This is by an adult for adults.  If you are under legal age then get out.  If you 
find that any of my material is offensive then don't read it.  That's all I have to 
say about that.  As for the rest of you.  Enjoy!


*If you haven't guessed, this is mind control story.  However, I am attempting 
something I haven't seen much out there amongst other mc stories, a romance 
not revolving around pure domination of the partner, which supposedly leads to 
'love'.  This, like my 'Stock' series, will be pure romance with plenty of sex.  
But more than that, it is about people.  Oh, and for those of you that have read 
the 'Stock' series, there's a small surprise for you within the first chapter.





MC-125
     
by Lord Raven 
          Copyright 2002



Chapter 1


	It worked.  John lifted the small vial filled with a clear syrup to the 
overhead lamp and looked at it.  After only two years of research he had been 
able to accomplish what everyone else had considered impossible.  Just then the 
stainless steel double doors to his lab burst open and a troupe of security guards 
and the Vice-President to GenenCorp charged in.  Not knowing why, John 
quickly shoved the stoppered tube in his pants pocket and went to greet his boss.  
	"Hello, Mr. Evans.  What's going on with the guards?"
	"Simple, Mr. Edwards.  You're being fired.  We have put thousands of 
dollars into your research over the past year without an inch of progress to show 
for it.  All you have given us were speculative notes on how to create a chemical 
to make people more susceptible to suggestion and more readily absorb 
commercials and other forms of mass media."
	John had just finished the compound, MC-125, but he never entered its 
progress in his notes.  The stuff was potentially very dangerous in the wrong 
hands.  The formula he created went beyond simply making people more 
susceptible to commands; it controlled them outright.  As a safety precaution he 
removed several of the key ingredients in it, various salts, and placed it in 
another vial, the one in his pocket right now.  Without those salts, MC-125 did 
exactly what the company wanted it to.
	"Sir, we found barrels labeled MC-125," one of the guards called out.
"Good," Evans said.  "Deliver that to Section 28 storage.  Well, Mr. Edwards it 
looks like you have been keeping a few things from us.  Your contract of work 
is hereby terminated.  We will give you two months salary as your severance 
pay to help send you on your way.  Have a good day."
	And as suddenly as they came into his lab, they left.  John wasn't too 
upset by losing his job.  There was a high demand for biochemists at the time 
and he could probably find another company to pick him up.  Besides, working 
under Michael Evans was getting to be a real pain in the ass.  Evans' victory 
wasn't complete either.  The VP forgot about the stock options that went along 
with his work contract, those were John's to keep.  And if he guessed right, then 
GenenCorp's stock was going to rise once they find out that his MC-125 did 
work.  Most likely they were going to sell it to various food producers with 
already a large advertising base, chips and soda for one, and make a fortune on 
it.  By firing John, they just slighted him the royalties.  John shrugged his 
shoulders and packed up his things and left.

*	*	*

	A year later John was busily cleaning up his apartment when he 
happened along a vial with thick, clear liquid.  The key to MC-125 lay in the 
palm of his hand.  Turns out GenenCorp did sell the chemical he created and 
their stock skyrocketed.  Everyone thought it was their release of a new cold 
medicine they came out with but John knew better.  Almost every major brand 
of food, soda and chips and alcoholic beverages mostly, now had a microliter of 
the chemical in their food or drink and no one knew any better.  Of course, for 
the food companies, that edge was only temporary over their competitors 
because they too picked up on MC-125.  John did a quick search on the Internet 
and figured that roughly ninety-eight percent of Americans had MC-125 in their 
system.  John looked at the vial in his hand and thought of what would happen if 
the wrong person could control that ninety-eight percent.  He made his way to 
the bathroom, planning on dumping the stuff in the toilet and stopped himself.  
No, can't do that.  Eventually some of it would get into the drinking water 
supply and then random people will have unlocked MC-125.  There was only 
one proper way to destroy it available to him.  
	So he drank it.  He poured the thick, salty mixture down his throat and 
grimaced at the taste.  Then he filled the vial with water and drank it down six 
times.  As soon as the salts hit his digestive system they would dissolve and be 
rendered harmless, he thought.  There might be some side effects, possibly 
diarrhea but other than that he didn't think anything else would come of it.  His 
stomach rumbled in agitation.  John looked at the clock.  Dinnertime.  He 
scoped out his fridge and found nothing to his liking.  He grabbed his favorite 
leather jacket, hopped on his motorcycle, and sped off to a nice Italian 
restaurant.
	Alesio's was a nice Italian place that he frequented with an excellent 
chicken Parmesan and a fantastic wine list.  Tony greeted him at the door 
warmly and let him through to the bar where he usually ate and chatted with the 
bartenders.  It was a very classy place but the owner, Alesio, let him in without 
the long screening process they put through most of their clientele because he 
was such good friends with Erica, who was the owner's daughter.  Erica was 
there as she was every Friday night, minding the bar and mixing drinks for the 
patrons.  They were old college friends.  She was an attractive girl, 5'4", dark 
auburn hair that billowed out in curly waves when they weren't tucked back 
with a ponytail, and a lean figure that spoke of hours at the gym.  She flashed a 
smile at him that spoke of long friendship when she saw him and gave him a 
warm hug over the counter.  "How's my favorite buddy doing?  Your new job at 
Pharmtech working out?"
	"Yeah, it's not bad," John stated plainly.  "Their pay is decent and 
they've got good benefits.  Even their cafeteria food is pretty good."
	"That's good to hear," Erica said distractedly.   John picked up on her 
absent attention.
	"Something wrong?"
	The indecisiveness on her face was plain to see.  "Phillip and I broke 
up."
	"Whoa," was all John could say.  Erica had been seeing Phillip for the 
past year and he was certain Erica thought she could hear the church bells 
chiming, she said as much.  "What happened?"
	"He.the bastard's been sleeping around behind my back," she spat out 
painfully.  "He said that I didn't put out for him enough and that he found 
someone else for his needs.  I was just a lay to him."  There was no anger in her 
voice; only cold grief and John shook his head in dismay.
	"I'm sorry to hear that," John said and tried to smile to give her some 
support.  "You want I should buy you a drink?"  The irony of the comment 
wasn't lost on Erica and she laughed.
	"No, thank you," she dabbed her eyes with a bar napkin.  "No drinking 
on the job.  You know that."
	"Well, it's all I guy can do when he meets a pretty girl at a bar."  The 
two flirted all the time, mostly because they knew nothing would come of it.  
They prized their friendship too much for anything more.  "Well, can I get a 
chicken antipasto with a glass of your house white?"
	"Sure thing."
	John watched the dinner crowd as he waited.  Nothing seemed out of 
the ordinary except for a large, muscular man who seemed to be sitting 
uncomfortably at a table with another man sporting a cane stooping over his 
shoulder, whispering in his ear.  The large man got up and John saw him gesture 
angrily at the man with the cane.  John watched as an inch of a blade was 
exposed from the cane.  The larger man stopped and ran back to another table, 
picked up a girl with a vapid expression on her face, and stormed out of the 
restaurant.
	"Good riddance," John heard Erica say behind the bar.
	"Who was that, that just left?"
	"A real pain in the ass customer, Talworth I think his name was.  He's a 
real jerk but he brings in a lot of high-end customers.  Being a classy restaurant, 
we get our fair share of stuck up snobs but he takes the cake."
	"Hmm," John shrugged and left it at that.  "Hey, Erica.  I was 
thinking.maybe you should drop by my place after work.  So we can talk and 
stuff.  It looks like you need to unload a bit."
	Erica looked at him strangely for a moment and nodded her head.  
"You're right.  I think I will drop by later tonight."
	John ate quietly and just breathed in the ambiance of the restaurant.  He 
finished his meal, left quietly, and hopped on his motorcycle.  He slapped on his 
helmet and blazed down the streets back to his apartment.
	John had almost forgotten that Erica was dropping by when he heard 
the doorbell ring at midnight.  "Hi," John said as he gave his friend another hug.  
"Glad you could come.  Want anything to drink?"
	Erica a nodded and asked for some water.  "Thanks for having me over, 
John.  It's good to know I'll always have a friend."
	"Hey, that's what they're for, right?  Well, besides borrowing money 
when you're in a jam, that is."  The two chuckled at that.  "Sit down," John said, 
gesturing towards the couch and did so himself further down.  The two talked.  
Erica was really heartbroken by the breakup, she thought there was more to the 
relationship than physical attraction but apparently that wasn't the case with 
Phillip.  Erica sighed disconsolately and curled up into a ball.  John scooted next 
to her and wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders.  She sobbed quietly in his 
arms her pain now throbbing ache.
	John was a little put off by himself when he felt the stirrings of arousal 
in his pants.  Granted, Erica was a very attractive woman and the shaking of her 
body as she cried was doing things to him between his legs but this was hardly 
the time for his libido.  John decided he needed to get out more and find himself 
a girlfriend.  Still, the thought of how nice it would be to kiss her did drift across 
his mind.  John's ruminations were interrupted by the silence and a break in the 
shaking on his chest.
	He looked down.
	Erica was staring up at him, a lost look in her eyes.  She leaned up to 
him and kissed him gently, tenderly.  Her lips were a delicious treat, soft and 
yielding.  Her warm breath snaked down his throat and passion flared within 
him.  Erica's kiss became more eager, reflecting his own feelings, hungering for 
more.  Their tongues lashed out and caressed one another impatiently.  John 
reached up and touched her face softly when the thought of what he was doing 
slammed to the forefront of his thoughts.  He pulled away.
	Erica was breathing heavily, as was he when he studied the confused 
and hungry look in her eyes.  "Hold on a second, Erica," John said, trying to buy 
himself time as much to collect his thoughts as well as slow his thundering 
heart.  "We should think this over.  You just broke up with your boyfriend and 
you are very vulnerable right now.  I like you, a lot.  But I don't want to 
jeopardize our friendship over this."
	"What do you want then?"
	Right now I want to have sex with you until the sun comes up, he 
thought but he couldn't say that.  He didn't have to because Erica leapt at him 
just as he finished his thought and began devouring his mouth again.  John was 
in a sea of blissful sensations as he kissed Erica.  He always had found her hair a 
major turn on and now stroked the silken curls.  Her hot body pressed to his 
through their clothing and their breathing became labored snorts as their lips 
remained locked.  He wanted to get his shirt off but Erica reached for it before 
he could, whisking it over his head in no time.  She did likewise with her own 
blouse, revealing a delectable looking black bra that John couldn't help 
caressing.  John's hands ran up and down her ribs and stroked the small of her 
back.  His fingers traced the path up her spine to the clasp on her bra and 
unfastened them, setting her bountiful breasts free.  Erica groaned as her breasts 
sprung free of their confinement and grabbed John's hands and placed them on 
the newly exposed flesh.  Her hips ground into his at the sensation of his palms 
on her nipples and her kiss became more frantic and needful, matching John's 
own thoughts and actions.
	John thought of reaching down and undoing Erica's form-fitting jeans, 
but again her hands beat him to it.  Erica's head tilted back as John reflected on 
moving down to her neck and he did so with fervor at her exposed throat.  Erica 
arched her behind a moment to pull down her pants to reveal a sultry thong 
matching her bra.  Her fingers deftly undid John's pants, again on the whim of 
his thoughts, and the feeling as their pelvises collided invoked new images of 
lust in his mind.  John's head traveled lower and began teasing her breasts with 
light kisses and licks.  She was thrumming with sexual tension and John wanted 
to experience all of it.  He thought about the last time he'd been in bed with a 
woman; far too long by his measure.  He returned his thoughts to the task at 
hand and attacked Erica's breasts with a vengeance.  She moaned in delight.  
She gasped in joy.  She pretty much went through every single possible sound 
that words had been made to describe for the human vocal cords and then some.  
John was amazed at how verbal a lover she was and he had only reached her 
breasts!  He suckled on her turgid nipples while his free hand caressed the other.
	Their passions mounted and John was astounded at how responsive 
Erica was to his every thought.  Her soaked thong was soon discarded and they 
cried out in joy as Erica mounted him.  John always enjoyed it when the woman 
was on top.  If John thought Erica's sexual vocabulary was astonishing before 
then he was floored now.  She screamed and howled unintelligible words of lust 
that were sometimes sensual but mostly outright bawdy.  Madly, she pounded 
down on him, their sexes mashed together again and again in coital ecstasy.  
John was not idle as he lay beneath Erica's thrashing body, his fingers tweaked 
and rubbed her hard nipples while his other hand reached down and rubbed her 
exposed clit.  Her pounding increased in speed until John swore he saw smoke 
emanating from between Erica's legs.  Finally the sensations became too much 
for him and his eyes rolled back into his head as he let loose several thick 
streams of cum.  Erica let out a piercing shriek and her body seized.  Her mouth 
gasped in a voiceless scream as the muscles in her pussy rippled.  John felt a 
flood of liquid spill out from between her legs and then Erica's body went limp.  
She collapsed atop him, her breathing ragged and thin with exertion.
	The sex was unbelievable.  Every single sexual itch, physical or 
otherwise, had been scratched.  Again, his mind came back to how quickly Erica 
responded to his every desire without him uttering a single word or gesture.  It 
was as if she could read his mind or something.
	John's eyes snapped wide open.


Chapter 2

	John had carried Erica to his bed where she now lay, sleeping 
peacefully.  Right now, John was at his computer going over notes.  Of course, 
he had saved all his files on MC-125 and right now he was pouring over every 
detail, every note and side note that he had ever made, especially those 
concerning the salt extraction that he did.  Yes, the MC-125 gave complete 
control of subjects exposed to outside stimulus when the salts were present in 
their dosage.  He didn't bother with a test of how those subjects would react 
without the salts in their system but were added by an external source.  He had 
to do more tests.  John had work tomorrow at the Pharmtech lab; he could 
conduct his experiments there.  That decided, he headed back to his bedroom.
	Erica lay in his sheets snoring softly.  What was he going to do about 
her?  She was the best friend that he had and he had just inadvertently caused 
her to have sex with him.  This was going to make things very awkward in the 
morning.  Not thinking it right to take advantage of his friend by accident again, 
John grabbed an extra pair of blankets from the cupboard and camped out in the 
living room.
	John awoke to the smell of frying bacon and buttered toast.  He sat up 
in the coach and looked over in the kitchen where Erica was busily cooking him 
breakfast.  "Um, good morning, Erica."
	Erica looked over her shoulder and looked at him awkwardly but 
replaced the look with a smile.  "Good morning," she said.  "Sleep well?  I did."
	John smiled.  Erica was always the one to put a happy face on despite 
the situation.  He stumbled into the bathroom and took care of some business 
then came out to talk to his friend.  John sat down at the dinner table and helped 
himself to the plate that was set before him.  Erica sat across from him and was 
busily shoving scrambled eggs into her mouth.  "Look, Erica," John began, 
"About last night."
	Erica cut him off.  "I'm sorry I took advantage of you like that last 
night, John."
	John was a little too stunned to reply.
	"I was really depressed and needed to feel.well, not loved but 
something.  My breakup with Phillip was pretty ugly and I needed to blow off 
some steam.  When you invited me over all I really wanted to do was talk, 
honest.  But I felt really needy last night and you were just there.  You've 
always been there for me, John.  I know how you feel about casual sex, how you 
consider it unethical and against your way.  But last night.well, something just 
came over me when you held me and I just couldn't help myself.  I'm just sorry 
that I abused our friendship."
	John still didn't know what to say but it looked like she was expecting 
some sort of response.  He reached out across the table and held her hand in a 
gesture of comfort.  "Erica, we've been friends for a very long time.  I have to 
admit that I was turned on by having an attractive woman in my arms, not all the 
guilt is on your shoulders.  I could have tried to stop you.  As you well know, I 
haven't had a girlfriend for a couple of years.  I guess I was needy, too.  So 
don't blame yourself for all of this."  Her face relaxed as he said that.  "Let's 
just not let it happen too often, eh?  Every once in a while is okay though."
	John's words had the desired effect and she laughed.  "You pervert," 
she giggled.  "I'm so lucky to have you as a friend.  You really are a nice guy."
	"Maybe too nice," John remarked.  "I think most guys would try to take 
advantage of the situation."
	"Most guys would," Erica said.  "But you're not like most guys I know.  
You'll make one girl very lucky."  She decided to tease him a little.  "And if last 
night was any indicator, you'll make her very very very happy."
	John blushed at that and tried to hide his face behind a glass of milk 
while he drank.  Erica laughed.  They continued to eat and chat until a thought 
of popped into John's mind.  "Erica, can I ask you a personal question?"
	"No one here but us girls," Erica said.  Much to John's chagrin, Erica 
considered him one of her best girlfriends since he was such a good listener.
	"Last night.I don't really know how to say this.  Is your sex usually 
like that?"
	It was Erica's turn to blush.  "I honestly can't say what had gotten into 
me last night.  It almost felt like you were telling me exactly what you wanted 
and I just did it.  I couldn't orgasm though.  I should have at least two more 
times, the way we were going at it, but I just couldn't.  At one point I stopped 
caring about your pleasure and just tried scratching my itch but nothing would 
happen.  It wasn't until you came then I could.  It was so weird.  Do you usually 
do that to the women who sleep with you?"
	John fumbled for an answer to that one.  "Well, I've only had two 
girlfriends but none of them acted like you did.  I guess you just had some pent 
up anxiety holding you back."  John had a hunch that wasn't the case though.  
The timing was too perfect.  MC-125 popped into his mind again.  "Look, I've 
got to get to work.  You can hang out here all you want unless you've got other 
things to do."  John hastily got dressed and headed for the front door when Erica 
called out his name.
	"John, we're still just friends, though, right?"
	"Erica, you and I both know that there could never be an 'us'.  We're 
just too different."
	"Great, then I think I'll go man-hunting.  I feel more confident now."

