The Perfect Aphrodisiac 1

She pulled the bell-shaped flower down gently burying her nose to fully enjoy the fragrant almond scent.

"Absolutely beautiful. You're getting so big too!"

Red bell-shaped blossoms dropped elegantly from the tall canopy, surrounding her as she spread the food near the thick center trunk. It was early morning and the flowers were just opening, releasing their sweet musky scent in the humid air of the small greenhouse. This time of day always made her a little light-headed, adding to her euphoria. She'd found the plant at an Earth Day gardening festival and brought it home. The man assured her it was an amazing aphrodisiac, the perfect thing for her husband, what every man wanted. She'd never considered herself a gardener but it was beautiful and seemed to reach out to her. Now, months later, the plant had grown to an amazing stature. She'd discovered a green thumb and a passion that surprised her.

She felt the first vines winding their way up her calf, under her long skirt. The flowers dipped down, one finding its way through the arm of her loose tank top. She kicked off her crocs to feel the dirt between her toes. She leaned back to steady herself as more blooms caressed her breasts, the pollen making her skin tingle, her nipples harden. As the flowers built her excitement, the vines stiffened and pushed against her far under her skirt. She trembled and gasped for air as the vine's small buds tickled her, pulsing against her. She turned to face the trunk, putting her hands on either side to support her and keep her from fainting dead away. As the plant entered her, she understood how crazy this was. There must be a reason this was wrong, but at the moment she couldn't think of anything but how much she wanted to keep going, to have the plant fill every piece of her. She knew it would last for hours. By sundown when the plant would go back to sleep, she would be exhausted, spent, but so satisfied.

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He sliced off a small piece of steak, popping half in his mouth, the other half to the dog whose patience was wearing thin. "Just about perfect. But if she stays out there much longer, you'll get a big nice piece of leather." He rinsed his hands and glanced through the window. He could still see the small greenhouse light shining through the cloudy plastic. "If I wasn't such a great guy, I might actually be jealous." She'd been coming in later and later every night. He didn't mind the extra cooking but he missed talking to her as they prepped it.

"I am so sorry. I completely lost track of time." She was still wiping sweat off her face as she walked in, breezing over for an unsatisfying peck hello.

He recoiled, grabbing a dishtowel from the counter to filter the smell. "Oh, babe. Great to see you, but you reek."

"I know. I'm so sorry. It's a new fertilizer. Do I have time for a quick shower?"

"We'll make time. I am not eating with you smelling like that."

She spun away, sprinting for the stairs. "I know I know. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Makes you smell like roses, huh boy?" The retriever wagged his tail in agreement and gratefully gobbled another tossed bite.

By the time she came back down wrapped in a heavy robe with her wet hair pulled back into a quick ponytail, he had dinner on the table and was pouring a bottle of cab into a decanter.

"It looks amazing hon. Thanks so much. I love your Brussels sprouts." She threw her napkin on her lap, stabbing her fork into three sprouts and nearly choking on them as he poured a glass over her shoulder.

"Glad you appreciate them. Although with that kind of appetite, I might not have made enough." He sat opposite her as she continued to shovel in food. "Must have been a pretty hot shower. You're awfully red."

She paused mid-bite, her heavily loaded fork frozen mid-air. "Really hot. I reeked, remember? I just wanted to make sure I met your cleanliness standards."

He struggled to avoid her stare, realizing the tender ground he was treading. "How are the plants?"

She randomly moved food around her plate as she formulated an overly careful response.

"They're good. Better. I mean, they take a lot of work still. But the roots have really taken hold and they're growing. They're good. Really good." She resumed eating, nodding approval at her newfound gardening skills.

"I'd love to see them. I haven't been out since you got the last delivery."

Her fork clattered against the plate as she struggled to hold onto it. "Oh that's not a good idea. I mean, they're still pretty young. Nothing's really blooming yet. I want you to see them when they're pretty." She recovered her fork and started to reload it, happy with her response. "Yeah, I think it's better that you wait. Just awhile. Maybe a month. I think they'll be blooming by then. I want you to be proud."

