Andrew Gibson sat back in his office chair -- and smiled. And who could blame him?
His life was an incredibly happy one, to be sure, and all because of the formula. He stroked his chin in thought, staring out the picture windows in his plush corner office with a view of the park. There had to be someone worthy enough to pass it on to, he thought.
Andrew riffled through his rolodex and took out a card with a grunt. One of his friends, and one of the few people he trusted to get something done for his publishing firm, was Mark O'Bryan. Mark was an entertainment lawyer whom Andrew consulted or hired frequently, usually on issues related to copyright and such. Mark was also a real lady-killer, with straight dark brown hair, bright green eyes, a well-scrubbed all American face, and a smile fit to make traffic stop, especially if a woman was driving.
Mark was content, though, Andrew had to admit. Otherwise it was a real pity that Mark couldn't seem to find a good woman -- or at least a good date -- or find some larger purpose as a lawyer, as he had as a publisher.
Andrew thought deeply, considering. Mark was a lawyer in a large firm, but if it wasn't for Andrew's.... certain way with people, Mark might have still been languishing in his original position, stuck with traffic court cases. Andrew remembered vividly the looks on their faces when he asked to deal with Mark and Mark only. It was funny.
Then Andrew's phone buzzed. "Yes?"
"Just reminding you that you have lunch scheduled with Mark O'Bryan today."
"Thank you," Andrew smiled. He quickly gathered his suit jacket, adjusted his tie somewhat, and left the office.
* * * * * *
Well, one thing's for sure, Andrew thought. Mark was still a fun guy, even dressed as he was in a navy-blue pinstriped suit. All the waitresses were practically hanging on his every word.
Service was excellent. There was nothing they couldn't get.
In the middle of telling a funny story, Mark put his napkin on the table and said, "Excuse me for a second."
Andrew watched him get up and approach a beautiful black woman. Actually, he thought, beautiful didn't begin to come close. She wore a spanking white blazer and skirt with white high heeled sandals, her hair pulled up in a bun.
Andrew was very surprised. Mark had never told him he liked black women. But it made the decision to send him the formula that much easier.
In any case, she had smooth skin like cocoa, medium brown straight hair with light brown highlights, big friendly brown eyes, and had a gorgeous smile that could light up a whole room, which she did with it when Mark approached her and touched her arm.
"Hey, Rachel."
She turned, smiled, and squeezed his arms with long delicate fingers bearing long fingernails. And no jewelry. "Mark, how are you, baby?" she said in a warm, friendly voice.
"I'm good," he said. "I'm having lunch with a friend of mine. Would you like to join us?"
The woman's smile broadened, but she shook her head. "No, Mark, but thank you for asking. I'm having lunch with my divorce attorney. Otherwise I would join you."
"Divorce attorney?" Mark repeated stupidly.
Her smile drooped a little. "Yes, my divorce attorney. My divorce became final today. So she and I are celebrating."
"You deserve it," Mark smiled.
Suddenly the woman gave him a quick nervous hug, then pulled back and said, "Give me a call or send me an email sometime. We'll have to meet and catch up."
"Absolutely," Mark nodded. "I'd like that."
The woman smiled, rubbed his arms. Kissed him on the cheek. "As would I, Mark."
"I'll see ya later, then," Mark grinned foolishly.
"I hope so," Rachel smiled. She gave him a cute little feminine wave. "Bye, baby." And she went to her table.
Mark sat back down at the table with Andrew, grinning. "Sorry about that."
"No problem," Andrew grinned back. "Who was she?"
"Rachel White, she's a good friend of mine I knew way back from college," Mark explained as picked up his fork again and speared a shrimp.
"She sure is beautiful," Andrew commented.
"Yes, very," Mark agreed. "She was having lunch with her divorce attorney."
"I heard," Andrew nodded soberly. His was none too pleasant.
"I didn't even know she was married," Mark said, baffled and shocked.
"Maybe she didn't want you to know," Andrew suggested.
"Maybe," Mark said doubtfully. "He would have to have been a real dickwad."
"Which reminds me," Andrew said, sipping his glass of wine. "I never knew you liked black women. At least, you never told me you did."
Mark shrugged and grinned. "I like black women," he paused, "just as much as I like every other type of woman."
They both chuckled. "You haven't changed, dude," Andrew grinned.
"Well, one thing's for sure," Mark said, looking towards Rachel's table. "I'd give a million bucks to know what she's thinking right now."
