It was just one... (Bevatoria and skittish_butterfly)

[Bevatoria]

The sun was shining in through the lab windows, giving a bit of a gleam to what always felt like a cramped room. The feel wasn't due to a lack of space, as the University had funded their department extremely well over ht past several years. Neither were there too many people; aside from himself, there were only three other people in the room, diligently working on their research, or assignments...or just zoning out, as far as he knew. Right now, his only focus was on the work in front of him, gingerly dropping one chemical into the bowl in front of him. The heat of the day, or of the lab coat draped over his shoulders, the goggles that protected his eyes even if they never failed to fog up at critical times.

A second later, the eyedropper he was holding plinked one drop onto the bowl, and the hiss and smoke told him the reaction was starting. Sighing, Grant Taylor wiped his brow, slipping his goggles off to wipe them off as he backed away to let the chemicals mix. He was almost done his 'work' for the day, which would let him catch up on his research. If he wanted to.

He didn't at the moment, though. Not because he didn't have a lot to do, but simply because he had something more critical to do elsewhere - which, ironically enough, would help advance his research if it worked. But he had no interest in publicizing what he was attempting, because it wasn't about advancing himself.

Not this time. Not concerning her.

It wasn't entirely Elizabeth Jenkins' fault, were he to be honest. Her father was a legend here, well known for his breakthroughs in medical science and biological research, among other things. But to him, it seemed like many of things people had admired about her father had not been passed on to his talented daughter.

And she was talented. But something about her nagged at him, even as she worked under him in this lab, and in a couple of his classes as well. But their peace was an uneasy one; as much as Grant hated to admit it, he probably needed her more then she needed him. Elizabeth was a talented researcher and hard worker, and was a good student who always showed up, always did the work. That was a trait rarer then many would think at this stage of education, and he admired it, and could tell she cared about her work in class, and in the lab.

But she drove him crazy.

Letting his experiment settle for the moment, he walked over to her. "Elizabeth? How's it coming?" Grant had to take a moment to check in, make sure she was okay before he left to check in on his other project.

The one that would change everything between them, if it worked.

"Coming to the party tonight?" He smiled. "I'm ready to announce something, and I know it's not your thing, but it'd mean a lot to me if you were there..."

 

[skittish_butterfly]

As far as Elizabeth was concerned, the lab was empty. She was in that place in her head where nothing mattered but her work. Keeping the complex interactions and molecular chains straight while also juggling different combinations and binding temperatures to find exactly the right mix took everything she had -- which was a lot -- with no leftover neurons for things like social niceties or paying attention to the science fair level projects the others in the lab were probably screwing up.

To Elizabeth, the others were gone. Just her alone, perched here on the cusp of greatness, so close to the perfect behavioral feedback loop, she could feel the medal around her neck already. The positive loop was already working. She'd tested the compound quietly in a foreign primate lab paying with her own graduation money to keep it secret and private. She wanted to wait to announce anything until she had the negative loop working too, until it was totally ready and totally safe and her place in the pantheon beside her father would be secure, all before her 21st birthday if all went well over the next year.

Of course the positive loop would be called something trivial, like the "Good Habit Cure" in the media, but even that alone without the accompanying negative loop for "Bad Habits" and even with its rough edges still unpolished would shake the world if she bothered to announce it right now. Imagine the educational benefits. Imagine people taking a pill to make them enjoy eating healthy food, or exercising. All she needed was the trickier negative side to balance the loop from growing out of control over time, and, well, there were more problems too, like applying more than one feedback loop at once without them interfering and amplifying each other, and... but Elizabeth was so close!

And she wasn't even a grad student yet, technically still just a Junior, and a young one at that. But her dad didn't get the Jenkins Annex and the Jenkins Prize and the Jenkins Institute for Advanced Biological Research named after him by sitting around waiting until the dullards around him finally gave him permission to soar above them intellectually. He just did it, and Elizabeth was a Jenkins too, couldn't help spreading her wings to fly and look down on the pettiness and triviality beneath her. Plus, she hadn't gone soft like her dad.

Just another 10 milliliters and she might...

The buzz behind her was too annoying and too close. It pulled her head away from the equipment and out of the realm of ideas. Elizabeth pushed her glasses up her pert nose, blinked her brown eyes at him with school-marm level annoyance and then, quite by accident as she was so distracted, knocked her unclosed water bottle onto yesterday's half-eaten sandwich beside her as she rounded on him.

He was smiling. He smiled too much, as if he somehow thought it would get him a pat on the head from her, or like he thought it would excuse his constant interruptions. She looked down at his fancy loafers, clearly over the tape line she'd laid down 5 feet back from her workstation the previous week. "Grant, how many times have I warned you about contaminating my station with your DNA. Do you have any idea what could... no, you don't obviously. I've got my own carefully filtered out, but it would take weeks to fix if you were to so much as sneeze right now. So stay back."

Elizabeth watched for some sign he understood, some sign he wasn't just nervously checking to make sure she was keeping her normal research on pace -- she finished it a month ago and parceled it out to him in little bits now and then to keep him off her back, so he wouldn't know what she was really doing. He wouldn't have a clue if he knew, few would at first.

Grant showed no sign of comprehension, just smiling some more, which made her frown and tighten the hair band in her pony tail again, making sure she wouldn't lose any hairs in her equipment herself. Her DNA would be fine, but the proteins would be a mess. Probably best to wear a hair net, but her long dark shock of hair, pulled back so tight, was her once big source of vanity, the famous Jenkins' mane, like her mother's had been back when she was briefly even more famous than her dad. No, hiding her hair wasn't an option. Any more than common sense was an option for Grant, who just stood there and kept talking, the breath of his every word jeopardizing her work.

"Fine, fine all right! I'll come to your party, I promise, if you'll promise to go away so I can finish my work without you contaminating it anymore. I won't stay more than half an hour tops, and I can only come at 830 so don't give me any crap about being late or whatever. I don't have time for it." She pulled up her jeans over her hips as they had slipped just a bit. Maybe she could get her dad to buy her some new pairs for her next birthday.

With Grant finally dealt with, Elizabeth turned back to work, stopping to take a bite of the soggy day old sandwich. Disgusting, but she didn't have time to get dinner if she was going to have to waste time at his party too. She had no plans to stay long enough for his big announcement, certain it would be pointless and trivial, another one of his minor disasters spun out as tedious victory, like curing appendicitis in tape worms. She took another bite of the soggy sandwich, flipped her pony tail back out of the way over her shoulder and got back to the important work, shaking the world.

 

[Bevatoria]

"Really?" It's not that he was surprised she didn't have time for it (or at least said she didn't), but Grant was playing his part of the pushy boss, just as she was playing her role of the overworked and impatient student. "Your work will be fine, Elizabeth, but I can promise this will be a night you'll never forget."

Okay, maybe that was a bit far, and he didn't want to tip her off about anything. "Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it." She was already locked back into her work, and even without her looking at him Grant knew she wanted him to back off, so he did. Sometimes, she seemed to forget that he was her supervisor in this setting, even if he couldn't 'fire' her, and that grading based on how much he liked her 'bedside manner' was unethical, at best. He let out a huff as he walked away, wishing she wouldn't look at him as if he didn't know what he was doing. Of course he wouldn't contaminate her work. Personal dislike had nothing to do with his grudging respect for her as a scientist, and her academic record in general.

Forty five minutes later, he was done, his results filed away, materials set aside for decontamination (thank god for first year students, he idly thought to himself), his chemicals sealed and equipment to be tested and stored. His rubber gloves discarded, he made his way home. In his jacket, a small plastic bag was hidden, containing something that he wasn't supposed to have.

Taking work home from the labs wasn't frowned upon persay, simply impossible because most homes did not have the type of equipment, facilities, or assistance that the University had bought and paid for. What Grant had there was from work, and technically work related, but only in that it would affect how he worked.

And a certain someone he was working with.

********************

For many of the things Grant couldn't do in the house (or so his last girlfriend had claimed), one of the things he could do was throw a party. He'd cleaned his house thoroughly the day before, the entire place tastefully decorated with subtle lighting, finger food and snacks carefully laid throughout for all to munch on. He'd made a habit of hosting an occasional get together, for academic and non-academic reasons, and tonight promised to be a little of both, if everything went to plan. There was an announcement, of course, one just big enough to justify everyone being here, but subtle enough to hold it at home.

Still, others would be bringing drinks and wine. Graduate students weren't millionaires, after all, although in Grant's case he was certain it was just not yet.

