Based on Willing Slaves by Daniel Orme. Used by permission.
*
I slowly walked into my office. But still I managed to do just that, cursing in pain. My desk barely fit into the small room that people had the nerve to call an office.
Dressed in a green golf shirt and khakis, I was ready for the day of work ahead.
"This sucks!" I complained, uselessly.
"Albert, are you okay," my secretary Pam called from her own desk out in the equally small, so called reception area.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, smiling at her concern. "Just stubbed my toe -- again." I finally got to my chair without further incident, and booted up my laptop. After it finished waking up, I signed on to read my email. I bypassed all the others and clicked on one tagged "The Secret of My Happiness."
I smirked and snorted derisively as I clicked on that email. Probably another scam.
My eyebrows rose to my short, close-cropped curly brown hair when I read the header. I recognized the email address as being Dr. Neil Green's. I hadn't heard from him in over a year, after he went to the Virgin Islands to do some research, thanks to a huge grant that we here at the university were still gossiping over, mainly how on earth did he get all that money from those stingy bastards.
The email had a cover note with an attachment. The cover note was brief and a little cryptic -- enough so that I was very curious.
"Dear Al," I read to myself.
"As you are somewhat of a science buff in addition to a colleague who shares my interest in the slavery period, you might find this document highly interesting. It has certainly changed my life for the better, and I have found that I cannot continue keeping it all to myself with a clear conscience. Therefore, I am passing this on to the one person whom I know would not misuse this gift -- you. I know that your circumstances are, or were, similar to mine.
"The following mixture and formula is for a substance that will greatly increase your physical and mental stamina. You will be able to satisfy women like never before, as well as read their minds with ease -- other people's minds, too.
"I don't have to explain to you the profound implications of this if it were to fall in the wrong hands.
"I would suggest that you save the attached file on a disk, and keep that disk in a secure location. If you print this email, burn it after you have taken the formula. I can honestly say there is nothing funky in this formula, just natural herbs and plants.
"Wishing you good luck, your colleague, Neil Green."
I sat back, pondering this message. Then I clicked Download Now. It was a simple text file, and downloaded quickly. I signed off right away, without reading my other email, so I could read this attachment.
It was a journal written by a slave girl, and the reading was highly unusual -- it recounted her extremely happy days in the keeping of one Jebediah Harrington. At the end of this slave journal, was a short letter written by the slave owner himself, entitled "The Secret of My Life."
That was a most interesting document.
I was torn between "you gotta be kidding" skepticism, and "this could be the solution to all my problems" euphoria.
After that letter, was the recipe and a formula. It was very simple. And, being familiar with the organic food store where my sister shops at, I knew exactly where to find all these ingredients.
So I went shopping. Couldn't hurt to try it.
A couple of hours later or so, I sat in my house, still very skeptical.
I had gone to the organic food store, bought the stuff, brought it home, and mixed the formula. Now the thermos sat on the counter next to the stove.
The email said the stuff was perfectly safe, but knowing me I was probably allergic to all the ingredients. The hardest part to believe was that this simple concoction was going to give me the power to read -- and change -- people's minds.
All at once, I picked up the thermos and slugged the stuff down in one long swallow. Then I washed out the thermos and the pot.
I had already put the disk in my safe, after I had encrypted all the data on it.
Then I sat down on my couch and waited. For something.
Ten minutes later, I was still sitting on my couch, feeling extremely, profoundly foolish, feeling that I had wasted my entire day, despite the fact that my colleague -- and friend -- Neil Green had highly recommended this...whatever it was.
I went back to my office. Like my colleague Dr. Green, I shared this office-closet with a fellow researcher, one Doctor Kelli Franklin, and our secretary, Pam Brown. And both of them are of African American descent -- my favorite.
I had read many of Dr. Franklin's articles, and tremendously respected her work, even though I had never met her, which was why I was extremely excited to be sharing an office, and a project, with her, although it was more presentational in nature than investigational, lecturing at high schools and such. Her journal articles were elegant pieces of simplicity, drawing simple conclusions from basic evidence.
The journals that published her articles reported that Kelli had graduated from Stanford, no less, with a BA, double majoring in History and African American Studies, no less, then her Master's in history and Doctorate from Cal State Berkeley.
The journals did not mention that Doctor Kelli Franklin was a walking fantasy, a petite little thing, no more than five-two in height and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, but with a smooth chocolate complexion of the deepest darkest brown, like fudge, and curves to die for, plus a lovely smile, complete with dimples, and long, shiny, jet black, straight hair that went more than halfway down her back, and eyes to match.
Our secretary Pam, was another story -- she was about five five, and a little hefty, but she had very little to be self-conscious about, especially today.
Her 38dd's threatened to rip her butter yellow satin blouse, and her matching leather skirt was drawn tightly across her 36 hips, 24 waist, and one truly amazing booty. Her complexion was like coffee with milk added, and matched her hair, which was also light brown with blonde highlights, and straight and shiny, and brushed her shoulders. Her eyes were light brown, too, and were a bewitching almond shape. Her legs were slim, with pretty feet that were encased in white patent leather pumps today.
As I approached her desk, her smile and twinkling eyes nearly made me speechless. And suddenly I realized I could read her thoughts!
That moment was like thunder and lightning. All the warnings in the email came to alarming relevance.
I went back to reading Pam's mind. It was very explicit reading, too. Her mind was alive with fantasies, mainly about how she wanted to unbutton her blouse right now and let me suck her tits. From reading her mind I also learned she wore no panties underneath the leather encasing her hips.
But I recovered and said, "Anything happen while I was gone?"
"No, Albert, but one of the trustees, Andrew Willis, called to say he will be coming over at about three this afternoon to discuss funding and whatnot."
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Great. Where are we going to put him?"
Pam laughed loudly, throwing her head back and clapping her manicured hands. "Let him stub his toes in here, he might agree to get us a bigger office."
"Hm, right," I agreed. I looked at Kelli's open office door and said, "Where's Kelli?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Albert, I thought you knew," Pam said respectfully.