Andrew got a weird gleam in his eye then. "Don't forget to give me your new email address before you leave."
"Oh, right," Mark said. "Thanks for reminding me." He pulled out his wallet and gave Andrew his business card. "There you go. As always, just email me or call if you need me."
"As always," Andrew grinned. "Now, what was this story you were telling me...?"
"Right," Mark said, grinning. "So I said to the judge, 'Your Honor, he can't have registered this first if he just read it last week...'"
* * * * * *
An hour later, Mark was back in his office, his suit jacket draped over his chair.
He was in the middle of contemplating joining the law firm's department that worked with the record companies. As distasteful as the prospect was, the record companies paid through the nose to protect their property. He would get a big raise. If he said yes.
But suing some teenage kid for what was on his hard drive wasn't exactly his kind of law.
On to other things, he smiled, and went to his email. There was the requisite spam which he deleted -- too bad they didn't have a department for that, he thought -- after which two emails were left, one from his friend Rachel, and one from Andrew.
He clicked on Andrew's first. The tag line had grabbed his attention -- "The Secret of My Happiness."
Mark's eyebrows rose. He would have deleted it as spam if he hadn't seen Andrew's email address. Intrigued, he clicked on Read.
"Dear Mark," he read.
"You mentioned at lunch that you wanted to know what your friend was thinking. I don't blame you -- she certainly is beautiful. At any rate, the attachment at the end of this email is for a formula that will get you everything you need and or want. You will be able to not only read, but change people's minds, as easily as making a phone call. And you will also experience some physical changes. Amazing physical changes.
"There is nothing artificial in here, just natural herbs and plants, but please do not share this with anybody, at least not until you've gotten where you want to be. Then choose one person to pass it on to. And choose carefully.
"Good luck and best regards, Andrew Gibson."
Mark snorted derisively, but he downloaded the attachment anyway. Then he started to read Rachel's email, but was so curious to read this mysterious document from Andrew that he signed off right away instead, and opened the file.
"The Secret Of My Life
June 1853
I, Jebediah Harrington, feel the end of my life approaching. I have lived these many years in the glow of great happiness. I feel the need to write down the great secret of that happiness. If it was undeserved, I leave it to posterity to judge.
Fifty-eight years ago, I engaged myself in the scientific study of how various substances occurring in nature affected the human body. In the course of my experimentations, I concocted a mixture which I believed would, if consumed only once, fight off diseases and increase bodily strength and stamina. Not wanting to create an unknown risk in any other person, I swallowed the mixture myself. Its effect was immediate, increasing my body's strength and endurance to many times the human norm. But that was not the only effect. To my great amazement, I found it also increased the strength of my mind. I discovered that with little effort I could see within the minds of anyone I chose, read their thoughts, memories, passions as clearly as one might read words on a page. Beyond that, I discovered that with little more effort I could rearrange the thoughts and passions as easily as moving chess pieces across a board. I could release hidden passions, turn enemies into friends, create desires where there were none.
Once I discovered this remarkable ability, I selfishly kept it to myself. In the years since, I have used it to my advantage, accumulating wealth and power, basking in the flesh of my beautiful African women. But now, as I reach the end, I wonder if I could have been a benefactor to the world instead. I write down the ingredients and instructions for creating my original mixture. If posterity finds them, may they have some beneficial use.
J. Harrington"
Mark sat back against his chair, more than slightly incredulous. After the letter, was a simple formula and recipe for combining the ingredients.
It was all ridiculous, Mark thought -- a scam, a practical joke. It had to be.
But he had to admit, he was more than a little curious to find out what this stuff could really do. And to see if it really was just a practical joke. Andrew Gibson had been an incurable practical jokester during their college days. But this seemed legit. Seemed.
So he went to an organic food store after he got off work and bought the stuff, made the formula and slowly drank it down. He had expected it to taste bitter, to say the least, but it hadn't really tasted like anything.
Then he sat down to watch TV. And wait.
Mark woke up in the middle of the night. Blearily, he realized that he'd fallen asleep watching TV. He turned off the TV, then stumbled to the bathroom.
He unzipped his trousers and gawked at his penis -- it was huge! After he finished, he found a tape measure and actually measured his manhood. And it was at least seven, almost eight inches long.
Holy shit, he thought. Maybe this stuff really does work.
* * * * * *