Grant had already set the timer on the oven, but still he kept sniffing the air. He'd made cookies before, but these ones were special. Ones that would be consumed by many, even if they were only intended for one person specifically. Everyone loved chocolate chip cookies, right?

Even ones laced with bio additives tuned to a certain person's DNA. While mixing the batter, Grant was literally cooking with ingredients he'd never tasted before, and could finally understand that expression as he watched the cookies rise. He was a smart man, a proud man, but even he would be the first to admit he had no idea if this was going to work. It wasn't as if he could ask a colleague to help him field test it.

The only tests he would do would be unwilling ones. The 'ding' of the oven sounded, and he pulled them out. They'd need a little time to cool, but cookies were always better warm anyways...

Just as he'd put them on a plate, in a corner to be brought out when the time was right, the doorbell rang, and he hurried over it, ready to play the host as he opened the door.

"Ramona, Sheldon....welcome." Two of his colleagues, and he could already see a few more people on the steps. Soon, laughter and conversation boiled through the house, and even as he mingled between groups, he kept his eyes open for one person in particular...

 

[skittish_butterfly]

The party was already forgotten by the time Elizabeth realized the batch she was working on was already ruined by the little delay waiting for Grant to leave her alone. She fumed for a moment and thought about calling her dad to ask again if she could have him fired, but decided the time she would waste on the call wasn't worth the likely result -- once again her dad would quote University policy and equal employment blah blah blah, and meanwhile important work would remain undone!

She shook her head and tossed her materials in the incinerator. It took two hours to get back to the step where he'd interrupted her, and by that time the lab was thankfully silent. Intense concentration drove her for two more hours until she found a mismatch in two adjacent strands of the substrate's genetic material.

Her stomach hurt. Not the usual ache of another wasted run. No, despite the failure, she was upbeat, because she knew how to fix it. All she needed was another 4 hours for one more run. Diagnosing her discomfort Elizabeth realized she was hungry. It was dark outside already and she pushed her glasses back up her nose to focus at the clock on the far wall. 8:30pm already. She could afford five minute for a bite and then if she worked straight through...

Her hand came up empty reaching for the remains of the soggy sandwich. Oh right, finished hours ago. Since she wasn't a guinea pig or a virus there was nothing in the lab for her to eat. The trip back to her room would cost another 10 minutes both ways, but it couldn't be helped.

Elizabeth walked briskly to the building and took the stairs two at a time, so she wouldn't have to endure to many of those "Professor Ragamuffin" and "Grumpy Geeklet" taunts from the boys on the second floor. Neanderthals had died out, eventually, and so would these stupid boys. She slammed the door in her room, only slightly winded, and went straight to the fridge. The sight of it made her frown. Empty. She'd forgotten to shop and there was only a week old half eaten yogurt that smelled funny and a jar of fruit fly larvae she had ordered in bulk for the next week.

Frustrated that a trip to the grocery store now would cost almost an hour and probably end her hopes to reach another milestone this night, she flopped on the couch with the yogurt and tried a small bite before tossing it in the garbage. She did need to eat something, and started scrounging for change for the vending machine when she suddenly remembered the cause of all her troubles: Grant and his stupid party!

If he hadn't interrupted, she would have finished already, most likely. But her problem-solving instincts kicked in: the stupid party! There was always food at parties. Maybe not healthy or nutritious, but it would be enough to get her back to the lab in 45 minutes, so long as she could extract herself from any tedious conversations and avoid any alcohol-spiked drinks anyone tried to trick her into drinking. Why did boys think that was so funny? After that first time, she'd never been fooled by that trick again, but they still kept trying it, which was yet another reason she tried to avoid parties.

She got up and checked herself in the mirror. The scruffy jeans and early-fall overcoat with patterned sweater she'd pulled from the drawer that morning would be warm enough for the fall evening walk. She looked at her hair though. It was in her usual pony-tail. That was how she'd worn it when Herb had met her and asked her out. Matthew too. Not good. She didn't have time tonight to fend off losers, so she undid the pony tail, put on a wool cap and pulled most of her famous Jenkins mane up into the cap, leaving just a few stragglers hanging loose from under the cap. Perfect.

The party wasn't far, but she was starving by the time she arrived. Grant was right there when she walked in, almost like he was waiting for her, which nearly made her lose her appetite without even having to eat. She tried to avoid him, turning in fake conversation to a boy near the door who annoyingly tried to actually talk to her. And it didn't help. There was Grant, right at her shoulder. "Hello Grant. Uhm. Nice party." The basic niceties. "Is there anything to eat?"

 

[Bevatoria]

Of course, it was well into the evening by the time Elizabeth arrived. And Grant's thought had slowly turned away from her, from his twisted and devious plans for the evening as he lost himself in conversation and laughter, going from group to group, person to person, making sure everyone was enjoying themselves even if he didn't need to. The snacks were disappearing quickly, and he'd almost inadvertently put his cookies out before his 'special guest' arrived. People wouldn't stay if there were empty plates, or unfilled glasses, even if they were having a good time.

And then he spotted her. He wasn't sure how long Elizabeth had been there, and he would be the first to admit he couldn't read her very well. She was inscrutable. It was part of her aura, why she was so hard to get along with for some. Hard to know what she was thinking. At that particular moment, not impossible, given the look on her face as she tolerated the conversation from the guy next to her.

Or maybe it was Grant, now over her shoulder, that caused her consternation. Either way, something was bothering her. "Thanks." He replied through whatever din the people around them were causing; as rude as she'd been to him at times, Elizabeth probably was trying to be nice, and he wouldn't refuse the gesture. She was right, even if she didn't know it. This was a nice party, and everyone was enjoying themselves.

As for something to eat, though....

"Just finger food, I'm afraid." Grant couldn't hide the half smirk that came to him, the self deprecation that seemed to drive her nuts. "I'd need a new job and a bigger grant to afford more then that." Poking fun at himself, trying to lighten the tension that she refused to let go when they interacted. He knew why, of course. It wasn't just the typical teaching assistant/student relationship, between a graduate student and those under his care in his class.

Grant had asked her out some time ago, and Elizabeth had turned him down. They'd been adults about it, and as much as she seemed to insist that there was no tension lingering from it, it seemed as if she held *something* inside of her whenever they spoke, the way she talked down to him - even in how he tolerated it. It wasn't just because of who her father was. It was a if a part of him knew he'd get a chance to even the score, if he was patient.

"Look around, take a look at what's out, although I should warn you..." Grant lowered his voice, as if he was about to tell a dark, dirty secret. "...I *was* about to put some fresh cookies out, and I think you'd like them." He turned to her. "If you follow me, you could be the first to try one from my special batch."

To be tried by everyone, both to dispel suspicion and to test his work. Even if they were only for her.

 

[skittish_butterfly]

Just finger food. Ugh. Elizabeth hated that stupid crooked smile Grant got at times like this, like he thought he knew something she didn't, and she had to just look away. Grant was talking about not being able to afford more and Elizabeth believed him as she scanned the already pillaged trays, just a few crumbled potato chips and unidentifiable lumps of biscuit or something. She shuddered and turned back to him, realizing it was a complete waste of her time to even have come, not even food here to justify the visit.

Elizabeth's attention wandered to the door, trying to figure out that complicated equation in her head that would tell her when was the earliest socially acceptable moment for bailing out on him was. In theory it should be simple, but the complications came from the fact he was her boss, that it was his party and she had just arrived, by the fact that people were around and he might be embarrassed and unintentionally vindictive as a result. And most of all because she suspected that even though she'd gotten him to take back his request for a date that time and agree to just be friends -- not that she really wanted to be friends but it was the technique she'd learned for fending off men -- he still felt something about her. It was awkward and annoying most of the time, like little lingering glances that really made no sense especially since she never dressed in a way that would risk inviting that kind of attention from men.

So she stood in awkward silence, not knowing much about sports or caring about movies or celebrities, small talk eluding her. Grant went back to the subject of the food, which was at least better than the heavy silence for however long the equation dictated she had to stay. Then he got that little look again, and she almost turned and walked away right then. He couldn't possibly know things she didn't that would justify that little twinkle and the smirk.

But he mentioned cookies. A fresh batch. Ancient memory of her mom pulling out a fresh batch of cookies, her face almost a blur now in the memory. The thought made her wistful, sad but with a touch of longing. It was her mom trying, trying to be a mom at least while she still could. The cookies had been awful and the famous mom and the little girl had laughed about how such a smart scientist had trouble cooking from a recipe.

