Copyright 2014 by robindavisfiction. This story may not be republished or posted on other websites without the written permission of the author.
_______________________
Dear Readers, Once again, it was not immediately clear to me which category to select for this story. Although there is an element of reluctance, I ultimately decided this probably best fits in the loving wives section even though it may not be typical of the types of stories in this category. I hope you will enjoy reading, and I look forward to your feedback and votes.
________________________
Debbie stepped out of the elevator and looked down the hall where Simon was arguing on his cell phone. His hand stabbed the air as his voice rose.
"What? All of a sudden the fucker don't trust me? I been selling that asshole good shit. Hell yeah. On the corner by the ambulance entrance? I don't give a fuck. Call me when the asshole shows up, damn it, and I'll be there."
Simon pocketed his phone and muttered something Debbie couldn't understand, and then he noticed her watching. Without speaking, he turned and beckoned her to follow.
She had a fleeting impulse to bolt and run, but instead she walked toward Simon down the deserted hallway. He rattled a ring of keys and unlocked Dr. Hastings' lab and office suite. They walked into the reception area, and he paused at the counter.
"Here's the deal. I'm gonna show you the drug, but before you get it, we go into the bitch's office for my payment."
Debbie followed him past the counter into the lab. He unlocked the walk-in cold-room and ushered her inside. With a second key, he unlocked the cabinet where the clinical trial materials were stored, and she saw several numbered glass vials, each containing a yellowish liquid. They were identical except for the numbers printed on the labels.
Debbie stared at the row of vials with a concerned expression.
"This is a randomized trial," she said. "For every two patients who get the real drug, one gets a placebo. How do I know you aren't going to give me a placebo?"
"Ain't my problem. Once you've paid me, it's your choice. Hell, be really nice to me and I'll let you have two. Maybe you'll get lucky."
Simon grinned and relocked the cabinet.
"Now you know I can get in here. Let's go get started on my payment— in that bitch doctor's office."
Debbie looked at Simon in alarm. "In her office? But what if we get caught?"
She had barely accepted the idea of having sex with Simon after failing to come up with any other options. Now, the possibility of being caught in the doctor's office and then being forced to leave without the drug stoked her already intense anxiety.
"Don't worry. Nobody works at night here. Anyway, I don't give a shit about getting caught. I'm leaving this rat hole soon for a much better line of work."
"But I care. I don't want to take the risk that we won't be able to get back in here. Give me the vial now, and then I'll do what you want. Please! This is too important to me to take a chance."
Simon rested his hand on her shoulder and looked at her as though trying to reach a complicated decision.
"No problem, but first, give me your clothes. I ain't gonna have you trying to make a run for it 'til my hour's up."
"What? You mean in here?"
"Damn straight. You strip. I unlock the cabinet. You choose your bottle and give it to me. I'll keep it with your clothes. My hour starts when you're in the bitch's office and I'm between your legs. What you do after I've taken my payment is your business."
Debbie was revolted by what she was about to do, and she didn't want him to see how close she was to crying. With grim determination, she ignored Simon's leer and began unbuttoning her blouse, trying to pretend she was alone.
She quickly dropped her blouse and skirt on the floor, remembering that Michael, the man she loved more than anything else in the world, had been with her when she picked out the skirt. After shopping they had eaten lunch together at a new Italian restaurant, and she remembered how Michael had made her laugh. She remembered the music playing in the background as they shared dessert. She looked at Simon defiantly and unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. She would get through this ordeal and get the vial of medicine Michael needed so badly. To hell with Simon and his hungry stare.
"Panties too."
She ignored Simon's eyes roaming up and down her body. After her panties joined the pile, she stood awkwardly while he unlocked the cabinet.
Debbie stared at the row of identical vials. Her nakedness and sense of vulnerability spurred her to rush, but she was paralyzed by the seriousness of the choice she had to make. She had no way of knowing which vial held potential life and which held a useless saline solution, but she had to choose one, or two at most. She was tempted to take several, but she had studied the protocol carefully and knew it specified a single dose. Maybe if she took only one, no one would notice a vial missing while Michael was still in the hospital. She closed her eyes and reached toward the vials.