*	*	*

	John hurriedly parked his car and rushed into the lab.  He zipped by the 
receptionist at the front desk and headed straight for his lab.  Quickly, he stuck a 
sterile needle in his arm and drew a blood sample.  He spent the remainder of 
the day mixing chemicals and running all sorts of tests.  John worked feverishly 
at the lab bench and came to a conclusion by the end of the day.  He had indeed 
absorbed the salt key into his bloodstream when he drank it.  It was quite the 
amazing discovery, there was a strange twist to one of the complex salts that 
resulted from the extraction process from MC-125.  The salt wouldn't be broken 
down or passed out of his stool when it hit his stomach.  Instead, it was infused 
almost directly into his bloodstream and was then carried throughout his body.  
Eventually the salts would find their way to his sweat glands and that was where 
the magic happened.  It created a sort of salt bridge when in contact with 
someone with the diluted version of MC-125.  So, all he had to do was touch 
someone and they were primed for suggestion.  Turned out they would only 
obey his will since the salt went through his own distinct biochemistry.  It was 
like giving subliminal programming without all the fuss of a hypnotherapist.  
Not only that, but when in constant contact with someone, the test subject would 
be under constant bombardment by his thought, like a direct feed to his very 
will.  That's what had happened to Erica last night.  He gave her a hug at the bar 
and that primed her, which was how she so readily complied to his suggestion 
that she come over.  The prolonged contact with her when she hugged him as 
she cried gave him a direct link to feed commands to her.
	And he had such power over ninety-eight percent of the nation's 
population.
	Quickly, John scrubbed every bit of data that he had on his computer 
pertaining to MC-125.  The test tubes he used he immediately washed with 
highly toxic cleaners so that even the waste liquid would be permanently sealed 
off in a hazardous waste disposal container.  No one would come into contact 
with the salt.  John thought of all the implications of what he held in his head.  
He could have pretty much anything if he asked for it; money, power, and 
women would be just the tip of the iceberg.  Absolute dominion over pretty 
much all of America and who knows how much past its borders, the formula in 
his head would be worth empires.  John took a while to think about it.  With 
absolute power literally at his fingertips what would he want to do?  The 
possibilities were infinite.
	"Another long day at the lab, John?"
	John spun around, startled.  It was Teresa, a neighborly chemist that 
was working on an AIDS vaccine in another lab.  She was a nice woman, 
happily married with two lovable kids.  Teresa was older than him by a few 
years but age didn't dim her natural good looks with her slim figure and alluring 
eyes.  John thought about the MC-125 and discarded it.  No, that wouldn't be 
right.  She was a friend and had a family to care for.  Above all else, John 
respected family.
	But that didn't mean he couldn't give her husband a bit of fun...
	"Yeah, you know how it is sometimes," John finally said.  "You get a 
bit of inspiration and you can't put it down.  There's far too much work and too 
little time."
	Teresa grunted in agreement.  "You mean you have deadlines."
	John laughed.  "Yeah, well, what can you say?  Tell me, how're the 
husband and kids?"
	"They're just fine.  Daren just bought a new sound system for the 
television and is as happy as a clam.  I swear he almost wants to make love to 
those speakers."
	John worked up his nerve as he listened to her talk, making sure to 
work up a sweat in his palms.  When he did, John held Teresa's hand, startling 
her.
	"What are you doing?"
	"Relax, Teresa."  John watched as the salt slowly did its work on her 
and didn't say anything else until he was sure he had a firm grip on her mind.  
"Relax.  What I'm about to say, you will forget when you exit that door but you 
will still obey my command.  Tell me, how is your sex life with Daren?"
	Unblinking, Teresa answered.  "We have sex about once every other 
week if we can find the time."
	"Do you wish it were more often?"
	"Yes."
	"What I want you to do from now on is to try to get more alone time 
with your husband.  I want you to make love to him at least four times a week 
from now on.  Is that understood?"
	"Yes."
	John smiled when he thought of something else.  "Tonight, I want you 
to get your kids to spend the night at their friends' houses.  Then, you are going 
to have sex with Daren involving those speakers.  Make it seductive, make it so 
that he will never look at those speakers the same way again.  You will not stop 
having sex with him until the first light of dawn.  Is that understood?"
	"Yes."
	"Good, now leave the lab."  John watched as his coworker left his lab.  
Teresa paused outside the door and shook her head in disorientation.  John 
watched as she turned around to ask him what had just happened but then she 
shrugged off the idea and went back to her lab.  Daren was going to be a lucky 
man tonight.  John thought about what he had just done.  Sure, he meddled with 
a couple's sex life, but if anything, he probably just threw in a little spice that 
would make for a happier marriage.  John felt good about what he just did and 
the surge of power was intoxicating.  He felt like celebrating.
	John left the lab and headed back to his place to freshen up a bit and for 
a change of clothes.  It was dark out, the day having slipped by as John toiled 
away in the lab.  He didn't really mind all that much, it was just a little 
disconcerting to have his last view of the outside in broad daylight and then see 
it again in the dark of night, like going to the movies in the afternoon.  John 
hopped on his motorcycle and sped off to his apartment.  Erica had left like she 
said, cleaning up the place a bit as well.  She had left him a note thanking him 
for last night.  Whether she meant the talk or the sex, he wasn't sure.  John 
hopped into the bathroom for a quick shower and then went through his closet 
for something nice to wear.  He dressed in a pair of black slacks and a designer 
purple silk shirt that he thought looked good on him.  John slipped on his leather 
jacket and was out the door again.
	The streetlights zipped by John as he sped his way down the city streets 
and he found himself at the entrance to 'Tonic', one of the hottest nightclubs in 
town.  As was expected, there was a line outside the front door.  John didn't 
bother with it and stepped up to the bouncer.  "I'm a friend of Michelle's," John 
said simply.  The doorman looked him up and down and nodded in approval.  
John stepped past and heard a few others behind him repeat what he just said, 
none of which worked.  John smile, it was good having friends in various parts 
of town.  Michelle was the owner of the joint, a former dormmate from his 
college days who finished with a degree in business and opened this place up.
	Inside was a shadowy world of loud, heavy music filled with the 
dancing silhouettes of other club hoppers.  Strobe and spotlights bathed the large 
room in a kaleidoscope light show.  Several bodies rubbed up against him in the 
collective dark, as could be expected in a packed establishment.  John wondered 
idly if they were within safety regulations for max occupancy.  Slowly he made 
his way to the well lit bar and asked for a glass of wine.  The bartender looked at 
him oddly, few people drinking that in a place like this, and opened up a bottle 
for him.  As John waited he felt a tap on the shoulder and turned around to find a 
sexy blonde with a warm smile on her face.
	"Fancy meeting you here.  Have the chemicals finally driven you away 
and into my arms?"
	"Hello, Michelle," John replied.  "You know how it is.  All work and 
no play and all that.  But I don't think your husband would appreciate me taking 
you up to your office and pound away at you on the desk."
	"What he doesn't know can't hurt him."  They laughed.  Michelle 
reached up and gave him a friendly hug.  "So what does bring you to my neck of 
the woods?  Not everyday a self-proclaimed nerd makes it past Fred."
	"Just felt like relaxing and decided I needed to get out more.  Maybe 
find some female companionship while I'm at it.  You know."
	"Not anymore I don't.  Don keeps me very happy in the companionship 
department and my going out usually means enjoying myself at places like this.  
You know what I was like in college."
	John snorted.  "No kidding, you were out partying every night I was 
beginning to wonder if you ever planned on graduating."
	"Yea, well." her words were interrupted by one of the bartenders with 
a phone.  Michelle picked it up and yelled a few replies over the din.  She turned 
to him.  "Look, I have to take care of this.  Call me later and maybe we can 
arrange a dinner sometime later."  She gave him a friendly peck on the cheek.  
"Happy hunting."  And with that she disappeared into the crowd and into her 
office in the back.
	John smiled at her exit.  It was good seeing her again after so long.  She 
really had come a long way since her college years.  He turned back to the bar 
and took a sip of the merlot.  He frowned.  He would have to talk to Michelle 
about their wine list.  John set the glass down and looked out at the crowd.  His 
vision was limited by the poor lighting but he could make out some of the other 
patrons that dotted the room who sat beneath fixed lights at their tables; the 
Singles tables.  It was a pretty smart idea.  Most of the people who wanted to be 
seen, or rather flaunt their looks in the women's cases, went to the more lighted 
areas.  Then strangers could ask them to dance in the shadows and if they liked 
how the other person moved in the dark.well, there was only one reason to 
gauge another person's rhythm in the dark.  On occasion John sat at a Singles 
table but mostly he stayed at the bar.
	John sat on the stool and continued to watch the crowd.  A line from his 
favorite movie, Topgun, came to mind, "Even you can get laid in a place like 
this."  He hadn't been in a place like this in a long while.  He considered himself 
rather rusty in the singles scene.  Still, he was here; so maybe he just might get 
lucky tonight.
	John's thoughts were interrupted by what appeared to be an angry 
couple.  People began distancing themselves from the scene, forming a micro 
stage.  From what he could tell, the girl came here without her ex-boyfriend's 
express permission, despite the fact that they were not longer seeing each other.  
Apparently, he was the possessive type.  John was about to wave the situation 
off but he realized just how cross the guy was.  The ex raised his hand and was 
about to strike when John seized it and stayed the blow.
	John's palms were sweaty and his mind began calming the guy down.  
"Don't do this.  I suggest you leave before you do anything stupid."  The larger 
man looked at John, the chemicals already working their way into his brain.  He 
snapped his wrist out of John's grip and spun around, leaving the club.  John 
waved off the bodyguards, signaling that things were all right.
	John faced the girl he had just rescued.  "Hey, are you going to be 
alright?"
	The girl's eyes were puffy with crying, her mascara running in 
midnight blue streaks down her face.  She was attractive; about twenty-six years 
old, probably stood about five foot seven, gold blonde hair, feminine curves and 
a firm cleavage that was displayed nicely by a strawberry red dress with 
spaghetti straps.  She nodded her head silently.
	Just then, another woman came up to her and gave her a comforting 
hug.  She talked to her soothingly and escorted the girl to the ladies' room.  John 
went back to his poor merlot and watched the crowd.  He felt a tap on the 
shoulder and turned around.  It was the blonde girl and her friend.
	"Hi," he said.  "Are you going to be okay?"
	"Yeah," she replied.  He noticed she had blue eyes.  "That was my ex-
boyfriend.  Melissa and I were just going out for night of fun and he happened to 
be here."  She paused the conversation to order a drink.  "I just wanted to thank 
you for helping me out just now."
	"Well, the bouncers would probably have booted your ex anyway but 
they were still too far away.  The name's John, by the way."
	"Oh, Veronica," she replied and shook his proffered hand.  "And this is 
Melissa."
	He shook her hand as well.  John looked her over as well.  She had 
long, raven black hair and was complimented nicely with nearly porcelain white 
skin.  Firm breasts were pushing at the front of her blouse.  Instantly, John 
thought of how nice it would be to feel her body up against his, Veronica's too 
for that matter.
	Uh-oh.  He just remembered what he could do.
	"Care to dance?" Melissa asked.  "You too Veronica."
	"Um, sure," was all John managed to say.
	"Okay," echoed the blonde.  From reading their eyes and their 
personalities, John figured there wasn't much of a mind for the MC-125 to work 
on.  Oh, well.  They had great bodies and he wasn't here for the conversation.
	The two women dragged him out on the dance floor.  John could tell 
that they had their act together.  They rubbed and grinded against him in perfect 
sync that he had a hard on in no time.  Well, two, make that three, could play at 
this game.  He began touching them, innocent caresses up and down their arm, 
but his mind was conveying all the lust and desire that he felt for them.  He 
worked on them for the next half hour on the dance floor until the two women 
were panting with more than just the work out on the dance floor.  The women 
grew more aggressive in their moves, rubbing their breasts against him, forcing 
his hands on their very firm behinds.  They did nearly everything possible but 
outright boff him in public.
	"I think I've had enough dancing," Veronica shouted above the din of 
music.  "How about we go somewhere a little more quiet to talk."
	Talk.  Right.  "Sure," John answered simply.  The two led John off the 
dance floor.  Melissa lived not too far from here, walking distance actually, so 
they decided on her place to 'talk'.
	"You're a pretty good dancer," Veronica commented as they made their 
way to Melissa's apartment.
	"I can keep a rhythm," John replied.  There was woman hooked to each 
of his arms, breasts pressed tightly to his sides.  Tonight was going to get very 
interesting.


Chapter 3

	John sat at the bar, absent-mindedly sipping a cabernet with a smooth 
oak and strawberry bouquet.  He cut off another juicy bite of the steak placed 
before him as he absorbed the quiet ambience at Allesio's.  Most diners ate at the 
tables, but not John.  He preferred the calm bar with its easy access to the jazz 
selection on the stereo and the warm company of his friend, Erica.  Erica was 
working the bar tonight, the gentle smile she always wore adorning her face as 
she talked to several patrons.  This was where it all happened nearly one year 
ago.  Where he took his first accidental step into an exciting life, an exciting life 
that he had come to tire of.  John took another sip from his glass as he 
remembered the passionate tryst he had with Erica, then the wild night of sex 
with the blonde and her raven-haired friend the evening after.  John couldn't 
remember their names.  By now he had left all kinds of women in his wake but 
eventually it was that very thing that made him grow jaded.  There were parades 
of women that he shared his bed with over the past year.  And like any parade, 
they came and left.  Certainly, he had lived out what most men would consider a 
dream come true but eventually one did have to wake up.
              Money was no longer a problem for him.  With his abilities, he had 
accumulated a respectable amount of wealth over the past year.  Nothing illegal, 
the people up top just seemed to notice that he deserved a couple of raises and 
promotions every time they talked to him; he had a good handshake.  John was 
slipped a few company stock options and now he was sitting comfortably in the 
financial sense.
	John sighed as he poked at a mushroom saut‚ed in bourbon sauce.  He 
was hoping that coming here and talking to Erica would cheer him up.  They had 
remained friends and aside from that one night a year ago they had never grown 
more intimate.  Erica had moved on with her life and was now seeing a decent 
guy that worked another bar a few blocks over.  John was happy for her.  He 
was afraid that after the night together their friendship would become strained 
but thankfully nothing came of that.  After that incident and a few others John 
had taken up wearing gloves and refraining from exposing clothing like t-shirts 
and shorts.  He also never went to the beach.  John shivered at the memory of 
his discovery that happened last summer when he got turned on by another 
woman frolicking in the frothy waves and several others in the water got the 
impression.  Everyone from twelve-year-old girls to fifty-year-old men wanted 
to get close to him.  Of course, that included about twelve very attractive 
women, which he did spend one hellacious week with, but he didn't want to 
repeat the experience.  People at work thought his covering up was a bit peculiar 
but they chalked it up to a scientist's eccentricities.
	John was mulling this over as someone sat next to him.  "Excuse me, 
are you the head of the oncology department at Pharmtech?"
	John turned and faced a stunning redhead with deep green eyes and he 
felt his jaw unhinge.  He took a moment to kick-start his brain then took another 
moment to find a reply.  "Uh, yes."
	"I thought as much."  She swirled and sniffed her white wine before 
taking a sip.  Her luscious lips curled up a fraction of a smile as she rolled the 
drink in her mouth.  "I'm Samantha Summers, the new president at Pharmtech."
	John took her proffered hand in his gloved one and shook.  "John 
Arrons."
	"I know, the famous gloved scientist.  I've read your file.  You have an 
impressive history at Pharmtech."
	"Well, I had a good team that helped me to where I am."  John was a 
bit nervous.  Hopefully, she didn't think that his rise wasn't out of place.  If he 
got his glove off he could tell her not to pay it any mind but something in the 
back his brain told him not to.
	"Indeed, you did."  Her eyes were penetrating, captivating.  "And they 
continue to be so.  Your work is well merited and you had the fortune to be 
noticed by the people upstairs."
	"Politicking at company parties helps."
	"Ah, a player of the Game," she studied him a moment and took 
another sip.  "Would you mind if we dispensed with that for now.  I'm a little 
tired from the past month of wading through the throng of chairpersons."
	"With pleasure."
	"So, what do you recommend here?  I'm new in town and haven't had 
until tonight to have a night out."
	"Well, I'm having the steak with mushrooms saut‚ed in bourbon sauce 
but that's because I needed to get a little red meat in me.  I recommend the 
chicken parmesan, though.  Simple enough dish but they serve it well."
	"Sounds good."
	They chatted amicably as they ate until their plates were cleared away.  
Matter of fact, it was probably the most engaging conversation that John had 
ever had in the longest time and he said as much.
	Samantha sighed when he said that.  "It has been awhile since I've had 
an intriguing discussion with anyone.  Years, actually."
	"I find that hard to believe.  I'm sure a woman like you would have a 
husband with a good head on his shoulders."
	Samantha lifted her left hand, void of a ring.  "I'm not married," she 
said a little peevishly.  Her face softened a little.  "Most men find me a bit 
intimidating."
	"Why's that?"
	"Come now.  An attractive woman with brains to match does not 
exactly rake in the men.  Add the fact that I am a woman in power that is 
headstrong."
	"Willful."
	"Stubborn," she derided herself.
	"Alluring."
	Samantha looked at him, searching for the mockery in his manner but 
finding none.  She remarked on his offhanded sincerity with her.
	"Well, for starters I'm not intimidated by you," John replied.
	"And why are you not?"
	"You're human aren't you?  You have needs, wants.  You have dreams 
and aspirations like any one else.  If I were to prick you, would you not bleed?  
True, you are headstrong but look at where you are.  An admirable 
accomplishment."
	"Most men would be jealous."
	John snorted.  "I'm not.  That's not the life I want to lead.  Being the 
president of a large corporation was your goal and you have attained it.  I like 
my little niche in the company.  To each his own is what I say.  Besides, I think 
it's kind of sexy."  John blushed when he let that slip.  This was his boss that he 
was talking to.
	Samantha looked away and studied the rim of her glass with her middle 
finger.  An embarrassed silence hung in the air between them.  "Excuse me for a 
minute," Samantha finally said.  "I have to use the girl's room."  John nodded.
	What was he thinking?!  He was hitting on his boss.  Not just his 
overseer but the president of Pharmtech!  John ordered another glass of wine.
	"So," Erica commented.  "Who's the hot date?"
	"Date?"
	"Yeah, the woman you've been talking with all night."
	John looked up at the clock on the wall.  Three hours had passed.  
"She's not my date.  She's my boss."
	"Couldn't tell from where I was standing.  She likes you, I can tell.  
And you like her," Erica teased.  "I can tell."
	John sputtered.  But it was true.  He did like Samantha.  She was 
intelligent and witty with a devilishly good sense of humor.  Those beautiful 
green eyes of hers captivated him.	Samantha returned.  "How about some 
dessert?  On me." John offered, the words flying out of his mouth before he 
thought it through.  Those damnably green eyes totally bewitched him.
	"Suggestions?"
	"You like tiramisu?"
	"You read my mind."
	John ordered their dessert and continued his conversation with 
Samantha.  "Well, now that you have time to get settled into town, let me 
informally greet you since I'm sure you've already been formally greeted to 
death."  He toasted to her.  Samantha returned the gesture with a sincere smile.
	The two settled into a comfortable conversation again as dessert was 
served.  They nibbled on the delicate cake until it was gone and Samantha 
ordered another glass of wine as she told John how she made her difficult climb 
to being president of Pharmtech.
	"Sounds lonely," John finally commented. 	For the briefest of 
moments John saw the sad look in her eyes but she quickly recovered.
	"Oh, hardly," Samantha answered off handedly.  "I'm far too busy to 
feel lonely and there's always companionship when I have time."
	In other words, John pieced together, she had one night stands to 
scratch her itch.  He looked again, as she finished the last of the wine with a 
large gulp.  She didn't fool him.  John had seen that expression a lot lately, when 
he looked in the mirror.
	"Well," John concluded.  "I've had a wonderful evening talking with 
you tonight.  But it's getting late.  I'd better get going.  You wouldn't want me 
to show up late for work tomorrow, would you?"
	Samantha looked at him and laughed.  "Very funny.  At your position, 
you set your own hours.  Research and development is one of those things that 
doesn't matter about how many hours you work as long you get results and 
quickly."
	"True," John defended.  "But I try to be there when everyone else 
comes in so they can come straight to me."
	"My, you are rare," Samantha commented.  "A researcher that works 
regular hours."
	"Ha ha," John replied sarcastically.
	"You're right, though," Samantha said as she got up.  "It is getting late.  
Do you mind staying while I wait for my driver to pick me up?"
	"I've got a better idea.  How about I give you a lift?  Um, that is if you 
don't mind riding a motorcycle."
	Samantha's eyes shined with delight.  "I'd love to go for a ride on your 
bike.  I haven't been on one since college."
	"Great.  It's this way."
	The two paid their bills and left a tip for Erica then stepped into the 
brisk winter night.  Samantha shivered in the cold.  John got his leather jacket 
from the coatroom and draped it over Samantha's trim shoulders.  She thanked 
him as they walked side by side in silence.
	"Impressive looking bike," she commented when she saw what he 
called his black steed.
	"You like?"  Samantha nodded.  "It's a Ducati.  The Ferrari of 
motorcycles."
	"I can tell," she commented.  "We pay you too well."
	John laughed.  "I thought you were impressed with my work."
	"Yes, but I'm even more impressed with your bike."
	"Well, hop on.  Where do you live by the way?"
	Samantha gave him the address and directions on how to get there.  
John nodded as he gave his boss a spare helmet then buckled his own on.  
Samantha put on John's jacket and they were off.  John became acutely aware of 
Samantha's arms as they wrapped comfortably around his waist.  The city's 
bright lights streaked by as they zipped passed local traffic then hopped on the 
freeway.  John opened up the throttle and screamed down the open highway.  He 
could hear Samantha laughing behind him as the wind wailed around them and 
he smiled behind his helmet's reflective visor.  In no time, John had pulled onto 
the local streets of the quiet neighborhood.  He slowed down to a muffled roar 
and pulled up to Samantha's house.
	John sighed at the absence of Samantha's arms when she hopped off.  
He slipped off his helmet as Samantha did likewise and handed it back to him.  
"Thanks for the lift.  I haven't had that much fun in ages."
	"Sure thing.  Anytime."
	They waited outside for a moment in the dark, neither sure what to do 
next.
	"Let me walk you to your door," he finally said.
	"Hardly, I was going to watch you leave.  You're at my house now."
	"More of that headstrongness?"
	"I suppose."
	John smiled.  "It was a pleasure having dinner with you.  Perhaps..."
	"No, we shouldn't," Samantha cut him off.  "You work for me and it 
wouldn't be right."
	John held her gaze as his bike thrummed between his legs.  He nodded.  
"Okay.  I can see how it could be dangerous for you.  But maybe I'll see you 
around work."  He gunned his engine and pulled a tight turn on her driveway.  
His engine roared as he sped off into the night.