Cookies. After a moment to clear her thoughts and finding she couldn't quite, Elizabeth nodded. "Fine. A fresh cookie. That sounds... delicious." Probably horrible. At least the party wouldn't be a complete waste of time, and then she could leave.

She thought of the look in his eyes as she followed him through the buzzing, chattering crowd. Did he have a recipe for jalapeno cookies? Or joke cookies that explode when you bite them? Something was up, and the strategic part of her brain told her the easy solution. Offer him a cookie first, let him take a first bite. That would do it. It wasn't like he could make one special joke cookie for her and guess which one she'd accept. And if she was right, the look on his face would be priceless. Now that might even make her forget her hunger.

 

[Bevatoria]

"Fine. A fresh cookie. That sounds... delicious."

Admittedly not the response Grant had expected after seeing the brief look that passed over her face, one that lingered long enough that he'd almost wondered if she'd passed out. On the spot. Which was supposed to be impossible. But something had struck her about what he'd said, or something she'd seen. A small moment, one that Grant knew he couldn't focus on, she'd said yes to him, and so he led them through the maze of people. Slowly, with intent, and deliberate, trying to not make it obvious that this moment had been intricately planned out.

Probably humoring him, he knew. It was a skill she had, and one Grant almost admired had she not irked him so. Elizabeth had an ability that, no matter who you were, or whether you wanted something from her, or her from you, that she was just indulging you until she found something better. Something you could only do if you were as bright, as smart, or as talented as she was. Especially if you were all three. And Grant would admit that to anyone, and even had to her on occasion, even if it did little to win her good graces.

Soon, it wouldn't be necessary.

It was the kitchen that revealed the first misplaced brick in the foundation that was to be his plan, the undoing of Elizabeth in front of him. The cookies, pulled out from the corner they'd been not so cleverly hidden in, under tinfoil to cool them, to hide the smell, to keep them from prying eyes and prying fingers. The plate was disturbed, but not to an extreme; what had been a distorted pile of cookies before was still distorted, and still mostly intact.

To Grant's eyes, there was one lost sheep from his flock. A quick peek showed the culprit; a half eaten 'lamb' in the prying fingers of Yasmin Tolar, a tall Israeli woman who was a low level professor in their department. A lover of sweets.

And, from the looks of it, a little tipsy.

"Whereya been hiding these, Grant?" She motioned to the plate with an exaggerated gesture, and Grant moved carefully towards her, both to steady her and to keep her from knocking the plate over. "They're AWESOME!" She waved her arm towards Elizabeth with her half eaten tidbit. "Yougottatryone!"

As if insulted by any refusal of already taken cookie, she grabbed at the plate, but Grant was quicker as he gently removed her arm, steadying the plate with practice. "Easy now...I think she'd prefer a fresh one." A comfortable smile seemed to show her out, but not before Yasmin placed a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder with a smile.

"They're GREAT."

Grant cleared his throat, shrugging. "I don't think they're THAT good, but..." He looked around, as if nervous (which he almost was). "...I'd appreciate an assessment from someone who is going to actually remember where they were tomorrow morning." Cutting sarcasm, aimed at someone else, as he took a step towards her, the plate outstretched.

In position to brush by her as she took her first bite, to let him make the first move, to determine if these cookies had indeed been made to Elizabeth's DNA, to let him 'suggest' something to her...

 

[skittish_butterfly]

All the way across the crowded living room, past a couple having a heated disagreement in a hallway, back to Grant's kitchen itself. He couldn't have just brought out the plate for her to try one out in the other room, where she could quickly escape back to the lab and its vending machine? He really must have meant it, about the "fresh" part.

And his bringing her back to the kitchen, where anything silly his cookies might do wouldn't be seen by the others at the party, lowered Elizabeth's guard ever so slightly. If he was still upset with her about not going out with him, or wanted to take her down a notch in the eyes of the rest of the department out of simple jealousy, he would want to do it in front of everyone.

Then there was the fact too that it looked like that Israeli woman, Yolanda or Ya-something, something starting with a Y, had already tried them. She was drunk, but she seemed sensible enough to know if her mouth was on fire or a cookie went poof in her face or something. The woman just stumbled past as Grant took the plate away protectively and mumbled something in her strong accent through a full mouth of cookies, sounded like "air grade" or "tear freight" but her face seemed to show they were actually good.

Elizabeth looked down at the plate as Grant offered it to her. They did look good. Smelled better than her mom's had too. Better than anything in the vending machine for sure. "Thanks Grant." She looked at his eyes as she let her fingers hover over one, watching for any sign it mattered to him which one she took, any slight shift of the plate trying to guide her choice. Nothing. And she was hungry. And they smelled great, even better actually the more she thought about it.

She picked up one from the far edge of the plate near him, the one he would have least expected her to pick -- which of course would be the very one he'd expect a smart girl who didn't trust him to pick. She set it down and picked one right in the middle, the one an idiot would pick.

He didn't seem to care at all, and she decided not to waste the time trying to get him to try one and watching to make sure it didn't affect him. After all, the drunk Israeli already ate one and even liked it. Probably cured hangovers.

Elizabeth nodded as she brought the cookie to her mouth. It smelled even better. Just a small nibble for a first bite, in case she somehow stumbled on a bad one despite her precautions. As it crunched in her teeth, just a little from the edge, the aroma of the nuts and the sweetness and the chocolate, something hard to pin down, went straight into her nose. This was like a gourmet cookie.

She chewed that little bit, her tongue absolutely delighted with the taste, no jalapeno or popping sensations. Just a jolt of pure flavor. Elizabeth could feel how wide her eyes went in surprise as she looked at Grant, the idea that he made such a delicious cookie still baffling her. But she took another bite right away, her body's hunger and something about the cookie telling her to eat the whole thing. Now. Elizabeth was scarcely aware of her surroundings, her senses narrowed down to the flavors swirling around on her tongue, the warmth spreading through her hungry body as if the cookie was the best thing she could possibly have eaten. She closed her eyes briefly while chewing the second bite, the moist little explosions of chocolate or crackles of nut making her actually smile like she was in some TV advertisement.

At least she thought it was the second bite. But when she opened her eyes and looked at Grant, she realized the cookie was gone and she was licking her finger. She felt a little foolish. "Uh, that was really good, Grant, thank you." She thought about reaching for another cookie or two to take back to the lab with her, eager to get started on her next big round of tests, but wanting another cookie too.

 

[Bevatoria]

The moment seemed to linger; Grant holding the plate, and Elizabeth measuring both him and the treats. She took one of the cookies from the plate, seemingly faking him out before grabbing one in the middle, if he were any expert at reading physical cues. She was suspicious, still, a trait Grant had to admire. It didn't matter, really, unless she didn't take one from the batch he'd made - and then, if she did, Grant wouldn't care, as long as she tried one from this group eventually.

He watched her sniff it involuntarily; her body's reaction to the appealing scent of the treat before she took a small bite. Without a mind reading device, it would be hard to tell exactly how she was reacting, but judging by her facial tics, the way she was savoring the first bite, it seemed as if she was really enjoying it. The proof would be in the pudding, he knew, and that would be coming shortly.

Then, her eyes widened, and she looked at Grant. But not at him. Through him, as if something inexplicable was happening and she didn't know how to react to it, as if he would explain it. He took a step to the side, in a better position to whisper to her as she took a larger bite, clearly consumed by nothing other then to eat the cookie. Consciously, anyways. Subconsciously, she was very open to suggestion, and this was a very critical moment; were anyone to come in to interrupt him, or say something else, the entire moment would be lost. He had to do something very important; tell her what he wanted.

If the command worked as well as the bio additives and the chemicals specifically targeted to Elizabeth's DNA did, it would be a pretty big deal. The other two other things his cookies did were to increase a certain person's (In this case, Elizabeth's) desire to orgasm. A simple reprogramming of endorphins and the pleasure centers of the female body. The easy part, relatively speaking.

The last portion was to leave a lingering desire for more cookies. Each of which would increase her desire for stimulation, leaving her more receptive to Grant's suggestions and commands, and reinforcing the original condition he had just left her with.

Assuming it all worked.

"Uh, that was really good, Grant, thank you." Her voice broke his reverie, and Grant wasn't sure how to react to it. Elizabeth was showing uncommon courtesy, and seemed a little out of sorts. It might've been his imagination, but he saw her eyes lingering on the plate of cookies.

It wouldn't become apparent if his command had 'taken' until later in the evening, he estimated, and while this would likely end poorly for him immediately, the later possibilities were too tantalizing to ignore, and so he spoke quietly, yet decisively.