Simon stepped behind her and placed his hands on her waist. She shivered slightly when he lightly stroked her from the top of her hips to the edge of her breasts.
"Nice tits. I like what the cold air does to them."
She made her selection and stepped away from Simon before his fingers reached her nipples. She bent to pick up her clothes, but Simon quickly pushed them out of her reach with his foot.
"Not so fast. I'll keep the clothes. Give me the bottle, too."
He put her purse and clothes into an orange plastic bag labeled for biohazard waste and winked at Debbie as he dropped the vial on top of her clothes.
"I hope you picked the good shit. Either way, it's time for my payment. Let's go."
What little sense of control she may have felt before disappeared when Debbie saw Simon step away with her clothes in the bag. She had never been confident that agreeing to Simon's deal was a great idea, and now she was nearly overwhelmed with second thoughts.
"Please, let me give you money instead."
Debbie covered her breasts with her hands and shivered under the sterile fluorescent light and Simon's cold gaze.
"We have some savings. I can take you to our bank," she said. "It's almost two thousand dollars."
"No, I've told you, I don't want your money. You know my price. I ain't gonna force you to take the deal, but I ain't changing the price neither—your call. I'll wait for you by the bitch doctor's door for two minutes to give you time to think about your choices. If you don't show, I'll leave your clothes on the floor and take the medicine with me—no harm no foul."
He shut the door behind him with a loud click, and Debbie finally gave into the tears she had been fighting to control. She hunched her shoulders, rubbed her hands up and down her arms, and trembled in the cold air. She had no time to think, no way to ask for anyone's advice, and she knew her decision was something she would live with for the rest of her life. If only, oh God, if only—.
* * *
It seemed to Debbie that her last day of real happiness had been in a different lifetime rather than just over a week ago—back when imagining herself in Michael's arms never failed to brighten her mood after a long day of teaching unruly high school students. She remembered pedaling happily along the bike path toward home, daydreaming of the weekend to come and grinning in anticipation of watching her husband's face when she surprised him after his favorite dinner with her skimpy new silk nightgown to celebrate their decision to get pregnant. After three years of married familiarity, she still looked forward to every hour they spent together, and they both were eager to share their togetherness with a child to be born of their love for each other.
She remembered how Michael had sounded tired on the phone the previous couple of days. He had been out of town for a week with his firm's largest client, dealing with manufacturing process problems he had been only partially successful in solving. He had been unable to sleep well and told her he had difficulty concentrating on his work, but his mood had brightened when Debbie told him exactly how she would make him feel better once he got home.
When she heard Michael's cab pulled into their driveway, Debbie lit the candles on the dining room table, and before he could put his key in the door, she opened it wide and leapt into Michael's arms, almost knocking him off the front porch. They both laughed when he nearly dropped her, and laughed again when he tripped over his briefcase in his enthusiasm to give her a second glad-to-be-home kiss.
She remembered them catching up on the little details of their week apart as they enjoyed a relaxing dinner together. Michael sipped hot tea and watched the excitement in his wife's eyes as she described the surprising progress made by one of her more difficult students. When she paused in her story, he began clearing dishes.
"Keep talking. I'll just take care of this while you relax and finish your story. Sounds like you had a great week."
Debbie had a better idea. With a coy smile, she took the dishes from his hands, set them back on the table, and guided him into the bedroom.
"Both the story and the kitchen can wait. You relax and I'll be right back."
She lit two candles and placed them on the table beside their bed, turned off the light, and disappeared into the bathroom. Soon, she emerged transformed from conservative schoolteacher into sexy seductress.
"Wow. How did I get so lucky?" Michael asked as he closed his eyes briefly and steadied himself against the dresser. But, then he looked up and stepped toward her as strong and handsome as ever and she forgot all about her momentary worry. She unclipped her ponytail and walked slowly to meet him next to the bed. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and flickering light danced over her face.
