"He did?" I swallowed.
"He was wondering about things we might do to better accommodate your unique needs."
What a moment before had been the most comfortable car seat I'd ever sat in now seemed weirdly lumpy and non-ergonomic.
"You mean...something that would help me with the, uh...samples?"
"Exactly."
"I'm sorry. I didn't expect him to do that."
"No need to apologize. I'm very interested in doing whatever we can to make the process more palatable for you. Mr. Norquist seemed to feel that you probably wouldn't have brought up this – shall we say, sticky wicket? – on your own."
"Probably not. It's a little too, you know, weird."
Dr. Blumenthal chuckled. "I understand. But please believe me when I say there's no judgment. This is all quite a load to bear on such young shoulders."
"Did you, uh, talk to my mom about this?"
"Lord, no. I believe this is a man-only conversation, best kept between us."
I sagged with relief.
"And when I say between us, let me be clear that this means it is not to be discussed with anyone else." The hardness in his grey eyes conflicted with his smile. "Other than, of course, your benefactor. It was his idea, after all."
"That's true. No, absolutely, I won't talk about it with anyone. I didn't even talk to my best friend about what I was doing, you know, before."
"Wise young man. Not that I believe your mom would tell anyone if she did find out, but I think it best to avoid causing her unnecessary anguish."
"I agree," I said. "I don't want to upset her any more than I already have."
We pulled into a restaurant's parking lot. Judging from the cars parked out front – and the fact that Dr. Blumenthal liked it – I assumed Silvino's was a high-quality place.
Inside, a portly dude in a suit greeted Dr. Blumenthal like a long-lost brother, and lovingly ushered us to a private corner table covered by fancy white linen. Dr. Blumenthal ordered some wine and an ice tea for me. I perused the menu, not seeing many familiar foods.
"I'd recommend the shrimp pasta," he said. "That's what I'm having. If you like shrimp, it's heavenly."
"I like shrimp."
Dr. Blumenthal closed the menus and slid them aside. The server showed up with water and our drinks and took the order. I felt kind of like I was eating with royalty as the server filled Dr. Blumenthal's glass with wine.
"Mmmmm," he said, sampling it. "Excellent."
I sipped from my ice tea. "Superb," I said.
Dr. Blumenthal laughed. "Good to see you have a sense of humor, Aiden. You're going to need it in the days that come."
"Why?" Foreboding filled me. "Are the tests going to get more painful?"
He chuckled at my no doubt terrified expression. "Not the physical or lab tests. I'm referring to tests of your resolve, of your courage. It's not easy being different, special. Your basketball star friend knows something about that."
"I'm not sure what you mean about tests of courage."
"You'll see what I mean soon enough. Let's focus on solving your current dilemma." He swished his wine around, and took another sip. "First, let me say that it is our wish – and I speak for not just myself, but for Max Emanuel and the Board – that you and CellEvolve enjoy a long and mutually profitable relationship. A highly profitable relationship."
That raised my eyebrows. "I thought this was for only two years."
"True, that's our formal agreement. But this goes beyond prying into your body, as profitable as that might prove. Your mom is one of our most brilliant researchers, and from what we've seen, we believe you have the potential to equal or surpass her."
My eyebrows were now arching to an almost astronomical degree.
"I'm telling you this so you'll understand that because we believe we could have a great future together, we are prepared to do what we can – within reason, of course – to make you happy here."
"Oh. Thanks. I appreciate that."
"So to our little problem," he said. "What do you think might work for you?"
I paused as the server appeared with our food. He departed with a half-bow when Dr. Blumenthal declined any further service. I was grateful for the extra moments to consider the wording of my request.
"I'm not exactly sure," I said. "I mean, I'd obviously like to, you know, find a safe way to, you know..."
Dr. Blumenthal nodded, his amused smile unwavering.
"I wouldn't want you to hire anyone or anything. That would be kind of, you know, gross?"
"Okay. No hirees. Perhaps volunteers?"