"Elizabeth." Grant was nothing if not a man of procedure, of deliberate steps. Going from point A to point B gave him comfort, gave him security, and saying her name was a reminder of why he was doing this, even if she was the only other person in the room right now with him. "You will not be able to cum unless I say you can."

He looked at her, awaiting her reaction.

 

[skittish_butterfly]

Elizabeth's love affair with her cookie was finally snapped by the annoying voice of its baker. She blinked rapidly, like she'd zoned out for a bit, taking a moment to get her mind off the flavor of the cookie still on her tongue, the way it made her just feel all warm all over -- the best cookie she had ever had for sure. If Elizabeth were one for petty monetary endeavors, she might have asked him for the recipe right then and there and started a business baking them in bulk and most likely gotten rich. But Elizabeth lived to change the world, not to wallow in its shallowest pursuits.

Grant, she suddenly realized, was staring intently right at her, like he was waiting for some kind of response. To what? Oh, what he'd said. Some question or suggestion. She frowned for a moment, struggling to hook her memory back up, feeling uncharacteristically slow and annoyed about that. Maybe she needed another cookie. Her eyes glanced at the plate, but then back to Grant, waiting for her... answer? She started to remember his words, as if she'd been listening to three conversations at once and had to play the babble back in her head to remember it all and pick out his exact words, but of course that was easy for her.

Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up as his whole statement, his whole crazy sentence came back to her. What had he said to her? It was too ridiculous, she must be remembering it wrong. But she ran it over in her head again and again. He had just told her she could only cum when he said she could. Insane. And crass and crude. So inappropriate, especially having her alone in the kitchen. What kind of girl did he think she was? Forget that, was there some kind of girl that would be ok with the way he'd just spoken to her?

Her eyes widened with puzzlement, looking at him like he must be insane. Finally she just burst out laughing uncomfortably right in his face. "You... ha... you can't be seri..." She trailed off. He wasn't laughing with her at his own typically awful Grant-ism. "You, uh, you're talking to *me* like that? Like I'm one of your porno website babes or whatever garbage it is you fill your head with instead of science? ME!?!?"

It was disgusting. "And you're my... at least technically my... supervisor!" As much as it galled her, officially speaking it was true. To the extent she collected a small stipend for her work in the lab and had to report to Grant, he was Elizabeth's supervisor. "This is just... it's, it's sexual harassment!" Elizabeth had scarcely paid attention to the seminars about it freshman year. She was quite used to regular harassment -- for her scientific interests and temperament -- but never imagined herself actually being sexually harassed. It wasn't she thought she was too ugly for it, just that she knew the way she dressed, the way she carried herself, the people she associated with, it just wasn't the kind of thing that should happen to a girl like her.

Still Elizabeth never really thought of herself as the lawyering-up type. But, calling a spade a spade, she was pretty sure she had Grant by the short hairs now. This was harassment. Disgusting, sexually ridiculous, wildly insulting sexual harassment. Elizabeth slapped him across the cheek just to make sure her opinion on the subject was perfectly clear. Her palm stung more than she expected, so she slapped him the second time with her other hand, a little lighter so it wouldn't sting as much. "Remember the part where I we shouldn't risk a possible friendship by dating? Well you can forget that too, buddy." Not that she ever really wanted his friendship to begin with. "And it'll be a cold day in hell, really really cold, before I would EVER have ANYTHING to do with you like... like... that..."

It turned her stomach to think of him imagining such things about her to even bring it up. Frankly, it was none of his or anybody else's business what she did when she was alone and too busy to find time to bother with stupid boys. None of anybody's business, but most definitely none of his, and she made sure her eyes made that clear. She looked at the cookies again, so ready to stomp out for maximum effect, but thinking maybe just one more would be enough to get her through the night's research without having to bother with dinner. No, be strong, show him.

Glaring at him. "You are a miserable human being to speak to me like that, your party is horrible, I wouldn't want to be here within a mile of you after what you just said, but before I go, just one more." She reached for the plate with her fingers, thinking maybe of snagging two by accident. He owed her at least that much.

 

[Bevatoria]

The moment lingered for long enough that Grant had honestly wondered whether he'd slipped a sedative into his dough. Was it possible the combination of powders with the ingredients needed for the actual cookie had managed to combine into something unanticipated? It wouldn't be the first time. But just as his thoughts turned in that direction briefly, he also knew that time would be the real measure of whether he'd succeeded or not. He watched her look at the plate, or at leas the cookies on it, with something resembling longing, before glancing back at him.

And then he saw the anger. Well, I guess she heard me, at least. He thought whimsically. Elizabeth's eyes widened, at first curiously...and then she started laughing. "You... ha... you can't be seri..."

Grant's expression stayed even. Cautious. This was technically a test, and in this case, the subject was both unwitting and unwilling in her participation as Elizabeth continued to rant at him. Justifiably, were he to be completely honest.

"You, uh, you're talking to *me* like that? Like I'm one of your porno website babes or whatever garbage it is you fill your head with instead of science? ME!?!? And you're my... at least technically my... supervisor!"

Supervisor, teacher, spurned male. All true.

"This is just... it's, it's sexual harassment!"

"Inside the workplace." He replied calmly. Grant wasn't actually entirely sure, as he was fairly certain he could shrug it off as something induced by booze, or that she misheard. Her word against his, even if she was the daughter of the man who had all but built his department.

It was at that point she slapped him. He took it, managing to keep the plate steady as she hit him again. The sting enraged him, but he managed to repress the surge of anger that welled up in him. Stay neutral, stay calm, let the cookies do their work...

"Remember the part where I we shouldn't risk a possible friendship by dating? Well you can forget that too, buddy. And it'll be a cold day in hell, really really cold, before I would EVER have ANYTHING to do with you like... like... that..."

At that point, Grant couldn't resist. He had to say something, anything, his pride swelling as Elizabeth continued to respond to what he'd said. More words for her to remember other then whatever came out of her mouth as he replied calmly and stoically to her. "I'll remember you said that." It wasn't entirely calm; the slaps and the insults had made his tone just a little icy. But as much as he wanted to flaunt his control, he wasn't sure it had worked yet.

Plus, it would be much more fun for her to come to that conclusion herself. She glared at him, almost spitting her last words out. "You are a miserable human being to speak to me like that, your party is horrible, I wouldn't want to be here within a mile of you after what you just said, but before I go, just one more." Her greedy hand reached for the plate, and Grant, ever the polite host, might've extended the plate just a little.

"Oh, help yourself." He replied sarcastically. Well, fake sarcastically. A normal person would've apologized, and even Grant would have under most circumstances, even to Elizabeth, for saying what he'd said. But this wasn't normal. He watched her take her requested 'stipend' for enduring the party, and Elizabeth seemingly all but stormed out.

"Try to say warm in bed tonight. It's supposed to be pretty hot this evening." He called after her as she left the room. It wouldn't hurt to try if she happened to be munching on another cookie; it would only increase her eventual need for release.

As far as he was concerned, it would be the last time she'd treat him that way.

******

The tutorial was close to beginning, and Grant was the last to arrive. It was unlike him, but neither was it too unusual, and even with as well as he'd planned things, he was more then a little nervous to see Elizabeth again. It would be an easy session today, with discussions about the application of nanotechnology and it's potential applications for bone reconstruction, but as he walked into the room - right on time - he wasn't entirely sure what filled him with more dread.

If his cookies hadn't worked, she might be filing charges, and he would have wasted a whole lot of effort to get back at her.

And if they had and his command (or *both* of them, if he were lucky) had taken and she now needed to cum at his command, well, that was even more terrifying.

Because he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do next, either way.

 

[skittish_butterfly]

Elizabeth snagged one of the cookies from the plate as he offered it to her, not thanking him because he was sarcastic about it in a way he had no right to be. And of course because he had just sexually harassed her. Fine, maybe it wasn't in the lab, but that was Grant taking a desperate stab in the dark, trying to get out of the consequences of what he'd said. She'd remember he said that too, she was sure of it.

She thought about taking a second one, but didn't want to yield the moral high ground to him over a cookie. One would do. Having snatched the cookie and glared at him with her brows lowered in the most ferocious look a girl her size could muster, she turned on her heel and stomped off.