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were hiding a man out there." His tone was lighthearted but the flush on her cheeks made him wonder.

She slumped back over her plate, mumbling off his suspicion. "Don't be silly. They're just plants."

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"Come on come on." She tapped the steering wheel, willing the light to change. She'd been gone too long. It would be angry.

"Stupid. I knew we were almost out. I should have bought two bags last time." She punched the accelerator as the light changed, glancing in the rear-view mirror to check that the bags didn't slide out the truck-bed. She glared at the clock in the dash, calculating exactly how long since the last feeding.

"It should be fine. It's only been three hours. Surely the extra hour won't matter that much." Ever since that first time when she'd discovered what it was capable of after just four hours, she'd never gone more than two hours during daylight. She didn't dare.

She punched the garage open as she swerved into the driveway. Her stomach sunk as the door rose to reveal his SUV.

"Oh no. Why is he home already?" She'd have to go out the side door with the bags to avoid him. If she could just get to the greenhouse and deal with the consequences, maybe she could get to the house before he even knew she was home.

She left the garage door open and wrestled the first bag across the tailgate and out the side door. She was so focused on balancing the weight that she didn't see the dog until she was almost to the greenhouse. Of course he'd have let him out when he got home but the dog didn't usually get so close to the plants. He was staring toward the greenhouse and didn't notice her until she was nearly upon him.

"Hey boy. Whatcha doing?" The retriever turned its head to her briefly, whimpering as he looked back to the greenhouse. Her pace slowed as she neared. The odor was so strong her eyes started to water. She dropped the bag and moved more quickly. The door was open just enough to see him lying on the floor.

"No, no, no! I told you not to come out here!" She leaned over to check his breathing. She shook him and cried out to him. "I told you, I told you they weren't ready." But he remained still and silent. She looked to the plant hovering over her. "What have you done? He had nothing to do with you. You had no right." As the plant shrunk back, she tried to shake it off, pulling out her phone as she stood.

"Yes. My husband's unconscious. I need help." She closed the phone after leaving her address and moved around behind him. She slid her hands under his shoulders, tugging just once before she lost her grip and fell backwards. "I can do this. I have to do this." She stood again, got a stronger grip, and dragged him from the greenhouse. If they found him there, there'd be questions. There would be trouble for all of them. She had to protect herself. She had to protect all of them.

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She hugged herself as she stared at the red flowers below. From this far up she couldn't tell what they were but it didn't matter. Just the color was enough to send her mind reeling back to the greenhouse. She'd been able to throw the food through the door before the ambulance arrived but she hadn't gone back in. She hoped it was satiated well enough to sleep through the night. The nurse's return drew her back to his hospital bed.

Checking machines, the nurse barely acknowledged her presence other than letting her know the doctor was on his way in. "He'll be in in a moment and would like to talk with you."

"Of course, thanks." She settled in the chair next to the bed, carefully arranging the IV tube so she could put her hand over his. He remained as still as when she'd first found him, his skin pale and cold to the touch.

The doctor was older, a welcome sight. They needed someone competent, but someone who'd seen enough not to be too curious. He referred to some kind of electronic tablet he was carrying and checked the IV drip.

"You said you found your husband in the backyard, unconscious. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct." She felt the first beads of sweat forming on her upper lip and absentmindedly began to tap her heel.

"Your husband is showing effects of a poison similar to scopolamine. In small doses, it produces hallucinations but it also has sedative properties. In certain doses or combinations with other drugs like morphine it can be fatal. Do you have any idea where your husband might have come into contact with such a substance?"

"I have no idea. Are you saying my husband was taking drugs?" She struggled to hold a reaction somewhere between shock and anger, forcing her fear down to the pit of her stomach where she hoped to hide the guilt.

"Not necessarily. It's possible someone gave it to him. And it does occur naturally in some plants like datura or henbane, although I don't know of any plant that would excrete such a powerful strain."

Her heart nearly stopped as she recalled the bright colored pictures from the website, proclaiming nature's perfectly evolved aphrodisiac, a carefully germinated strain of nightshade used in religious ceremonies since ancient Greece.