At first, I thought he was being sarcastic, but as he cut into his pasta, his face didn't appear any more sardonic than usual.
"I know this is awkward," he said. "But I can assure you, I'm no prude. Rather, I'm a scientist with a degree in molecular biology who sees human beings as aggregates of complex chemical interactions. Still, sadly or not, it seems that my true talent lies in administration: juggling the practical minutiae that make a research department work. And that's the skill-set I'm prepared to bring – again, without judgment – to your particular problem."
Talking to Dr. Blumenthal reminded me in a really weird way of having sex with Alice Morgan: in both cases, I was completely out of my depth, but it was okay to pretend to be an adult and enjoy the ride.
"So why don't you tell me, as precisely as you can, what you want," he said, "and I'll see what I can do?"
"I guess what I want is just what I had before," I said. "Regular women or girls who just like being with me."
"And that you can trust implicitly to be discreet?"
"Uh, yeah."
Dr. Blumenthal poured himself another glass of wine. "Do you know of any individuals who might meet those requirements?"
I had a mouthful of pasta – I couldn't deny it was about three pay grades better than any lunch I'd had recently – which I made a point of chewing thoroughly as I pondered my answer.
"Anyone you already know who knows you and is trustworthy?" Dr. Blumenthal prodded me. "A wish list, if you will?"
I thought of the three women I'd been with. Well, four now, though I guessed Melanie wouldn't count as a "woman." Gertie and Mary were out of the question, of course. Alice Morgan...I flashed back for an instant to some extraordinary images and sensations. I hated to say someone was "the best," but for me Alice Morgan was in a different league. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since that one afternoon.
"If I had a 'wish list,'" I said, "that doesn't mean that they'd want to be on it."
"Of course. But you might be surprised. Most females who've had a prolonged contact with you could be at least partly under your spell. Why don't we just start with any woman you have feelings for and who you know to be totally trustworthy?"
"Alice Morgan, my neighbor," I said, feeling guilty for naming her and yet aroused just to say her name. "She'd never turn me in."
"Very good." He withdrew a notebook and scribbled in her name. "Who else?"
"I don't know. Couldn't this be dangerous for them, too? It is against the law, after all."
"Which is why they need to be trustworthy, and have too much to lose by revealing this relationship to anyone," Dr. Blumenthal replied in brisk, business-like tones. "So. Any woman you've been around you'd like to get your hands on? And I mean, anyone."
"What do you plan to say to them?"
"I plan to appeal to their human kindness." His smile expanded a tiny notch beyond its norm. "Make it all about helping a young man in desperate need."
"Okay." I took a breath. "Aleesha."
"Our Aleesha? Aleesha Bloom?"
"Yes." I felt heat rising in my face. "She's really..." I shrugged.
"'Smokin', I believe the expression is?"
I nodded, my face growing hotter.
Dr. Blumenthal wrote in his notebook. "Anyone else?"
"Well..." A face that had captivated me from the beginning formed irresistibly in my mind.
"Yes?" Dr. Blumenthal leaned in a bit, his gaze affable and sincere. "Think of me as your father-confessor, Aiden. Whatever you say is safe with me. No judgment."
"My therapist," I blurted out.
"Ah." His pen poised over his notebook, his expression unchanging. "Her name?"
"Stephanie. Um, Dr. Stephanie Landon." I paused to swallow down the remainder of my ice tea, hoping it might numb my embarrassment. "It would be cool just to talk to her, you know?"
"Just talk?"
"Well, it's not like she'd be willing to do anything more. She's a Ph.D. psychologist, after all."
"And we know how they like to talk."
He was grinning in a way that made me feel like a fool while wanting to laugh at the same time.
"Anyone else?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I think that's it for now."
"It's a start." He smiled and nodded to my pasta. "Finish that, and we'll have dessert. Their chocolate strawberry cheesecake will blow your mind."
Chapter 13
"COULD WE TALK, AIDEN?"
"Sure." I looked up from my lunch in the cafeteria the next afternoon. "What's up?"