Chapter 4

	John tried, he really did.  But he simply couldn't help himself when he 
raised his hand to his mouth and yawned.  Well, at least he managed to be 
discreet about it.  It was another company ball where every person of self-
proclaimed importance got together to pat each other on the back.  John sighed 
in disgust.  He didn't even have to be here.  He had already gotten what he 
wanted from previous parties.  Besides, with the new President seeming to have 
a personal interest in his activities he decided not to pull any funny business.
	Speaking of whom, Samantha was making her rounds hobnobbing with 
her underlings.  John supposed that meant him as well but, like he explained to 
her last month at Allesio's, he wasn't intimidated by her nor did he consider her 
better than him, or himself better than her for that matter.  He had learned 
lessons in power during his year of debauchery when he first explored the 
advantages of MC-125 coursing through his veins.
	"Still wearing gloves, I see."
	John braced himself as he looked up and faced the pair of 
breathtakingly green eyes.  He surprised himself by how well he remembered 
every little detail of her enchanting face.  "Well, it is a ball," he managed to 
reply.  "And white gloves aren't totally out of place."
	"True, but a little outdated."
	"Call me old fashioned."  She was testing him.  Why, he didn't know.
	"Trying to climb the ladder again, Mr. Arrons?"  She was trying to 
unseat his aplomb by changing the subject to even more dangerous territory.  
Well, two can play at this game.
	"Not really," he replied.  Her eyes questioned him challengingly.  
"Actually, I came to see if you'd back out at another invitation to dinner with 
me."
	Trapped!  John smiled inwardly.  Ms. Summers would have to back off 
now.
	"Very well."  John stopped himself from firing off his readied reply.  
She said what?  "You can give me the details some time later.  If you'll excuse 
me, I have other guests to entertain."
	John watched her saunter off to the head of the AIDS research 
department as his jaw hit the floor.  Trapped!

*	*	*

	John's gloves were starting to irritate his skin as his palms sweat 
profusely within their leather sheaths.  Steadily, he worked up his nerve and 
fingered the doorbell of the large Victorian estate.  He waited outside in the chill 
evening air as he rocked his weight from the front of his feet to his heels then 
back again.  God, when was the last time he actually went on a date?  The large 
oak door swung open and John was greeted by those lovely green eyes.
	"Hi," John managed to squeeze out of his throat and pulled out the 
bouquet of white roses from behind his back.  "These are for you."
	Samantha smiled at the offering and accepted them graciously then 
went inside to put them in some water.  John noticed her graceful womanly 
figure beneath the white sweater and beige stretch pants she wore.  "Still 
wearing gloves, John?" she asked when she got back.
	"You keep bringing that up."
	"You keep wearing them," she fired back.  They both laughed.  "So 
where are we off to tonight?"
	"You look like a jazz person, so I thought we could head over to the 
'White Saxophone' and get to know one another a little better."
	"My, my.  First date and you're already making assumptions," she 
commented.
	"Am I wrong?" John challenged.
	The redhead smiled.  "I never said that.  Yes, I like jazz.  Let's go."  
Samantha looked in her driveway to find a deep forest green Lexus.  "No 
motorcycle?"
	John shook his head.  "Not tonight, no.  I thought we would be a bit 
more comfortable in a car tonight.  We can ride my black steed another night."  
John opened the door and let her in then sprinted over to the other side and 
started up the car.
	"More assumptions, Mr. Arrons?  You seem to think that there will be a 
second date."  She paused to look at her watch.  "And we're hardly even ten 
minutes into the first one."
	"Call me confident."
	"Arrogant."
	"True," he grinned as he pulled out of her driveway and headed for the 
freeway.  They chatted while he drove until they reached their destination in the 
active part of downtown nightlife.  John tossed the keys to the valet and escorted 
his date through the front door.  The club was already hopping with activity.  
The live band was blaring a hot tune while patrons got drinks at the bar and 
listened at their tables.  The whole place had a smoky aura to it, like from an old 
movie.  John and Samantha found a table near the back so they could talk 
comfortably and still be able to hear the music.
	"Nice place," Samantha commented.  "I must say, I haven't had a good 
dose of live jazz in a while."
	"Then I chose well."
	"So far," his date commented.
              John smiled.  He could tell that Samantha was enjoying herself despite 
the airs she waved about.  He had to wonder, though, why was she so 
determined to be difficult.  He knew it was just an act.  Hell, she knew it was an 
act.  But why?
	A waitress walked up to them and asked if they wanted anything to 
drink.  They both perused the wine list and decided on a bottle of Merlot.  
Samantha looked at the menu next and asked what was good.
	"Well, I never made a big deal about their food.  I come here for the 
music.  I suppose you might want to try the House burger."
	"Burger and wine?"
	"Sure, why not?  Wine goes with everything."
	Samantha was about to fire off a scathing remark but then thought 
better of it.  He was right.  The right wine could go with any food and a red wine 
could go well with a burger.  John smiled to himself as he saw the inner conflict 
play across her face.
	"You're really trying to be difficult, you realize," John commented.  
"Why not just enjoy yourself?"
	Samantha cast an annoyed look at him but then softened her 
expression.  "Is it that obvious?"
	"Kind of," John answered off-handedly.  "Look, I know that you 
accepted my invitation just to spite me on the battle field, so to speak, at the 
dinner party.  I can understand that.  But you could at least admit to yourself that 
you do enjoy my company."  John smiled.  "And admit that you were 
outmaneuvered, too."
	Samantha grumbled a bit under her breath.  "Alright.  You got me.  I do 
enjoy your company."  She took a deep breath but her eyes remained as hard as 
stone.  "And you had me cornered at the dinner party."
	John decided to be tactful and didn't smile.  "I'll tell you a secret, 
though.  You completely surprised me when you agreed to see me.  I didn't even 
consider that possibility.  You are a dangerous woman."
	A carnal smile etched across her face at the small victory; it sent a 
shiver up John's spine.  "I know."
	"My father always told me that I should be afraid of attractive women, 
doubly so if they're smart," John took a sip of his wine.
	"Do I frighten you?"
	"I think a better word would be terrify."
	Samantha's head tilted back and let out a throaty laugh that made 
John's spine shiver in arousal.  "So tell me, why do you wear gloves all the 
time?"
	"Wouldn't you like to know?"
	"That is why I asked," she pressed.  Her eyes bored into him.
	John's forehead burned from the intensity.  He took a sip of his wine 
and held her eyes in his.  "Why do you want to know?"
	"Why do you want to avoid the subject?"  Samantha fired back in 
annoyance.  "I swear, you're as persistently mysterious as I am persistently 
stubborn."
	"At least we agree on something," John commented.  "How about we 
analyze your last comment a bit?  If I am as enigmatic as you are headstrong, 
then I would have just as justifiable a reason as you do.  So what we come down 
to is whether or not we are willing to bare our very secretive souls to one 
another." He let his words sink in.  "Besides, I think it makes things far more 
interesting."
	"You think you've got everything figured out, don't you?" she asked.
	"I'm not the one that demands control of everything," John said 
suggestively.  "But I have learned to control myself."
	"Really?"
	"Let's just say that I've had to learn."
	"Then you mean to say that I can't control myself?"
	"I find that there are two types of people, those that control themselves 
and those that control everything around them.  Both are a means to have some 
sort of sense of security, false or otherwise."
	"An interesting way of putting things.  And since I appear to be the 
type that controls those around me I fall into the latter," she concluded.  "I'll let 
you know that I am also in complete control of myself."
	"Then why are you here, with me, tonight?" John asked.  "You and I 
both know that it isn't safe to have a relationship with co-workers.  Yet here you 
are against your own better judgment.  I will admit to myself that I find you very 
attractive, 'frighteningly' so.  Will you admit to yourself what is plain to me?"
	Samantha's eyes flared challengingly, daring him to finish his train of 
thought.  John knew he was toeing a fine line.  If he went too far with the 
challenges she would be irritated with him and dislike him but, on the other 
hand, if he didn't go far enough she would grow disinterested.  John had 
imagined about a woman like Samantha, had in fact dreamt of meeting someone 
as rare as her.  Someone he couldn't control; someone who could possibly 
control him.
	During his year of exploration and debauchery, giving orders and being 
thoughtlessly obeyed, he had discovered something about his power.  The 
position of absolute power, or as absolute as was humanly possible, was a lonely 
place.  A place without equals.  It was one reason John donned the gloves.
	John abandoned his maudlin thoughts and moved on to the promising 
hope sitting across from him.  He took a sip of his wine as he watched the 
resolve in Samantha's eyes smolder until they began twinkling playfully.
	"You really are arrogant."
	"Yes, ma'am."
	"I think I like that in a man."  They smiled intimately at one another.  
John wasn't sure who slid their hand across the table, him or her, but he found 
her hand in his.  Just then the waitress returned and asked if they were ready to 
order.  John hadn't even given a thought; his attention was so focused on his 
date.  They both ordered the House burger.  "You realize, that this could be 
difficult."
	"Yes, it could be."  His thumb lightly caressed the back of her hand.  
God, how he wished that he could feel her skin on his.  "But only if we run into 
problems."
	"Oh, there will be," his date replied cynically, almost bitterly.  "Have 
you ever heard of a relationship without complications?"
	"Then I suppse that we'll have to resolve them as quickly as possible," 
John answered optimistically, then added.  "For the good of the company, of 
course."
	"Of course," she smiled, albeit sadly.
	"Hey, let's not shoot down what we've just discovered over what has 
yet to happen," John tried to lighten the mood.  "You're here, I'm here, and we 
are about to have a nice dinner while listening to good music."
	John could see the cloud lifting from her eyes and then she smiled.  
"Do you always have to be so damnably right all the time?"
	"Tell you what.  If you prove me wrong you can rub my face in it all 
you want."
	"If?"
	"I'm arrogant, remember?"  They laughed.  Quiet settled on the two of 
them as their laughter died down and they listened to the music as they silently 
communicated through the lone contact of their hands.  Dinner arrived shortly 
after and, reluctantly, they let go of one another.  They made small talk and 
chatted about different esoteric topics.  John found that she held the same views 
as he did about the economic structure of America. US foreign policy came up 
next, then American society, and then religion.  Before they knew it, their table 
had been cleared away and nearly four hours had passed.
	"It looks like you're keeping me up past my bedtime, again," John 
finally said.
	"With the way you keep bringing up the end of the evening I'm 
beginning to think you're trying to get rid of me."
	"Well, I can't let you see me turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of 
midnight, now can I?"
	Samantha smiled.  "I never said you were a fairy tale come true."
	"Ah, but my cockiness assumes you do," John joked.
	"With all your posturing and innuendo, I'm beginning to wonder just 
how 'cocky' you are," the redhead remarked suggestively.  John felt his face 
flush and his blood head south.  The lusty flare in her eyes only served to fan the 
flames.
	John found the evening's bill ledger and slapped a fifty in the fold and 
stood up.  "Shall we?"
	Samantha rose regally, like an empress queen.  She took his proffered 
hand in hers and they strode out of the club.  John opened the door for Samantha 
and then hopped into the driver's seat.  The drive to her home was a blur as he 
made his way down city streets.  Before too long he pulled up to her driveway.  
They got out of the car and talked on the cobblestone path that glowed like 
golden coals in the streetlight.
	"I suppose you're going to watch me drive off again," John said, his 
emotions were a heavy mix of unidentifiable feelings.
	"Actually, I was wondering if you'd care to join me for a spot of 
coffee," she said.  John knew exactly what the invitation entailed.
	"I'm sorry, but I'd rather not," he answered regretfully.  "I really 
should be going."  Before she could voice a protest he lifted her hand to his lips 
and gently, but oh so passionately, pressed them to the back of her hand.  He 
fought his insides, trying to void all thought from his mind, all desires, yet still 
convey the growing passion that he felt for her.  The effort was goliath but he 
think he managed.  Pleased with himself, John rose and looked at Samantha.
	"Forget that," she muttered as she grabbed the front of his shirt and 
pulled him in.  Their lips collided passionately, fervently.  John's mind froze in 
shock and elation; his mind teetered between unbridled desire and pure fear.  He 
felt the same from Samantha as his mind reached out to her through the 
embrace.  He felt her longing, her terror, and they fed off each other's turbulent 
emotions until his mind and soul felt about to burst.  Their mouths parted in an 
explosive gasp for air.  Samantha backed away and held herself up on a 
lamppost, her breasts heaving with the effort.  John fared no better, his knees 
weak and liquid as he leaned on his car.
	"What.?"  Samantha began to ask.
	John never heard her finish her sentence as he darted into his car and 
sped off.


Chapter 5

	John stared at the computer screen, a stream of letters in code hiding 
genetic secrets within.  He flicked the mouse across the screen and minimized 
the window, his eyes sore from strain.  The scientist rubbed his temples as he 
tried to focus on the data but failed.  He couldn't get the kiss out of his mind.  
Even now he could feel her hot breath steaming down his throat and suffusing 
his brain with eager promise.
	John stood up and paced the room, his mind a cacophony of emotions.  
It wasn't possible, he kept telling himself over and over again.  Things like that 
don't happen.  But the taste of her kiss still burned on his lips, melting his brain 
at a fevered pitch.  Never before had he felt anything remotely close to that 
scintillating moment.  He threw himself into his work the next morning and the 
ensuing week but to no avail, he was hooked, addicted, obsessed with the 
memory as it played over and over in his mind.
	John huffed in an explosive breath and shut down the computer. He 
checked his watch.  His workday was over with, all the other researchers having 
long since headed home.  John headed for the elevator and paused at the brass 
panel.  His hand hovered over the two buttons for a moment and his thumb 
decided to send him up instead of down to the garage.  John angrily questioned 
what he was doing.  Stupid impulsiveness.  He was always in control of himself, 
prided himself on it.  But the last few days his world was spinning crazily out of 
his grip.
	The gray metal doors pinged open and John upbraided himself for the 
umpteenth time what the hell was wrong with him.  Uncomfortable with its 
strangulating hold, John whipped off his tie and balled it up in his pocket.  His 
feet guided him autonomously to the polished wood door that now loomed 
before him.  He knocked and waited.  Silence greeted him and a breath that he 
didn't know that he was holding exploded from his lungs.  Well, he tried.  John 
turned around and jumped out of his skin.
	"Hello, Mr. Arrons."
	John took a moment to collect his scattered thoughts as a pair of 
emerald eyes focused intently on him, a mixture of anger and sadness roiled 
beneath the surface.  "Hello, um, Mrs. Sanders," John finally managed to squeak 
out.  He squirmed beneath her gaze then managed to compose himself; he 
straightened his posture and bearing as if donning a suit of armor.  In the breadth 
of a moment he was ready for battle.  However, when he regained his 
composure his real feelings dissembled, not because of the penetrating stare that 
his boss was firing at him but because he felt it wasn't the right way to approach 
what he had finally decided to do.  He took a deep breath and sloughed off his 
hastily erected shell.  "Samantha."
	Her eyebrow quirked at the personal address and a shadow of an 
emotion other than malice flitted across her eyes.  "What do you want John?"
	"I.I wanted to apologize for my, how shall we say, hasty exit," John 
began.  "Um, could we find a place to sit?"
	Samantha snorted and magicked the door open with a set of keys, and 
gestured for him to enter.  John took a brief glance of her office as he stepped in 
and sat before her desk.  The room was fashionably appointed, with tasteful 
paintings hanging from the walls and a fichus standing in a corner.  Her shelves 
were lined with several folders of corporate accounts in dated order and various 
miscellaneous books.  John fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat as his boss 
planted herself in the large leather chair at her desk.
	"So, apologize," she fired at him as her eyes bore into him in that 
penetrating glare he was beginning to grow accustomed to.  Her red lacquered 
fingers steepled before her as she waited for him to squeeze out a pathetic 
answer.
	"You shouldn't have kissed me," John said as he watched the woman 
jerk in surprise.  "I keep my distance for a reason."  John raised his gloved hand.  
"The same reason that I wear these.  I'm dangerous, Samantha."
	A confused expression drew across her face.  "I don't understand."
	John took a deep breath.  He was very tempted to tell her everything 
but he didn't know how she would take it.  "I'm sorry but I can't explain any 
further."
	"You can't? Or you won't?" The irritation was plain on her face.
	"Both," John replied sadly.  "You probably wouldn't even believe me if 
I told you anyways."
	"I deserve a better reason than that."
	"True," he conceded dryly.  "But that's as far as I'm willing to say."
	"If that's the case then I think we had best go our separate ways," 
Samantha said, her tone was hurt and angry.  John opened his mouth to defend 
himself but she raised her hand and stopped him.  "I believe this is the part 
where you leave, Mr. Arrons.  Don't worry.  This will not affect you in the 
workplace.  I'm just glad that we have our sides sorted out before things 
progressed any further.  Good night, Mr. Arrons."
	Dismissed, John quickly left the office as Samantha shifted her 
attention back to her work on the computer.  He could not, would not, take his 
gloves off and change things between him and Samantha.  After their date last 
week he had come to respect her too much for that.  John made his way to the 
parking garage below and slapped his helmet on when he made it to his bike.  
He sped off to Allesio's for dinner and found Erica wiping down the bar, her 
prim smile sitting on her face as always.
	His friend was about to speak the usual friendly greeting but stopped 
herself when she noticed John's upset demeanor.  "Hey, John.  Is something 
wrong?  You look a little down."  John didn't answer as he slumped into a 
barstool.  "Let me guess, woman problems."
	"Yea," John answered.  "Scotch on the rocks, please."
	Startled by his request, Erica retrieved the drink for him nonetheless.  
"You want to talk about it?"
	John said nothing and tilted back the thick glass, the fiery liquid 
burning smoothly down his throat.  Erica wouldn't understand.  Not without him 
divulging his secret, his curse.  Silently he played back their discussion, thinking 
over and over again what he could have said instead to.he wasn't sure for what 
results.  John saw it coming, was prepared for Samantha's ire.  Yet, why did it 
hurt so much?  It was only a first date.  They hardly knew each other.  Really, 
just acquaintances, strangers.  But there was something, something indescribable 
that touched him.  John shook his head to rattle out his thoughts and noticed that 
his glass was empty and Erica was still standing there.  "Just keep it coming, 
please," John said quietly as he contemplated his predicament.  Erica quirked an 
eyebrow but said nothing as she poured another finger in his glass.
	The mosaic memory of at least a hundred women over the past year and 
the wild nights and languid, sex-filled days that followed them flitted through 
his recollection.  All were willing participants, he never demanded anything 
from them; he just greased the wheels so to speak to speed up the seduction.  
But there had been one exception.  Cassandra had been different.  John took 
another sip from his glass.  Again empty.  He looked up at Erica and she filled it 
for him.
	John looked at his glass as he continued his reminisces.  What was he 
thinking about?  Ah, yes, Cassandra.  Now she was a real firecracker, that one.  
Raven black hair spilled over her shoulders and reached down her back.  She 
had light brown eyes, almost a creamy texture in them that you could lose 
yourself in.  Like many of the other women that he had bedded she had a tasteful 
body.  She was short, only about 5'1" or so, but her posture attained from years 
in dance class made her seem taller.  That reminded him of her legs.  They were 
long and slender that led upwards to a firm round backside.  John smiled as he 
remembered how much she loved him licking her derriere.  Cassandra was a 
sensual woman, vibrant, seductive, and somehow innocent.
	John had loved her.
	Somehow within the course of only three short months with the 
ballroom dancer, he had fallen in love with her.  She loved him as well.  And 
that proved John's undoing.  There was hardly a moment when the two were 
ever apart besides during work.  While together they hardly left his apartment, 
on the weekends they had marathon sex until they could hardly even move and 
even so they slowed to an exhausted stop with John soft inside of her.  But two 
things had happened to them.  Two things drove them apart.  MC-125 might 
have made it possible for the lovers to join and be inseparable but it proved to be 
their undoing.  Finally, John had screwed up his courage enough to tell his 
night-haired beauty about his secret.  She hadn't believed him at first but when 
had driven the point through that what he boasted was the truth, the woman 
became horrified of him; she began resisting his will, she fought him.  Then, in a 
fit of anger, John had done the unspeakable.  He began to totally supplant her 
will with his, dominating her mind.  Within a week John realized his error but it 
was too late.  The vivacious woman that he had loved was now an empty shell, 
an automaton incapable of genuine love or any other emotion without John's 
express direction.
	John drained his glass in one gulp.  In a sense, he had murdered 
Cassandra.  What there was to love was gone.  He tried piecing back together 
her shattered psyche but was a hard and fruitless effort.  In the end he 
relinquished her back to her life, commanding her to continue her life as she saw 
fit.  One month later he discovered that her family had sent her to a hospital 
ward for the mentally unstable.  Cassandra had become confused and distraught 
over any major decision.  He had basically erased any memory she had of him to 
purge her of his taint and that proved to be her undoing.  She sought command 
but could not find it.  The implanted order of her world was torn asunder.  John 
had visited her once.  Her mental state had degraded, she had become a true 
mental patient.  Psychologists were baffled by her case but forged ahead with 
their drugs and testing.
	That was what could happen if he ever let himself love again.  And that 
was what Samantha had threatened him with.  John could easily see himself 
falling for her.  In many ways she was Cassandra's opposite: tall and statuesque 
with fiery red hair and bright, intelligent green eyes.  And she was willful to a 
fault.  John smiled sadly at that.  "You know what hurt the most about breaking 
up with Samantha just now?" John finally asked drunkenly, more to himself 
than anyone else although Erica was standing worriedly right next to him.  "I 
think I might have fallen in love with her.  Even after just one date."
	"I figured as much," Erica replied, the relief evident on her face when 
her friend had finally decided to open up to her.  "I haven't seen you this upset 
since you and Cassandra broke up.  So tell me, what went wrong?"
	"Nothing," John stated.  "Everything was perfect."
	"So why did you two decide not to see each other?"
	"There are a few complications that I'd rather not get into," John 
slurred.
	"There usually are," Erica replied.  "Let me guess then.  You like her 
too much and that scared you.  Probably scared you both."
	"I doubt she feels the same.  She dumped me."
	"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that."  John only grunted in response.  
"Tell me, were there fireworks when you kissed her?"
	Boy, were there ever.  John hardly had to be reminded of how his world 
seemed to tilt and careen out of control in that breathtaking moment.  
"Something like that," he responded guardedly.
	"Well, let me tell you something," Erica leaned in as she spoke.  "I 
certainly haven't forgotten that one time we had our little fling.  If a guy kisses a 
girl like you do then she certainly will feel it.  Feel it deep down.  You know that 
song 'It's in his Kiss'?  Depending on the guy, it's pretty true.  You are one of 
those kinds of guys.  Believe me, your boss lady probably feels the same way 
you do.  Actually, I'd have to say she feels exactly the same way."
	"Then why did she decide that we should stay apart, other than the fact 
that she's my boss?"
	"Hey, women get scared about falling in love too, you know."  Erica 
handed him a glass of water with a lemon wedged over the lip.  "Give her some 
time.  She'll come around.  Now, what do you want for dinner?"

