Beetlesmiths Ch 11

My fears lessened when Karen and I were at the mall.

We were in her favorite store, and Karen spent a lovely time, at least for her, modeling different outfits for me. I played along as she wanted me to, throwing in my opinion about each outfit she tried on. I could tell she was getting aroused, but I didn't think it was due to residual effects of the elixir. It was just her normal, turned-on conditioning whenever I played fashion critic to her fashion show.

One of the store clerks was helping Karen. She was an attractive woman. A little younger than Karen and I, but not by much, and as far as I could tell she was single. Between the brief interludes when Karen changed into a new outfit, I would try and sexually arouse the clerk with my thoughts, just as I had supposedly done in the coffee shop and in the car. To my relief, I didn't see any change in her behavior, just a slight, rose coloring in her complexion at times. I attributed that to the warmth of the store, and nothing else. Even Karen noted that it was unusually hot in the dressing rooms.

I laughed at my foolishness earlier in the day. Beth had been an anomaly, and nothing more. It was one of those wonderfully spontaneous encounters that do happen on occasion. They never happened to me before, but there's always a first time. She was attracted to us, and we to her, and things happened. Maybe in our over-sexed state Karen and I sent out some vibe that Beth picked up on, but there wasn't any telepathic power I had used to coerce her into having sex with us. How could I have thought such things? All those feelings I had in the car and my altered perception of reality were just due to coincidence mixed with drug-induced paranoia. They were the same factors that occurred with my fit of 'clairvoyance' from the other night. It was nothing but coincidence and paranoia.

Even though my fears were alleviated, the next day I plan to talk to Mr. Beetlesmith about the 'peculiarities' I've been experiencing. I also wanted to tell him I was going to discontinue using the drug, at least for now. After Karen discovered that my cock had grown nearly an inch, I decided it was time to cut back on its use before a worse physical malady manifested itself. Besides, Karen and I showed no signs of reduced sexual excitement toward each other, which was the most important thing. Given that our libidos were elevated and remained as such, I saw no need to continue using the drug.

******************

It was Monday. Overall, I was feeling good about the day ahead and the decision I was making. As I made my way to the car for work, I saw our neighbor's daughter, Barbara Grant, cutting the lawn. Karen and I have been good friends of the Grants, Bob and Lisa, ever since they moved next door when Barbara was just fifteen. The Grants were a typical married couple with an only child. Naturally, they were proud of their daughter and her accomplishments, although I thought they doted on her too much. The last time Karen and I had them over, Bob and Lisa went on and on about Barbara's scholarship to the local university that she had earned. The whole time Barbara rolled her eyes in embarrassment. I got a kick out of the whole scene: Barbara's natural and overt, young adult embarrassments toward her parents, and Bob and Lisa's obvious parental pride in their daughter. I couldn't blame any of them for their reactions.

Barbara and I always had a good rapport, even when she was a teenager. She seemed more mature than most kids her age, and because of that, I always treated her more like an adult rather than a child, especially compared to her doting parents. I think that was why she was always friendly toward me and never surly as she was with her parents and other adults on occasion. That wasn't quite fair to Bob and Lisa, though, I could afford the luxury to treat Barb as an adult, whereas they couldn't, or wouldn't.

When she saw me, she cut the lawnmower off, and waved, "Hey, Mr. Henry."

"How's it going, Barb? How come you're not in class?"

"It's Spring Break," she yelled back.

Ah yes, Spring Break. That time of year when all college twenty-somethings flocked to all points south to make idiots of themselves, usually on national television.

I asked, teasing, "Then how come you're not in Florida?"

She rolled her eyes and tipped her head toward her house. It was a not too subtle hint that her parents weren't going to pony up the money for her debauched week away from home, particularly without a chaperone.

I had to laugh, and silently commended Bob and Lisa on their good judgment. Chances are if Barbara had gone, she would probably be waking up in a hospital about now recovering from alcohol poisoning, or worse. She may be mature for her age, but a week spent away from home surrounded by a bunch of drunk and horny frat boys was just asking for trouble. I just smiled knowingly at her, and headed off to work.

