Table of Contents
The Braverman Experiment
Copyright
The Braverman Experiment
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Want to know what happens next?
The Braverman Experiment
Aubrey Parker
Copyright © 2017 by Aubrey Parker. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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Thank you for supporting Aubrey Parker
CHAPTER ONE
Andrew was hiding something. Of course he was.
Chloe had practically smelled it on him the moment he’d come to pick her up. They’d embraced like lovers held too long apart because that’s what they were, and Andrew had squeezed her so hard that even as thin as he was, he’d managed to lift Chloe a foot off the ground.
But even as they kissed and she hugged him, leaning into the intensity of their reunion, Chloe noticed many things amiss.
Exhibit A: The way Andrew’s eyes darted sideways after looking into hers as if second-guessing the best way to handle an otherwise natural moment.
Exhibit B: The hesitation in his most subtle movements, as if weighing every move.
Exhibit C: The way he’d already doubled back conversationally several times as if intending to start one sentence before switching to another.
A million tiny details, none of which an objective observer would likely have seen. Chloe barely registered the details as they happened. But after a few minutes. enough had amassed to fill her with disquiet.
It was like tasting a familiar recipe and knowing something was different, or entering a room and being unsure of what was out of place.
Like being watched when you’re certifiably alone.
They went out to a low-key dinner, Andrew making his usual jokes. The feeling swelled, and again she pushed it away.
They walked through Chinatown. They looked up at District Zero’s tall spires and the lattice-fogged moon. Even Earth’s satellite was different to Chloe now, reminding her of the man who everyone agreed couldn’t be her father … though Toddler Chloe had felt somehow certain he was.
The moon was new; the city was new; Andrew was new. He held her hand like always, but his touch and cadence and pattern of glances were new.
He’s different.
No, he’s not.
Something changed while I was on Voyos.
Or maybe something that was already changing became worse.
She took a deep breath.
Nothing has changed.
He’s keeping secrets.
Even some of his sameness was different. One of the last times Chloe had seen Andrew, they’d had hot sex with him playing a hard alpha. That wasn’t like Andrew. He’d been tentative before that, almost wary of her. Now he was back to her original man, which, in itself, was strange.
And there were all those little nuances. Small peculiarities. Even in the way he held her hand Chloe could read a thousand messages. His muscles weren’t lax like a casual man. They were almost like a man pretending.
“What did you do while I was gone?” Chloe asked, her voice neutral.
“Oh, just hung out. Wrote. Worked on my novel by typing fifty pages and then throwing them out because they were crap.”
“No play? You know what they say about all work and no play.”
Andrew sort of frowned. “I guess not. I didn’t think about it until now, but no — I stayed in my apartment. Had a bunch of terrible Crossbrace articles to ghostwrite. It took a lot of my soul. Like, this huge chunk. But instead of knowing about my soul-stealing articles, I’d like you to pretend you believe I’ve been penning award-winning fiction instead.”
“Okay. What about?”
“Demons who suck out people’s souls. Not sure why that strikes me as the perfect plot right now.”
Andrew offered his usual smile, but it was only a copy and Chloe couldn’t believe it. If her antennae weren’t already raised, she might not have noticed a thing.
“Did you go out and meet with anyone? You know — just drinks or something?”
“Silly girl. Poor Directorate writers can’t afford drinks. Not when their rich girlfriends are out of town.”
“You didn’t see anyone? Didn’t meet with anyone at all?”
Andrew seemed to think that question was strange, but then his curious expression vanished and he answered: “Nope.”
Liar.
Chloe’s senses were on high alert. She could see the tick of his eyes, again toward the deceptive corners. She heard the change in his voice, its meter betraying his uncertainty.
A thread on Andrew’s pant leg didn’t match any of the fabrics in his apartment. He’d been at least passably near someone who owned a cat because Chloe, who was mildly allergic, could feel the pre-pre-stirrings of histamines in her blood. She could even smell someone else’s expensive soap — incredibly faint, maybe from days ago.
“Not even for business?” she asked.
“I went down for groceries. And for food.”
“Where did you go for food?”
“Vitale’s? And McDonald’s once.”
But the almost imperceptible scent of luxury soap was a thousand times stronger than Italian food or Big Macs, which Chloe couldn’t detect at all.
Who lied about eating at McDonald’s?
“Anywhere else?”
“Why are you so interested in what I had to eat?”
Back off, Chloe.
She felt herself wanting to tense, realizing she’d spooled herself up in a reinforcing loop. She was only comparing notes with herself, with no one — and certainly not Andrew — to bounce her suspicions off of.
He at least deserved the benefit of the doubt.