His parting words she just waved off as she munched with delight on the second cookie, practically walking straight into a couple that was having an argument in front of her. Something about it being hot tonight, being warm. If she were a boy she would have turned and given him the finger. She'd always liked the way they could do that, but if just ridiculous from her, so she took another bite, steadied herself with a hand against the wall like she was drunk -- she'd never been drunk but somehow the noise of the party and the sheer exasperation of dealing with Grant had her feeling very off balance. Hot tonight. Cum only if he said so. What a sad and pathetic man he was. She shook her head, wondering where Grant had gone wrong. He was even kind of good looking in a way, for the girls that had time to fawn and cater and fetch to a guy's whims. Why was he like this?

A few hands helped steady her as she made her was across the party floor still munching on the last of her cookie, totally distracted.

Soon enough she was out in the bracing evening air, a cool fall breeze stirring her hair as it stuck out under the wool cap. Elizabeth headed straight back to the lab, hands deep in her pockets, trying to focus on the evening of lab work ahead of her but spending most of her mental energy trying to shove the stupid incident with Grant out of her mind. Cumming. What was his fixation and fascination with that? A simple biological response, meaningless on its own really. Just a neurological and biochemical trick to fool the body into accepting the invasive activities needed to procreate. Messy and primitive and a waste of time. Not even worth thinking about.

So why had he brought it up?

Elizabeth stopped and did a couple jumping jacks at the glass doors to the building, getting her blood pumping before going in so she could focus and get some quality work done. Enough letting a pervert distract her with his... his crazy talk. Besides, if she wanted to cum, and she didn't, but if she did, then she would. It was natural, hormones built up over time. It happened. Had nothing to do with that baboon at all. Grant. Stupid baboon. She could cum any time she wanted to. If she felt like wasting the time.

She looked at herself in the dark mirroring of the darkened buildings glass doors. It was after hours, no one around. Her cheeks were a little red from the cool air and the jumping jacks probably. Not from thinking about the other stuff.

"Stop it!" She'd said it aloud and she looked around to see if anyone was watching her. "Stop it, Elizabeth," she said again, quieter, looking at her reflection in the glass. "Get your head in the game." Stop worrying about it. If he wanted to obsess about crass stuff, let him. But why did he even care? Especially after she rejected him. He shouldn't. She checked her reflection. Nothing about her to obsess about really, right? Maybe a pretty face, but she always wore her glasses, never makeup. Boys always raved about her mom's long dark hair, her father told her, but she kept hers covered or braided. And she was skinny, but didn't wear all the stupid girl modelly crap, and nothing really so impressive about her chest, really, either. What was there about her that made Grant care so much about her cumming? It wasn't even funny. "No! Stop it. Go up to the lab."

She grabbed the door and forced herself up the stairs to at a time until she was out of breath and huffing and puffing at her workstation, staring a very long night in the face. Not only did was Elizabeth determined to finish her experiment, and then prepare even harder for Grant's tutorial section in the morning, nanotech stuff she already owned cold but wanting to nail down some research papers she'd found on bone regeneration and rejection issues. She was intent on putting his weak intellect and suspect morals in their place.
****************
She was in room 308 with her third coffee of the morning already, watching the few advanced level students file in for the section Grant taught.She was the youngest by two years, and probably still the best. But she was too tired to smile about it. She never drank coffee, but she had to this morning. And it was his fault. Elizabeth sat in the back row, right by the door, watching it, waiting for Grant to come in. Every thought in her head was about confronting him -- or at least a lot of her thoughts, there were still those others, the ones that were his fault. He had to be told what a jerk he was for talking to her like that, saying those awful things.

Elizabeth recognized his shoes, the first part of him through the door. She'd thought about how annoying his fancy shoes were from time to time during her sleepless night, rolling around hot and sweaty in her bed and trying not to think about biological imperatives, trying to turn her mind to the nano papers she'd been too flustered to read. Elizabeth wasn't weak minded, wasn't some vulnerable girl who needed to be protected and shielded. She was tough, intellectually at least. But he had gone out side of the bounds of what was acceptable, and it was his fault she was off her game, not hers.

Eventually, toward morning, she had even tried, briefly. Oh, she hadn't wanted to, but she remembered how a few times in the past it had calmed her down. Still, the thought of touching herself that way, the same night Grant had said that to her was just too disturbing, her mind spinning around too fast. It felt good but she'd had to stop, knowing it wasn't going anywhere -- that it shouldn't! And that had just made it worse. As light had dawned, she'd gotten out of bed and showered off, so damp with perspiration she couldn't stand it. Her whole body was hot and she wondered if maybe she was sick. That would be his fault too, but in the end, it was enough just to blame him for what he had really done, been so crude it had discombobulated her.

Elizabeth got up quickly before he could enter the room fully and got right in his face, her temper rising quickly as her blood just seemed to be running hot this morning despite her weary exhaustion. She poked he slender finger into his chest, poking him back into the hall where she could let him have it but good.

"Listen, Mr. *You're can't cum unless I say so* ... I don't think what you did last night was funny, not one bit. Did you even stop to think I have feelings? Sure I'm smart, maybe I seem like I'm on a different level from you, but I'm human too. And what you said, it really upset me. I couldn't sleep a wink last night because of you. It was traumatic. I want an apology. Maybe a written apology, I haven't decided if that will be enough yet. But I need something from you, that much is clear. And it better be a good apology for the night you put me through!"

 

[Bevatoria]

Clad in his usual brown shoes, khakis, a white and black checkered, collared shirt that looked like it had been in style ten years ago and unusually hip glasses, Grant strode into the room. Pretending nothing was wrong, even if he would try to avoid eye cotact with Elizabeth. He'd teach his lesson and then retreat into his office, hoping that nobody would show up during his office hours, as usual. Even at his level, it seemed like far too many people were reluctant to accept help, criticism, even if they were paying thousands upon thousands just for the right to take courses, not just pass-

He didn't even get *in* to the room. It took a moment after he walked through the door - his body instinctively retreating at the sight of someone pressing into his personal space - before Grant realized that he was all but being forced into the hallway. And it was Elizabeth pushing into him, all but pressing him into a wall before she finally spoke.

Grant knew her well enough to know the difference between when she was being condescending, arrogant, or tiresome, and when she was really angry. The first time he'd seen it actually didn't involved him, but a fellow student who had miscalculated on an experiment time. It had ruined weeks of work, but it had told him enough. She had quite the temper on her when she wanted to.

And right now, it seemed Elizabeth wanted to show him he was angry. A poke in his chest, not a hard one, but threatening enough that he was too stunned to even meet her gaze for the first few words.

"Listen, Mr. *You're can't cum unless I say so* ... I don't think what you did last night was funny, not one bit. Did you even stop to think I have feelings? Sure I'm smart, maybe I seem like I'm on a different level from you, but I'm human too. And what you said, it really upset me. I couldn't sleep a wink last night because of you. It was traumatic. I want an apology. Maybe a written apology, I haven't decided if that will be enough yet. But I need something from you, that much is clear. And it better be a good apology for the night you put me through!"

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. Grant wanted to be cool, wanted to just shrug it off, wanted to know that she would eventually be under his thumb, begging and pleading with him for release, degrading herself towards the man she'd irked, said no to, treated like dirt even though he was above her. But he wasn't that person. Right now, all he had were a batch of really good cookies (according to what everyone else had said; for obvious reasons he hadn't felt comfortable trying them himself). Which made him, human, and weak.

"All right. All right." He held up his hands, trying to placate her, calm her down...basically get her finger out of his chest. "Take it easy. It was a party, I'd had a few and said some things I shouldn't have." He was pleading, soft, trying to avoid a scene and for anyone to know they were even out here; the class was supposed to start any moment. "But we can't do this now. I have a tutorial to run and..."

He grimaced. Of course, she wasn't going to make this easy. "We do *not* have time for this right now." Now it was Grant's turn to lose patience, anger mixed in with the fear into an emotional concoction he did not want to famliarize himself with. "I've got office hours tonight - if you want more then just an 'I'm sorry', come in then." Shaking his head, he shouldered past her back into his classroom, intent on teaching his lesson and getting this part of the day over with.

Either way, it'd be better by the end of it.

 

[skittish_butterfly]

The sight of him as she poked him with her finger and her words, demanding an apology -- a good one, a real one! -- just wound Elizabeth up even more for some reason. She was breathing hard and looking at him in his fancy shirt and cool glasses, looking so hip and pretending to be so innocent.

