To look at her, Starla Gravestone did not look like your average biochemist. She was tall, platinum blonde, and green-eyed with a body men dreamed about. She had been working at the labs of Palmer & Chris Cosmetics when, quite by accident, she discovered the thing that would propel her to riches. This discovery was made on her own time, outside of the resources of her employer, however, because it was in the area of cosmetics, it would have cost her everything had she not had the patience to keep her mouth shut during the two years after she left the company.
The stress of two master's degrees and twelve-hour days over the last ten years had caused the light etchings of crow's feet and worry lines on her face. She was showing her age before her time, the drive and anger that drove her to claw out her success in her field had exacted its toll on her porcelain skin.
Starla had no shortage of male companions in the years since college. It was during a tryst with the latest of her suitors that she made her discovery. She was on her knees, his erection sliding in and out of her mouth. She was tired and ready to kick him out of her apartment and go to sleep and just wanted him to finish so she could spit the disgusting stuff out.
Brady had other ideas though and as Starla felt him tense, he pulled out of her mouth and ejaculated copiously onto her face. Starla screamed in disgust and landed a blow on Brady's stomach that doubled him over in a coughing fit. She wiped frantically, dashing to the bathroom.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" she screamed over her shoulder. "I told you I don't like that shit on me!" In the bathroom, she cast about for a washcloth, swiping at the slimy mess with one hand and succeeding only in smearing it across her forehead and one eye.
Brady appeared in the bathroom doorway holding his stomach, his penis limp and dripping. "Fuck, baby, I thought I'd surprise you. As long as we've been screwing I thought you were okay with a little cum."
"I told you a long time ago I don't like that stuff on me." Starla finally found a washcloth, wet it, and squeezed out a sample of the new facial cleanser she was testing at P & C.
This batch of cleanser had insufficient wetting agent and served to smear the semen around rather than remove it. Unbeknownst to her, the plant extract in the formula and Brady's semen was beginning a silent molecular dance with the damaged collagen in her skin.
"Get the fuck out!" she spat and finally found some proper soap to do the job. In response, Brady cursed and angrily dressed then slammed the door on the way out.
The next morning, Starla crawled out of bed at four am to head to the lab. The hand cleanser was shit and she had plenty of other irons in the fire. The first thing she'd do is formally reject the recipe and recommend the cleanser line be reformulated entirely.
This line of thought was going through her head when she saw herself in the shower mirror as she prepared to start soaping herself. The worry lines on her forehead were gone, her skin smooth as it had been as a teenager. Even the few acne scars she had had since sixteen were now missing.
