12 Days Page 9

  “What lives?” I glance over at Nico as he speaks. He’s usually not one to jump the gun, but he can't stand accusations. I can tell when he relaxes the muscles in his face that he realizes she wasn’t speaking of anyone in particular, just people in general.

  Alyssa, unfamiliar with his facial expressions, can only look at him for a second before returning her eyes to the floor in front of her and speaking again. “Think about the people who have...who have these feelings, and they don’t act on them because it would...cause problems for them.”

  Emboldened by her statement, she risks looking up to meet our eyes again.

  “What about them, huh? What about a woman who has a husband and kids, who catches the eye of some guy and...has a little fantasy about him, that would've gone nowhere, but now...she takes the fantasy a little too far?”

  She is almost whispering when she finishes.

  Angry and perhaps embarrassed that she barely got that last bit out, she looks at us each in turn. “What about her? Say her husband finds out, or her kids? Your scent is going to ruin her! She won't be able to stop herself, and she could lose everything!”

  This was it. She was guilty. Our little angel, Alyssa, has some secrets to her story.

  It doesn't matter as much to me what those secrets are than the fact that she has them.

  Everyone has secrets, and yet, we all think that we are the only ones. We all think that it would be the end of the world if anyone else were to find out about them.

  I can help her with this. But for now, I have a job to do.

  “Then she should thank us.”

  Alyssa is beside herself, hearing what I just said. “Thank you, Ford? She should thank you? For ruining her life, you think she should thank you?”

  “I will entertain this hypothetical scenario with you, if only to illustrate a point.”

  “Fine. And what is that?”

  “That this is what she truly wanted.” My response gives her pause. “And yes, to answer your questions, she should thank us for helping her realize the kind of life that will truly make her happy, for helping her find her True Love. Alyssa, we need you to understand that the lust enhancer is not mind control. You’ve tried it yourself. Did it make you do anything against your will?”

  Nico smiles slightly, remembering what it did make her do. Tristan is flat out grinning at her. Tate just watches her, giving no outward sign of judgement or feeling on the matter one way or another.

  Alyssa, on the other hand, is quite embarrassed remembering her actions, as is indicated by the deep shade of red blooming on her face. But still, perhaps without even realizing it, she lightly fingers the lapel of her blouse with her hand.

  Her other hand slowly, gently traces the curve of her upper thigh through her skirt. She realizes what she is doing and stops.

  “I can assure you that I have never done anything like that before! What kind of woman do you think I am?”

  And now I know the truth of it. Her guilt doesn't come from wronging somebody in the past; it comes from wanting something that she thinks she shouldn't want.

  It comes from acting on those desires―and enjoying, instead of hating herself for it. It comes from her not feeling like what she did was wrong.

  I don't want to make her too upset that she stops listening. She's at a fragile point right now. I have to bring her back into this conversation comfortably.

  Fortunately, flattery will get you everywhere.

  “What kind of woman do I think you are? A fascinating one, who I am very attracted to, and who I wish would hear me out.” It has the desired effect. She calms visibly.

  “But the question is, what kind of woman do you think that you are? One who can be honest with herself about what she wants, what she desires, what she yearns for? One who can begin to see that she doesn't need to be chained down with taboo, and what society considers normal? One who is happy?”

  She is looking at me, and I feel her gaze pass right through me, down to the depths of my soul.

  Maybe it was that I was flirting too close to honesty with her or challenging her the way that I was once challenged. Either way, I'm not used to this. Usually, I’m the one who gives this stare to others.

  She holds me motionless with her eyes, and I wonder if she knows I can't look away from her. It feels scary, but...good. I want her to see me, to truly see the real me.

  As if it was just a tease, she looks down again, saddened by a thought. “Yeah, but who knows if I would have done anything at all without the perfume?”

  It breaks my heart to see her upset. “But, that’s just it. It's not the perfume that made you do it. Sure, it may have helped to bring some of those feelings to surface, but make no mistake; those feelings are yours.”

  “I don't think you understand. Just because someone has these feelings doesn't mean it's okay to act on them. If they are buried beneath the surface, it’s for a good reason. If the person isn’t letting them out, it's because they shouldn't be let out.”

  “You don’t have the right to make someone think it’s okay to act out however they feel, that there are no consequences to their actions, or that the consequences are not important,” she continues. “That's just not the world that we live in!”

  “Alyssa, do you regret what you’ve done?”

  My heart races, waiting for her answer. I didn't realize how much I wanted her to say no to that question before I asked it.

  She looks at each of us again, eyes finally settling on me. I try hard not to let it show how much her stare is affecting me.

  “No,” she finally says, and it's all I can do not to audibly let out a sigh of relief.

  I watch her watching us, and I can see it there, in her eyes, with each breathy heave of her beautiful chest, just beneath the surface.

  That desire.

  That raw passion.

  She wants to take each of us in this room, right now, given the opportunity. But left to her own devices, she will never act on it. She will never give in to her passions.

  The fear of judgement will hold her back.

  I can't leave her like this. I won't. I...feel too much for her now.