*	*	*

	John was hunched over his computer, scanning data results from a 
recent blood sample.  It wasn't cancer related but the need to research this side 
project had been on his mind for some time now.  Someone knocked on his door 
and he quickly hit the 'sleep' button on his computer to hide what was on the 
monitor.  The door cracked open when John hailed whomever it was to open and 
was startled by his visitor.
	"Hello, Mr. Arrons," Samantha said as she entered.
	John fumbled for a greeting and nervously gestured for her to sit.  "Ms. 
Summers," he greeted.  John wasn't sure what to expect of this visit.  It had been 
a little over a month since they had last spoken.  Already, John could feel his 
palms sweating under his gloves.  What did she want?  He thought she didn't 
want to speak with him ever again.  This probably wasn't a business call; she 
had underlings for that.  So then what?
	"Still with the gloves?" she smiled tiredly.
	"You know me," he shrugged.  The two sat quietly, both looking 
nervously about the room and surreptitiously measuring the other.  "Um, is there 
something that you wanted Ms. Summers?"
	John watched as she gathered her courage to say what was really on her 
mind.  "I need a personal favor to ask of you.  Will you help me?"
	"Depends on what it is."
	"There's a charity ball tonight at seven," she explained.  "A sort of 
inter-corporate get-together to try to browbeat the competitors and make 
ourselves look good."
	John saw where this was going but decided to wait for an official offer.
	"I'm minus a date and would really appreciate it if you'd escort me."
	There it was, her invitation.  Still, he was confused.  "Not to sound 
rude, but why me?  I'm sure you could find plenty of others to take along."
	"True," Samantha measured out her words.  "But for starters, it's a 
charity foundation for lung cancer, your field.  And two, all the other twerps that 
work near me bore me to death and get on my nerves.  You aren't as irritating as 
they are."
	"Glad to know you still find me interesting," John said sarcastically.  
"You know.  You still haven't accepted my apology."
	"You didn't give me an apology, you gave me an excuse," she fired 
back.
	"I explained as much as I could.  For your safety," he added hastily.
	"My safety or yours."
	"Why do you have to be so damnably stubborn?  I am trying to make 
amends here."  He was shouting now, as was she.
	"You think I'm going to forgive you?  You still haven't given me a 
good reason to do so.  God, why did I ever bother coming back here?  Never 
mind about tonight.  I regret having even bothered looking you up."  That said, 
Samantha stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind her as she did so.


Chapter 6

	He shouldn't be here, John thought over and over in his head.  This was 
stupid.  What was he doing here?  He knew better than to come here.  He sat in 
his car and waited.  The sun sank slowly over a horizon of trees at a bend in the 
road.  It was a nicely secluded neighborhood where the rich could live in 
privacy, not wanting to be bothered after coming home from a hard days work.  
John looked at his watch.  It was six in the evening and no one had shown up 
yet, John noted as he looked up a light came on in the large house.  He followed 
her silhouette as it crossed the window.  Before long Samantha appeared at her 
front door alone and headed for her car.
	John stepped out of his own vehicle and crossed the street.  The red 
head looked up at his approach and waited by her car as he neared.  "I was 
wondering when you were going to approach me.  You've been waiting across 
the street for the past half hour," she commented.
	Startled at first, John didn't have a reply.  "Just wanted to make sure 
you didn't find another friend to escort you and make an uncomfortable situation 
of the mix up."  She had been expecting him?  How.
	"Indeed," Samantha said and handed him the keys to her car.  They 
stood there in her driveway and looked at one another, measuring each other, 
silently testing what really might be between them.  Distantly a dog barked and 
broke the stillness of the quiet moment.  "The door, John."
	John snapped to attention and hurried around and opened it for her.  He 
shut it gently when she was comfortably seated and he walked calmly to the 
driver's side as his mind ran in overdrive; his heart didn't fare much better.   He 
keyed the ignition and drove as Samantha gave him directions.  It was at the 
Marriott; John knew where that was.  He had been there on occasion when he 
needed a larger room to entertain a large group of women.  He put that thought 
aside.  Those days were behind him.  Ever since Cassandra he had lost interest 
in such sport.
	They drove in silence.
	When they arrived at the Marriott after an hour-long drive John tossed 
the keys to the valet and slapped a five in the boy's hand.  Until that moment 
John hadn't paid attention to Samantha's appearance.  He did now as she 
stepped out of the car.  A long stretch of green silk ran from her pointed heels 
and up her long legs, a seductive slash in the skirt flashing her left thigh 
sheathed in a pale green stocking.  The bodice hugged her slightly athletic frame 
and hinted at an attractive body within.  It wasn't a daring cut nor reserved, but 
the way she wore her dress as it sparkled in the hotel lighting made John feel a 
twinge in his groin.  A pair of diamond earrings sparkled by her smoky, emerald 
eyes.  Her hair was done in a professional coif with a few auburn tendrils 
caressing her neck.
	"You look lovely tonight," John whispered as she hooked her hand 
lightly in his proffered arm.  She didn't answer but nodded in acceptance of his 
compliment.  He led her to the main ballroom where the dinner was being held.  
Other people were just beginning to filter in as John and Samantha entered.  A 
few heads turned and then resumed their conversation after having registered 
who entered.  John's eyes swept the room.  It would be another five minutes 
before anyone approached them.  He knew these sort of political games; it was 
the main reason he didn't wish to climb higher in the corporate ladder.  He 
waited for Samantha to lead him to anyone she knew.  Before long she found a 
representative at GenenCorp and talked shop with him.  She drew him into the 
conversation and even went so far as to comment that he was a former employee 
of GenenCorp.  Damn her, John thought, she's trying to flush him out again!  
John gritted his teeth and blithely batted aside the allusion and said that he didn't 
like working under their current VP, Evans.  The rep laughed, no one liked him.  
The representative did comment that he didn't seem to recall John's name, 
though.
	"I was formerly known as Edwards.  I switched from using my family 
name to my middle after some people wouldn't lose my phone number," John 
replied.  "Darn telemarketers can be annoying at the worst of times."
	They had a brief laugh at that and Samantha walked them off.  Truth 
was, some of the girls he had been seeing still sought him out and he had to go 
underground and nearly change his identity to escape them.  Another reason he 
changed his lifestyle.  John shifted his attention from the past.  Samantha had 
asked him to escort her for more reasons than just the company and to fend off 
political sharks.  She was fishing into his past.  This had all been an elaborate 
trap to test him.  That first encounter with the GenenCorp rep was a heavy-
handed marker that she knew there was a connection between his eccentricities 
and his former employer.  He knew it was intentional because it had her certain 
straightforward style.
	"You seem to prefer cudgels to scalpels, I see," John commented in his 
date's ear.
	Samantha jerked a bit in surprise.  "What do you mean by that?"
	"You forget who you are with, Samantha," John whispered as he led 
her to a secluded corner.  "I see you've done your research on me.  And done it 
well.  I never put GenenCorp on my list of referrals when I applied to Pharmtech 
or mentioned it at the work place.  And I doubt GenenCorp would openly say 
that I worked for them, under a different name I might add, unless directly 
asked.  So tell me, what did you find out about me?"
	Her face was a stone mask as she measured his gaze but he noticed her 
jaw clench in frustration.  "I figured you would tell me.  Your past with 
GenenCorp is as shadowy as you are now.  I thought you had a mishap while 
working with them, which is why you always cover up.  I'd like to know the dirt 
on my employees.  Especially," she paused then changed the subject.  "I believe 
the dinner call has been given."  Samantha stepped around him and headed for 
their designated seats.
	She almost slipped there, John thought.  There was a look in her eyes 
that said something.  What, he couldn't tell.  He followed quickly on her 
footsteps and made it just in time to pull the chair out for her.  They were seated 
with a couple of other representatives from other corporations and health 
foundations.  They barely held their end of the conversation with Samantha.  
John compared the political arena to a game of chess.  Samantha, reflective of 
her personality, had moved the queen, herself, into the game early.  It was a 
risky move but unnerved many if not all of her opponents.  She managed to 
single handedly fend off most of the points of inquiry that cut a little too close to 
home on their more cutting edge research.  The rest she handed to John.  John 
knew more in the field than did Samantha and was able to divert most 
everything else.  Sometimes she threw one to him just to see how he handled it.  
If anything the dinner was a competitive chess game between him and his date, 
not with the people on the table.  John was far too experienced at reading people 
to fall to others.
	A figure approached their table and John shifted his attention.  "My 
rep, Hank Thompson, told me you were here but I had to see for myself," the 
man said and introduced himself to Samantha.  John, of course, knew who he 
was.
	"Mr. Evans," John smiled although it never reached his eyes.  "How 
nice to see you after so long.  This is Ms. Summers, the president of 
Pharmtech."
	"Pleased to meet you," Evans greeted.  "Tell me, how have you been 
doing, John?  It's been ages since we last spoke."
	"Didn't have much to say to you after you pulled me off my project and 
cut me off from royalties."
	"Now, now," Evans defended, placating.  "No need to launch barbs.  
We all know you didn't keep us updated on your project.  Which was reason to 
dismiss you."
	John was beginning to get irritated.  "I gave you your reports.  We were 
dealing with an entirely new field and I could only give you what I was sure of."
	"Would that explain the holes in your files?"  Evans turned to 
Samantha.  "Be mindful of this one Ms. Summers.  He tends to hold things 
back."
	"I've noticed," she mused.
	"Well, I must be going.  You know how these charity balls are," the 
GenenCorp VP finally said and raised an open hand to John.  John shook the 
proffered limb and watched Evans leave.
	John returned to his dinner the other people at the table tittering 
nervously amongst themselves and tried to act as if nothing had happened.  John 
took another sip of his wine, not tasting it.  His face was a calm and cool 
exterior but within he seethed with anger.  The bastard was trying to get John 
fired again.  If it weren't for the subtle nuances in the way Samantha ate her own 
dinner, betraying her nervousness, he would have sworn that she was in on it as 
well.  It was a while before John had himself in complete control.
	"I had no idea that Evans was here," Samantha finally said.  That was 
as close to an apology that John would ever expect to hear from her and he 
accepted it.
	"Actually, I doubt he was really invited," John commented.  "He's not 
what most would consider a corporate people person."
	"Hmmph.  If I'm a cudgel then Mr. Evans is a goddamned telephone 
pole."
	John nearly choked on his bite of salmon steak.  He took another sip of 
his wine and washed down the fish.  "Indeed."
	"No glove, John?"
	"Excuse me?"
	"You didn't wear a glove when you shook his hand."
	Damn, she noticed.  "Call it a bit of courtesy for an old friend," John 
answered.
	Samantha scrutinized John's face as he replied but gave up, knowing 
that more wouldn't be forthcoming.  John himself smiled inwardly at the 
command he gave to the GenenCorp VP.  Things should look rather interesting 
later in the evening.
	Conversation returned to its boring drone of self-posturing and inflated 
bravado.  John had to stifle a yawn as guests flitted by and tried to knock 
Pharmtech down a peg.  Even Samantha's little game of throwing challenging 
people his way was becoming tedious.  Just as he was about to excuse himself to 
use the restroom, if anything than to escape the crowd, the string quartet, that 
was playing an arrangement of Schubert's 'Trout', began Strauss' 'Blue 
Danube'.  John rose from his seat and held his hand out to Samantha.  "May I 
have this dance?"
	Samantha looked at him, intrigued.  "Do you even know how?"
	John couldn't help but smile.  "Only one way to find out."
	Fascinated, Samantha stood and took his proffered hand.  The other 
guests quieted down, surprised by the act before them.  Some of the women 
sitting at the table stared jealously as they stepped onto the dance floor, but John 
never even noticed.  She was a little taller than what he was used to for a 
dancing partner, Samantha being nearly his height in her heels.  However, the 
added height gave him the freedom to take longer strides and bolder steps as she 
followed his lead.  He felt the warmth of her body next to his as she pressed her 
bare hands to his gloved ones.  They swept the floor, apparently the only couple 
that knew how to waltz.  When the final movement was over they ended with a 
courtly bow on his part and a demure curtsy on hers.  They had drawn an 
audience who were now applauding their courtly show.  John managed a sly grin 
at his partner and winked.  Samantha actually seemed to blush, from the 
attention or from his smile John wasn't sure which.  They walked off the 
hardwood floor and regained their seats.
	The following hour was more hobnobbing with other corporations until 
Samantha stood up from her seat and gestured for him to follow.  He did as 
commanded and trailed after her, leaving the crowd behind.  They found 
themselves alone beneath a veranda overgrown with tendrils of bellflower.  John 
paused at the door to watch Samantha's still silhouette beneath the canopy's 
shadow.  She really was a sight to behold.
	"I haven't danced like tonight in a very long time."
	"Not since college?"
	"How'd you guess?"
	"There seem to be a lot of things you haven't done since college," John 
stated simply.  Probably a painful reason behind that, too, he thought.  She 
didn't need to hear his musings, though.  Instead John strode up behind her but 
did not touch her despite how tempted he was to caress her smooth back.  His 
hands hung uselessly beside him as he gave silent comfort to her thoughts.
	"You're quite different from most of the men that I meet in my line of 
work," she said after a long stretch of quiet.
	"How's that?"
	"Self-assured but apparently not beyond your limits.  You enjoy taking 
orders from me but seem to like being in the lead.  You're a mix of things that 
don't belong together.  You're self-possessed without being genuinely 
arrogant."  John was about to say something about that but she continued.  "Oh, 
you are arrogant.  Don't get me wrong.  But I don't buy it.  It's fake.  I have a 
hard time figuring you out.  People like being around you.  I've asked.  Many 
enjoy your company but none really know you.  You're an enigma wrapped in a 
question."
	"I like being that way," John said quietly.
	"Why is that?"
	"It keeps people safe."
	"Others or yourself?"
	"Both."
	"I don't understand.  It's either one way or another."
	"Not in my case."
	They didn't say another word for a long while.  When Samantha 
shivered from the cold evening air John lifted his arms to wrap around her 
shoulders but she shrugged him off.  His hands hung motionless in the air before 
he dropped them to his side again.  She was vulnerable right now, a moment 
where she could very easily slip into his arms but chose not to.  She chose to be 
alone in her weakness.
	The charity ball was winding down and people began filing out of the 
dining hall.  "We should get going," she finally said.  They turned around and 
headed out to pick up her car.  Just then a stumbling blur tottered out of the 
double doors wreaking of alcohol.  The man stumbled past them and dropped to 
his knees beneath the veranda and vomited a large stinking stream of wine.  
John plucked his handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to his date 
who held it to her nose to guard from the sour stench.  Others peered in the 
drunk's direction.  The GenenCorp rep, Hank Thompson, hastily stepped around 
them and was beside Evans as he puked his guts out.  John and Samantha beat a 
hasty retreat from the assaulting odor and made their way to the reception hall.  
Other representatives from various companies were gossiping about how Mr. 
Evans made a bad showing of himself by drinking too heavily and then 
approaching some of the women with indecent proposals, not to mention 
disgorging his dinner in another woman's lap.  Everyone present was atwitter 
with how bad a showing Mr. Evans made and how poorly it reflected on 
GenenCorp.
	All John could do was smile, congratulating himself.  It had been a 
subtle command when he shook the VP's hand, suggesting that he really 
enjoyed the evening's wine and how he couldn't have enough of it.  Samantha 
smiled as well.  Apparently she didn't like him either.