She turned quickly back to face her husband, struggling to contain her increasing anxiety. "Well I have no idea. As I've told you. I wasn't home. I found him just passed out in the backyard. I have no idea what happened to him." She forced herself to relax, pushing the hair back from his forehead in what she hoped was a loving wife's normal gesture to her sick husband.

"Unfortunately, without understanding fully what caused it, there's not much we can do. His heart rate is stable now and he's breathing well enough. Normal scopolamine is a fairly short-lived drug, so it's possible it will just work its way through his system." He scrawled something onto the tablet and rounded the end of the bed.

She continued to gaze lovingly at her husband, avoiding the doctor's face. "Will he remember anything when he wakes up?"

"It's possible. But it's also possible that whatever he remembers will be wrong. Remember, we're dealing with a hallucinogen as well as a sedative. No telling what he'll think actually happened to him." The doctor paused and turned back as he reached the door. "If we only understood exactly what we were dealing with, maybe we could do more. The best we can do now is wait and hope that his body recovers on its own."

As the door closed, she leaned down to kiss his hand. "I'm sorry babe. I'm so so sorry."

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She shifted the knife from her right pocket to the side pocket along her leg but the pocket was too big and she couldn't be sure she could reach the knife at exactly the right time. After several unsatisfying tests, she tossed it back into the kitchen drawer and shuffled around for something smaller. The dog watched curiously, tilting its head every time she spoke as if struggling to understand her confusion.

"This just won't work. I need something completely different. If I cut it the wrong way, I'll just poison myself. But if I can't get at least a small sample, no telling what will happen to Alan." She'd learned enough in the last three weeks to know that just a single drop on bare skin could start the hallucinations, rendering her pointlessly unfocused again. If she was going to get her husband back, she had to stay lucid. She glared at the greenhouse through the kitchen window. The sun was setting. She had maybe thirty or forty minutes of daylight left to think of something or she'd lose another whole day.

"I am not going one more night with that thing out there and my husband unconscious."

The dog's whimper turned her to the door. He hadn't gone out without her since that day. "Sure boy. A little fresh air might just help me too." As always, he took his precious time, sniffing every inch of the perimeter before settling on the perfect spot. She smiled as he twisted his lopsided tail to the side. The car had done no real serious damage when it hit him, except for some minor nerve damage near the tail. She and Alan had been terrified driving to the vet. There had been so much blood. The vet quickly identified and cauterized a small bleeding artery before the loss of blood became unrecoverable. If cauterizing a wound stopped that much bleeding so quickly, could a similar cut be stopped on a plant? Surely not through burning though. That was more likely to start a fire, wasn't it?

The dog ran to his water bowl as they reentered the kitchen.

"Okay boy. Water it is." She grabbed a glass from the dish rack and walked to the refrigerator door, shoving it under and tapping the ice button before filling it with water. "Pretty hot outside huh? How about a little chill on that water." She had to fight him to fill the bowl, forcing his snout out of the way. "Ok, ok, give me a minute would you?" The ice cubes clinked the metal bowl as he lapped the water.

"Of course, maybe you don't have to burn something to cauterize it. I'll be right back boy."

She grabbed her keys and cellphone, typing as she went to the car. If she could find some locally, she could be back and ready well before the night was over.

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She left the bare light bulbs extinguished, fearful of alerting it. The night phlox she'd planted along the edges of the greenhouse were in full bloom, bathing the greenhouse in an eerie reflected white glow. She prayed the sickeningly sweet smell would cover her scent long enough to surprise it. She stopped just inside the door to retrieve the knife from her side pocket, being careful not to cut the flimsy plastic glove she'd stolen from the hospital to protect her hand. The heavy garden glove was perfect to protect her left hand from the dry ice but it made her feel clumsy. As she crept toward the plant, she stooped down, avoiding the long hanging trumpet-like flowers that were so tempting. She scolded herself for behaving so foolishly over something that was more likely a hallucination than reality, for putting Alan in danger.

