I paid my way through school easily. I don't have student loans to worry about, and so far at any rate, I haven't had any trouble from the IRS. See, I'm a chemist, and I'm very good.
I'm pretty popular at parties around here -- sometimes I bring freebies. Standard stuff, my own designs. My own designs would be award-winning if anything I did were legal. You've tried Dos Exx? You've got me to thank. And everyone who's making it has paid me royally for the process, let me tell you. See, I've got a pretty intuitive knack when it comes to looking at psycho-pharmaceutical chemicals. I guess what changes might make something more potent, or lower side-effects, that sort of thing. And I usually guess right.
In a few more years, I might actually go legit. Already, as I'm beginning my Ph.D., I'm starting to get the notice of various pharmaceuticals. My Masters' work was highly thought of. The Prof's name went first, of course, but people who'd read her other papers knew who they needed to talk to.
So for my Ph.D., I decided to swing out a little. Find a way to combine my – call it a hobby – with the work I was publishing. Illegal drugs, especially hallucinogens, were my passion as well as my bread-and-butter. Not that I used them very often – hell, the stuff I've designed have only been tested on my customers. I've almost collected enough data on Dos Exx to consider it safe, but the rest? Forget it.
Anyway, I'd been reading lately about human sex pheromones. There's lots of stuff on the market now, but nearly zero research. There's one PhD researcher on the web who markets the stuff (try a search. You'll find her), and her research looked interesting. I decided to try my knack of designing to the search for more effective human pheromones.
My lab assistant is Jill. I've known her since my senior year. She's married, damn it, but that doesn't stop me from trying half-heartedly now and again. See, she's one of the most gorgeous women I've ever met, inside and out. Sweet, loyal, funny. And built. Long, rich chocolate hair. Olive complexion. Stunning brown eyes that I sometimes just get lost in. And, god, what I wouldn't give to get my hands on those breasts, just once. High, round, firm.
She knew it, too. Knew just what to wear for prime display.
I was so jealous of her husband, I couldn't see straight. Of course that meant that I sought him out, got to be good friends with him. Supplied him with some of my best stuff. After all, why not? If she's going to be completely unobtainable, why stop there? Might as well go the extra mile to increase the misery.
Anyway, as soon as I got funding for my research, I hired her. I think I just like to torture myself. And. . . And it meant that I at least got to be with her, watch her. Pine for her.
I'm a masochist.
So, she's my lab assistant, and we've talked for hours about pheromones. We did some informal studies of the pheromones on the market (I was wildly hopeful, and wore some every day for a week. I think she was a little more affectionate than usual, but I can't claim that I took good data). Found that the Good Doc's stuff really did have a significant, if slight, effect on behavior, and that basically all the rest of the stuff is pure waste.
Once I'd demonstrated to my own mind that there was something there, we started, uh, fooling around with designs. Looked at the structures, made guesses at the functional sectors, took wild stabs at what might boost the effect. Then it was into the lab to start producing our leading contenders.
We've manufactured a half-dozen possibilities so far. Jill dutifully sniffed each one, though we both knew that effects were going to be subtle, and that we really wouldn't know anything until we'd done some structured tests with undergrads (ah, I was looking forward to that!). Last week, about a half-hour after she tried a sample, she reported feeling a little horny. It's an exciting possibility, though of course, she might have felt that way without our pheromone. But it immediately became our most promising lead, and we spent late hours that night looking through our other possibilities, looking for ones that were chemically close to the one we'd just tried. There was one I felt particularly hopeful about, so today, we're synthesizing that one.
It's late spring, and hot here in Virginia. Jill is wearing a white lace top, the top three buttons undone. The next button strains to hold her breasts in. She's wearing a sheer bra, and I can see the dark of her nipples resting so close to the surface. She's just let her brown-black hair down, shaking her head. She's going to put it up better before we get started, but for the moment, her dark locks cascade across her shoulders and stick briefly to the moist skin between those glorious breasts. Almost, I put my hand out to brush the hair away.
I look away, crossly ask her if she'll be ready anytime today. She grins, puts her hair back. She's purposeful now, her arms back behind her, chest pushed out. She's teasing me. Fuck.
Finally she's ready; she slides on her lab coat, and my distraction level drops a bit. We're set for the synthesis. It takes only a few minutes to measure out the reagents, and start the process. Soon the sealed glass tube begins to drip our liquid hope into a stoppered vial. After about 20 minutes, the reaction stops. We have a precious few milliliters of fluid.
Jill removes the vial from its little chamber. We'll seal it and mark it in preparation for the sniff tests we'll run when we're through. But dutifully, Jill lifts the vial to her nose. She sniffs lightly, takes a deeper breath.
"No odor, Mitch. Just like. . ." She drifts off, looking faintly puzzled.
"Jill?" I ask, looking over. Her face is going blank. It's so devoid of emotion, she no longer looks human. Show me this picture, and I'd never recognize her as Jill.
"Jill," I say again, and step over to shake her. She looks up at me. Her eyes are blank, but then they focus. And something wild enters them. I stop, watching. Those eyes, they're hypnotic.
And then Jill leaps. Her mouth presses into mine, hard, her tongue slides between my teeth. I feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder, then feel her pulling, tearing at my pants. I hear the ripping of fabric, and suddenly I'm exposed. We're falling, entwined. I can hardly think. I feel my cock grow hard as she penetrates my mouth again and again. More tearing and I feel her hot cunt pressing down. She finds me, envelopes me. I slide into her easily. I've never felt someone so wet, so hot. She grinds down on me. God this is all so fast. I should. . . Something, I can't think. I press up into her. She moans, presses down even harder. My dick is on fire and quenched all at once. I must have those breasts. I reach up, rip at her top, wrench her bra down. She falls free, and I greedily run my hands across her. I pry my lips away from hers, push her up. My tongue slides across her nipple, my hand caressing, kneading her other breast. She's past moaning now, coming closer to shrieking. Her rhythmic movements are powerful. My own voice joins her as the passion grows. I press deeper, my hand grabs her ass, pulls her down. Her face twists, she looks furious, crazy. That's an animal on me, I think and my own animal screams back at her. We're fucking now like nothing ever before. I slip deeper and deeper into her, losing myself. There's only this, only the fucking. These glorious breasts, my tongue her teeth my skin her flesh our screams oh god.