Chapter 7

	John sat back in his high backed chair and rubbed the soreness out of 
his eyes.  Staring at the computer screen ineffectually was starting to get to him.  
Floating on the screen was a complex macromolecule that he was able to purify 
from the blood sample.  Isolating it had taken weeks of work.  Despite the 
advances in biochemistry, the field was still wanting in speeding up and 
streamlining the testing process.  John sighed and powered down the console.  
He stared up at the clock.  It was late, well past dinner.  He fingered the elevator 
panel and made his way to the parking garage.  His bike rested on its kickstand 
in the cavernous parking structure.  Apparently he wasn't alone.  Samantha's 
sporty red Mercedes was parked not too far away.
	John hadn't spoken to her since the charity ball nearly three weeks ago.  
They never made mention of another date, both indecisive if they should make 
anything of the apparent attraction between them.  Instead, a sort of waiting 
game progressed.  John thought of the old analogy about how porcupines mate, 
very carefully.  Both were cautious.  John was sure that Samantha had a few 
barbed quills just like he did.  But when it came right down to it he knew they 
were just afraid.  John couldn't trust himself.  Not with his cursed ability.  He 
looked down at his gloved hands.  Every morning he had to armor himself in 
those leather sheaths.
	John took a deep breath and slapped on his visored helmet.  He turned 
the key in his bike's ignition and waited for it to warm up.  He looked at 
Samantha's car in the dim garage lighting.  She really was something.  She 
always had a cool, calm exterior, always in control.  Most people found her 
fa‡ade daunting.  Many were given the impression that she was an Ice Queen.  
John had even heard other workers calling her a bitch on occasion for her 
ruthless business management.  John's head wasn't completely glued to his 
work.  He popped in on the other departments to see what they were up to.  
Whenever Samantha pulled the plug on someone's research it was usually for 
valid reasons.  Her cold attitude only made it easier for other people to blame 
her.
	The streetlamps' halogen glow streaked by him as he sped down 
crowded avenues and banked around empty corners.  Most shops were closed at 
the late hour.  John checked his watch and gunned his engine.  He just might be 
able to make it in time.
	Allesio's was still open as he swept the kickstand down and hopped off 
his bike.  He ordered a few things to go and chatted with Erica as he waited for 
his food.  Erica hugged him good-bye and said that she'd talk to him later; she 
had the closing shift tonight.  John hopped back on his bike and turned around.  
He slowed down in front of the Pharmtech building and looked up.  Her light 
was still on.
	John parked his bike and flashed his ID at the security guard in the 
main foyer.  Ron nodded and returned to his vigil by the bank of monitors.  The 
elevator quickly brought him to the top floor and chimed open as he stepped off.  
John thought it would be nice to see the look of surprise on Samantha's face 
since her perfectly ordered world wouldn't account for his unexpected visit.
	He quietly turned the handle on the door and opened it a crack.  Indeed, 
Samantha was busy going over reports and seemed a little worse for wear.  Her 
auburn hair was undone and cascaded over her shoulder, glowing warmly in the 
single lamplight.  A pair of reading glasses were perched precariously on the tip 
of her nose as she stooped over the papers, the image of intent concentration as 
she rested her chin in her right palm.
	"Hi," John said simply and smiled at her as he let himself into the 
room.  She looked up at him tiredly and asked what he was doing here.  John 
lifted the plastic bag high for the woman to see.  "I saw that your car was still 
here when I left not too long ago.  I figured that you haven't had anything to eat 
yet so I picked something up and came back.  I hope you don't mind an 
interruption for dinner and conversation."
	Samantha looked at him a moment longer then at the stack of papers at 
the desk and sat back and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  "No, some distraction 
would be most welcome at the moment."
	"I thought as much," John said and walked forward.
	"What did you get?"
	"A couple of things from Allesio's."
	"You know, I read up about that restaurant," Samantha stated.  "It's 
supposed to have a waiting list three months long.  Yet you go there nearly 
every week."
	"Being good friends with the owner and his daughter help."
	Samantha hmmphed and then breathed in the steamy aroma of her 
dinner as she opened one of the foil cartons.  "If I could eat this for the rest of 
my life I'll die fat and happy."
	"Nothing wrong with that."
	Samantha forked into her pasta and gestured towards a wine storage 
unit by the wall with her free hand.  John obeyed and perused her selection and 
randomly picked a bottle of white.  When he returned Samantha had finished her 
first attack on her dinner and was now digging into her drawer for the wine 
opener.  She handed it to John and sat back.  "How goes your research?"
	"Not bad," John answered off-handedly.  "We're looking into a gene 
that may be responsible for a tumor's endless replicating ability.  The data looks 
promising."
	"I'm talking about your other research."
	John popped the cork and held stalk still.  His other research?  How did 
she.?
	"Don't bother playing dumb with me," she said and tossed a file in 
front of him.  John put aside the bottle and picked up the sheaf of papers.  Listed 
was a schedule of all the people who ran blood tests.  His name was on the list, 
highlighted in yellow.  The following papers were copies of his results.  "You 
don't do blood samples, John.  Especially not of your own blood.  So my guess 
is you're doing a little side project."
	For a moment John was too stunned to give a proper response but 
quickly recovered from the initial shock.  In the two second pause he allowed 
himself John's mind scrabbled frantically for a way out of this venue of 
conversation.  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  What was he thinking?  
John looked again into those emerald green eyes and knew he was damned to be 
this woman's prey.  His resolve to hold back collapsed as Samantha waited 
intently for what he would say next.  "Would you be willing to leave it be if I 
said that I'm trying to cure myself."
	"I take it you are referring to why you keep yourself covered at all 
times?"  John nodded.  "What would it take for me to hear the whole story?"
	John thought about it as he poured Samantha and himself some wine.  
"You're absolute trust."
	She mulled over his words.  "Don't you mean my secrecy?"
	"No, I mean your trust.  I need you to believe in me."
	"I don't trust others."
	"At least not since college, I take it?"  John saw the reflection of 
painful memories flit across her face.
	"Yes."
	"Then I suggest you think things over.  Very thoroughly I might add.  I 
need your trust in me, as a person."  They stared at one another across the table, 
the single desk lamp giving the only soft, glowing illumination to the room.
	"What exactly are you proposing to me?"
	"A secret," John sighed.  "A secret I am willing to entrust to you.  
Don't answer yet.  I'll give you until tomorrow to think this through.  Until then 
how about we spend a nice quiet dinner together?"

*	*	*

	Dinner that evening was a pleasant success.  Samantha knew better 
than to press the issue about John's secret, all would be revealed tomorrow.  
They chatted pleasantly and John even managed to get his boss to laugh when he 
talked about one of his amazing exploits at a nearby pond when he was seven.  
He honestly didn't think his mom would have been that upset about him 
collecting frogs at the nearby pond.  And the bathtub was a good place to put 
them.  Unfortunately he forget to tell her about them when she decided to 
shower.
	"So how long do you plan on locking yourself up here?" John asked.
	They looked at the brass clock hanging on the wall.  "It is late, isn't it?"
	"Well, I know this makes me sound a bit old," John commented as he 
swallowed the last drop of wine.  "But one in the morning is well past my 
bedtime."
	"These reports aren't all that pressing and I really am tired.  I suppose 
I'll call it a night as well."
	"I'll walk you to your car."
	"My, how gallant," she teased.
	"Hardly, my bike's parked next to your car."  They made their way 
down and said good night to Ron in the lobby.
	Samantha looked again at John's black steed propped up beside her 
Mercedes.  "You know, you still owe me another ride.  You did promise."
	"Hmm, I suppose so," John pondered.  "But I said we'd take a ride on 
our second date."
	"And what would you consider tonight?"
	"A dinner between two friends."
	"Just friends," Samantha echoed questioningly.
	"Just friends," John confirmed.  "Look, until you hear everything about 
me I will not try to extend it beyond that."
	"Oh?  And what about our first date?" she challenged.
	"That." John was about to say it was an accident but he decided he 
wanted to live long enough to see his next birthday.  "Was a spur of the moment 
thing; an impulsive decision.  I just didn't realize how dangerous you are to me 
until the end."  When she had kissed him.  The memory of her lips on his still 
sent his blood rushing.
	"'Are'," she commented on his use of present tense.  "Not 'were'?  Do 
I still frighten you, John?"  She took a bold step forward, closing the gap 
between them.  She stared at him, challenging.  She was dangerously close now; 
her warm breath reached out and caressed his lips.  John couldn't gather his wits 
about him to form a coherent response.  He had a hard enough time from just 
licking his lips.  She lingered before him, her warm body tantalizingly close as 
John remained silent.  He knew his words would betray whatever he thought, his 
voice even more so.  Finally, she stepped back and John felt a torrid mixture of 
relief and regret as she backed away.  "Until tomorrow then.  Good night, Mr. 
Arrons."  John watched as her car pulled out of the reserved spot and 
disappeared behind a corner.

*	*	*

	If it weren't for the fact that John had already schooled himself in 
college to ignore distractions he would never have gotten any work done the 
following day.  He had a couple of experiments to run that day but the problem 
was that the machines that did the PCR still took over an hour to work.  During 
those waiting periods he would busy himself with reading articles from other 
researchers but on occasion his mind would flit to Samantha the other night.  
Was he willing to trust her with his secret?  She had shown herself to be a 
manipulative person over and over again but there was something about it that 
made John feel as if it were just some sort of act.  John shook his head and 
forged ahead with his work.
	By the end of the workday John was mentally exhausted.  When five 
o'clock rolled around he checked on the progress the research team working 
under him had accomplished.  There were a few holdups from delivery delays 
on some tissue samples that they ordered but that couldn't be helped.  Just as 
John shut down his computer there was a gentle knocking on his office door.
	He looked up from his monitor just as the polished door swung open.  
Samantha stepped into his office and shut the door behind her.  She helped 
herself to the padded chair across from him and quietly sat there as John 
collected his thoughts.  He had thrown himself so heavily into his research to 
forget about his personal problems that he truly managed to forget them!  Still, 
he managed to look composed although inside his mind and emotions were now 
scattered like a spilt jar of marbles.  He did however notice that there was 
something different about the woman sitting across from him.  It wasn't 
anything physically obvious.  Her glorious red hair was perched atop her head in 
the usual business-like bun she wore.  Her black dress was still powerfully 
professional with a touch of softness from the cream silk blouse she wore.  A 
pair of diamond studs glittered at her ear.  Everything about her appearance 
spoke confidence and strength, everything but her eyes.  There was a certain 
distance to them.  They seemed almost vulnerable.  John wondered if perhaps 
she would back out.  The moment he thought that her eyes hardened in 
determination.  Scratch that last thought.  He opened his mouth to say something 
but she spoke first.
	"Let me start out by saying that you were not what I expected."  
Puzzled, John waited silently for her to continue.  "Our first encounter at 
Allesio's was not a chance thing.  You have a certain, shall we say, reputation 
that precedes you.  Do the names Melissa Eldridge and Tracy Havens ring a 
bell?"
	John had to think about it but then a certain brunette from Seattle he 
had met once on a business meeting and a blonde he met at a bar in 
Massachusetts came to mind.  Both had been very interesting bedmates.  "Yes, I 
believe so."  He described what he could remember of them.
	"My old college friends would be glad to know that you still remember 
them."  She paused to let her words sink in.  Her old college friends?  Uh-oh, 
John thought, he could see where this was going.  "So, like I said.  Our meeting 
in Allesio's was arranged, by me.  At the time I was new to town, as you 
remember, and I was somewhat lonely.  Both of my friends mentioned you by 
name and said that I should find something similar.  Just plain sex, no strings 
attached.  Your file happened to be on my desk as I was familiarizing myself 
with the company roster.  I couldn't believe my luck and looked up where you 
frequented.  I arranged the encounter and the rest you know.  What I didn't 
expect was someone completely different from what Melissa and Tracy 
described.  You are not the same person that spent the night with them.  You are 
something else."  She paused and looked in his eyes, searching for something, 
possibly an answer.
	"I'm sorry you didn't find what you're looking for," John said.  "I'm 
not that person anymore.  I left that lifestyle behind."
	"That's one thing I'm curious about but I'll leave for another time," she 
replied.  "But to continue with what I was saying.  What I found instead of some 
carefree man ready to spend a good time with a willing woman, I find you.  
You're complex, caring, and intelligent.  God knows you keep me on my toes; 
something no one has been able to accomplish.  You're someone I think I've 
grown to like.
	"So you see, I'm in a bit of dilemma.  On the one hand I find you 
intriguing.  On the other hand you are asking for something that I don't give to 
anyone on faith alone.  Trust.  I have one question.  If I were to decline your 
secret what would become of us?"
	"Nothing," John answered.  "Nothing could become of us.  I don't 
think it would be fair to you to further things and then found out later."
	John sat and watched Samantha intently.  Here was the moment of 
truth, whether or not what she felt as strongly about him as he did about her.  
She was a bit unnerved, he could tell.  Her usual position of power and control 
was no longer hers.  It wasn't his either.  John wouldn't dare to think it as love, 
not this soon.  But in this strong feeling of fondness, that he knew was between 
them, he knew it would go in whatever direction Fate chose.
	Her green eyes flashed up at him, fixed with determination.  "Fine, tell 
me."