Why was she so keyed up?
And why was her ability to read him tuned so finely?
Chloe was usually excellent at reading details, but this went a step beyond. This wasn’t analysis; this was inspection under an electron microscope. It wasn’t intimate; it was invasive. On the job, this level of intuition wouldn’t result in anything sexy. It had become clinical and analytical instead.
“No reason. Just curious.”
Andrew’s silence was telling, but something inside it made her feel better. She didn’t see malice in that silence. She saw affection and a fear that whatever he was holding inside would hurt her.
Did he cheat while she was gone?
And did it matter if he had? Her job was cheating. Although … she hadn’t touched anyone sexually other than Andrew in—
“How’s your mom?”
Chloe blinked, snapped from her calculations.
“She’s good.”
“Did you … you know … figure out what you wanted to?”
Chloe had an answer for it that was wholly honest, wholly true.
“I actually think so, yes.”
“You sound surprised.”
“It was different from what I thought I wanted to find out. Turns out that was a dead end, but Mom and I cleared a lot of air. There was a lot of garbage there. Stuff I’ve been angry about for a long time, I think, without even realizing it. I so
rt of confronted her on something. Something about my dad. It wasn’t pretty. We had a big fight. But in the end?” Chloe thought, again forcing her suspicions down, sinking into emotion she understood. “Yeah, I feel a whole lot better.”
“Did you feel bad?”
“You know how it is. Shit gets buried. Shit comes up. I didn’t even realize all the shit that was sitting between us until we started sorting it out.”
“Say shit some more. It’s kind of hot.”
“Shit.”
“Now say fuck.”
“Fuck.”
“Now say, I’m going to get down on my knees right here and blow you on the street.”
Chloe scoffed, then forced herself to study Andrew’s smile. She was being acutely unfair. He was a great guy, and it was only her hyper-analysis uncovering something wrong.
How was that a legitimate way to live? If you inspected anything as closely as Chloe’s tuned-up senses were inspecting Andrew, even the Hope Diamond would look flawed.
“You’re not going to say it?”
Laughing a little now.
“You can say some other dirty thing, as long as it’s in the same vein. Be creative.”
“Shut up, Andrew.”
They walked another few steps in silence, city chatter and road noise behind them. In a more earnest voice, Andrew said, “I’m glad things worked out with your mom.”
More steps. Again, Chloe looked over — and this time, felt profoundly terrible. He’d asked about her trip to be polite and considerate, not because he was prying. Andrew’s first instinct on seeing Chloe again after weeks was to ask after her mother and hold her tight, whereas Chloe’s had been to cast suspicion.
He’d stayed here; she had gone away. He’d spent his time working and dreaming. But Chloe? As far as Andrew knew, had gone away to have sex with men who weren’t him.
He might never know that she hadn’t actually had any of that sex … because unlike Chloe, Andrew wouldn’t ever ask.
She felt ashamed.
Unworthy.
She wrapped Andrew’s hand in hers, then leaned into him. When walking that way became too awkward, he stopped. “Can I help you with something, ma’am?”
Chloe kissed him.
She recalled her mother’s words:
You can’t open yourself up to affection without opening yourself to betrayal. Of course you’re starting to doubt him. That doesn’t mean he’s keeping secrets. It just means you’re human, and you’re realizing how badly he’s now able to hurt you.
She was human.
She felt guilty.
And pressing into Andrew now — choosing to accept her uncertainty about him as natural rather than a reason for alarm — she felt aroused.
Even bad feelings, if channeled well, could fuel a passionate fire.
Her love for Andrew could arouse her.
So could her fear and worry.
Same for her anger when she was being unfair.
That could turn both of them on.
Sex was a pressure valve.
“What’s with you today?” Andrew asked. “You are acting all weird.”
Chloe ran a hand across his chest. “Maybe we’re both weird. And seeing as we’re back at your building, maybe we should go upstairs and get weird together.”
CHAPTER TWO
Sink into the emotions.
There were too many. They frightened her: emotions piled so high that she couldn’t see the peak. She’d felt the range of experiences before, of course — but never this potent, never focused entirely on one person and one situation, and never with such raw, cutting intensity.
It was all so dangerous. The wall she’d built between love and sex was hanging in a severed flap.
Her two sides were mingling. There were three people climbing into Andrew’s bed: one of him and two of her. She could feel each, knowing the two were no-bullshit distinct people who, in very real ways, didn’t know each other.
Chloe closed her eyes as Andrew removed her blouse, his fingers slow. Her heart hammered beneath them. Her breath was even and long.
And with her eyes closed, she imagined Escort Chloe locking eyes with Andrew’s Chloe. Two separate women, meeting for the first time.
