Baxter was aware of his memories first: he recalled clearly walking up the front of the place with Shari, going inside, hearing a soft murmur all around, the same faint scent in the air ... they had explored the area immediately accessible from the lobby area they had entered. They had come across a locked area Baxter recognized as a modern server room, based on the hum of air conditioning and electronics coming from inside. Other than a lot of well furnished rooms that served as conference and meeting areas they had not found much else.
Then they found a stair leading downward. After that Baxter could recall nothing. Something happened to them on those stairs, but he couldn't put his finger on it ...
He blinked groggily, as if waking from a deep sleep. His body was not responding as it ought to. "What the hell?"
Baxter's hands were tied together with a thick, though soft, rope, and from there attached to the wall. The rope disappeared through a hole in the wall, but at the moment he had about eight feet to play with. What the fuck was this? Was this some sort of sick joke? He was completely naked! He was trapped in a loony bin, no doubt about it.
"Please ... " came a familiar voice, though much clearer now. "Please ... " His head jerked sideways, to take in his entire surroundings.
It was her, the woman they were looking for, right here in the room with him! She was trussed to the wall exactly like he was, directly across from him. The chamber was maybe twenty feet across, round, lit softly from above. There were no exits apparent, though of course there must be an exit. Baxter figured their best odds were to work together to get out of this bizarre dungeon, locate Shari, and then get the hell out of Dodge.
He studied the woman. She was obviously a redhead. He couldn't see her pubic hair, but her roots were clearly visible, the way her wild mane was thrown forward over her face. Sweat glistened all over her extremely pale skin.
"Lady," Baxter called gently. "Lady, listen ... I'm Baxter. How much slack have you got in that rope?"
Her head cocked over in his direction at the sound of his voice. She scrambled to her knees and crawled in his direction, but was brought up short by the same amount of rope he was on. "Please ... " she breathed at him. She lifted her eyes to him, pleading desperately. Her heavy breasts swung above the floor, half-inch nipples hanging straight down. Looking down the length of her he could see a heavy red bush between her legs. Her scent washed over him: sour sweat and pussy juices mingling with their fresher, sweeter versions. Despite himself Baxter felt his cock jerk awake, his male genetics apparently overcome by the woman's simple raw beauty.
He began to sweat.
Her eyes held his as she tugged uselessly on the rope that kept her in place. Her tongue licked the air to get the scent of him, and she began jerking on her bonds in earnest. "Please ... " she moaned. "Please ... fuck me ... "
Baxter couldn't believe his ears. "Lady, look, we're trying to escape, right? Help me out, here!"
It was useless. She either wouldn't -- or what was more probable, couldn't -- form a coherent thought in her head that didn't have anything to do with sex. It was no stretch to imagine someone with the vast resources of Ernest Vayle to develop and deploy a simple airborne aphrodisiacal agent. But then, why wasn't he affected? Or wasn't he?
If he had to analyze it down to the last vector -- and he did -- he would guess that it was he himself who was responding sexually to the breathless, rutting creature who was tugging at her restraints to get to him, to fuck him in as raw and violent a way as she needed. Baxter figured he didn't need to be drugged to respond to her, to want to lick her, and kiss her, and fuck the shit out of her ...
But they were trying to escape, right? Weren't they?
It was definitely getting hotter in here. "What's your name, lady?" he called out harshly, trying to get through her fog of sexual energy. "I'm Baxter."