Chapter 8

	John sat back and looked at the determined expression in her fiery 
green eyes.  A mixture of trepidation and elation whirled within him.  She cared 
about him like he did her!  But how would she take it when he explained to her 
what MC-125 was?  He let out a tense breath he did not know he had been 
holding.  He stood up and circled about the oak desk.  He kneeled before her and 
tugged off his brown leather gloves.
	"What are you doing?" a curious, yet slightly frightened, Samantha 
asked.
	John looked up at her and answered with a slight quaver in his voice as 
he lifted his hands to her face.  "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you.  
I'm going to have to show you."  Gently, he cupped her face and was astounded 
by the softness of her skin.  He told himself to focus and looked deeply into 
those sparkling emerald eyes and worked a simple command into her mind.  
John rocked back and placed more of his balance on his heels as he watched.
	"What did you do?" Samantha said as her hands lifted and loosed her 
hair from its coif.  Her hands shifted and removed the diamond studs twinkling 
at her ears.
	"Why are you removing your earrings, Samantha?"  John asked, 
already knowing how she would answer.
	"Because I feel like it."
	"And your hair?"
	"I'm more comfortable this way."
	John smiled to himself.  "No, Samantha.  You are doing those things 
because I told you to."
	"You didn't say anything of the sort," she snorted and placed the 
diamonds in John's outstretched hand.
	"No, I commanded it through my skin."
	"What?" she paused.
	"Look," John explained as he lifted a bare hand.  "Remember the ball 
last month and we bumped into the GenenCorp VP, Edwards?"  She nodded.  
"Remember how the night ended for him?  How he drunk himself senseless and 
made a total ass of himself?"
	"You?"
	"Do you think he would of done something like that, regardless of how 
weak-minded he obviously is?"
	"Yes, but."
	John reached out and held her hand.  "Let me demonstrate."  He let 
loose his mind and sent out a complex string of commands that was now as easy 
as breathing.  Instantly, he saw Samantha flush as her breathing became labored.  
She closed her eyes and her head tilted back as she moaned out behind clenched 
teeth.  John's focus snapped as Samantha tore her hand out of his grip.  She 
stood with her back to the door, her face flush with confusion as her chest 
heaved.
	"What.what did you just do?"
	John waited patiently for her to catch her breath.  He was surprised that 
she would be able to pull away from him.  He had tried that very tactic on some 
women but never had any of them ever manage to escape his grip when he was 
commanding.  "I tried to induce an orgasm."
	Samantha stared wide-eyed at his reply.  "What?"  John again waited 
for the bewildered woman to gather her thoughts.  "No, that's impossible."
	"No, it isn't," John replied calmly.  He had by now slipped into his 
Command mentality.  He knew that he was on pins and needles now.  Samantha 
was like a cornered animal; she could bolt at any moment or simply stand still in 
fear.  Not that he could blame her.  When it took hold on Cassandra what he 
could do she was stark terrified of him.  Slowly, he watched Samantha bring her 
breathing under control and then her calm composure slid back into place.  
Remarkable, John thought.
	"Explain," she managed under a steady voice.
	John stood up and made his way back to his desk and sat down.  
Samantha did likewise and sat in her seat.  "Remember that conversation with 
Edwards?  About how I was dismissed from GenenCorp because I lacked notes 
and my slow progress?"
	"Yes."
	"There was a reason for all that," John said.  "You've seen my research 
and are familiar with my work."
	"None of which supports Edwards' claims."
	"Right, but in the case with MC-125 I did hold back."
	"MC-125?  You're project."
	"A compound that I was working on for GenenCorp concerning 
chemo-suggestion.  You are aware of GenenCorp's skyrocketing in the stock 
market a little over a year ago?"
	"Yes, but what does that have to do with this?  They created 'No-Cold' 
and brought about a new generation of cold medicine."
	"Yes and no," John answered.  "They did discover 'No-Cold' but that 
wouldn't explain the robust financial status that they found themselves in.  
While 'No-Cold' was in research I was working on MC-125.  I succeeded.  But I 
exceeded anyone's expectations.  I created what was essentially a total mind 
control drug.  So I dumbed it down and extracted key components from it.  
Edwards saw I was done and moved in.  I was discharged and the MC-125 was 
taken and sold secretly to major food distributors.  Their advertising campaigns 
worked in tandem with the drug and if you look, you'll find also that certain 
food corporations had a very good year as well."
	"And what about the key to MC-125?"
	"I didn't have access to a proper Environmental Hazard disposal unit 
on hand so I did the only logical thing I could think of."
	"You drank it."
	"Yes."
	"And now you have the ability."
	"To command anyone on a whim with my touch," John concluded.
	They sat quietly for the next couple of minutes as Samantha digested 
the information.  "And that was how you climbed through ranks so quickly here 
in Pharmtech," she finally said.  It was a statement, not a question.
	"Yes," John said simply.  "But, I only nudged the people up top to 
notice me.  You can see for yourself that all of my advancement was based on 
hard work.  I have a good track history with the company.  I'm not looking for 
more money or a higher position than what I've got right now.  I have all that I 
need.  A secure source of income and a respectable position in a large biotech 
corporation."
	Samantha's eyes hardened.  "What you did was cheat the system," she 
said crisply.  "You cheated the system and pretty much got away with it.  You 
aren't the one who decides what kind of job you deserve."
	"Then tell me I don't deserve it," John threw back at her.  "Tell me I 
haven't worked hard to earn what I have right now.  Tell me that eventually you 
corporate types would get your heads out of your asses and actually look at the 
workers under you.  Aside from you, every single corporate person I've run into 
has been another 'Edwards' if only a milder version of him.  Tell me that your 
first month as president here everyone wasn't more concerned about their jobs 
than on what the company actually accomplished."
	Samantha sat quietly while John ranted until he finally calmed down.  
"Are you done now?"
	"Yes," John smiled.  "God, that felt good to get out of the system."
	Samantha shook her head and smiled at him.  "You're right, you know.  
I was up to my eyes in brown-nosers that first month.  And yes, you do deserve 
your position here.  I've read a good chunk of what you've done so far with lung 
cancer and it does show promise.  But that isn't the point.  You still cheated."
	John sighed.  "Yes, I suppose you're right.  But was there really some 
other way to go about it?"
	"No," Samantha answered.  "You forget that I live in the corporate 
world.  Cheating and lying go with the territory.  Lawyers and politicians don't 
hold a monopoly on it.  Some of us just know how to do it better than others.  
You take a big risk showing me the ace up your sleeve."
	"More like a pack of aces," John derided.
	Samantha sat forward in her chair.  "Question is, what do you expect 
me to do now?"
	John sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers.  "I honestly don't 
know.  You wanted a straight reply as to what I was researching.  Well, now you 
do."  John swiveled about and fired up his computer.
	"I'm still unclear as to what you're doing with your free time and 
company property."
	John punched up a program that showed a complex molecule on the 
screen and turned it so that it faced Samantha.  "I'm working on a cure for 
myself."
	Samantha lifted her chair and shuffled forward.  "A cure?  But why?  Is 
the MC-125 toxic?"
	"Toxic?  Hardly," John answered.  "There are no adverse affects as far 
as I know, in the biological sense at least.  But, you see how I live."  John lifted 
a glove to advertise his point.
	"But what you have."
	"Is as much a curse as it is a miracle," John stated flatly.
	"Will you please stop finishing my sentences?"
	John couldn't help but smile at her irritation.  "Sorry, it's a bad habit I 
have."
	"So, you're basically a living example of 'Bubble boy'."
	"Roughly speaking, yes."
	"But your time with GenenCorp was nearly two years ago and Melissa 
and Tracy met you only last year."
	"How do you think I grabbed their interest so quickly?"
	Samantha sat back, startled by his words.  "You didn't seduce them.  
You mind tricked them into joining you in bed."
	John could only shrug.  "I know what I did wasn't exactly by the book 
but your friends and countless other women were out looking for the same thing 
I was."  John leaned forward and looked pointedly at Samantha.  "The same 
thing you just admitted to looking for when you met me for the first time at 
Allesio's."  John knew he had her there.  Samantha only looked at him 
irritatedly.  "So all I really did was cut to the chase," John concluded.
	"You're not a very patient person," Samantha spat out a bit acidly.
	"Neither are you."  Again, she glared at him.  "Let's put it this way.  
Your friends enjoyed themselves enough to recommend me to you."  John 
couldn't help but grin when her glare deepened.
	"You.you." she sputtered.  Samantha took her time to compose 
herself.  "Then how come you ran off the moment I kissed you?"
	There it was, out in the open.  John took a breath and was about to 
recite the prepared speech he had then thought better of it.  No, she deserved his 
honesty.  "Would you believe you terrify me?"
	"You already mentioned that on our date."
	"And it still holds true," John said.  "I respect you, Samantha.  You are 
different from the other women that I've met.  And I've met a lot.  You're 
strong, self-assured, smart, and attractive.  The list goes on and on.  You wonder 
why I always have to be in control.  Well now you know.  If I lose control then 
people get hurt.  You make me want to lose control in the worst possible way."  
He took a deep cleansing breath, relieved that he finally let his feelings out in 
the open.
	Samantha looked at him, her emotions masked behind a calm veneer.  
"Explain what you mean by 'people getting hurt'."
	"Samantha, think about what I can do," John tried to explain.  "Think 
about the amount of control I have over people.  My slightest whim while 
touching someone is exacted.  If you and I got physical then my will would 
dominate you.  I might not even consciously do it.  A passing thought, an 
impulsive idea, and you would become, quite literally, my slave."  John sighed.  
"I can't do that.  Not to you."
	"And other women?"
	"Forget the other women," John snapped.  "I've left that behind me.  
I've learned my lesson about taking advantage of them."  He waved his gloved 
left hand in her face.  "Why do you think I've wrapped myself up like a 
mummy?"  John was beginning to regret his wild past but in the end he didn't.  
There was a price for everything and he was paying it now.
	"Again, what do you want me to do about all this?  What do you want 
from me?"
	"I.I don't know," John sat back, deflated.  "I was hoping I could find 
someone I could trust.  Someone to talk to."
	"Then why me?  I'm sure you could find plenty of people to confide in 
and then command them not to tell anyone."
	"I can't do that.  I can't command someone after they know what I can 
do.  Their mind rebels and eventually their psyche tears them apart.  No one 
willingly submits after they find out there's a collar about their neck.  And why 
you?  I trust you because I know that you are able to hold secrets.  I know that 
you do hold things back.  You have your own ghosts in the closet."  John spotted 
the glint of fear flit across her eyes.  "None of which are of my concern."
	"But since you just told me what you could do then I'm free of 
whatever you could do to me."
	"Not quite.  If I work on you eventually you will submit, but it's the 
struggle that eventually drives a person mad," John replied, the guilt of what he 
did to Cassandra writhed in the pit of his belly.
	"So now I have to submit or go mad?"
	John beckoned for her to sit back down.  "Only if I try anything on you 
that you don't want me to do."
	Samantha eyed John cautiously as if he were a deadly animal and 
slowly sat back down in her seat.  A cool hiss of air from the vent above sent a 
chilling breeze through the room and John watched as she shivered.  "And 
what's to stop you from doing so?  You could very well just threaten to touch 
me and then I would have to obey for fear of my sanity."
	The comment gave John pause.  "I hadn't thought of that."  He mulled 
over the words carefully.  "Well, to be honest, you are the first person I've ever 
told whom I haven't influenced."
	"I'm flattered that I'm making history," Samantha spat out.
	"No need to be cross," John replied.  "I honestly hadn't thought of 
taking your mind as hostage.  Would you believe me if I said that I promise not 
to intentionally affect you without your consent?"
	"It doesn't seem I have much choice in the matter."
	"On the contrary," John answered, somewhat sadly.  "You can always 
choose to not be with me."
	"And would you leave me be?"  Samantha stopped and stared intently 
at him, searching.  "You are drawn to me.  Why else would you expose yourself 
to me?  What is it you want from me?"
	John looked at her and sighed.  "I was hoping for a bit of 
companionship."
	Samantha stood up and paced back and forth across the room.  "I don't 
know.  I just don't know.  I."
	".don't trust anyone."  Samantha fired another annoyed glance at him.  
"Sorry."
	"I can't up and trust someone I hardly know with my life."
	"I can understand that."
	"No, you couldn't possibly understand that," she retorted.  "The last 
time I trusted someone."
	"You don't have to finish that," John cut her off.
	"Or perhaps I do if I'm willing to trust you.  Because.because I think, 
just maybe, I can."


Chapter 9

	John listened as the clock on the wall ticked away.  Samantha stood 
across the room in a dark blue power suit and stared at the wall.  The ticking 
stretched on as John waited patiently for her.  He noticed how her hands tensed 
into claws and relaxed repeatedly.  John didn't know what it was that Samantha 
had hidden away but he was willing to listen to her and help if he could.  As a 
friend, of course.  He wouldn't dare think of it as anything more at this point.
	"Have you ever done anything truly stupid?"
	"Other than drinking the MC-125?  Yes, I have."
	"And what was the result?"
	"I landed in the hospital for a couple of weeks."
	Samantha arched an eyebrow at that, surprised by the answer.  "Well, 
I'm not going to pry into your past at the moment."  She took a deep breath and 
John watched as she collected her thoughts and resolve.  "My truly stupid 
mistake was that I once fell in love."  She bit off the last few words like leather.  
"I met him at a golf course.  I used to be quite good.  So was Jeff.  He was a 
smooth talker and I came from a fairly sheltered upbringing with lots of money.  
In other words, I was easy pickings for a guy like him.  I really did think I loved 
him.  He had an easy smile, handsome eyes, and that certain charisma that most 
girls found appealing.  I was young and na‹ve and he was such a dashing man.  
My family didn't like him and had pretty much disowned me along the way.  I 
should have listened to them.  But, of course, I didn't.  He left me not long after 
my parents cut off my funds and there was nothing more for him to take from 
me.  Turned out he strung several other girls along as well.  When he was 
through with me I had nothing but a sheet of paper saying that I graduated from 
business.
	"I was humiliated as much as anything else.  I was such a fool.  I 
vowed never to trust anyone ever again.  After a year I reentered the corporate 
world and moved up the ladder.  There were plenty more men where Jeff came 
from and tried taking me for a fool because they thought me a scatterbrained 
woman.  I took a certain satisfaction out of burning them, career wise."
	John sat back and listened to Samantha's tale.  Yes, it would seem she 
had been through the wringer.  He did a little quick math in his head and figured 
that she had been living alone for the past five years.  Still, that wouldn't explain 
everything about her.  There was much more she wasn't telling.  The haunted 
look in her pale green eyes spoke volumes more than a simple lying ex-
boyfriend could explain.  John opened his mouth to say something but was cut 
off when the redhead spun around with diamond hard eyes boring into him with 
anguished pain and anger.  Hate against men, her parents for not being there for 
her, but mostly she hated herself for being such a fool.  For trusting.  Of course, 
John was the only person in the room for her to focus on.
	"Would it help if I said that I hate golf?" John commented.
	The comment unbalanced her from her pedestal of hate.  John watched 
as she mentally scrabbled to gather her wits but failed utterly in his slight, 
sympathetic smile.  Samantha's mouth curled up a fraction until she finally 
laughed through a surprising streak of tears.  John moved across the room and 
pulled her to him.  He felt her shudder in bittersweet laughter.  He lowered them 
to the floor and she curled up in his lap.  He wondered just how long she had 
been simply held.  John ran his fingers through her coppery curls and stroked 
her gently in succor.
	"I'm sorry," she mumbled.  "There's more but I'm just not ready for 
that yet."
	John shushed her.  "I know," he whispered.  "I know."  John cupped 
Samantha's upturned face.  Instantly he was awash in her emotions.  An endless 
sea of pain greeted him and, reflexively, he accepted it all.  He choked on the 
anguish and torture and he swallowed it.  Bitterness and grief drowned him in its 
icy clutches.  He stood alone, a rock in an ocean of agony as the wind lashed and 
bit at the turbulent waters.
	To save his own sanity he built upon himself, the rock in the ocean, 
until he was himself a mountain of solitude in the stormy sea.  Waves broke 
across his stony surface but he stood strong until the ineffectual forces 
weakened.
	Suddenly, his mind was wrenched from Samantha's.  He sat dazed and 
confused on the floor, several feet from where he was but a moment ago.  His 
head hurt as if it were being squeezed by a vise.  His stomach rolled and heaved 
in his belly.  Disoriented, John braced himself with his desk and pulled himself 
up.  That was a big mistake.  The floor seemed to slide and spin beneath his feet 
and he found himself sprawled on the floor again.  John watched as Samantha 
stood shakily from the floor and managed to stay up.  She reached for the door 
and he tried to call out to her but he choked on fiery sour bile as it gorged up his 
throat and slid back down.  He lay back on the floor and waited for the room to 
stop spinning.

*	*	*

	It was several minutes before the room stopped rolling about enough 
for John to sit up and nearly an hour before he could crawl across the room and 
fish out an aspirin for his aching head.  Nothing like that had ever happened to 
him before.  He realized, as he took another swig from the bottle of water, that 
he forgot that his right hand was ungloved.  When he reached down to touch her 
he must of accidentally connected with Samantha.  But never before had he ever 
built such a strong rapport.  Never had he ever felt such strong emotions in 
anyone.  The symbolic constructs he used were a simplification of what was 
running around in her mind at that moment.  If he were slightly less experienced 
she very well could have killed him, if not both of them.  John drank deeply 
from the bottle and emptied it then grabbed another while rubbing his temple.
	Oh God, his head was killing him.  Not to mention the jeopardy that his 
relationship with Samantha was now in.  He had accidentally touched her.  
Granted, he probably helped calm her but in this case, so soon after explaining 
the situation, it would only serve to damage his credibility.  He did not wish to 
betray his trust before their relationship even got off the ground.
	John sighed and leaned back against the wall, he still hadn't managed 
to stand up or drag himself into his chair without having the floor bring him 
back down.  Well, he certainly couldn't repair things by simply sitting on the 
floor.  Mustering enough resolve to venture another attempt at rising, John 
cursed beneath his breath as he clambered up the side of his desk and managed 
to stand up.  He locked his knees and stood straight.  The blood in his head 
drained and he nearly fainted from the sudden rush but he managed to stay 
conscious.  He gripped the edge of his desk and paced about the wooden frame 
until he was confident that he could manage without its help.  Walking became 
easier and the jackhammers in his skull seemed to dull to only a mild cadence.
	Still, he didn't trust himself the controls of any vehicle so he punched 
some buttons on the phone and waited for the other end to pick up.
	"Hello?"
	"Hey, Erica."
	"Oh, hi John.  What's up?"
	"I." John had to think for a bit.  "I'm feeling really sick right now.  I 
think I caught a stomach flu or something.  Do you think you could pick me up 
from work?"  Yes, he supposed his current state was similar to a stomach flu.
	"Oh, jeez."  There was a pause.  "I'm sorry John but I can't get away 
right now.  The bar is totally packed and we're short on hands enough as it is.  
Maybe in another hour or two.  Can you stay there for that long?"
	"I don't know.  Maybe I'll call a cab instead."
	There was a pause on the other line.  "I'm sorry John."
	"It's alright.  I'll call you later when I get back."
	"I hope you get better."
	"Yeah, me too," John said and hung up the phone.  He picked it up 
again and dialed the cab service.  It wouldn't be more than ten minutes.  He sat 
back in the office chair and wondered what would happen next.  Would 
Samantha hate him, or return to him confused and seeking answers?  He didn't 
know.  There was simply too much about her that he wasn't familiar with.  If he 
were lucky she would accept his explanation and apology.  If.
	John stumbled down the hall to the elevator and thumbed the button.  
The door pinged and slid apart and John was shocked to find Samantha standing 
in the booth.  "Sorry," John slurred.  "I'll catch the next one."  If he were lucky 
he might just take the stairs and fall down and not have to deal with the whole 
situation.
	Instead of letting the doors slide shut his boss touched the button panel 
and held the door open for him.  "Wait," she commanded.  "Get in."
	Too exhausted to argue the point he obeyed her and shuffled in.  John 
took a deep breath and stared ahead with downcast eyes.  He didn't plan on 
running into her so soon.  He had no idea what to say to her at the moment so he 
said nothing at all.
	"You look like shit," Samantha stated bluntly.
	"Better than how I feel right now."
	"You don't look like you're in any condition to drive."
	"Called a cab."
	A long moment of silence stretched out between them.  John studied his 
reflection in the shiny brass elevator panel.  He did look pretty bad.  His face 
was pale and drawn and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.  His 
eyes were sunken within dark circles.  The elevator stopped at the ground floor 
and dinged open.  John took an unsteady step forward but was pulled short by a 
hand on his arm.  "Wait," she asked and then called out over his shoulder.  
"Ron!  There's a cab that'll be coming around soon.  Could you tell them to 
cancel that?  Thanks.  I'll be taking Mr. Arrons home."
	"Ms. Summers," John stammered.  "That really isn't necessary.  
Especially in light of what has happened."
	His words fell on deaf ears as the elevator doors slid shut and continued 
its descent to the underground garage.  "And what exactly did happen, John?"
	John noticed how she slid back into an informal tone and the use of his 
name rather than his title now that they were alone.  "I'm not exactly sure.  I 
forgot that my right hand wasn't gloved.  I'm sorry.  I've betrayed your trust in 
me.  It was an accident but still inexcusable."
	"Gloved hand or not, the point would have been moot," she replied.  
"You were about to kiss me anyway."
	John was too shocked to stammer a reply.  Caught up in the moment, 
John supposed he was about to kiss her.  The events following that interceded, 
however, made him forget that point.  He didn't know what to say.
	"There's no use denying it," she continued.  "I saw it there in your 
eyes.  I saw many things."  She paused as the elevator doors parted and revealed 
the cavernously empty lot.  She did not look at him but made for her car.  She 
fished in her purse and deactivated the alarm.  "Get in."
	John stumbled his way to the passenger side of her car both physically 
and mentally.  His brain still sloshed about in its case uselessly as he tried to 
form responses but the effort was beyond his already taxed abilities.  He 
fumbled the door open and slid into the cool leather seat.  Samantha fired the 
ignition and pulled out of the garage and into the streets.  It wasn't until they 
passed Fifth St. and turned left on Sixth that he realized they were going the 
wrong way.  "My apartment is on LeCranz Ave."
	"I know where you live, John.  We're going to my place.  You need to 
get in a bed and my estate is closer."
	"Really, this isn't necessary."
	"I insist."
	John picked up on her tone and decided to let the matter drop.  
Samantha had her heels dug in deeper than a mule's.  Besides, they were already 
at her house.  John opened the door and walked quietly by Samantha as they 
approached the white front door.  She quickly opened the door, stepped inside, 
and pushed a series of buttons on the security console.  John stepped into her 
house for the first time.  As he had expected, her place was tastefully decorated 
with comfortable, yet stylish, furniture as they passed her living room.  In the 
receiving hall a crystal chandelier loomed high above the cool marble floor.  
Those were the only details that registered in his mind as he focused on 
following Samantha up the crŠme carpeted stairs.  His knees felt weak, and he 
had to hold on to the polished cherrywood banister to keep his balance, but he 
managed.  He was shown to the nearest door to his right where a stiffly made 
bed awaited him.  Samantha pulled back the covers for him as John wrestled his 
shoes off.  He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