The door to the classroom closed slowly behind them as she wrapped up her tirade, and she didn't even care if a few heads near the door were staring at her until the door fully closed. He gave his mumbly little excuses. "Too much to drink. Just one of those things. Right! Well, we're going to do this now because, because, because I can't function like this. I didn't sleep last night Grant, do you realize that? Because of you, what you did, or said or whatever. I'm, like, traumatized, do you understand? So I'm *not* going to just 'take it easy' -- I'm not the one who's crazy here, Grant, you're the one who had to talk like that, totally inappr...."

And then it was Grant interrupting her, leaving her fuming and breathing even harder as emotions of disdain and annoyance and others she couldn't even bear to label crashed like the high tide against her heart. Elizabeth shrank back a little as his tone turned impatient with her, like her dad at his worst.

Office hours? That was... she couldn't even do the stupid arithmetic to figure out how many hours away that was, but she knew it was too long as she glared back at him. She needed a real apology, something to get these thoughts out of her head. They were getting louder and how was she supposed to just sit in class and ...

But he was already brushing past her, like it was over because he said it was. His hand was on the knob, pulling it open. Elizabeth pulled on the hem of her 5 year old university t-shirt, straightening it and herself as well, trying to compose herself. She pulled the jeans back up over her hips and turned to face him directly, flipping her pony tail back over her shoulder where it belonged, out of his sight.

"How am I supposed to... until... well you'd better... uh, spend your time between now and then coming up with a damned good apology, Grant, because having a drink or two does not give you the right to talk about *my* orgasms... as if you have anything to do with them at all!" He ignored her though, and walked in to the room as half the class was staring at her as if she was the crazy person standing in the door, a few of the guys smirking at her in a way that made her very uncomfortable. Fine. He dresses nicer and acts all calm. But that didn't make him the sane one.

She sat back down in her seat as the door closed behind her, and then she gave a dirty look at a guy in the row in front of her who was actually checking her out. Guys were pathetic, a little talk of a girl's orgasm was like blood in the water for those sharks. She didn't have time for that, and she actually gave him the finger, which made him laugh at her just the way she should have feared, but it made her feel better for at least a few minutes.

Until she tried to pay attention to Grant's droning lecture. She knew it all, even if she couldn't quite remember everything as clearly right now as she would have hoped. Her thoughts drifted. The guy was checking her out. Did that mean he wanted her? Why should she even care? And what about Grant, was that bit last night, the bit about her cumming, was he still interested in her? Elizabeth fidgeted in her seat and put her pencil between her lips as she watched Grant write on the board without listening to his words. Her legs were swaying back and forth with a rhythm of their own and she realized she was slumped in her chair.

With a start, she sat up straight and pushed her glasses up and tried to pay attention. Tried to sit still. She played with the pencil between her lips like a knife in a marauding pirate's mouth, and tried to listen. Bio something. Protmeres? No proteins and telomeres, or what did he say? Her legs were moving again as she thought about the last night. Was he drunk? A few drinks, was that right? She thought about his eyes, did she see that in them? Thought about their color, about his words, what they sounded like -- exactly what they sounded like, each one, even the word cum -- was he slurring. She was trying to figure out if he was really drunk or just lying to explain his rudeness, but all she could think about was the rudeness itself.

She was so jittery, she couldn't sit still and couldn't focus. Elizabeth was reminded of her father when he tried to quit smoking that time, how he was after 5 days, right before he gave in and started smoking again, like he just needed something so bad he couldn't live without it. But Elizabeth didn't need anything except an apology. That was why she couldn't stop thinking about cumming, couldn't keep her hips still in her seat.

The class was quiet and she realized Grant was looking at her. The whole class was looking at her. She blinked. "I'm sorry, could you..." what had he even asked? "Could you repeat the..." Elizabeth was embarrassed like never before in her life. When had a teacher *ever* asked a question she couldn't answer. When had she ever lost track of a topic in class. Never, not even in kindergarten. The rest of the class would think she was no better than them, a bunch of distracted partiers to busy trying to grope each other to bother trying to learn something and fix the broken world.

Elizabeth glared at him and just got up and walked out. Then she opened the door and came back in and picked up her bag and her phone. "This is your fault." She couldn't help it. He had to know, had to make that apology good. Then she stormed out again, making sure to give the door a good slam on her way out.

She paced outside in the hallway, her heart pounding a mile a minute from having the class look at her that way, not with admiration or jealousy, but with amusement or in the case of a couple of the guys even grosser thoughts. Guys looking at her. She looked at herself in the 2nd floor bathroom's mirror as she splashed some water on her bleary eyes. They shouldn't look at her like that, like they were just deciding how they wanted to have sex with her. They had no right to think of her that way. Regardless if they thought she was pretty -- she looked in the mirror and tried to see it, was she pretty? -- she never dressed or acted in a way that would seem to welcome that attention. But she could still see their eyes. And what Grant said.

Outside in the quad she had to make a decision. Blowing off the first class of her life, she didn't know what to do. She felt a pull to go back to her room. To try to sleep, or think about the guys looking at her until her fingers could get the right rhythm and make all the thoughts go away. So instead she did what she always did, went to the lab. Work. Research. That would have to fix her until Grant's office hours and his apology.

But nothing was going right in the lab. Grant wasn't there. She kept looking at the door, thinking maybe he'd feel bad for doing this to her and come to apologize sincerely, to look deep in her eyes and really apologize. She thought about him looking in her eyes. Would that be enough? She needed more than just an apology, more than just his eyes looking at her sincerely through those hipster glasses. And then she realized she'd missed another deadline and had to toss out another titration. Hours went by and she accomplished nothing. It was near dark outside and she'd skipped lunch and even dinner time was near and she was starving again. She thought about his cookies and tried to shove that thought out, not to think anything at all about Grant.

She left the lab, tired of the frustration of not accomplishing anything, and ambled back to her room to kill the last hour before Grant would apologize. Elizabeth

 

[Bevatoria]

Even focused back in on his work, it didn't take much for Grant to overhear her shouting after him. Enough that he knew others could hear too, and he tried to slink just a bit lower, to pretend it wasn't for him even though the words clearly had been. Time for class. Be the authority figure; forget about it, and they will too, he thought to himself idly as he smiled at his class. "I hope you all did the readings that the Professor assigned you; we'll be discussing them today and the potential applications of..."

He was attentive enough to see the guy checking Elizabeth out in the back, and fought down a little pang of jealousy as the tutorial began. It wasn't his flirting that bothered him, rather that the student was free to do it. It wasn't as if Grant hadn't tried it with Elizabeth or with a few of his other classmates and students, but he felt restricted in doing so. That there were boundaries that existed for him that didn't for others; such was life as a graduate student with an uncertain future. A constant reminder of being a scientist was to focus on what was, and not what wasn't. Figure out the stable variables first.

Grant took every opportunity to steal glances at Elizabeth; one of the advantages of being in charge was that he could've been looking at anyone. She seemed fidgety, uncertain, much like he was at the moment, even if the routine of a lecture and a question and discussion session hid a lot of his own feelings and questions at the moment. There were dozens of reasons a professor (or, in his case, a graduate student) could be a little off their game, and they didn't usually have to answer to those they taught or oversaw.

But eventually, she seemed to be completely out of focus, and he did what had been a practiced motion for him and inattentive students. Pick on them, ask them a question. If nothing else, it made them awake for the rest of the class, and more often then not got him an answer he didn't expect. Elizabeth had surprised him on more then one occasion, and now he was expecting the same. For that moment, he'd almost forgotten about what he'd said to her, and the altercation that had ensued between both of them afterwards. She surprised him here, too.

By staying dead silent. He coughed, repeating his answer. "Elizabeth, what do you think of Lawson's diagnosis and his theory that...." She didn't respond. Barely flinched, blinking before finally sensing that he was asking her something, the whole class now locked in on her.

"I'm sorry, could you...Could you repeat the..." A moment passed, and Grant was so stunned that it took him a moment to process her reaction, not getting a chance to respond before she did.

She glared at him, all but storming out, without her bag and phone. "Well, then..." The doors reopened, and Elizabeth made her way back in, grabbing her bag and phone. "This is your fault." she said to him, marching back out and slamming the door.

Act like you're in charge. Shrug it off. "Okay, let's try this again." He'd usually crack a joke in that instance, but with the eggshells he was on around Elizabeth, he didn't want to risk any word of it getting back to her through intermediaries. "Let's move on to Peter Lampsha's lab tests on dna re sequencing.."

The rest of the tutorial finished, the students ambling out aimlessly, but Grant could sense their uneasiness. Any kind of drama was usually viewed with some sense of satisfaction as it lightened the tension, but that drama was also usually not aimed at anyone in particular. Today, it had all been him and Elizabeth, and he was worried. Almost terrified that he'd just gambled on something that hadn't worked, wasn't going to work, and that might get him fired for sexual harassment.