By about ten that morning, Jack dropped by my office informing me that the Board approved of my promotion into Kendall's old position, as well as a handsome raise in salary. I drank the news in for a moment, knowing that Karen and I would want for nothing from now on. However, by about ten o' one Jack was harping on me for information about the next 'dinner party' I was going to stage. I deflected his curiosity, telling him it would be at least a couple of weeks. He made it clear that when the 'party' occurred, he had a couple of female business clients he wished to bring. He made no mention of Denise in his plans. I figured he didn't want the wife to interfere with his 'fun time' the next time. I smiled to myself thinking of this coming Saturday.

As the company's support staff set about moving my stuff into Kendall's old office, I spent the rest of the day in meetings with members of my division, trying to determine how badly Kendall had fucked things up. One thing I learned, besides the fact that it would take me weeks to straighten out Kendall's mess, was that everyone universally disliked him—surprise, surprise. The only one who didn't seem thrilled by Kendall's departure was his office manager, Candice.

Near as I could tell from her personnel file, she had been his office manager for the past four years, and received glowing fitness reports. This surprised me, because relative to other managers with similar years of service and competence, she was grossly underpaid. It seems Kendall liked to twist the knife into everyone who worked for him. She had to know through typical office gossip that her salary didn't match her contemporaries. As such, it surprised me further why she stuck with him for so long. I needed to talk to her about this, as well as inform her I was bumping up her salary to match her colleagues.

Candice was thirty-two. She was taller than Karen, with flaming red hair and a round, cupid face—another freckled face girl, I mused. She was on the heavy side. Not fat really, but plump. What I considered voluptuous. However, I gathered she was always self-conscious about the extra pounds she carried, because she always wore unbecoming, loose-fitting, blousy clothing buttoned all the way up to her collar and cuffs in an attempt to hide the extra weight. It was really too bad, because even with her bulky clothes I could tell she had a seductively, shapely figure, with large, heavy breasts and wide hips—voluptuous, indeed. It was nearly four that afternoon when she poked her concerned head into my office, "Mr. Henry, I know you've been busy, but could I have a moment?"

"Sure Candy, have a seat."

"Oh, please don't call me that."

"Sorry...Candice...And please call me Will during these informal settings."

She ignored my suggestion, and asked, "Sir, what's going to happen with me?" I looked at her quizzically before she clarified herself, "Usually when there's a new boss they bring in their own support staff, and I'm wondering if I should start looking for another position elsewhere in the company."

Funny, it never occurred to me to kick Kendall's office staff and manager to the curb. I took this opportunity to ask her about her feelings toward Kendall. Maybe she was one of the few that liked him, and keeping her as my office manager would cause me problems down the road. "How did you and Kendall get along?" She was apprehensive to answer me. I assumed she thought I was asking a more indelicate, personal question than I was, "What I mean to say: what was your working relationship like?"

Her eyes rolled around the room, as if she were scanning for hidden cameras and microphones, before answering, "To be honest, and I mean no disrespected to you or any of the other executives, but Mr. Kendall was kind of a monkey dick."

Well, that answers one question. I chuckled, "Well, anyone who thinks Kendall's a monkey dick is okay in my book. So, unless you want to go somewhere else, I don't see any problem with you staying as my office manager."

I saw her heave a sigh of relief. I was going to ask her why she stayed with the 'monkey dick' for so long, but decided to wait until I got to know her better. She was about to get up to leave, when I said, "I don't know why, but Kendall really wasn't paying you very well. So effective immediately I'm increasing your salary by thirty percent. That should put you a little bit ahead of the other managers in pay."

She sat dumbfounded. It was easy to read her mind, so I said, "Kendall 'was' an insufferable monkey dick. Fill out all the necessary paperwork for me to sign on your salary increase. Make that the first thing on your 'to do' list tomorrow. Right now, however, I want you to take off what's left of the day and go celebrate."

She left the office floating on air. I still couldn't figure out if she and Kendall had an office thing going. Her whole, former situation didn't add up in my mind, with or without an office fuck. Oh well, can't worry about that now, I needed to see Beetlesmith before he closed for the day.

