The Lesbian Patch

Jessica takes part in a drug trial for a new nicotine-free anti-smoking aid. The results are intriguing, to say the least.

Note: This story is a slightly revised story from the one I posted elsewhere. I'm reposting it here because I hope to post its sequel (of sorts) here soon.

I

She smoked too much; Jessica knew that. She'd tried vaping, lozenges, patches, gum.

At 21, she'd been smoking since 13, sneaking cigarettes from her mother, learning how to get them from the older boys, hanging with them, hooking up. Eventually.

She probably drank too much, too, or used to, but that's not what caught her attention, walking past the brick archways leading to the student union.

She was so close to graduation, she thought to herself. Two more semesters. 30 hours, then I'm out of here.

Truth was, she didn't enjoy the college life.

She partied hard as a freshman, but then she settled down in her Sophomore year, having already played the part of a party girl in high school, where she had the reputation of being a bit of a slut.

Earned, maybe. Six boys a year, six boyfriends a year, might have been too much, but they were boyfriends, and boyfriends needed attention. Attention she liked to give.

She'd stopped drinking for the most part.

She had to laugh about that, slowing down the year she turned legal.

One weekend a month, now maybe.

She had to keep her grades up, maintain her status of responsibility, being the RA on her floor.

She still lived on campus, while most of her friends, what friends she had, had long moved off campus, to share apartments, student houses, or even to live alone.

She made good grades, not great, but she kept her scholarship with an even 3.5. Marketing.

Not a bad gig, enough to get her settled while she looked for a husband.

Yeah, she wanted one.

Oh, she had her small entourage of boyfriend, her fuckbuddy roster.

But she knew that couldn't last, and it wasn't what she wanted.

Which was something stable in the form of a husband.

She hadn't met him yet, but she wanted him. Badly.

Two kids, too. Maybe two point three.

What did you do with point three of a kid?

Students rushed by her as she stood in front of the glass window, looking at the flyer.

A pink flyer with black writing.

TRYING TO QUIT? NEED HELP? THE OTHER QUITTING AIDS NOT WORKING? she read under a black and white photo of a woman clutching the sides of her face in anguish.

The layout could stand to use her input, she thought. At the very least I can check them out, see what's going on.

She continued reading the flyer, the smaller print.

Some company, a local company, offered a trial run of a new product they've developed, yet another nicotine patch or something very close to it. The flyer left the details vague. Definitely not a nicotine patch, though, Jessica realized as she kept reading. They made that point very clear.

LIKE NOTHING YOU'VE EVER USED BEFORE

She looked up the number and address.

A campus number with a campus address, one of those spaces just off the union, rented by companies looking for a temporary University presence.

What the hell, she shrugged. She could skip lunch.

She really needed to quit smoking; Jessica knew that.

Arriving at the office, making sure of the number above the mirrored glass door, Jessica checked her appearance briefly, sighed at her long, uncontrollable, waving red hair, opened the door, and walked inside.

II

She'd half-expected the intake office to be closed for lunch, but a young woman, older than Jessica, in her late 20s or very early 30s, sat behind the counter, wearing dark, serious glasses, round silvery hoops in her ears, with couple of jeweled studs hanging above the hoops. Almost shoulder length, dark hair framed her heart-shaped face, at once daring and professional, makeup applied tastefully and restrained. The woman completed her look with a navy blazer over a white blouse, matching a navy skirt, which rose just above her knees, dark with hose.

When she stood, her hips welled, and her bust showed against her white blouse, not so much straining against it as filling the space of the clothing.

Three top buttons, undone, accentuated her daring look, showing the dark blue lace of her bra.

"I'm Cecilia," the woman said warmly. "I'm, well, I'm the head researcher here, but I'm taking over for Jen. Lunch time, you know, but it's been a slow day, and I don't want to lose a prospect. A participant, if I can help it."

Something about Cecilia relaxed Jessica.

She found herself readily explaining why she was there, her concerns for her health, how hard she'd tried in the past to quit, all to no avail.

Cecilia's forehead creased in concern.

"I think you're just the candidate for us, 18 - 29 is what we're targeting. You say you're 21? Fantastic! We just need to run a few tests, take your blood pressure, check your blood, and give you a basic checkup. I'm a doctor, you know. A real MD. I'll need to contact your health care provider."

Jessica just used student health services.

