Authors: NewOldGuy77 and JuanaSalsa
NOTE: This tale was inspired by JuanaSalsa, a STEM PhD scientist (when she's not writing); due to her many contributions during the writing of it, she deserves full credit as co-author.
All scientists in the story are 18+. Since I revise right up until submission, any errors are mine alone.
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PART 1: She Blinded Me With Science
It's poetry in motion, now she's making love to me
The spheres are in commotion, the elements in harmony
She blinded me WITH SCIENCE!
- Thomas Dolby
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Her full name was Doctor Rachel Carson Berrigan, PhD. Rachel had been recruited to ChemMolecular's Albuquerque, New Mexico research lab from Produits Chimiques, a French-based competitor; she'd been working in their Santa Fe facility about 50 miles away on Interstate I-25. From a scientific standpoint, having this renowned materials scientist working for ChemMolecular was quite the feather in my company's cap.
Speaking as both a materials scientist and a bachelor, I have to say that in addition to finding Dr. Berrigan brilliant, I also found her attractive as hell.
I'm Patrick Dawson, Senior Materials Research Scientist at ChemMolecular with a PhD in Chemical Engineering from MIT. I'm 6'2" and slim, with brown hair, and hazel eyes. I have an older brother, Edward, a chemical warfare researcher who works for the Department of Defense at the Pentagon. I'm a nice package, according to my gay friends, anyway. (They tell me it's a shame I'm straight.) The downside is, I'm shy as hell.
Despite my shyness, I'm no stranger to relationships. While attending MIT I had a girlfriend, so no, I'm not a virgin. Her name was Tiffany Grimes, and she was an electrical engineering major. Our brief relationship ended because I was not the party animal Tiffany's Kappa Alpha Theta sorority sisters wanted me to be.
They kept telling Tiffany I was boring and dull, enough so that she finally dumped me. Not going to lie, it hurt like hell; I swore off tall, blonde electrical engineers after that. Those stuck-up BSEE bitches could go fuck themselves with a 16-channel oscilloscope!
Now Dr. Berrigan, she was quite the opposite. Barely 5' in her sensible burgundy-colored Troentorp clogs, she was physically far removed from the witches in the Kappa Alpha Theta coven. It was hard to tell under her lab coat, but I guessed she was at least a size 16. I should point out that while standard-sized lab coats would be perfect for mean sorority girls, they fit her yummy body poorly. Her coat had been somewhat tailored, in that it had been hemmed at the bottom to keep it from dragging on the floor; she also wore the sleeves rolled up to keep her hands uncovered. I did admire the way her boobs strained the buttons down the front, but sadly my prayers for a wardrobe malfunction went unanswered.
I also admired how she was physically substantial, with long, naturally curly brown hair tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She wore no makeup, but her skin was a nice alabaster tone; with those big brown eyes beneath her protective goggles, freckled nose and naturally pouty lips, there was nothing phony about her. I liked that too! As a matter of fact, I liked almost everything about her, enough to the point where over time, I began to picture us together.
One July day when the air-conditioning broke, Dr. Berrigan took off her lab coat and I finally saw her full figure. Had to be at least 40DD in the bust, a waist I estimated between 37" and 39" (trust me, I'm a pretty good estimator) with a nice muffin-top-tummy that hung over the belt of her jeans, the cherry on top being a glorious ass that had to be at least 45" squeezed into those same jeans. Thanking whatever gremlins had sabotaged the HVAC unit, I was now in heaven.
My reaction? Let me put it this way: if I was playing the 'never have I ever' game and someone asked, "Ever masturbated while sweating in an overheated men's room at work as you fantasized about fucking your co-worker?" then I'd have to take a drink. A big one.
You could describe me as being smitten, going so far as to create a password protected spreadsheet listing potential names of our children and what our household budget would look like. Although I never gave her any inkling of it while working beside her in the lab, Dr. Berrigan had unknowingly become my hobby.
For all Dr. Berrigan's acclaim, because of her neutral mannerisms, my fellow materials scientists in the research lab seldom spoke to her, clandestinely referred to her as 'Spock' between themselves. The meaner female staff members also took shots at her weight, referring to her by the SI Unit slur 'Big Newton' in quiet breakroom conversations. (If these women weren't former Kappa Alpha Theta sorority sisters, they surely acted like it.) I didn't approve of, nor partake in, this behavior. If anything between Dr. Berrigan and I took root, I knew I could no longer remain silent.
The weeks wore on in the lab for nearly a year, with me stealing occasional admiring glimpses at Dr. Berrigan, but too achingly shy to make a move. That is, until the fateful day when during a lunchroom conversation, I mentioned the famous exposΓ© Silent Spring, which revealed the devastating effects of Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane, aka DDT.
Four of my coworkers and I were seated around our usual table, while Dr. Berrigan was sitting by herself at the next table over as per usual. She was eating the same lunch as always - a Japanese bento box containing vegetarian stuff like shiitake yakitori, edamame, a potato or pasta salad, and a small bit of fruit - and the same beverage - a 20 ounce bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper - every single day, never varying.
Once I thought about it, I realized Dr. Berrigan's lunch was actually a window to her personality. A bento box uses separators to keep each food item apart, so the foods don't mix - compartmentalized, neat and precise. That's how I perceived her as well, one of the many things that attracted me to her.
Everyone else thought Dr. Berrigan was standoffish. If there was a seat available at a larger table where a group was sitting, she never joined it. As for me, being no stranger to shyness I sensed she wanted to be with people, but was just unsure to go about it. If she was standoffish, her chosen table would have been in an isolated corner of the huge cafeteria, not next to the one where we usually congregated. It was as if she wanted to be part of the group, but without being a full participant.