  When this started, she was somewhat of an objective, but now she has become so much more to me. She is my prey and my huntress all in one. I want her, and I want her to want me.

  I need her to.

  Looking at her, I can tell that she feels it, too. I know that it’s in there, but I have to find a way to help her let it out.

  Chapter 15

  Alyssa

  I close my eyes, then inhale deeply let my breath out slowly.

  I’m doing all I can to switch to a rational approach. From experience, I know that no matter how far the distance seems, I often see good results arise from finding common ground.

  “I know sex sells,” I explain to Ford, speaking with a blunt tone to convey that I understand their approach better than they appreciate, and it’s time to cut through the affectations and posturing so we can have a real conversation. “That’s nothing new in marketing.”

  Ford directs a look at me, his face so supremely secure that everything in the smallish room he’s taken me into seems to fade except for his effortlessly arresting expression.

  “It’s nothing new in life,” he tells me.

  I agree with him there. It’s so obvious that I don’t bother replying. I guess Ford’s meeting me on the common ground.

  It’s not like we’re on opposing sides of a profound moral rift. I just don’t know why they still want to push through with this True Love marketing gig.

  “Is marketing all there is in life? Are products all that matter?”

  “Of course not.” I’m flabbergasted by the speed and vigor of Ford’s response. He means it, which suggests to me that there’s a kind of philosophical conviction behind all of this. I wish I knew what it was.

  “Nico,” I find myself saying, drawn to bringing him into the conversation, “What else is there for a high-powered executiv
e? Profit, right? Just profit all the way down.”

  Realizing how absorbed I am in talking, to the point that I’m just standing and urgently rattling off my arguments, I take a spot on the thundercloud gray divan sectional pushed up against the corner of the room.

  Tristan’s already perched on the seat around the corner from me. We’re all shifting positions, literally, in the room. He turns his head to me to offer a kind look.

  “I’m happy to see you, Alyssa. It was getting lonely.”

  I sense Tate’s temperature, his competitiveness as he treads snappily to the divan and sits himself on the spot closest to me. I must say, I enjoy the tickly feeling of the cushions shifting with the weight of Tate settling into his spot.

  “What can I say,” Tate starts sardonically with a shrug, “I was getting lonely, too.”

  “Hey, everyone,” I call out, snapping all four men into instant attention, “what’s the deal with True Love?”

  “You mean the product or the intangible concept?” asks Tate, and I’m about to respond, Either one, if it’ll answer my question, when Ford starts piping in with his own answer, staring straight at me from across the room.

  “That falls in line with what you were asking,” he asserts with gravity, taking a few deliberate steps in the direction of the divan as he speaks. “The one about what more there is to life. Life, that’s the heart of it.”

  I don’t even try to stop myself from rolling my eyes, hoping that Ford notices.

  “Are you saying that life is the answer? Even for a shallow marketing campaign, that’s some super shaky ground you’re on there.”

  “Ha!” Tristan liked that. He turns to me, showing a delighted grin.

  “That is what I’m saying, Alyssa,” Ford continues, letting everything I’ve thrown at him just breeze right by. “It’s not infinite. Life, I mean. I’m talking about maximizing the limited time we do have here.”

  I shake my head. It’s sounding like more ad agency pitch room mumbo-jumbo.

  Ford’s doing a great job acting earnest about this, though―if he is acting. My eyes float over to Nico, since he is who I asked about it originally. He locks eyes with me readily, standing a few feet from Tate, like they’re doing some sort of tag-team debate, trying to support each other.

  I halt myself from laughing at the thought. I also fight a smile from starting, which is easy until Tate turns to me with his own smirk, obviously having a similar thought.

  “I don’t disagree,” Nico adds, unfazed by Tate’s silent derision. “I believe in appreciating life, not wasting it. I do my best to fill my life with what I think is important, and what I enjoy.”

  “So, you’re in it for yourself,” I shoot back before bothering to consider a response. I feel Tate and Tristan’s boredom exuding from their part of the divan.

  “Don’t engage with them, Alyssa,” Tristan says with a trace of humorous growl.

  “Just because I enjoy it, doesn’t mean it’s just for me. The most enjoyable things in life are best when shared.”

  I feel the delicate tickle of the cushions changing position again as Tate throws his hand up above his head. His shoulder comes awfully close to sweeping lightly against mine as he leans to one side, keeping his hand raised steadily in the air.

  “Ooh, ooh, professors, will this be on our final exams?”

  Tate’s shoulder does make very mild, fleeting contact with me as he leans back into the cushion behind him, laughing heartily at this own joke. I can’t help but turn to look at him for a moment, and he automatically looks back at me, a contented smile still plastered on his striking face.

  I’m far more charmed by his smile and his ability to leave himself in stitches than I am by his joke. As his eyes stay on me, presenting both tenderness and hunger, I realize he may have done that intentionally.

  “Are you taking notes, Alyssa?” Tristan swivels over to me at the offering his own joke. He finds me sitting with my hands folded in my lap. “Ah, I see you’re smart enough to not bother. Brains and ravishing beauty; color me continuously impressed.”