Unless it worked. Unless she was actually sliding in under his thumb; with a growing desire to cum only at his command. It was clear she'd had a rough night, and not just because of what he'd said. People did get sick randomly, but maybe, just maybe...

All he was fairly certain of was of how grateful he was about not going into the lab today.

********

His early thoughts were consumed by Elizabeth, but not in lust. In fear of her anger, terrible vengeance to be meted out by the daughter of one of the University's most beloved figures. In his department, no less. But fear gave way to necessity, and he lost himself to a paper shortly after a couple of student visits.

So much so that he forgot that Elizabeth was probably going to visit. His door a crack open, he never looked up, couldn't see it open. Didn't think it would, a half hour away from going home, most of his floor all but gone.

 

[skittish_butterfly]

"Grant. You had better make this good, or so help me I will file a complaint about what you said, so help me. You have to make this right. It's like I can't get the thought of you talking about me... c-c-cumming out of my head and that's *your* fault." She could barely even say the word cumming and her body shivered involuntarily as she stared at him.

He was just staring back at her. Well, she had slapped him. Elizabeth knew she wasn't a violent person, not at all, but he had pushed her too far. "Look, I'm not going to slap you again. I'm, I'm, I'm sorry." She almost grimaced trying to choke those words out, words he didn't deserve. But she shouldn't have slapped him. It was important to Elizabeth never to lose control of herself, to stay in charge of her intellect and the world around her, and she had failed. Even if it really was his fault, she needed to apologize, to set her own mind back on the firm course of staying on top of her emotions, not letting them override her intellect.

Grant was still there with those papers like he wasn't sure he should even bother paying attention to Elizabeth, when she NEEDED his ATTENTION. At least that's how it seemed to her, standing in the door, her face flushed and breathing heavily as she stared at him. She was still trembling from lack of sleep and an overload of frustration, and he was doing NOTHING about it.

She was trying so hard to stay in control, but standing there looking at him, emotions just surging through her, it was so hard. Elizabeth stepped closer to his desk and he STILL wasn't saying anything. "Grant! I... You can't ignore me like this! Can't you see what you've done with your... your stupid c-c-cumming business? I... can't you see I'm shaking, can't even sleep. I've ruined three whole runs in the lab last night and this afternoon! This isn't funny and I'm not kidding Grant, what you did to me wasn't nice and I'm... I really need something from you, you owe me for what you said. I don't even know what you could possibly say to apologize at this point... but I know I need something from you, you owe me!"

Elizabeth stood there, feeling horrible and twitchy and annoyed, so worked up she thought her glasses would start fogging up, trembling slender fingers clutching the worn fabric of her jeans to keep from slapping him, or, or other things.

 

[Bevatoria]

He did hear her come in. He looked up, not sure what to say, what he should do. Nearly paralyzed. And that was the easy part. Then, Elizabeth started speaking.
"Grant. You had better make this good, or so help me I will file a complaint about what you said, so help me. You have to make this right. It's like I can't get the thought of you talking about me... c-c-cumming out of my head and that's *your* fault."

Her fear rattled him. Sure, he disliked Elizabeth, thought of her as arrogant and condescending, but she always had her wits about her. One thing Grant had never accused her of was being out of control, out of sorts, confused, without her wits about her. Right now, she seemed to be scared, which did the same to him. He'd had a taste of what could happen when she was rattled. Hell, he still felt it, if he were being totally honest, his cheek radiating a bit feeling her blow from last night.

"Look, I'm not going to slap you again."

That's a relief.

"I'm, I'm, I'm sorry." The words seemed to reluctantly come out as Grant shuffled his papers uncertainly, his eyes looking at her, but not focusing. This whole thing was still so surreal, and he took a breath, trying to steady himself. He had to say something, do something, and so he stood up slowly. His hands empty, a gesture of reconciliation. Not one that she missed, at least not clearly, but apparently not what she was looking for either as she moved in closer.

Coincidentally, this was about the time that he started to feel his conscience start warring as he breathed in again. The devil on one shoulder, and the angel...

"Grant! I... You can't ignore me like this! Can't you see what you've done with your... your stupid c-c-cumming business?"

...well, the angel was stuck in traffic.

"I... can't you see I'm shaking, can't even sleep. I've ruined three whole runs in the lab last night and this afternoon! This isn't funny and I'm not kidding Grant, what you did to me wasn't nice and I'm... I really need something from you, you owe me for what you said. I don't even know what you could possibly say to apologize at this point... but I know I need something from you, you owe me!"

Seemingly done, she stopped, looking uneasy, anxious, unable to focus, and Grant strode past her only to close the door. "Not so loud, damnit. I don't want the entire department knowing about...well, I'm sure you have some idea." He shook his head. Back behind his desk, he measured her. She definitely didn't want to sit down, and neither did he, as Grant sighed. "For what it's worth, Elizabeth, I didn't want this to happen to you, and I'm sorry that what happened last night has affected you that much." Truth within a lie; for all of his anger at her, he didn't want her to not be able to sleep, or to mess up some items in the lab. That'd come back to him too, he knew, as Elizabeth worked under him, if not always directly. Grant knew that the first few days would be rough as he figured out exactly how this all worked.

But whatever he did to the cookies did seem to be working. In some form. Which was convenient, since he happened to have a bag of them in his suitcase. He leaned down to pull them out, placing them gently on the side of his wooden desk as he looked at her.

"I might be able to help you sleep." said Grant evenly, still unsure of what direction to take things in even as the dark part of his mind started to whisper to him, building up to a murmur. "But I did bring a peace offering, since I remember how much you liked these." Opening the bag, he grabbed one, offering it to her. "You look famished, so if you want to have it, feel free, and then we can discuss how I can 'help' you."

He shrugged at her, looking down at the floor slightly.

"Or I can suggest about what could help you get some sleep. Up to you."

The power he now held over her, the allure of getting her to shame herself, degrade herself for him was intoxicating. Like an alluring smell hitting his nostrils, he stood up a bit straighter as she answered him.

 

[skittish_butterfly]

How was it that Grant had actually just said he was sorry, and it only made Elizabeth feel worse? Maybe it was the way he just kind of stuttered it out, like he didn't mean it, like he was just saying what he had to so she wouldn't report him. Mostly, though, she felt worse because his apology didn't make her feel any better. Even if he'd given it on bended knee it wouldn't have made her feel better -- the thought that had passed her mind a couple times while she was rolling around in her bed trying to sleep, trying to please herself enough to relax.

And he couldn't take the words back, the words that kept bouncing around in her head and making her fingers jitter. He'd said them and now she was stuck with them. Why couldn't she just shake this off? She'd been called "Stick Figure" and worse back in Junior High before she'd filled out at least a little in High School, and she never let it bother her, never let it stop her. What was it about his simple teasing, like she would actually need his stupid permission to... to...

Elizabeth shuddered just from the thought of it. Why was this thought of needing his permission to... to cum.... so unshakeable? She watched him get up and close the door with a nervous look on his face, talking like he was the one who was worried here -- what was he worried about, other than being reported? Elizabeth was the one walking around for the last day with her head in a fog, a mist of her own pheromones and the memory of his words getting louder and more insistent in her skull by the minute.

Now with the door closed, Elizabeth felt almost trapped in the stuffy room, like she was going to start sweating, even though his door wasn't locked. Her wool cap was just so hot on her head that she just pulled it right off and stuffed it in her back pocket, most of hit hanging out, ignoring how it let her hair spill out and fall loose over her shoulders. Elizabeth's eyes flitted nervously back and forth between Grant and the door as she started to pace back and forth like a caged animal. She was so incredibly uncomfortable suddenly to be in here alone with him and as she paced she stopped briefly to twist his door knob just to reassure her pounding heart she could leave if she wanted. But she couldn't bring herself to leave, not yet, not still feeling like this. How could she just go back to her room with just his mumbled apology to face another sleepless, frustrated night tangled up in her sheets. It wasn't right yet. She paced in front of his desk, staring at the floor as she listened to his every word.

And there it was, he was even apologizing like he meant it, like he was fully aware of how utterly miserable he'd made her. Regretting it. And still her breath didn't come any easier. Elizabeth was still feeling so twitchy and agitated and... and needy. She hated needing anything. And the idea of needing something from Grant, not even knowing what it was, it galled her.