******************

Beetlesmith was sitting in his usual spot when I arrived, and I was glad to see he was alone. His face lit up when he saw me, "Mr. Henry, my but it's been awhile since you were last here. Usually my first time customers are back for more elixir before the end of the first week. You're showing remarkable restraint, I must say."

"Well, I have been cautious with it Mr. B, given your warnings to me the last time. It's about those warnings as to why I'm really here."

He gave me a quizzical look. Funny, but after all that thinking, musing, pontificating, and fretting about the elixir, I found myself having a hard time voicing the 'peculiarities' I had experienced now that the expert was in front of me. Worse, as I started to explain my fears aloud and in the full light of day, I thought they sounded ridiculous in the extreme. When I finished with my explanations, I really felt like a jerk when I saw the look of befuddlement unfold across Beetlesmith's face.

He scratched his chin, and said trying to be as polite as possible, "Well, those are strange occurrences Mr. Henry, and I don't have a ready explanation for them. I will say, however, that your increase in size sounds in keeping with the probable physical side effects. You should thank your lucky stars it's your...*ahem*...We can always do with a little bit more in 'that' area. For most of my customers, it's usually the feet that start expanding, as it were. As for your clairvoyant episode and the incident with the little tart at the coffee shop, well I'm at a loss. Are you sure these things really happened the way you describe? The elixir is a rather powerful hypnotic. Sometimes you may perceive things differently than how they actually occurred."

I wasn't sure about anything anymore and just shrugged my shoulders.

"Now as far as your increased libido and sexual stamina even when not under the elixir's direct effects, remember, there's a lag in the body's mental and physical readjustments. These things can't just be turned off as a light switch. The physical and mental effects may last for days, even weeks, although they will lessen over time. That is until the next administration of the drug."

"I don't know Mr. B, it was pretty amazing what was happening, and I certainly felt no slacking in the effects of the elixir. It was as if I had just administered it to the three of us, yet hadn't done so for at least twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-four hours? Well, there you go Mr. Henry. That's hardly enough time for the body to readjust fully back to normal. Also, remember, once you administer the elixir to a person, they will be more receptive to your advances in subsequent days, even when not on the drug. It stands to reason that your wife and this other woman, Denise, would still be compliant the next evening."

Beetlesmith's explanations were persuasive. I was probably overanalyzing and overreacting to many of my so-called, 'peculiar incidents.' That is except for Beth and Cope, who weren't administered the drug. They remained two, very large anomalies in my mind, and I said as much, "I understand what you say about former participants and their continual willingness, and it makes sense. However, that doesn't explain what happened with Beth." I left out telling him about the Cope incident for obvious reasons.

He thought for a moment, then suddenly snapped his fingers and smiled, "Funny, I should have thought of it as a possibility before. Mind you, Mr. Henry, this is just a possibility; however, I have quite an extensive cliental that live in the immediate area. Now, I don't know who this Beth person is, but it could be possible that one of my other clients knows her, if you get my meaning."

I did, and it made perfect sense. Someone else had given her the drug before, maybe even the day before. As such, she would have been far more compliant when Karen and I happened along. It sounds improbable that I crossed paths with a random stranger who also had recently taken the elixir, but it was a more logical explanation than what I had been thinking.

As for Cope, I reasoned that maybe he swung too heavily from the other side of the plate, and I happened to tap into his kink at just the right moment. His supposed bisexuality would explain a lot, particularly his lackluster performance the other night. It may even be the real reason he and Linda divorced. Of course, it had to be that.

After listening to Beetlesmith, it really was idiotic to think I could control Cope's or anyone's actions with my suggestions or thoughts. No, what was going on in my mind was nothing more than paranoia interspersed with occasional happenstance and coincidence. I laughed to myself and breathed a sigh of relief.

Seeing that it was nearing his closing time, I gave Beetlesmith a hearty handshake and was about to leave, when he requested, "Half a moment Mr. Henry, before you leave I have something for you. I'll only be a minute."

I watched as Beetlesmith disappeared into a back room of his shop, and waited...And waited some more. A few minutes soon gave way to twenty, and Beetlesmith had yet to return. I was beginning to wonder if the old eccentric had forgotten about me, when I noticed a neat pile of papers and old ledgers stacked on the counter. What caught my attention was an oddly misplaced sheet of paper that overtly stuck out of the otherwise neat pile. I don't know what possessed me, but I pulled the sheet out to look it over.