*	*	*

	John woke up with the eerie feeling that he was being watched.  
Slowly, he rolled back his lids to a pair of wide hazel eyes.  John blinked and 
took in more of the image that greeted him.  Auburn hair, a light speckling of 
freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.  John guessed she was 
about five or six years old.  "I'm guessing you're Samantha's daughter."
	The girl nodded silently and smiled.  John smiled back and pondered 
where the little girl fit in Samantha's story.  He checked if he had indeed fallen 
asleep with his clothes on.  He had.  John pulled back the downy white covers 
and sat up in his rumpled shirt.  He looked around and checked his watch.  It 
was only nine in the evening.  "Shouldn't you be in bed?"  The girl only giggled.  
"I'll take that as a yes."  John stood up and mindlessly slipped on his gloves then 
offered the little girl his hand.  "Come on.  Let's see if we can find your mommy 
and get you tucked in.  If you don't trick me into walking into a closet then 
maybe I'll tell you a story before you go to bed."
	The little girl beamed a smile his way then dragged him out of the 
room.  The house seemed bigger on the inside than it's already grandiose image 
from without.  Most of the lights were out in the household save for the pale 
blue shafts of moonlight beaming down.  John felt like a lost stranger in a fairy 
tale being led by the pixie-like girl as they made their way through the forest of 
powder white smooth marble columns that supported the high domed ceiling.  
The little girl led him down the stairs.  John faintly heard jazz playing faintly 
from the living room.  He rounded a corner and found Samantha running over 
more files and notes strewn across the large dining table, her hair damp and 
disheveled from a recent shower.  John watched as she looked up and her eyes 
momentarily grew large in surprise.
	"Hello, Samantha," John said first.  Samantha didn't reply.  "Look what 
I found."  John looked down at her daughter.  "I was awakened to the feeling 
that I was being watched and when I looked up there was this frightening 
monster staring at me.  For a moment I thought she was going to eat me."  The 
little girl giggled.
	"Brianna, come here," Samantha beckoned and John's guide scampered 
across the crŠme-carpeted floor.  The girl crawled up and sat in Samantha's lap.  
Yes, definitely mother and daughter.  "Brianna, you were supposed to go to 
sleep.  I didn't leave you for more than five minutes and you go and disturb our 
guest," she mildly scolded.
	"No bother, Samantha.  I think the last of my headache has gone."  
John paused as he stood and watched Samantha clutch her daughter lovingly.  
"Besides, she led me to you.  And as I promised, the little monster conned a 
story out of me before we send her off to bed again.  Isn't that right?"  Brianna 
looked up at him eagerly and nodded enthusiastically.  John looked up from the 
little girl's face for the briefest moment and noticed a peculiar look spanning 
Samantha's face.  He had time to figure that out later.  Right now he had more 
important things to attend to.  "Now, how about that story."  John stretched out 
his hands and Brianna wiggled out of her mother's grip and into his.  "Whoa, 
aren't you a heavy thing?"
	John picked up Brianna with a bit of effort and followed her mother to 
her room.  They arrived in a room filled to the brim with stuffed animals and 
dolls of every possible sort.  John deposited Samantha's daughter in the 
canopied bed and pulled the covers up.  "Now, what kind of story do you want 
to hear?  Do you have a favorite book or do you want to hear one of my 
originals?"  Brianna nodded enthusiastically to the latter.  "A 'John Original' it 
is.  Now let me see.  Well, there once was this little monster called Baramut and 
he grew giant mushrooms for a living."
	John made the story up as he went along.  John borrowed a little from 
the beginning of one of his favorite books, 'The Hobbit' but there the similarity 
ended.  When he got to the part where Baramut was captured by a band of 
pirates Brianna was sound asleep.  John smiled at the child and tucked her in.  
The entire time Samantha sat beside him and listened intently to his tale.  When 
John looked up Samantha had that peculiar look on her face again.
	"You're a pretty good story teller," she commented as they closed 
Brianna's bedroom door behind them.
	"Yeah, well, I've always liked kids," John replied.  "I mean, who 
wouldn't?"
	"Jeff, for starters."
	"Ah," was all John could say.
	They traveled down the stairs and returned to the living room.  John 
made himself comfortable on the couch.  Samantha disappeared momentarily 
into the kitchen to brew a pot of tea.  She returned with a pair of steaming mugs.  
"Earl Grey, my favorite," John commented.
	Samantha was silent.  She sat beside him and sipped gingerly at her 
cup.
	"Your daughter," John began.  "She doesn't say much."
	Samantha took another slow sip before replying.  "She doesn't talk."
	"She's what, five years old?"
	Samantha nodded.  "Well, that pretty much lets out most of my secrets.  
I explained almost everything to you earlier.  And now that Brianna showed 
herself, that explains pretty much everything else.  So tell me.  Are you ready to 
leave now?"
	"Excuse me?"
	"Well, I figured most men run for the hills the moment they found out 
about Brianna."
	"How's that?"
	"Come now," Samantha sneered.  "A woman with a sordid past and a 
child to boot isn't exactly the most attractive package."
	"Now you're just fishing for compliments," John replied.  "You were a 
victim of your past.  That's nothing to be ashamed of.  And as for your daughter, 
she's as beautiful as her mother.  Look, we both aired out a lot of things today.  
Both of us are feeling a little exposed and vulnerable at the moment.  The last 
thing either of us needs is to commit emotional self-punishment."  John scooted 
over and placed a comforting arm around Samantha's shoulder.  "I'm not going 
to run away, nor am I going to let you push me aside because you think I'm 
going to hurt you."  John paused.  "Of course, in any relationship worth having 
two people always wind up hurting each other just a little bit along the way.  It's 
the making up part that makes it worth it."
	Samantha let out a held breath.  "I really hate it when you're right."
	"Would it help if lied and said you are being silly so that you could 
prove me wrong."
	"I'm not sure how I can answer that.  You win either way."
	"Well, at least we've agreed on something."  John released Samantha 
and stood up.  Things were progressing far too quickly.  John knew for certain 
that he had fallen in love with Samantha and if he stayed a moment longer he 
wouldn't know what would happen next.  He couldn't let that happen, not to her.  
"I need to get back to my place.  There are things I have to take care of."
	"What?  You just said you weren't going to run away."
	"It's called a tactical retreat," John smirked.  "I think we both need 
some time to think things through.  I." John paused.  Should he say it?  "I care 
a great deal for you.  Probably more than is safe."
	Samantha stood up and faced.  "Afraid of living dangerously?"
	"Afraid of living dangerously?  No.  Of you?  Of us?  Yes."
	"Is there an 'us'?"  She took a bold step forward.  John could feel her 
warm breath licking at his lips.  The scent of her was breath intoxicating.
	They held their gaze, so much passion and promise sparking between 
them.  John was the first to look away.  "As far as I can tell, there has since the 
moment you hunted me down."
	"Would it be wrong of me to go in for the kill, then?"  Somehow she 
managed to inch even closer, forcing John to look in her smoky green eyes.
	His heart stopped.  His mind spun.  He couldn't commit himself to any 
words.  He didn't need any when his lips held hers.  The contact was wet and 
brief but for them it stretched on and on.  Emotions roiled between their lips and 
John drank it in like ambrosia.  With titanic effort John pulled away and 
recovered his breath.  "Yes, it would be."
	"Tough," Samantha growled and pulled him in for another breathtaking 
kiss.  His head swam again and he felt himself melting with Samantha.  John's 
arms molded around her warm body until it was her turn to draw back for air.  
"Tough for both of us.  I'll call you that cab."
	John caught his breath as he watched Samantha stride off to the kitchen 
and admired her feminine curves.  It wasn't long before she returned but they 
both chatted amiably, albeit distantly.  The cab arrived too soon and John was 
cursing the thing for being quick.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he was 
hoping the thing would get stuck in a ditch and he would then have no excuse 
but to remain in Samantha's presence.
	The night air was crisp and chilly as a stiff autumn breeze blew through 
the rattling trees.  They didn't say anything as John opened the car door.  John 
brushed a strand of hair from Samantha's face as they gazed their good-byes.  
The cab door shut behind him and the night whisked him away.


Chapter 10

	It was a very rare thing that John did, but today he decided to sleep in.  
By the time he arrived at work his team of researchers were well under way in 
their respective experiments and John was buried in catch-up work.  This was 
why he tried keeping a regular schedule even though it wasn't intrinsic to his 
work.  One thing John hated above all else was having to bring his work home 
with him.  The world of cancer research progressed slowly because of the sheer 
volume of the amount of work that was required to study the tiniest aspect.  John 
worked through his usual lunch hour and ploughed ahead until someone 
knocked on his door and he was thankfully given excuse to tear his eyes away 
from the large sheaf of papers he was looking through.
	"Hello, John."  Even in such a confined space as his office Samantha 
managed to regally stride into his workspace with her aura of confidence and 
command that made his cramped quarters seem a palace hall.
	John took a brief moment to appreciate her statuesque beauty and 
noticed the greasy paper bag clutched in her hand.  "Hello, Samantha," he 
greeted.
	"I figured I owed you a meal so I brought lunch."
	John took a whiff of the air and decided he already liked whatever was 
in the brown bag.  "Smells great.  Pull up a chair."  As Samantha sat down John 
took the moment to dig in the minifridge he kept by his desk and fished out a 
couple of bottles of water.  Samantha accepted and began fishing out long 
aluminum wrapped bundles and small bags of greasy tortilla chips.
	"I found a Mexican place nearby and thought I'd give it a try."
	"So if your little trial goes awry at least you'll have someone to share 
your misery with?"
	Samantha smirked.  "Bingo."
	John laughed with her as he tugged off his gloves.  He learned along 
the way that greasy food and leather didn't mix.  He sat down and began 
unrolling the foil placed before him.  A large, over-stuffed burrito sat on his 
table and John heaved a round corner into his mouth.  It was quite good so he 
took another spicy bite.  Samantha waited for him to nod his approval before she 
too sank her teeth in.  They spent a few moments to eat and, when they were 
each half finished, slowed down enough to talk.
	"So."
	"So," replied John and paused.  "I'm sorry but I really don't know what 
to say.  Things are spinning out of control real fast."
	"Is that always necessary?"  Samantha prodded.  "Control."
	"For me, yes," John answered.  "I've sort of made it necessary for 
myself for obvious reasons.  But you seem to have this knack for taking the reins 
out of my hands."
	"Stop grabbing for them in the first place and just let me drive, then," 
the redhead fired back with a challenging smile.
	"You know, I can ask the same of you.  Why do you have to be in 
control?"
	"Let's just say it's a force of habit."
	John could tell she was dodging the question but decided not to pursue 
it.  "This can be somewhat difficult."
	"What's that?"
	John put down his meal and reached across the table for her, willing 
himself to be as neutral minded as possible.  Her hand was soft but strong.  
"Us."
	Startled by his touch, Samantha tried to pull her hand away but he 
grasped her firmly.  "I thought you said you weren't going to try anything 
without my permission?"
	"I'm not," he answered and quickly explained his intent.  "I'm not 
doing anything.  I.I just wanted to hold your hand.  Did you know that it's 
been months since I've last touched anyone?  And the last one was Evans'.  
You're a bit more pleasant."  John let go of her hand.
	Samantha stood up and circled his desk before taking a seat in his lap.  
"I think I'm a lot more than just a bit more pleasant."  She looked down at him 
with daring eyes and cupped John's face in her hands.  "Don't you think?"
	John could barely trust his voice not to crack so he only gulped dryly in 
awe of the powerful woman locking eyes with him.  Oh, to Hell with it.  John 
stared back just as boldly and kissed her.  The same unfamiliar rush he felt last 
time his lips caressed hers raced through his every fiber.  Surprised at first, 
Samantha didn't respond but finally succumbed to the desire entwining them.  
John lightly brushed her cheek with his fingertip and felt a fiery spark ignite his 
senses and he nearly fell headlong into that other world of her emotions.  Her 
breath became his and he could feel his chest heave with her pulse.  He was 
awash in a strange sensation that he had never felt before.  He hungered for 
more of it.  His mind grasped at her essence as his hand reached lower to the 
pulse at her neck.  John felt Samantha's hand on his and guided him lower.  He 
reached down and his skin broke contact from her.  With a gasp of stinging, 
sweet air they separated.
	Samantha's eyes were a dark forest of hunger.  Her lips glistened wetly 
as she licked the salt of his mouth from her lips, causing John to do the same.  
Her chest rose and fell shakily; the buttons of her blouse to strained with 
tension.  John's fingers itched to release them.  She leaned over and rested her 
forehead on his and kissed him lightly, a spark in shadow.
	"I stand corrected," was all he could manage to say.
	"Damn straight," she answered.  "I'll be sure to rub that fact in your 
face as often as I can."
	John smiled at her.  "I think I would like that very much."  And he 
kissed her again.

*	*	*

	John pulled up to Samantha's estate in his motorcycle, as promised, for 
their second date.  He looked up at the star-studded night sky and took a deep 
cleansing breath.  Bracing himself, John stepped up to the front door and rung 
the bell.  Samantha answered the door promptly and showed him in.  Properly 
lighted, Samantha's house looked even more impressive than when John had 
been here last.
	"Let me go check on Brianna and the babysitter one last time and then 
we can be on our way."
	John waited downstairs in the foyer and took the moment to collect his 
thoughts.  They were still in the early stages of their relationship but somehow 
he felt that things were progressing very rapidly.  There was something 
intangible about her that drew him to her like a moth to a flame.  John would 
have to remember not to get himself burned.  Just then Samantha strode down 
the stairs and even though she wore a simple light jacket and jeans her bearing 
and attitude made it seem as if she were wearing an elegant gown.  Get a hold of 
yourself!  He was acting like a lovesick teenager.  John shook himself mentally.
	"So where are we headed?"
	John snapped to attention and smiled at her.  "I know a great place for 
Chinese.  Best noodles in town."
	"Sounds great.  Let's go."
	John escorted her out the door and she smiled broadly when she saw his 
bike parked in her driveway.
	"I always keep my promises," John said.  Samantha didn't reply but she 
did pick up her pace.
	They were out of the driveway and speeding down city streets in a swirl 
of autumn leaves.  John could feel Samantha smiling behind him as she clasped 
him tightly about the waist as they zipped between cars.  They found their way 
to a dimly lit shopping center with a boisterous Chinese restaurant situated on 
the corner.  John had no idea what the sign over the place said but he did know 
that the place served good food.  A Health inspector's grade was posted on the 
front window for all to see, touting it as acceptable but not the cleanest of places 
to dine.  John didn't care.  From his extensive business travels over the past year 
he found that sometimes the less than exemplary places were the best places to 
eat, especially when pertaining to foreign food.
	John pushed open the glass door and Samantha stepped in.  The place 
was bustling with activity.  Luckily they didn't have to wait in line for a table.  
They spent the next few minutes going over the menu and ordering.
	"You know, it's begun," Samantha commented.
	"What's that."
	"People are talking.  About us."
	"Oh," was all John could say at first.  "That's begun."  He pondered the 
situation and gave it some serious thought.  "Well, we knew that this would 
happen eventually.  I'm going to guess that it was Ron, the security guard down 
in the lobby who saw us leave together a couple of nights ago.  Either that or 
your or my office workers have been eavesdropping.  But that doesn't really 
matter now, does it?"  She shook her head in agreement.  "Well, we haven't 
done anything wrong and you haven't given me any special privileges financial 
or otherwise that affects the corporation."
	"True enough," Samantha replied.  "But we're going to be under the 
microscope by investors.  And any infringement on company policy by either of 
us is going to get magnified beyond proportions.  Which means I can't let you 
do any unsanctioned side research, especially if it doesn't somehow prove that it 
is financially feasible."
	John sighed.  "I thought it might be something about that.  I understand.  
I'll stop sending blood samples down to the labs.  And I suppose I'll have to pay 
for the previous tests, labor and materials.  Any clue how much that is going to 
come out to?"
	Samantha just smiled at him warmly.  "You're a peach you know that?"
	"What?"
	This time she chuckled warmly at his confusion.  "You are now head of 
a new research team in Pharmtech's public consumptions department."
	John could only fumble at what she was saying until the very last 
moment.  "Wait, how is a cure to MC-125 financially feasible?"
	"Think about it.  Who does not want the general public to have MC-
125?"
	John felt the proverbial light bulb click on.  "The competitors who can't 
afford it."
	"Bingo.  All we have to do is create it and sell it to them at a greatly 
reduced price and by the sheer numbers of those who buy it we should have a 
sizeable profit."
	John mulled over that.  "So you help me and in the process make a neat 
profit at the same time."  She only shrugged in response.  "You know, that does 
seem feasible.  But couldn't the larger food corporations who utilize MC-125 
want to stop us.  Possibly pay you off at horrendous prices just to keep us 
quiet?"
	"Most likely and I wouldn't put it past them to try a little espionage as 
well.  But I'm not going to lend them my ear.  There's more at stake than just 
keeping customers addicted, which by the way it is.  I'm fairly certain 
Genentech is probably working on what you have in your body right now, 
absolute mind control.  I'm sure a great and many powerful people would be 
very interested in your blood or whatever it is that's in you."
	"Well, that's definitely good for my ego.  All of a sudden I'm worth 
millions of dollars."
	"Dead or alive."
	"Excuse me?"
	"When, not if, they find out about your unique chemistry they'll just 
want your blood and any parts of your body they might find interesting and rip 
you apart for analysis."
	"That doesn't sound too pleasant," John answered.  "I'm a bit attached 
to my body.  It seems to keep me alive."
	"Be that as it may I'm going to boost security at Pharmtech, 
particularly around your lab.  I'm playing with the idea of giving you a personal 
bodyguard as well."
	"Do you think that's altogether necessary?"
	"Better safe than sorry."
	Just then, their food arrived and they took a moment to savor the food.  
The place really did have the best noodle soup in town and Samantha made 
appreciative sounds around a mouthful of food.  John, on the other hand, didn't 
enjoy the meal as well as he normally would after suddenly feeling exposed and 
vulnerable to hidden assailants to come bounding out of windows for the mark 
on his head.
	"Oh, will you stop that," Samantha said irritably.  "They aren't after 
you yet.  Matter of fact, you're the first to know about the whole operation.  Not 
even the accounting department knows about this yet and you know how much 
they're in on things.  And like I said, I'm flirting with the idea of getting you a 
body guard."
	"I'd be far more appreciative if you reserved your flirting with me."
	"That can be arranged."  Suddenly John felt Samantha's foot rubbing 
along his calf suggestively.  "But be careful what you wish for.  You just might 
get it."
	"Careful, Samantha," John playfully warned as he slipped his right 
hand under the table.  "I can play this game better than you can."  He undid a 
glove, reached down, and grabbed her by the ankle.  He guessed correctly that 
she was wearing ankle socks beneath her jeans when his hand contacted her bare 
flesh.  He fired off a suggestive impulse up her calf and he watched as 
Samantha's breath caught.
	"I thought you said you wouldn't try anything," she rasped between 
gritted teeth.
	"I'm not affecting your free will."  John smiled.  "Just tell me you don't 
like what I'm doing and I'll stop."
	"That's a very gray area Mr. Arrons."  Her eyes flashed dangerously 
but John decided to press his luck.  He held on and channeled his attention to the 
center of her womanhood.  Her face flushed noticeably and her breathing 
became short and erratic.  She looked about her at the others dining at the 
restaurant and tried to keep her expressions as neutral as possible with colossal 
effort.  Distantly, John could feel the runaway passion roiling inside her as her 
foot tensed and writhed in his firm grip.  Her mind was a flurry of conflicting 
feelings but pervasive throughout was the mind fogging lust.  She gripped the 
edge of the table with white knuckles until she finally leaned over the table and 
let out an explosive gasp of air that was drowned out by the din of the restaurant.  
John released her now limp foot.
	Samantha remained hunched over her plate for a few more moments as 
she caught her breath.  John began having second thoughts about his actions 
when she shakily got up from her chair and headed straight for the Ladies' 
room.
	Minutes passed before she returned and John was more than a little 
frightened that he may have overstepped his boundaries.  When she emerged 
from the restroom he felt his guts roil and his appetite disappear as he watched 
her storm her way towards him with thunderheads flashing in her green eyes.  
She stepped up to him commandingly, grabbed him firmly by the front of his 
shirt, and pressed her lips firmly to his.  The action combined with his previous 
nervousness completely shorted out his brain and he could only weakly receive 
the heart-bursting kiss.  She broke the contact abruptly before sitting back in her 
seat.
	"Don't you ever try that too often if you value your life."
	John just sat dumbly and took several moments before he could collect 
his scattered thoughts into any semblance of a response.  John released a breath 
he wasn't aware that he was holding and smiled.  "I'm glad you're not going to 
rip my head off for that little stunt."  Her eyes still glinted dangerously but John 
felt he was in calmer waters now.  His face turned serious as he reached across 
the table and held her hand in his gloved one.  "You know you can trust me.  I'm 
not going to hurt you or do anything you don't really want me to.  I know you're 
a strong-minded woman.  It's what I find so attractive about you.  And I'll be 
damned if I dampen that spirit of yours in the least.  I care a great deal for you."
	Samantha gazed deeply into his eyes and said nothing in return, only 
smiled at him gently and let him hold her hand.  At that moment, nothing could 
have made him feel more content.


