Author's Note: Still working on that beast of a story. This one, however, isn't exactly short. It is well-paced, though (I think) and gets harder as it progresses, so I hope you folks enjoy it. That said, I didn't edit this but once. Still, should be a fun read. Enjoy!
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The Lab Assistant
I've lived in Brooklyn for three years. Though it was a 23-minute bus ride every weekday to Montell Laboratories where I worked, the 600-square-foot apartment I'd found was affordable and in a relatively safe neighborhood. I'd only just earned my Bachelors of Chemical Science at Ohio State when Montell Labs offered me a job with a modest, but fair salary. The thought of living in New York outweighed my desire to pursue my postgraduate education, at the moment.
Montell Labs was a private, venture-capitalist-funded, chemical research company. We were hired by companies to do things like concoct new cleaning agents or research and test chemical compounds developed by others in our field. At the moment, my specific group had been focused on a chemical solution that cleaned diamonds specifically. It was better than ultrasonic and supposedly, completely harmless. This stuff is probably boring to most people, but I enjoy it. All except for my lab assistant, Jeff Rooney.
Jeff is a creeper. A 36-year-old virgin still living with his mother, he's a hardcore nerd and not fit for most social settings. He bathed perhaps twice a week, was skinny as a rail, and tried desperately to act cool. Instead, it just came across as juvenile and chauvinistic. He made jokes about my bust size all the time:
"You know, this job sometimes requires one to lift over twenty pounds, but you have to do that all the time."
"You need a retractable microscope. Your tits are in the way."
"Got milk?"
The latter was something often said when he brought in his donut and milk every morning. He would, of course, shake the little milk box and smile, as if that were in some way appealing to me. What an ass.
Jeff's favorite thing was making fun of my name. Whenever someone said it aloud, "Candy," Jeff would say something like, "Yes, she is." or "Mounds, better than Almond Joy!"
It was true, I have very large breasts. However, because they are attached to a lithe frame, I think they simply appear bigger than they actually are. Still, they struggle to be contained in D-cups brassieres. Not to mention, my areolas and nipples are certainly larger than the average girl's and quite puffy, so I wear thick bras to keep "pokies" from happening. I don't particularly like people staring at them, as I wanted to be viewed as a professional, rather than a bimbo. For those who didn't get the memo, having big tits doesn't automatically make a woman airheaded and sexual, and I have always been proud to break the "dumb blonde" stereotype.
But Jeff wouldn't let it go, and droned on and on about my tits almost every day. I complained to Archie Jennings, the supervisor several times. He reported directly to Reilly Montell, the boss. Reilly was usually out schmoozing it up with clients, winning contracts, that kind of thing. Anymore, he had very little to do with research and development.
Reilly built his company from one small team that he directed in a tiny lab in New Jersey. That company grew to eight teams now working on the 12th floor of a lab in uptown Manhattan. The space was expensive and as I said before, he paid us pretty well, so of course he was busy securing new work to keep the money flowing. Archie, my supervisor, and Tony Moses were the two managers that oversaw the eight teams on the floor. How I wished I was in one of the labs Tony managed, rather than being stuck with Archie.
Archie was too meek to confront Jeff about his near-sexual-harassment issue with me. Archie had no intention of bothering Mr. Reilly Montell about it. Jennifer, my lab partner, told Jeff to shut up a few times, as she was as sick of hearing his sophomoric jokes, but that was the only defense I ever got from anyone.
Changing the subject a bit, I have a flat-mate back in Brooklyn named Benny Grime who is also a lab rat. I guess life can be a world of coincidences, because Benny actually worked at Montell for nearly ten years. Hard to believe that in such a large city, it panned out this way. "Small world," indeed. Benny and I never worked together, though. He left about three years ago, just before I started, to do his own thing. Benny wanted to be the next Reilly Montell himself, and he was convinced he had enough ideas to fund his dreams. With some financial backing from a wealthy uncle, he started his own business.
Perhaps because of our shared interests and close proximity, Benny and I became good friends these past years. He was only a bit older than me, considering I started school so late, but he was far more mature than most of my friends, which I liked. We shared at least one dinner a week and often watched movies together, yet we never dated. I suppose we thought it would breach some kind of code of ethics, considering our employment statuses.
Benny was handsome, over six-foot tall and in good shape. I certainly would have considered dating him had he asked. God knows, I could have used some action, but we kept the relationship platonic.
I had been working late this past Friday, spending far too much energy fending off Jeff for much of it, and I looked forward to going home, plopping off my shoes and curling up to some pizza and binge-watching a new show I'd discovered. I was headed out the door when Benny called.
"Hey, what's up?" I asked, juggling the cell phone, as I searched the deep pockets of my purse for my keycard.