It was actually three sheets of paper stapled together, composed of a list of names. It was similar to the list Beetlesmith had given me, a list of all his clients who purchased the elixir. What he called his 'insurance policy.' However, I didn't recognize anyone's name between this list and my own. I assumed that what I held must be an older list. Then I remembered Beetlesmith telling me that he had to cut off several cohorts of clients due to some breech of propriety by one of its members.

"Jesus," I said aloud, "All these poor assholes were cut off the elixir."

I heard rummaging coming from the back room. For some reason, probably out of morbid curiosity, I folded the old list and put it in the breast pocket of my suit jacket. Moments later, Beetlesmith emerged from the back room. As he waddled up to me, he slid two vials of his elixir across the counter, "Sorry it took so long Mr. Henry. It takes time to prepare."

I stared down at the vials, "I'm sorry Mr. B, I didn't come here to buy any of your elixir, and certainly not two vials worth."

"It's a special deal for my very special clients, two for the price of one."

"Really Mr. Beetlesmith, I can't. I don't even have enough money with me to buy one of your vials."

"You can pay me later, Mr. Henry. I insist."

Immediately, my antenna went up. I didn't get it. When I first met him, Beetlesmith was adamantly, 'cash payment up front, or no deal,' and now he was literally giving his elixir away. As I continued to stare down at the vials, I remembered the question that's haunted me from when all this began. I looked up at Beetlesmith with a jaundiced eye, and asked, "Why am I deserving of such generosity?"

Beetlesmith looked at me with surprise, "Mr. Henry?"

"Oh, I don't mean just this, your 'two for one' deal. But, there's always been something I've been meaning to ask; what made you single me out in the first place?"

"I don't follow, Mr. Henry."

I collected my thoughts, trying to think back to that day, that first warm day of spring when all of this just fell into my lap. The day I was privy to a great secret and awakening—a secret that people with greater means than I would give their eyeteeth and right arm to know. Why was I so blessed?

"I don't know Mr. Beetlesmith, but good fortune has never just come my way. I've always had to work for it. So when good things just happen to me out of the blue, I tend to look suspiciously at it, and wonder, why me? I'm a cynic in that regard, things that are usually too good to be true, usually are."

"I still don't..."

"Here I was, entering your store, a man of obvious modest means by my dress, and behavior. Yet you offer me this...this gift. Why bother? Why bother cluing me in? I'm a man who couldn't provide you with the kind of monetary reward like some others could. Certainly, you have many patrons of obvious wealth come through your shop, yet do you hawk your product to all of them, as you did with me? Based on the list you gave me, I would think not."

"Mr. Henry, I think you are making quite a few false assumptions, the first being that I'm in it for the money."

"Why then? Why me?"

"I don't know. Let's just say I liked the look of you. Different people strike me in different ways. Someone may enter my store having obvious wealth, as you say, but I don't like the look of them. Maybe they're too haughty and put on airs, or maybe I get the feeling they would be unreliable with secrets, so I stay mum about my elixir. Others, such as yourself, strike a particularly good cord in me, so I 'clue' them in, as you say. I really can't explain it better than that."

Stupid questions breed stupid answers. What else was he supposed to say? Now I really felt like a jerk. It was the old saw that had been plaguing me these past couple of weeks: my emotions were running in total opposition to my rational thought. In my mind, all of Beetlesmith's explanations concerning the elixir made perfect sense, but none of this felt right to me in my heart. In the end, I was like a child grasping at straws in a whirlwind of changing reality.

As I turned to go, I said, "I'm sorry to have taken up your time with this nonsense, Mr. B."

Beetlesmith stopped me in my tracks, "Mr. Henry, don't forget your elixir."

I stared down at the two vials, as that plaguing conflict nagged at my conscience again. My emotions screamed for me to leave the vials where they sat, run, and not look back. Yet, my mind murmured another seduction; a truth was contained in those two, small vials, the truth of numerous pleasures with untold partners for Karen and me to do with as we pleased. 'You're a fool for even questioning to take them,' I heard my mind say.