Chapter 11

	"Can I ask you an awkward question?"
	Samantha looked up from her stack of papers.  Shared lunches were 
now an everyday occurrence and the flying rumors had settled down over the 
past week as John and Samantha grew closer.  They were sure the rumors would 
flare up again when they discovered John would head one of Pharmyech's new 
Top-Secret research departments.
	"I was wondering if I could get a sample of your blood and possibly put 
you through a CAT scan."  John waited for her answer.  He waited a lot longer 
than he expected.
	Finally, Samantha put down her pen and looked at him.  "What do you 
plan on gaining from said tests?"
	"Samantha, I've told you this before and I don't mean it as just a form 
of flattery.  You are literally different from all of the women from my past.  You 
don't react as strongly as others do to my unique abilities.  You surprise me with 
your phenomenal ability to resist my touch.  I'm convinced that there's at least a 
biological and chemical reason why you are able to do so.  It's not just your 
strong character, although that certainly is a factor, but there's something else 
that protects you from me.  If I could isolate whatever the factor or factors may 
be then I'll be a giant leap closer to realizing a cure."
	Samantha sat quietly as she mulled over his words.  John did not expect 
her to be so reticent about something so simple.  Then it hit him like a stack of 
bricks.  Perhaps she already knew the answer to what he was asking.  And it was 
not an answer she was willing to give.  There could only be one reason for that.  
"What exactly did Jeff do to you?"  Her head snapped up at the mention of his 
name and John knew instantly that he was right from the wild expression in 
Samantha's eyes.  "I'm right aren't I?"
	She only answered him with a palpable silence.
	John sat back.  "Forget I even mentioned it," he said abruptly, not 
wanting to cause her any undue pain from whatever may have happened before.  
John, however, thought things over; about what else that bastard could have 
done to her.  He stood up and began cleaning up his lunch.  "I should get going.  
I am on the clock after all."
	"John?"	 He turned around and noticed the tense look on his boss's 
face, no, his lover's.  "I."
	"Look, you don't have to tell me.  I understand that you probably went 
through something pretty bad.  And digging it all up is probably very painful for 
you.  We'll get around to it eventually, I'm sure."
	Seeing some of the strain washing from her features, Samantha 
composed herself and sent a daring smile his way.  "Are you that confident that 
we'll be seeing that much of each other?"
	John crossed the room and kissed her briefly.  Again, passion flamed 
across from the contact and their faces flushed.  "Most definitely, Ms. Summers.  
Most definitely."  He gave her a final grin and arrogantly strode out of her 
office.
	John shut the door behind him, waved at the secretary at her desk and 
continued down the hall to the elevator.  He sighed.  John wished there were 
something more that he could do for her.  He was tempted to investigate things 
himself but decided not to.  She would tell him when she was ready.  It just 
made getting close to her so frustratingly difficult sometimes.  That, 
compounded with his current condition, made the issue of trust even trickier.
	John returned to his office.  There was still a whole world of cancer 
research needing to be done and technically John was still the head of said 
division until his new position was announced.  For the remainder of the 
afternoon he was kept busy with a series of test results that were just finishing 
up and John was still as eager as always to piece them together.

*	*	*

	John was just polishing off a pizza he had picked up at Allesio's when 
the door unexpectedly rang.  Curious, he closed the flat box and answered the 
summons.  Samantha smiled at him and let herself in.  With her was a stocky 
man with plain, nondescript features.  Brown hair, wide brown eyes, and even 
lips stained with just the hint of a mustache.
	"Hello, Ms. Summers.  What an unexpected surprise," John greeted 
formally, unsure about the stranger she brought with him.
	Samantha herself was cool and collected as always.  She smiled briefly 
at him and stepped inside, stranger in tow.  John seated them in his living room 
and sat down, his curiosity in overdrive.  The stranger produced a small attach‚ 
case and placed it on the coffee table.
	"John, this is the bodyguard we discussed last week, Harold Jensen.  I 
just thought I'd let you meet him before he started shadowing you."
	"How thoughtful," John grimaced.  They only talked about a 
bodyguard in passing over dinner and John didn't exactly agree to it.  He really 
didn't mind the thought all that much and it did make sense.  However, 
Samantha went over his head on this and it irritated him just a bit.  Quickly, 
John wiped his hand on his pants and shook Harold's rough hand.  He had a firm 
grip.  John looked him straight in the eyes and was surprised by the friendly look 
in them.  He had been expecting someone with steely gaze or a hard expression 
from someone that was supposed to be guarding his life.
	Harold's face cracked into a roguish grin.  "Pleased to meet you."
	John was unbalanced by the friendly attitude as he let the man's hand 
go and mumbled a hasty reply.
	Harold blinked and looked over at Samantha.  "You sure he's as smart 
as you say he is?"
	"Mr. Jensen."
	"Just checking."
	Samantha sighed in exasperation.  "I really do wonder what Sarah sees 
in you sometimes."
	"What, don't tell me my charm has absolutely no effect on you."
	John quirked an eyebrow.  "I take it you two know each other outside 
of your professions?"
	"Unfortunately," Samantha answered.  "Harold is a friend of mine's 
fianc‚."
	Harold only shrugged.
	"Samantha, could I talk to you for a second?"  He gestured towards the 
bedroom and she followed.  He closed the door securely behind them.  "Are you 
sure about him?"
	"Yes, I know.  He doesn't look all that reliable but trust me he is.  He's 
a former Army Ranger and has too many tours to list under his belt, most of 
which are probably a little classified.  I do know that he's done several 
undercover extractions of CIA agents overseas.  He's been with Sarah since high 
school but thought it best not to leave behind a widow so he never proposed 
until he left the military.  Now he's a freelance bodyguard for some of the most 
prestigious men in the world whenever they pass through on business.  He just 
likes acting the goofball; people tend to underestimate him because of that.  He's 
also costing Pharmtech an arm and a leg so you're just going to have to get used 
to him."
	"And when exactly did you plan on telling me all this?"  John fumed.  
"I would have thought that you'd have a bit more tact than to drop him in my lap 
with at least some modicum of a warning.  Oh, and thanks for checking to see 
how I felt about all this, too."
	Hurt, Samantha lashed out, her eyes cold and face rigid.  "First off, this 
is the warning.  I could have just had him tail you without your knowing.  And 
second, I am protecting a company asset.  Enough said."  Her words stung more 
than she meant them to but it was too late to take them back now.  She watched 
as John's own eyes hardened into icy flints.
	"Is that what I am to you?" he bit off.  "A company asset.  A business 
venture.  Very well, then."  John reached behind Samantha and flung open the 
door.  "Then I take it that your reason for being here is concluded.  You've made 
your introduction.  Thank you for your kindness in letting me know that you've 
purchased me a shadow."  He roughly grabbed her by her arm and practically 
threw Samantha out his door.  "Good evening, Ms. Summers," he said brusquely 
before slamming the door.
	John took several calming breaths before finally turning around only to 
find an uncomfortable looking bodyguard standing in his living room.  John 
stormed back into his room and shut the door behind him.

*	*	*

	John woke up the following morning refreshed.  That was, until he 
remembered his fight with Samantha the previous night.  Then he felt miserable.  
He went through his morning ablutions and began fixing himself a cup of coffee 
when the door rang.  He answered it, wondering who it could be so early in the 
morning.
	Harold greeted him with a bag of donuts and his own coffee in a 
Styrofoam cup.  "Morning," he chirped brightly.
	John only grunted and let him in.  He shuffled about in the kitchen and 
produced a grapefruit from the fridge.  "What are you doing here?"
	Harold sat opposite him produced a golden pastry slathered in 
chocolate.  "Well, I thought I'd explain how I work and what to expect.  This 
will probably be the last time you'll see me.  Oh I'll be around, you can be sure 
of that.  I'll just be so much of a shadow you won't be able to tell me apart from 
your own.  Actually, I'm living right next door to you.  I've hooked up 
surveillance gear up so I know pretty much what's going on for a half-mile 
radius around this entire structure, not to mention the cameras I've got hooked 
up in this building.  I have a team of people that will be keeping an eye on you at 
work and on your commute to and from.  I'm sure Samantha's already told you 
about my combat experience so I'll just skip that part.  No need to be confusing 
certain details, right?"
	Despite his mood, John couldn't help but like the guy.  "Right," he 
smirked.  "So I can just go about my business as if you weren't really here?"
	"Pretty much."
	"You do know about Samantha and me, don't you?"
	Harold gave a very good innocent expression as he blinked.  "Not 'til 
now."  John didn't buy it.
	"Right," he answered sarcastically.
	John sighed.  "Well, I'm off to work."  That said, he rose and went out 
the door, leaving it for his guard to lock up.  Moments later Harold jogged up 
beside him.
	"Hey, I'm your security not your doorman."
	"I thought you would be scarce after our conversation."
	Harold firmly grasped his arm.  "Look, buddy.  I'm trying to get our 
relationship started on a good foot here.  If you and Samantha have an argument 
that's between you two.  Leave me out of this.  I'm doing this more as a 
personal favor to her than anything else.  I'm paid to guard you.  I'm a 
professional but making me dislike you isn't going to help either of us."
	They stared at each other for a long moment, measuring the others 
resolve.  Finally, John conceded.  "You're right and I'm sorry.  You don't have 
anything to do with this.  But Samantha has me seriously irked.  She went right 
over my head on this and she's isn't the most tactful person sometimes."
	Harold frowned.  "Yeah, well, she hasn't always been this way.  She 
used to be a lot more innocent back in the day.  I guess life's hardened her 
some."
	"That's right.  You knew her when she was in college."
	Harold nodded as they continued walking to the garage.  "Yeah, she 
was a completely different person then, though."
	"I'm not going to ask, though."
	"Ask what?" 
	"What happened to her," John clarified.  "That's for her to decide when 
I'm ready for that."
	Harold slapped him on the back.  "You and I are going to get along just 
fine."

*	*	*

	John sat back in his chair, a tower of boxes stacked neatly beside him.   
The announcement went out that he was heading a new division deep within 
Pharmtech.  Of course, people were murmuring that his new position had 
something to do with him dating the boss.  John sighed.  That was unavoidable, 
he supposed.  Thing was, he wasn't sure what his relationship with Samantha 
was at the moment after last night.
	Just then, there was a gentle knock at the door.
	"Door's open."
	As he had expected, Samantha entered the room.  And, of course, there 
was very little in the way of a look of apology even remotely gracing her 
features.  She strode into the room with her usual calm mien and closed the door 
behind her.  He understood her power games but they were beginning to wear on 
him just a bit.
	"What do you want?" he said first, taking the initiative.  If she wanted 
to be difficult then so could he.
	Samantha just stood in his doorway silently.  John pretended to ignore 
her and worked on a molecular model displayed on his computer monitor.  He 
knew that there would be some kinks in their relationship when it came to work 
but he didn't expect things to escalate this quickly.  For a split moment John 
thought of saying something but decided against it.  He put the ball in her court 
and wanted to know just how she planned on playing.  Despite John's own cool 
appearances he was quite nervous.  Samantha did mean a lot to him and the way 
he blew up at her the other night wasn't exactly the image of tact for his part.  
Still, what was done was done.
	"I have a favor to request of you," she began, her voice crisp and firm.  
Inwardly, John flinched.  "A sudden business meeting came up and I don't have 
anyone to watch over Brianna.  I'd appreciate it if you could look after her 
tonight."
	John looked up at her, his expression neutral.  He wasn't sure what to 
make of her appeal but decided to take a chance.  "Very well," John answered 
tersely as he stood up.  He finally looked at her and noticed how distraught she 
really was.  The differences were subtle but noticeable if one knew what to look 
for.  Her makeup was put on a little more heavily, a camouflage for the slight 
bags under her eyes and pale skin.  There were a couple of small crows feet 
tugging at the corners of her eyes and the usual intensity that Samantha just 
projected in her voice was missing in her eyes.  Her posture was tired, drawn 
despite the sharp black business dress she had on.  "On one condition," John 
continued as he stepped nearer, his movements and features not belying the fact 
that he was as tired and upset as she was.  Quickly, his hand snapped out, 
encircled her small waist and pulled her into his arms before plunging his lips 
into hers.  He felt her body tense beneath his arms, her hands protesting against 
his chest weakly.  But soon she leaned limply against him and melted into the 
embrace, her own mouth eagerly drinking in his.  They slowly separated and 
each had a warm, glazed look in their eyes.  "My condition is that you go out 
with me later this week."
	Samantha looked at him, startled, and nodded.  "John about last 
night."
	"We both acted in ways we shouldn't have.  I've mentioned it before, 
you're a proud woman and I'm also used to taking the lead.  I think we're going 
to just have to learn to compromise a little," he cut in.  John mentally nodded to 
himself.  In one move he had turned their whole situation around.  He didn't use 
his abilities, though; he just trusted to luck and the growing faith that he felt 
between them.
	"You know, you being right all the time is really starting to get on my 
nerves," she growled playfully.  "And.I'm sorry about last night.  I should 
have been a bit more thoughtful about what I said.  I guess I'm just used to 
bossing people around."
	"Apology accepted," John smiled.  "But I think you go out of your way 
to be bossy, not unintentionally."  John waved off her glower.  "Just hear me 
out.  I know Jeff hurt you.  I know you're afraid of an 'us'.  Truth be told, so am 
I.  There's a part in each of us that wants to fight what's happening every step of 
the way."
	Samantha thought about his words.  "Then I suppose we'll have to shut 
those parts up, won't we?"
	John grinned at her.  "You read my mind."
	"Reading minds is your department," the vibrant redhead quipped, 
helping a smile on John's face.
	John leaned in and kissed her again.  He felt her lips throbbing on his as 
he sucked on them gingerly.  She moaned into his arms and John found himself 
pinned to his desk.  Samantha reached for the buttons on his shirt but he calmly 
warded her off.  "No, not like this.  You're something special and.and I want 
our first time to be something special too."
	"I already told you to quite being right."  Samantha's green eyes 
flashed hungrily.
	John only smiled at her and kissed her again.  "How much time before 
your meeting?"
	"It starts in an hour," she replied simply.
	"Well, I simply can't let you leave quite yet with that much time to 
spend."  He turned them around and sat Samantha on the edge of his desk.  
Since he already had everything packed there was no need to sweep it aside.  
John tore his gloves off and touched her face igniting blindingly hot passion at 
his fingertips.  They both gasped at the simple touch and took a moment to 
recover from the initial shock.  Their lips sought one another with renewed 
fervor until they were panting into one another with animalistic need.  John 
reached down and stroked Samantha's smooth stockings.  His hand slid up until 
he reached the edge and finally contacted the warm flesh of her inner thigh.  
Samantha shuddered at the sensation.
	John continued and snaked both hands up her skirt and hooked her silk 
panties under his thumbs and teasingly drew them down before tossing them 
over his shoulder.  He wasn't surprised by the degree of wetness that greeted 
him and John traced his finger over the thin film.  Samantha bucked under his 
touch and an unexpected whimper tumbled over her lips.
	John smiled at himself and kissed her again before crouching before 
her.  He had been wanting to do this for a very long time.  When he slid down he 
had his first look at the delicate petals glistening invitingly at him.  He grinned 
and touched his lips experimentally to her firm left thigh.  John considered 
himself more of 'leg man' and Samantha offered everything he could have 
hoped for in that department.  Her toned thighs separated more at his kiss and 
John couldn't wait to have them clasping his ears.  John took a strong whiff at 
her tangy scent and darted his tongue out, tasting her skin.  He heard Samantha's 
breath catch and John continued.  His hands did not relent and continued to 
lightly caress her now slightly ruddy petals.  He concentrated on only giving her 
pleasure with the touch of his skin and attempted to generate a throbbing pulse 
of pleasure on just the outside of her inviting lips as he continued kissing her 
wetly.
	John teased her for several minutes until he succeeded in forcing 
Samantha to ask for him to go further.  He loved the dominant side of her and 
that made it more enjoyable if he could get her to ask or even beg for what she 
wanted from him.  However, he wasn't going to use his abilities to generate a 
false desire.  He only used it to create sensations that simply weren't possible 
with hands and tongue alone.
	Samantha was a quivering mass by the time John reached his goal and 
when his lips finally graced her outer labia Samantha shuddered instantly.  He 
decided that he'd had enough with the buildup; it was time to follow through.  
His tongue snaked out and plunged into her dripping center causing all sorts of 
delightful gasps and whimpers from his lover.  He dove in repeatedly and flailed 
his tongue within, eagerly slurping up her dew.  When John finally zeroed in on 
her clit her legs clamped hard on his ears.  John was shocked by the amount of 
raw lust that flooded through his mind at the touch of her thighs to the sides of 
his face; the force of her desire would have knocked him off his feet if he were 
standing.  It was so intense between her legs, as he determinedly lashed her bud 
with his tongue, that it almost hurt.  John envisioned being buffeted by a vast 
storm until he too succumbed to the sheer strength of the tempest roaring about 
him.  He was awash in her every sensation, and it felt magnificent.  Wave built 
after wave until finally giant wall of sheer orgasmic strength that seemed to 
reach up to the very heavens towered over John and crashed into him.  He rode 
her sensations and felt a surge in his own crotch, sending his own fount of 
energy with the storm.
	When the wave receded Samantha's legs loosened limply and John 
collapsed onto the floor, expended.  It took several minutes for him to regain 
consciousness and when he did the cloying scent of sex permeated the room.  
John gathered his arms under him and crawled to where Samantha lay lifelessly 
on his table, her legs splayed open across the edge.  John found Samantha's 
panties nearby and stuffed them in his pocket.  He needed to clean her up but 
there was nothing in the office that he could use.  He stripped his dress shirt and 
the cotton tank top he wore underneath.  He used the tank top and a bottle of 
water to wipe off Samantha.  John took his time and marveled at how peaceful 
she looked, how beautiful.  He smiled warmly and brushed aside a stray lock of 
red hair.  Samantha slowly roused and cracked open her eyes.
	"What.?" 
	John's smile widened as he kissed her damp brow.  He looked up at the 
clock.  "We've still got half an hour to get you cleaned up for that meeting of 
yours.  I must say you look much better than when you first came into my 
office."
	Samantha slowly sat up and stretched languidly.  "I feel much better, 
thank you very much."
	John noticed how much more relaxed she was, and cheerful.  Her usual 
edge seemed to have lessened, her eyes softer and kinder.  It was a remarkable 
transformation.  John supposed all she needed was a proper orgasm to help work 
out the tension in her life.  "You can thank me properly, later."  He dabbed at his 
lover's neck and face.
	Slowly, the all too familiar serious expression crept back into her 
features.  "John, I."
	"I know," he interrupted.  "But we can talk about all that later.  Besides 
you've got that meeting to attend to and I have another adorable redhead to take 
out to dinner.  I think she'll like Allesio's as well."
	Samantha smirked at him.  "Trying to take the lead already, Mr. 
Arrons?"
	John leaned in for a brief kiss.  "Wouldn't dream of it, just pointing out 
what we both know needs to be done," he replied as he opened a window to air 
out the room.  "Do you have anything fresh to change into back at your office?"
	"Of course," Samantha replied.  "My position does have its perks.  
Could I have some water?"  John handed her a bottle from the unplugged mini-
fridge and sat beside her on the desk.  "Having to try to keep quiet during the 
best orgasm of your life can be a bit draining."
	John looked abashed as he massaged a crick in his neck.  "I didn't even 
think about that."
	"Next time, please do," Samantha commented after she took a sip of 
water.  "I nearly bit a hole in my arm trying."  She slumped beside him and 
leaned on his shoulder.  "You really are something else, you know that?" 
	John gestured that they get going.  He escorted Samantha to her office 
and kissed her quickly before he left.  Things were beginning to look up.





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