I hoped my smile wasn't as nervous as I felt. Dr. Aleesha Bloom's grave manner made it obvious what the subject would be. Dr. Blumenthal had contacted her about me.
She sat across the table, facing me, the sun lighting up her golden-brown skin even more luminously than usual. But her expression was dark.
"Dr. Blumenthal spoke to me about your, um, special needs," she said. "I understand, you requested that I assist you in, well, obtaining personal fluid samples."
"That wasn't exactly the way I, uh, put it."
"Then to put it more accurately, you asked for me to be your personal whore. Not to mention a criminal."
My throat constricted in mid-swallow, as though my Adam's apple had metamorphosed into a softball-sized rock.
"You don't know me," she said, "but have I given you any reason to believe that I'm a prostitute or a criminal?"
"Uh..." I finally managed to swallow. "No?"
"'No' with a question mark?"
"Just plain no. Of course I don't think that."
"Maybe you believe women are your playthings? That every woman yearns to service you?"
"I wouldn't say every woman..."
"You know what I yearn to do with you? At this moment, I yearn to kick you in your precious hyper testicles."
I crossed my legs, gulping.
"Let me tell you something about myself. I have degrees in biotechnology and genetics. Do you think I went through nine years of advanced schooling to be someone's geisha girl?"
"No," I muttered.
"Apparently, Dr. Blumenthal does." She emphasized his name with cold disdain. "He offered me a sizable bonus for 'extra services,' and more or less informed me that if I refused I would be considered to not be a 'team player'."
"That's not what I wanted," I said, mortified. "I wasn't asking him to pressure you into anything."
"He's a top executive at CellEvolve," Aleesha stated with a shrug. "He didn't get there by playing nice. I know you don't understand someone like Blumenthal or the kind of power CellEvolve wields. You're just a sixteen year old kid playing ignorantly with people's lives."
She said the last so bitterly that I wanted to slide off my chair and crawl unseen out of the building.
"You're right," I said. "Half the time these days I don't know what I'm doing. I didn't mean to insult you or have Dr. Blumenthal threaten you."
Her harsh gaze softened a little. "I know. But Aiden, I think it's time for you to start being more aware of how you're affecting people's lives, and take some responsibility for that."
"Yes, I agree. And I'm really sorry for this, Aleesh...ah, Dr. Bloom. I will tell Dr. Blumenthal that I changed my mind, that I don't find you attractive, whatever it takes. I'm sure he'd be willing to find someone else."
"How many other people – women – did you request?"
"Oh. Uh, two others."
"They're not women who work here, are they?"
"Oh no! Just a neighbor and someone I...someone else." I offered a small smile. "You're the prettiest girl here, from what I've seen. You look so young – I couldn't believe you were a doctor!"
She smiled for the first time in this grim meeting, and tucked a dark strand from one eye behind her ear.
"Not to be offensive, I hope, but could I ask how much Dr. Blumenthal offered you?"
Aleesha scowled. "Twenty-five thousand in cash or stock options. But only when I told him I wasn't interested. He seemed to expect me to cheerfully volunteer, since I don't have a boyfriend and I work here, and you're such a worthy cause. 'It's about helping out a young man with a difficult issue,' as he put it."
"Yeah, he said he would take that approach," I murmured, wondering if twenty-five thousand was a large bribe or a stingy one. "I guess he'd be offering the others money, too, if they aren't agreeable." I imagined the disdain and distaste on Stephanie's face if Blumenthal offered her money. "Jeez, I need to call him off. I'd better go talk to him."
Aleesha rested a hand on my arm as I made a motion to rise.
"Just hold on," she said. "We should probably think this through."
I tried not to show the surprise that shuddered through me.
"What do you think I should do?" I asked.
"How do you believe you'd manage without this kind of...help? Will you be able to continue what we're doing here without going crazy with frustration?"
"I guess so," I sighed. "I hope so."
"It's a lot to ask. All those pent-up hormones. It's hard enough for me – I mean, most women. I can't imagine how frustrating it must be for you."