"Great, I just need a few signatures from you and then I can get your records."

Jessica spent the entirety of lunch filling out forms asking the usual weird, intrusive questions about depression, firearms, sexual orientation, and sexual activity, jogging to a full run on a treadmill, monitors attached to her heart. Cecilia took her blood pressure and drew her blood.

She read Jessica's form and frowned.

"That many?" she asked.

Jessica looked guilty.

"It must be hard on campus. Tobacco-free."

"I know all the places to sneak them. We all do."

It was a point of pride among campus smokers, especially admin staff and custodial workers.

And rogue RAs.

"I should have your results very soon. Maybe by the end of tomorrow. I'll call you once we get everything in."

Cecilia smiled broadly at Jessica.

"I'm so glad you get to be part of this!"

Jessica moved to shake her hand, but Cecilia hugged her.

"This really will be a good experience for you. Early results have shown so much potential."

That was on Thursday.

She hurried to her next class, a one-thirty class getting off at two-fifty. But her instructor always cut it short by fifteen minutes.

She had just enough time to suck down a Benson & Hedges behind the column of a raised walkway, obscured by old and tangled holly.

III

Tuesday morning following, she got a text from an unknown number.

Your results are in, it said. We have time this afternoon to go over them and begin treatment.

That was fast, thought Jessica.

She hadn't skipped her one-thirty class in ages, an ethics class she'd avoided taking for years, taught by a short professor who mumbled into his long beard for the whole hour and twenty minutes of the class.

All she got was something about norms and mores.

The girl behind the counter wasn't Cecilia, but she smiled warmly, even affectionately at Jessica when she walked through the glass door.

"Are you Jessica? I'm Jen. I'll let Ceci, Cecilia, Dr. Faro, know you're here."

Jen must have been a freshman, she looked like a child to Jessica, whose only figure compared favorably to Cecilia's. That is to say, Dr. Faro. Jen's dark hair barely touched her shoulders, and two thin braided strands ran from the part in the middle of her forehead, rounding her head like a narrow crown.

She had a button nose, rosy cheeks, and fresh, pink lips unadorned by lipstick.

A brass stud pierced her left eyebrow, and a brass ring pierced her septum, a small hoop hanging from her nose.

When she walked to the water fountain to bring Jessica a cup of water, Jessica saw she wore baggy, faded jeans, cuffed above a pair of brown leather sandals with cork soles.

She wore a loose pink t-shirt covered by the huge round head of a smiling cartoon kitten.

Jen held a white paper cup of water out to Jessica, who sipped it, noticing Jen's nipples behind her shirt.

Braless.

With tits that small, she didn't need a bra, Jessica thought to herself, rather cruelly but with a hint of jealously in her own misgiving against future sag, regretting how her nipples chafed against her shirt if she went without, and chafed against the straps when she did.

Still, sisterhood and all that.

She hated herself for her brief judgment.

Jessica returned Jen's beaming smile, perhaps not as wide, perhaps not as genuinely felt.

But she meant well, seeking forgiveness for her secret crime.

Then Cecilia opened a door to the side.

With another one of her huge smiles, she invited Jessica to her office.

IV

Cecilia, Dr. Faro, explained everything very clearly, keeping her eyes on Jessica's eyes, making sure the girl understood the simple directions.

"You've used nicotine patches before, so it's no big deal. The big difference, the difference that you'll notice right away, is that it won't burn when you put it on. Oh, we've conducted hundreds of tests, and there's been no skin reaction at all. None whatsoever to any of the girls who've worn the thing."

That piqued Jessica's curiosity.

"Girls? Just women? No men, then? Or is it only the girls who haven't had a reaction?"

Dr. Faro kept her eyes on Jessica's, not breaking contact for even an instant, and if she blinked, Jessica didn't see it.

"Our company's founder markets her products exclusively to women. She feels that women's needs are, well, underserved. It's been her life's goal to rectify that."

"I see," said Jessica. She straightened up in her chair, adjusted her bottom on the seat. "I mean, I totally agree. It's so nice to -"

Celicia stood up suddenly.

"Here, I'll put this one on for you. Do you mind lifting your shirt? Or I can put it on her arm, near your shoulder."

Jessica wore a light pink sleeveless blouse, buttoned with rounded collars and little frills where the sleeves would be.

