For two years, Starla worked at Gorman Food Sciences formulating artificial flavors--a field having nothing to do with the cosmetics industry. During that time, she procured a supplier for the virgultum and arranged for it to be delivered via a forwarding service in the name of a foreign corporation so that no one--especially her former employer--would link her with the shipments of the botanical ingredient of the failed cleanser she'd worked on in their lab.
When the two years passed, Starla--with the assistance of multiple ignorant men--began synthesizing the compound. Two years later, she acquired the patent. Once the cosmetics companies satisfied themselves that the compound did indeed work as Starla promised, they courted her with offers to license the patent with absurd sums of money.
"What about the FDA?" she asked of one of the representatives of a company that had offered her a nine-figure deal.
"We'll worry about the Feds," the man from Carterson Pharmaceuticals told her. "You just produce the compound."
Starla leaned back in the overstuffed chair. "There's one major problem with production."
"We know," the rep said glumly. "You can't synthesize the--how should I put this--the 'human element' artificially."
"No, I've tried since I discovered the reaction to figure out a way around that problem. I even researched the semen of other animals, even higher primates. No dice."