I sat there looking sad and liking the way this conversation was turning.
"Men are so boring these days," she said. "My mother told me about how my dad tirelessly pursued her, throwing everything he had into it, performing every romantic gesture, wearing her down until she finally caved. She made it seem like a pain in the rear when I was young, but she always smiles when she talks about it now. I can see the wistful longing in her eyes."
I nodded with solemn sympathy, but it was hard to focus on my compassion when I was imagining her naked.
"You don't have to pretend to be all compassionate," she said, her smile cool. "I know what you're wondering, 'Does this mean I'm gonna get laid?'"
I gave a careless shrug. "I was just thinking it's sad how unbalanced things have gotten. But then maybe the research we're doing here might help with that."
"Getting you laid could help save all of humanity, right?"
"I wouldn't say I'm a hero. Just someone trying to do his part to help."
I spoke with a straight face. Aleesha burst out laughing.
"You're really full of shit, aren't you?" she sputtered.
I shrugged modestly. Her smile faded.
"You think I'm pretty?"
"More like beautiful."
"You really want me."
"Yes."
Aleesha settled back in her chair with a sigh. "You'll never send me flowers. You'll never pursue me. Why should you when millions of women would pursue you? You won't be my soul mate, my forever love."
I just stared into her beautiful brown eyes, not having a clue about what to say.
"But you will want me," she said. "Even hunger for me."
"Absolutely!" I hoped I wasn't drooling.
"All right, then," she exhaled. I could see sadness and resignation in her eyes, but something else, too. Something smoldering? "I'm on a break, and you're done for the day. I guess we should do this thing."
THE SUN bathed my body in relaxing warmth. I felt as loose and limp as the linguine in that pasta at Silvino's. I'd done lab work in the morning, pumped iron and destroyed some young macho doctor in racquetball, and then...well, Alice Morgan arrived with her gorgeous skin and lush, sensuous body, smiling as if she'd won the lottery.
Which I soon learned that she had:
a fifty-thousand dollar college fund had been established in her two children's names, and her ailing car had been replaced with a sleek, new Toyota Hybrid (leased as long as she was "in service" to CellEvolve). She expressed none of Aleesha's reservations – primed to go from the instant she arrived.
All that after hours of orgiastic fun with what I considered now to be the "incomparable Aleesha." Alice was still great, as great as ever, I was sure – like dining on a sumptuous feast of pleasure. Aleesha wasn't "sumptuous," but she had something Alice didn't: intensity. Looking into her eyes was like looking into an X-ray machine, though of course sexier. It was as if she could see right into me, right to my core, and that she understood what she saw. Even when we were both exploding in ecstasy, she was still seeing me. It was kind of creepy, but in a good way.
Man, I thought, turning over on my lounge chair to roast my back, can things get any better than this?
"Dude!"
Keith's happy greeting made me swell with happiness. Having a friend around – a true friend – was the one thing I'd been missing in this manmade paradise. I'd called him and asked – begged, really – for him to come for a visit.
I rolled onto my back, lowering my shades, and arching one aristocratic eyebrow.
"My dear chap, so good of you to join me."
Keith punched at my bare shoulder, but I snared his wrist.
"I've missed you, man," I said.
"Ah, dude" – he was smiling at my hand clutching his wrist – "I didn't realize you missed me that much."
"Well, you know how we hypers are."
"That's what I'm afraid of." Keith's laugh ended on an uncertain note. "Seriously, Aiden, you're sentenced to that kiddie internment camp for a month, then I hear you're home – and the next I know you're living in luxury at CellEvolve Estates. What gives?"
"They had a lot of stuff they wanted to catch up on since I was missing in action for two weeks," I said. "And things were getting kind of tense at home, so hanging out here seemed like a good idea."
"Ah." Keith nodded. He turned to inspect the pool. "I can see why you might want to hang out here."
"I have my own apartment inside."
"No kidding." He paused, looking around some more. "So what do you do here? Donate your bodily essences for a few hours and then hang out poolside?"
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