  “‘The most enjoyable things in life are best when shared’,” I repeat back to Nico, “that sounds like a slogan to me. Cynical, one could say.”

  “I can’t speak for Nico,” Ford asserts, still entrenched in the conversation and firmly focused on me. “But I’m in agreement with him, and I don’t have an ounce of cynicism about it.”

  I study Ford’s eyes, brimming with sincerity. I should put my own cynicism aside, because there’s no chance that he’s anything less than completely serious about this.

  “Same,” quietly utters Nico, with the beginnings of a smile playing around the corners of his lips. It’s clear as day that he feels just as strongly about the idea as Ford does―but what is the idea, exactly?

  “The most enjoyable things in life...break that down for me, if you would,” I command.

  This time both Tristan and Tate swing around to gaze, impressed, at my poise.

  “Damn, Alyssa, you’ve got me interested now,” Tate says enthusiastically.

  “As Nico would say: same,” inserts Tristan, looking outright enchanted―and distracting me a bit.

  I feel like the dialog needs to come to its natural conclusion, so I proceed without waiting for Nico or Ford to respond.

  “Look...I know what you mean, obviously. But isn’t that natural?” I feel the rationality escaping me―I’m surprised it took so long. “It’s not the place of any product to mess with nature, not the way this does.”

  My hands are getting shaky as I watch our common ground disappear. I can’t help but let the discussion become personal.

  “I’m pretty sure we all agree with that, Alyssa.” Ford’s still broadcasting his earnest face. I look away, since I can’t deny his sincerity when I see it.

  “How could I believe that?”

  “I think you have it backwards,” Tristan says with a brief sigh, allowing himself to join the serious part of the conversation. “We’re not bringing people away from nature.”

  He ends his little explanation there.

  “Oh? Let me guess―you’re bringing them closer? Don’t you think you need to take how they feel into consideration?”

  “How do you feel?” Ford’s fixed serious is softening, but his voice is deeply genuine.

  On top of everything, I don’t know how to answer that question...I think.

  “I guess I’ll say it again: I don’t regret it.”

  Tristan, Ford, Nico, Tate―their eyes are all on me, and yet I don’t feel intimidated. Like the truthfulness and openness in Ford’s expression, I cannot deny the clear warmth and affection for me in the room.

  There’s more than just those vague feelings, though. There’s a message there. I turn my head to look square at Tate before turning to Ford.

  I thought I wanted to be sure of the message, but then I realize that I am sure of it:

  These men care for me. They care about me. Every one of them.

  That’s what I’m feeling, powerfully, in this moment. I don’t think that feeling will fade, either. In fact, I know it won’t.

  Because I speak the truth: I don’t regret it.

  “Not even a little,” I add.

  I’m glad I did, because I remember, again, how much I’ve been enjoying getting to know myself, to embrace something substantial that I’ve always had inside.

  Ford and I exchange another look. He doesn’t say anything, but his dawning look of happiness―of elation, even―seems to be for me.

  Chapter 16

  Finn

  "Finn!"

  I turn to see who called me. Ron, one of the day guards, is signaling me to come over.

  I like Ron. He’s been with the company for…about 15 years? Is it two kids now? No, no, that's right; it was Shannon had her third, little Randy, a few months ago.

  In my opinion, it's the personal touch―like knowing things about each other’s lives―that really makes the difference in a workplace
today. Well, it always has been, but so many other places have lost that these days.

  Walking over to Ron, I recognize the back of the head that is facing him. “Alyssa! Hello, how are you today?”

  She turns toward me, and I give her a great big hug.

  A greeting is always nicer when paired with a hug. Unless it makes the other party uncomfortable, of course. We strive for comfort here.

  Of course, I don't think I have to worry too much about that with the voluptuous Alyssa. Burying your cock to the hilt, down the throat of a woman, and watching your warm cum drip down her face tends to put people on a more familiar level.

  It really is just lovely to see her again. I can feel my cock begin to stiffen, and I know that I should let go. Still, I hold the hug for an extra few seconds.

  “What brings you by today? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you again, though.” I flash her my award-winning smile. She smiles back, and all I can think of is her lips on my cock again.

  “I’m honestly starting to feel like this is my home away from home. I’ve been here every day for the past five days.”

  “That's great! We love when people feel comfortable.” In fact, it’s making me feel comfortable, being next to her right now.

  My cock has been twitching from the instant that I realized it was her, and I know she could feel me poking her when I hugged her.

  I wonder if she wants another hug? Maybe later.

  “Anyway, I have some more questions that I’m curious about...” Alyssa starts.

  “That's great! I love an inquisitive mind. You know, you can’t really fake that. People are either genuinely concerned with what is going on, or they’re not. No half-assing it.”

  This is the first time that Alyssa and I have had the chance to speak one-on-one so far. I mean, there may have been some exchanges in the group, but not like this.

  It truly is a pleasure to interact with her, to look into her eyes, to breathe in her scent.

  But I can tell that my unusual demeanor is throwing her off a bit. I’ve been told before that people often don't know how to take me in.

  So I usually let them get used to me slowly and then stop when they've had enough. The kind of principle also applies when I’m in bed.