"It'll be seen though. I don't know about you, but I don't like everyone knowing my business. Want me to put it on where no one can see it?"

Jessica nodded.

"Hm hm."

Dr. Faro walked around Jessica, standing behind her.

Jessica smelled an odd perfume, nice, sweet, and fruity. Like strawberries and vanilla mixed with. Almonds.

Jessica crossed her arms to pull up the back of her shirt, but Cecilia said, "Do you mind very much just taking off your shirt? I've found the patch works best high on the back, just below the neck."

It was a weird request, but Jessica felt she understood.

She unbuttoned her blouse and dropped the blouse so that the back hung midway to her hips, showing the backs of her shoulders to the fragrant researcher.

Celicia's fingers brushed lightly against Jessica's skin.

Then she felt the cool sensation of the patch being placed on her.

Dr. Faro was right. It didn't burn.

It froze.

But only for a few seconds.

Cecilia held up several square packages of the patch, colored bright pink.

"You can wear each one for 24 hours. It's okay to wear more than one at a time, but I wouldn't overdo it. I wouldn't wear more than two at a time, if the desire to smoke really gets to you. One should handle it, though. You can put them on in the morning. I'll give you seven, and you can come back next week for more. That way I'll be able to run some checks on you. Let us know immediately if you feel any side effects. Dizziness. Nausea. Anxiety. If you feel your heart beating too fast. You know, the usual stuff. It hasn't happened, but we don't want you to be the first."

Jessica took the handful of patches from Cecilia, tucked them into her purse, and turned to leave.

"One more thing," Dr. Faro said. "I guess I should have mentioned this before, but how's your sex life? Are you very sexually active? With a man?"

How much was active?

Every night?

"A little," Jessica answered shyly, having been a little dishonestly modest in that regard on her forms.

"The thing is," replied Dr. Faro. "You might feel a certain, well, decrease in desire. A certain amount of sexual lethargy. You won't want to have sex. At least for the first week or two. But after that, you'll be as good as new. I mean -"

"You mean I'll want to have sex again."

Cecilia smiled charmingly.

"That's it exactly. You'll want to have sex again."

Then Jessica turned to leave for the final time.

"You'll want to get those moles looked at too."

Jessica frowned, suddenly worried.

"Just have your dermatologist take a look. I can recommend one, if you don't have one. Nothing to worry about, I'm certain of it. It's just that I'm a worry wart, no pun intended."

Dr. Faro laughed, and Jessica felt strangely relieved by the woman's laughter.

V

Jessica lay against her pillows, texting James, her usual fling, and the longest running member of her roster. Obviously not husband material, he seriously lacked something Jessica could never quite put her finger on. Not ambition, but not not ambition. Gravitas, she thought, enjoying the sound of the word. He carried something, an attitude, a too casual attitude with him, never allowing anything to matter too much, including her.

Which rankled.

It seriously, seriously rankled.

Oh, but he could.

In that area, he could.

Where it mattered sometimes the most.

Are you touching yourself, baby?

Jessica just stared at the phone.

It had become something of a ritual, one she had fallen into eagerly, to try to get each other off over the phone, texting and sending pics, flirty to downright raunchy over the course of the evening, but now Jessica's heart just wasn't in it. The words running across her chat leered at her, foreign, strange. Remote.

They lacked even the semblance of meaning.

Of course she was touching herself, she couldn't help but touch herself, who else would she be touching if not her own body? Julius Caesar, did this guy even bother to think?

Her elbow touched her side, her fingers scratched the back of her other hand, she wiped her eye.

So yeah, she was touching herself.

Not long after, she said goodbye, had to go, and put him on silent.

Not long after that, thinking about what Cecilia had said, she opened her phone to her bookmarked porn sites.

Not her usual gig, porn under most circumstances left her disinterested, vaguely amused. But not without a sense of excitement, a tingling between her legs, that sudden sinking or pitch of the gut, just above her mound.

She liked looking, from time to time.

She liked fucking herself, flicking her clit wildly to the vision of some guy just ramming a slut from behind, her ass up and taking it. She liked to look at the men, when the mood hit, their muscular bodies and long, thick cocks, swollen with blood, ready and trembling to shoot white cum all up inside a pretty girl's cunt, splatter her backside, or baste her tits and face in cum, drenching her as she smiled, and gulped, and smiled.

