"Andrea, you know how important this research is." She felt intimidation flow from her boss like fetid water from a putrid swamp.
"Yes sir, but what your asking ... well it's a lot, you know?" Her soft brown eyes fled from his face with a furtive tick and then fluttered back to his eyes like a moth to a flame. Damn he was handsome. Worse than that, he knew it.
"I can assure you it's completely safe." His perfect smile terrified her. "You would not be one of the test subjects, just a control. And you will be able to go home at night, we only need you to show up, take the sugar pill and let us monitor you six times during the day. You'll be paid for your time at your current salary and we'll have someone else take care of your duties while the study lasts." The blood in her veins ran cold. God she hated to see Carl Liptor smile; it was always a bad omen.
"I thought the study was supposed to be a double blind," she said, referring to the method of research where neither researcher nor subject knew if they were given the real dose or a placebo. She was just buying time. Why would he be doing this? What horror was he tricking her into?
"That's just what we tell the FDA. We always know who the real subjects are. That way if something goes wrong we can clean it up fast."
His matter of fact tone about a something as serious as lying to the government would have surprised her if she hadn't known him as well as she did.
"I don't think ..."
"I see, well maybe your right. Of course cooperation is not required." The placid look that spread across his face told her everything he didn't say, and she realized she was on the verge of losing her job, maybe more. There had been rumors of employees who refused an assignment and then disappeared. Real fear gripped her heart and she reacted without thinking.
"I was just saying that I don't think it would be so bad. If I was just a control." She stammered.
"Ah, well, good." His lips spread into a smile, or perhaps a sneer. "I'll tell Linda you'll report to her in Research Lab Six tomorrow morning at eight."
"Yes sir."
"Thank you Andrea. Your cooperation is appreciated." Standing up, he looked back at her. "Oh, yes. Like I said, this study is very important. We are still seeking investors and we don't want our competitors to find out about it before we are ready, so don't say a word about this to anyone."
Giving a nod, she felt her stomach churn, and for a moment she thought she might regurgitate. She quickly tucked her shaking hands into her lap and concentrated on calming herself. It was several minutes before she turned back to her computer screen. Even then she couldn't go back to work. Instead, she just sat there, staring straight ahead with an intense dread threatening to overwhelm her.
Fixing supper that night, she was surprised that her hands still shook. Over and over she told herself that Carl wouldn't dare to give her the real drug after he had told her she would received the placebo, but somehow she just couldn't quite convince herself.
When her husband, Steve, got home supper was almost ready, but all she wanted to do was cry into his shoulder. She couldn't. If she did, he would know something was wrong at her work and she didn't want to burden him with her problems. Besides he might get upset or make a scene and that was always so embarrassing. She sucked her fear down into her belly and pasted a smile on her face.
"Supper's almost done, dear." Her voice sounded okay, much better than she felt. It didn't even crack when she spoke.
"How was work?" Steve put his hand around her waist and lightly pecked her on the cheek.
"Just fine. Are you hungry?" Andrea turned her face from her husband, as she had nearly every time he had touched her for the past year. But this was different, wasn't it? Inside she knew it wasn't. Yes, she was worried and frightened about the research project at work, but if it hadn't been that, then it would have been something else. There was always something to blame.
Steve stepped back from her, his lips drawn into a thin line and one fist clenching and relaxing at his side. Nodding curtly, he turned and retrieved two plates and the silverware from the cabinets. Once the table was set, he sat and waited as Andrea carried the food to the table. He swallowed his frustration and looked over at her.
"So, anything interesting happen today?"
Andrea's eyes widened and then relaxed as she realized that the question was purely innocent. "Not really. I don't feel very well. Headache."
For a moment he let his eyes lock with hers then he looked down. "You want to just skip supper?"
"No, I guess I should eat. Then I'll turn in, get a good night's rest."
The cold impenetrable silence separated them like a vast, frozen tundra. How badly she wanted to reach out to him, to confess her feelings for him, but she couldn't. Anger welled up inside her, directed inward only. She hid it behind the stony mask of her face and, after she finished her last bite, started to clear the table.
"I'll get this. You go on to bed." Steve's soft voice and sad eyes tore at her heart and stopped her for a moment. Putting the dishes back down, she left him there.
Why couldn't she be a better wife? He was so kind, and helpful, and always trying to please her. All she ever did was reject him. She didn't even know why she did it. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy tenderness, or love, yet time after time she watched herself turn away from him. Why? Why couldn't women enjoy sex the way men did?
She slipped into her frumpy nightgown and climbed into bed. It was only just after eight and way to early for sleep. Through the closed bedroom door she could hear the light clinking of dishes and the soft hush of water flowing. Steve's thoughtfulness just exacerbated her guilt and she closed her eyes tightly, willing herself not to cry. The faucet shut off and his muffled footsteps drifted away followed by the soft babble of the television.
It would only be another hour or so before he came to bed, slipping between the covers and sliding over beside her. He would put his arm around her and gently kiss the back of her neck. Pretending to be asleep, she would lie still until he gave up. The nightly ritual had become habit. A habit broken only when he became so frustrated that they fought. Then she would give in to him. Those were the nights she loved.
She wished he would storm into their bedroom and throw the sheets from the bed. Take her roughly in her arms and make love to her. Yes, if only he would rip the stodgy nightgown from her body, exposing her breasts and her sex. He would throw her on the bed and kiss her lips, long and passionately. Then he would take her.
She felt herself grow wet and her breathing became shallow. God, how she wanted him. She could almost feel his strong thrusts inside her. Thighs betrayed her thoughts and moved in a sensuous rhythm as her body's needs pressed against her minds inhibitions. A quiver began between her legs and grew into a flush of desire that spread up her belly to puckered nipples begging to be touched. She gave in and pinched one nipple through the flannel. The world fell away and her body shook as orgasm rippled through her.
She was instantly ashamed. Horrified at the thought of her husband discovering her, she rushed to change panties and nightgown, afraid the wet stain at the crotch or the smell of her sex would give her away. She buried the evidence deep in the clothes hamper, determined that she would do laundry tomorrow to keep Steve from finding it. How could she be so wanton, so disgusting, so slutty. She crawled back into their bed and buried her face in her pillow. Tears leaked from her eyes until sleep eased her self-inflicted suffering.
Eight in the morning found Andrea sitting in a small chair designed to facilitate blood pressure readings. She shared the sterile white room with twenty other people, all sitting in similar chairs. Next to her a young woman with cute freckles under intense green eyes turned and gave her a nervous smile.
"I'm Emily. I'm not really sure about doing this, but I really need the money."