After the doctor told her what the drug was, she'd researched the plant extensively, eventually finding a man in Mexico familiar with the effects. It had taken some time to get him to even talk with her, but once he finally listened, he'd taken pity on her.

"While it is true that the plant contains a substance with aphrodisiac properties, it must never be allowed to grow wildly as you have allowed. The pollen from the flowers is very hallucinogenic, released when the plant senses danger to protect itself from pests and animals. The hallucinations can be pleasant, very pleasant, but are often terrifying, visions of horrible pain and suffering. You must also not allow the stalk to grow large. The oily substance contained in the center of the plant can be secreted at will and is potentially deadly, creating a paralysis significant enough to cause respiratory failure."

The man believed that was the cause of her husband's coma, explaining he'd been lucky not to have received a lethal dose. If she could retrieve a seed pod without disturbing the plant, a tea made from the seeds would reverse the effect. But the pods were heavily protected, near the center stalk of the tree.

She crept lower as she neared the center stalk. She found a small branch with several of the seed pods, visually tracing backwards until she found a good split in the branch. She slowly lifted the ice towards the branch, positioning the knife just over the limb so she could cut quickly. Touching the ice to the plant appeared to have no effect and the limb began to whiten. She waited as long as she dared and sliced quickly through the limb. The cut was quick, the limb shattering more than cutting, falling to the ground at the base of the plant.

The pods seemed to scream as they hit the dirt. She dropped the ice and grabbed the severed limb, wheeling around to escape the greenhouse. She saw the pollen first, dropping from the flowers and covering the whole ground between her and the door. She gulped for air and held her breath, crouching to avoid direct contact with the blooms even as they lowered even further to reach her. Her legs became heavy, she felt as though her carefully manicured floor had turned to quicksand, trying to pull her in and keep her from escaping. She cleared the canopy only to find the whole greenhouse full of the plants, her beautiful phlox disappeared and replaced with bursting blossoms. Her movement continued to slow, every step becoming painful, her joints aching as she worked to take just one more step.

As she reach the door, the handle turned limp like a wet noodle, preventing her escape, the quicksand continuing to pull her down. Her knees began to wobble, the air felt like fire going into her lungs. She saw the dog through the door barking furiously but she couldn't understand how to get to him. As she fell coughing to her knees, she could see Alan's limp body outside the door, somewhere between the house and the greenhouse. She knew it must only be several yards from her but the ground opened and she realized she'd never reach him.

"I'm sorry Alan. I'm so sorry." She knew she was losing. She'd been fast but not fast enough. She clutched the seed pods under her, hoping someone would eventually find her and understand how precious they were. That someone could still help Alan.

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He always started with her feet now, his firm touch relaxing her arch as his tongue tickled her ankles. His warm hands slinked their way up her calves as he followed them with his mouth, nibbling the familiar pathway softly and patiently. He wrapped his way around the outside of her thighs, one hand trailing behind as the other continued on past her waist to cup her breast gently.

The dog's manic barking had woken the neighbors. The police arrived to find her unconscious and clutching the seed pods. The ransacked kitchen revealed a key set of notes that explained her intent and led the doctors quickly to the antidote, waking them both in less than 24 hours. After a few days observation, they were released with a warning from the police to clear the greenhouse of all illegally imported plants. For several weeks, they tossed bags of weed killers into the greenhouse like advancing soldiers clearing a house with grenades. They'd spent hours digging up the destroyed remains, sharing stories, shedding tears and apologies, and then laughing at all the remembered hallucinations. He'd been so fascinated with the sensuality of her visions that he was determined to recreate them for her.

He drew her breast into his mouth, sucking lightly as his tongue tickled her nipple. Her back arched against his mouth as his hand searched deeply between her thighs. His teeth tugged her tits while she shivered and moaned, his fingers reaching deeper inside her and scraping against her from the inside. She struggled against his hand, twisting away while pushing forward, needing him to stop but desperately wanting him to keep going.

"Tell me baby. Is this really all you want?"

"No, no it's not enough. I need you inside me. You are so much more than my dreams ever were."