She'd do that sometimes.

Not often.

But porn worked.

There were lots of lesbian sites too, whenever she looked online, but she steered clear of them, interested only enough to know that wasn't what she was looking for.

Straight porn worked.

It did work.

She always felt something.

Even if just a lewd pull towards the unabashed nudity of it all.

But not now.

She might as well have been looking at old black and white photos of the moon landing.

Then she really did touch herself, reaching down to slip a hand under her jeans, touching the tip of her clitoris.

Nothing.

Deadsville.

Which was fine by her.

Later that night, after making her rounds, she turned out the lights, turned on her noise machine, and slept the sleep of the just.

VI

The whole week passed like that.

She didn't mind it at all. In fact, she loved it.

She found her mind much more alert, attentive, receptive to new ideas, information, knowledge.

She whizzed through her Spanish class, never a strong point with her, but now the language just rolled off her tongue, she had no problem understanding the readings, conversing with her fellow students, most of them female, bright and alert, answering in correct Spanish the questions of her instructor, a Latina who like to sit on the front of her desk in tight, short skirts, her blouse unbuttoned to show her cleavage, her full, ample bust.

For the first time since her sophomore year, she enjoyed her college life.

For the first time since her partying days, she talked excitedly to strangers, sober now, laughing at some silly joke or prank.

The girls on her floor shouted at her when she walked by, and she smiled and shouted back.

Oh, and she hadn't had a cigarette since last Thursday.

She had almost forgotten about that, about smoking.

Funny, she used to be a smoker.

I wonder why, she thought. It smells horrible.

James stopped texting her.

And she didn't bother answering the other boys.

She just wasn't interested. Not in that sort of thing.

Lying back on her bed in a long tee, she stretched her legs. Spreading her thighs, she touched her pussy, hesitantly, softly.

Maybe. Maybe it was there.

Just the tiniest hint of a tingle.

But she pulled her hand away, tucked her pillow under her head and fell into the wandering dreams of the lotus-eaters.

A few days later she was back in Ceci's office, Cecilia. Dr. Faro. Answering her questions and taking off her shirt for another patch.

VII

Cecilia's knuckles drifted along the sides of Jessica's back, then she used the flat of the fingers, her fingertips, and her palms to feel along her skin, feeling her moles.

Jessica breathed in the scent, the wonderful fragrance of strawberry and vanilla, of sandalwood and almond.

Dr. Faro's - Ceci's - hair hung just above her shoulders, her dark hair cropped a little short maybe, but its full body spread out from the woman's shapely face, so perfectly made up with just the right amount of lipstick and lip gloss, eyeshadow, and mascara. Just the barest layer of foundation to smooth an already perfect face, Jessica thought.

Some women just know how to pull it off.

She held the front of her shirt against her breasts, holding up her bra, which the doctor, for some reason, needed to unclasp.

"I called Grace," Dr. Faro, Cecilia, said. "She can come by next Tuesday to take a look."

Dr. Faro held Jessica's long red curls in a bundle of hair and tossed over the girl's freckled right shoulder.

"You have such lovely hair," she said.

Then she put another pink patch on Jessica, who shivered at the cold contact, so momentarily freezing.

"Thank you," Jessica replied, somewhat meekly.

Ceci's breath blew warm against the back of Jessica's neck.

"Sex?"

Jessica's head turned to look at Cecilia, surprised at how close her lips were to the doctor's.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your sex drive, how's your sex drive this last week?"

"Nonexistent, Ceci - I mean, Dr. Faro. But it's not a bad thing. I feel somehow much more alive, happy, just content to look and listen and learn. I'm so good at learning now. I feel like I can ace all my classes."

Dr. Faro smiled at her client.

"I mean, I've always been a good student. But now I feel like a super good student."

Dr. Faro's smile didn't budge.

"Super," she said. "That's great."

Then she grew serious.

"But be careful. Previous trials say it'll come back this week, at any time. In a big way, too. If that happens, when that happens, don't panic. It'll subside to normal within a few days, a week or two at the most."

Dr. Faro, Cecilia. Ceci clasped Jessica's bra behind her, and Jessica quickly put her shirt back on.

"Grace is my dermatologist. She wants to check you out."

VIII

Every morning Jessica put on a new patch, turning her back to the mirror from the side to see if any of the patches had left the red mark so common with nicotine patches.