Nice to meet you.
And nice to meet you, too.
Both were Chloe. Each had been sequestered.
She’d followed her mother’s advice — both earnestly provided and given (she realized now) in fear for her daughter, after what had happened with Clive.
Keep your ingredients separate, Chloe. Learn what sex is and learn what love is, and don’t mingle them until you’re sure.
She’d heard the first part, but Chloe had somehow forgotten the … don’t mingle them until you’re sure.
Was she sure now? Was she supposed to mingle them after so much time keeping them apart? Did Nicole’s advice apply to her mental wall? Was she really supposed to demolish it? And didn’t that mean that she’d never be able to partition again?
How would she work? If she couldn’t keep her O-owned expertise away from Andrew’s Chloe, wasn’t she in danger of spilling her personal self into the escort’s world?
What if she ended up feeling things for her clients at O?
Or worse: What if her recent ambivalent spell persisted and she found herself unable to escort, or work at all?
It was irrelevant. Andrew slipped her blouse to the floor. Her bra followed.
He met Chloe’s eyes and undressed her the rest of the way as she stood there, swallowing like a nervous teenager, frozen like a mannequin.
Whatever consequences her co-mingling of personalities might mean tomorrow, she’d need to face it.
The damage was already done, and there would be no stopping today.
“You’re beautiful.”
Chloe turned her head and nearly blushed: Personal Chloe at the controls. “You’ve seen me naked plenty of times.”
As has most of the NAU, Escort Chloe added.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re beautiful.”
He reached up, cupped her cheek. Something on her face stopped him.
“Is something wrong?”
A quick shake of her head. “No. Of course not.”
“You’re shaking. Are you cold?”
I’m afraid.
“I’m fine.”
He took her hand. “Come on.”
Andrew led her to the bed, peeling back the covers. Chloe sat, about to turn sideways to slip her feet beneath the sheet when she stopped.
Across the space of her mind, Escort Chloe nodded. Came forward. And added one of her hands to Chloe’s internal helm.
Two halves of the same woman.
There was a soft push somewhere in Chloe’s chest, and when she reimagined her internal scene, she only saw one person staring back.
She was no longer two women.
She no longer had a partition — no longer two people capable of performing two different functions. The wall hadn’t just fallen; it had been destroyed. There was only one Chloe Shaw.
Don’t mingle them until you’re sure.
Was she sure?
Chloe hoped so but didn’t — couldn’t — know.
She could either step into it or run, but running changed nothing.
Chloe stood, no longer shivering. “I’m not cold.”
“You seemed …”
Hot.
Wet.
Lost in the thrum of a pounding heart.
Taken away; stolen from reality.
Ready. For you.
She silenced him by reaching for his belt. Unbuckling it. Unbuttoning his jeans; unzipping the fly. Reaching down. Finding him hard and as hot as her pussy had already become.
She rubbed her palm up and down his length. Feeling his urgency as she stroked him.
Chloe watched Andrew’s eyes. Saw what he wanted.
It wasn’t complex. Lovemaking never was. But what was once easy now felt impossible to understand.
The best sex that money could buy.
But it couldn’t compare to longing eyes. To a warm mouth. To the flush of emotion.
Of course Chloe had been aroused with her clients — but never with all of this feeling. With clients, it was all expertise, without the swell of her heart to match the swell of his hard cock in her palm.
Chloe went down. Put his hot cock on her tongue. Licked around its head, firming the tip of her tongue to draw circles.
She cupped his balls, gently stroking them, feeling the way they hugged up against his body in time with each pulse of engorgement through his shaft, in her stroking, spit-slicked hand.
She looked up at him while sucking his dick. She played with it, rubbing, fondling, loving its feel between her lips.
He finally lifted his head and met her eyes. And she waited — as Escort Chloe always waited — for inspiration to come.
What does he want? What pleases him most?
What pleasures lie hidden in the recesses of his mind?
But in Andrew’s eyes, Chloe saw nothing that she didn’t already know.
What role does he want you to play?
He wants you to play Chloe.
Who does he want you to be?
He wants you to be Chloe.
What would make him hardest? What would get him off the most?
And still, her answer stayed the same: Chloe. All he desires is Chloe.
Each tiny motion of her fingers was both natural and rehearsed — both what arrived on its own, and what time at the spas and client intuition had taught her. Licks were the easiest things in the world … and the very best that the escort in her could fathom to do.
Logic kept trying to fight her. She tried to believe:
He must want me to tie him with a cock ring. He must want me to fuck myself while he watches. He must want to tie me up, for me to tie him up.
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