that freighter in a couple of
hours. She ready?"
Without even looking, the doctor acquiesced, and pointed to Marjorie
still lying in her gurney, now strapped in. "Yes, yes. There she
is. Be careful with her, please."
"Of course." They were setting themselves up to grab the gurney when
one of the brothers glanced at Serena. "Hey, is this a new girl? Man,
she's really a looker that one. Love the chocolate skin. And check out
those lips!"
"Forget the lips -- look at that rack on her! When's she gonna be
available, Doc?"
"The usual, give it a few days. I have more tests to run with this
one. She's special."
"She's special all right. Fuck, can't wait to have her begging to suck
my cock!" He laughed, and he and his friend lifted the gurney with
Marjorie and made for the door.
"You may want to say goodbye to your friend Marjorie now, Serena. I
doubt you will see her again, and if you do, well, I fear neither of
you will have the mental presence to even realize it."
Serena turned her head slowly towards her friend. "Goodbye, Marjorie."
Her voice was pleasant, relaxed. She then turned her attention back
towards the doctor, who was continuing his monologue. "Okay then. The
basic routines seem to have been implanted correctly. Step two, we
test the basic programming to make sure you are in position to please
your new frat brothers out there -- you heard the kids, you're going
to be quite a hit -- then we make sure your medium and short-term
memory have been suitably adjusted -- wouldn't want you to remember
all that you learned about us, or even that something funny has
happened to Miss Duquesne, do we? No, as far as you're concerned,
Marjorie told you she had suffered a nervous breakdown and was going
back to spend some time at a private institution to rest, and you will
have no more compulsion to investigate. How does that sound to you,
Serena?"
Serena blinked, and offered a small smile. "Whatever pleases you,
Sir."
The doctor nodded, then went to lock the laboratory door. He was
unfastening his trousers when he came back. "Well, then, let's
start. First off, oral skills. Let's see how much you know about
giving head, Serena. As the kid said, you do have some particularly
fetching lips."
Serena's smile became wolfish as she watched the doctor strip. "With
pleasure, Sir."
THE END of Book I: Whatever Happened to Marjorie Duquesne?