"Nothing. Just wondering if you're going to be home tonight. I'm close to something big."
"Oh, yeah?" I was excited at the thought of hanging with Benny. It would be a nice break from putting up with Jeff all day.
"You're usually home by now, so I thought to call."
"Long day. Leaving as I speak. I'd love to hang out with you, though. Sure, meet at my place. I planned on ordering pizza."
"I'll order for us. Will have it ready when you get here."
Thirty minutes later, I was taking the elevator to my fourth floor apartment where Benny was waiting for me at the door, pizza in hand.
"Right on time! Pizza guy just left. Pepperoni and black olives."
"Sounds great," I said, unlocking the door. I opened it and threw the keys on the buffet, turning back to Benny. "Come on in. It smells wonderful. You mind if I hop in the shower first, though? Five minutes! It's been a long one."
"Uh, no. Go right ahead. Pizza will still be hot when you get out."
"Thanks, I need it!" I hung my coat as Benny walked into the kitchen and put the pizza box on the counter.
"Don't think you ever showered around me before. Want me to come back in ten minutes or so?"
"Oh, stick around. I'll stay covered. I'm a bit too self-conscious to strut around naked, so no risk there." I giggled a bit, teasing, even if what I said did touch on the truth. I'd always been a bit shy, perhaps the product of a slightly-puritanical upbringing.
"Alright, I'll watch some TV," said Benny, heading off to the living area.
A few minutes later, I was feeling refreshed and dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. Of course, I wore a bra. Without one, there was simply too much bounce. Not to mention, the "pokies" could be distracting. Unfair for any guy to be exposed to, I suppose.
Benny turned off the TV when I walked into the living room. He now had the pizza on the coffee table, with some paper towels and a couple of diet pops.
"Come here and sit by me. I gotta talk to you."
"Uh oh, this sounds serious," I said.
"Well, yes and no, Candy. I'm really excited, but you have to promise to not tell anyone. Well, at least not yet."
"We're talking shop? Really? We never do this."
"I know, but this is important."
"Alright, so spill it," I said, sitting next to him, tearing off a slice and placing it on one of the paper towels.
"I'm onto something, Candy. I mean it, but I need to tell you something else first." He paused. "I'm also broke. I have less than five hundred bucks in my account."
"What?" I exclaimed. I knew Benny lived modestly, but assumed his uncle paid for his living indefinitely.
"The money Uncle Richie loaned me is almost out. I can't ask him for any more. He lost his ass in that crash last year."
"That sucks," I said. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm hoping I can finally sell something. Look, I've been working on this chemical compound that mixes with cotton fibers. When charged with an electrical pulse, the atoms hyper-accelerate, yet... oh, how do I put this? They also stay in place. It's a bit difficult to explain. The compound bonds with the cotton fibers and responds to the charge, making the atoms that are comprised of the fabric spin at incredible speeds. Cotton is not a good conductor for electricity, but the compound is, and as it is soaked throughout the fabric, it works beautifully."
"Fascinating, but for what purpose?" I asked, curious where this was going.
"Candy, the atoms move so fast when charged, they are virtually impenetrable. It's like a flexible, lightweight super-shield, bouncing things right off it. Imagine this modified cotton material being bulletproof. Hell, grenade proof! That's what the potential is here. I mean, you can touch it. Feel it. But try to penetrate it? Forget it!"
"Oh my God, Benny, you actually created this?" I was floored at the possibilities of such a thing. If Benny was about out of money, this would cure all those problems, no doubt.
"Well, no, actually. In theory that is what it should do. The compound works fine on its own. When charged, it creates a bulletproof barrier just as I described. Unfortunately, it only bonds well to something it can soak into, like cotton. It can't stick to rubber or other non-absorbent fibers. However, the compound works a bit differently when mixed with cotton than it does on its own. Something unexpected."
"How so?" I asked.
"I think the atoms aren't actually active enough to work as intended. It's actually rather difficult to measure. I'm going to fix it, I promise, but still... the result is still rather amazing."
"So it works?"
"It does serve as a very protective layer, but it's not quite bulletproof. The problem is the side effect with the fibers. They disappear to the human eye."
"What?"
"All of it. The cotton-based clothing. It has the appearance that it vanishes! It's still there, but it just can't be seen."
I laughed loudly. "I'm sorry, Ben. So you're telling me that instead of inventing the next great military advancement, you've created clothes that can disappear in the blink of an eye?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess that's what I'm telling you."
I laughed even more and finally took my first bite. "Oh, man... well, I bet you could still sell that to someone, right?"
"Not exactly what I was hoping to do, but yeah." Benny laughed, too.
"So who would want such a thing?" I asked.
"Fredericks of Hollywood, maybe?"
He sounded serious. I laughed even more.