Then her pacing stopped. He had another batch of his special cookies with him. Her eyes tracked the plate as he set it down, and she realized yet again she'd scarcely eaten all day, only a little food from the vending machine before she'd given up on the lab, and an old packet of instant soup noodles in her room that she'd forgotten was under the sink.

He offered her one, holding it out to her like a "peace offering" telling her he could help her get to sleep. Elizabeth made a soft sound she didn't really mean to, her heart aching at his words, at the thought of another delicious cookie, of sleep, of getting her head out of this mess. Her hand rose tentatively to the cookie, looking in his eyes and then back at the cookie, like a little kid nervously deciding whether to accept candy from a stranger. "I... really need to eat some real food but... if it's ok, if I could take it for later?" She snatched it and held it safely in her hand. For later.

Somehow having the cookie in her hand gave her the teeniest bit of strength and courage, qualities she'd always thought she had in spades but now feeling in such short supply. She was just so tired and so... so jittery, and she couldn't stand still, her free hand rubbing up and down on her pant leg, just the rhythmic stroking of her thigh oddly comforting like a little kid holding a blanket.

She had to find a way to express to him that he needed to fix this, if she only knew how. "But more than a cookie or dinner or whatever... I... I need to get my head clear, to get some sleep, to put this behind me once and for all. Sad but true but I have to work in the lab with you pretty much every day, and I need to find a way that I can look at you and not just keep thinking about... about... you know... c-c-cumming."

She watched his face for signs of mocking laughter, her own face feeling bright pink. "Help me get to sleep? Great! But how? Like I haven't already tried everything. Yes, everything. Warm milk? Some sleeping pill? I tried one last night -- doctor gave me some last year when I had trouble sleeping after my dad's heart attack -- and nothing. It just made me feel weirder not better, so don't even bother. So, what? Like your apology was supposed to be enough? It didn't fix the words in my head, the words YOU put there. About m-me only c-c-cumming when you said I could? I mean, do I even have your... your... exalted permission... your royal highness? Mr. High and Mighty who thinks he gets to decide these personal and private things about me?"

She was breathing so hard and her face so hot she almost took a bite of the cookie right then and there just to give her anxious hands something to do besides toy with the hem of her jeans, her thumb gently and absentmindedly tracing back and forth the little bit of bare belly beneath her tshirt. She tossed her head to get her hair out of her eyes and stared at him, suddenly aware of her hair flowing freely against her back and shoulders. She ignored it. "So?"

 

[Bevatoria]

She looks so much better with her hair down.

The thought came to Grant as she hesitated, the uncertainty another foreign emotion on Elizabeth's face as she considered Grant's offer. A generous one, even with caveats, her measuring gaze darting between him and the cookies. "I... really need to eat some real food but... if it's ok, if I could take it for later?"

"Of course." Grant answered, and she seemed to barely wait before all but tearing it out of his grip. Her body language told him a lot, the way she ran her other hand up and down her pant leg. Hinting at her craving and need, any type of motion and energy usage seeming to comfort her. "But more than a cookie or dinner or whatever... I... I need to get my head clear, to get some sleep, to put this behind me once and for all. Sad but true but I have to work in the lab with you pretty much every day, and I need to find a way that I can look at you and not just keep thinking about... about... you know... c-c-cumming."

Oh my. It wasn't her frankness that surprised Grant. If there was one thing Elizabeth had always been, it was frank. She never hid her desires or show she felt about anything, or anyone. Something that had hurt her more then once, but all in all, that gave her a share of admirers, too. Especially the guys who hoped they wouldn't join the supposedly long list of males she'd shot down. A lot of them were afraid to approach her, lest they get the glare of death or a condescending snort.

But the fact that she seemed to feel she needed his permission...the blank look hid the burst of pride that welled within him. It had worked. She badly needed to cum, and to fulfill the condition he'd set. It took every bit of self control to not tell her everything, to let her know she was now under his thumb for as long as he deemed fit. Or at least as long as he could make the cookies tagged to her DNA.

He saw her blush, and that snapped him back to reality as she continued on. "Help me get to sleep? Great! But how? Like I haven't already tried everything. Yes, everything. Warm milk? Some sleeping pill? I tried one last night -- doctor gave me some last year when I had trouble sleeping after my dad's heart attack -- and nothing. It just made me feel weirder not better, so don't even bother. So, what? Like your apology was supposed to be enough? It didn't fix the words in my head, the words YOU put there. About m-me only c-c-cumming when you said I could? I mean, do I even have your... your... exalted permission... your royal highness? Mr. High and Mighty who thinks he gets to decide these personal and private things about me?" She was so flushed at this point that Grant almost went to grab her a drink of water, remembering only then that he had no water to give. They weren't at his home now, but a crappy university office that hadn't been upgraded in about thirty years. She fidgeted, hesitated, and Grant had to draw his eyes away from the line of flesh she was rubbing between her jeans and shirt.

"Well..." started Grant, but she responded quickly again.

"So?"

He took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to phrase his exact answer. "...if it makes you feel better to have me say it, then I suppose I do give you my permission." He shook his head. "I think it's all in your head, though." Which it was, if you broke it down, as the bio additives he'd laced in the cookies did target some of the stimuli that affected her brain, it just got to...certain other areas as well. "It's not my decision what you do in your time outside of school, after all."

With that said, another moment passed, and Grant put his hands on his desk, as if to hold himself up. "Elizabeth, if there's anything else you need from me, I do need to get back to work..." He was through making plans now, right now Grant knew he was in uncharted territory, cutting swamp and blazing trails that he would hopefully learn from later. He knew that one way or another he hadn't heard the last from his twisted pupil on the matter, but little did he know how soon he would be hearing from her....

*************************

OOC: We can definitely add to the scene above if you want Skit, but I thought it'd be courteous if I set up the next part from Grant's side.

IC:

Lying back in his easy chair, with light music on the stereo and a book in hand, Grant was not finding sleep easy to come by. Not because he couldn't, but simply because he didn't want to, his mind racing with ideas and thoughts that he was trying to settle, or at least harness in a useful direction. He'd made a hugely important breakthrough in biological manipulation and he couldn't do a damn thing with it because he was testing it on an unwitting student, trying to make her into some sort of twisted submissive.

More creative then rats or monkeys, to be sure, but late in the evening, all quiet outside and only a small home and aged furnishings to comfort him, Grant wondered for the first time if he'd done the right thing. Maybe he should've-

And then his cell phone rang. Grant picked it up from the dresser nearby in curiosity. Nobody called this late, unless it was an emergency, and then he saw the caller id, and knew it wasn't.

His thumb pressed the button to receive the call as he brought it to his ear.

 

[skittish_butterfly]

"If it makes me feel better? All in my head? Why you..." But somehow, hearing it from Grant did make Elizabeth feel better. A lot better. Too much better. So good her body just tingled, and her hands ached to... to touch... Oh God no, not here, not in front of him. Her fingers were trembling as she hooked her thumbs in her empty belt-loops just trying to keep them still. Then when that didn't work she immediately stuffed her hands deep in her pockets, crumbling her cookie a bit in the process. But standing there, staring back at him, that just made her so much more aware of her body heat, of the pulsing satisfaction so close to her fingers, she practically ripped her pockets from the inside in her struggle with her own desire to touch and stroke.

All in her head or not, Elizabeth found herself flushed hot in the face, breathing hard like she was home tangled in her sheets, so damned close and she could feel it coming, er, oh no, not cumming, not here, not in front of Grant. Thank goodness he was already ignoring her dismissively, the jerk, going back to his work as if her problems weren't his concern. She had to get out, get away from him. "You... just g-g-great, everything's f-fine for you, j-just go b-b-back to your p-p-papers. " She could barely talk, barely stand still, and her arms were taut as she kept her hands stuffed in her pockets where they wouldn't... embarrass her here with what her hands really ached to do... NEEDED to do.

"So I have your p-p-permission, your Holy Ex-x-xaltedness, thank you s-s-so much." Her words dripped with sarcasm while she felt herself dripping with something else entirely. How could this be happening to her? It was insane. She was not this kind of girl, not the hormone-driven husband-seeking missile she saw around her in such great numbers here on campus. But her body was acting like one. He had to smell it. How could he not?

Elizabeth grabbed at the door with jittery fingers, struggling to turn it properly and cursing under her breath at how stupid the door was until finally she got it open and fled. She didn't even wait to see whether he bothered looking up from his papers or whether her words even annoyed him even 10% as much as he deserved. She just ran, literally ran out of his office, the sound of her sneakers slapping and squeaking against the well-mopped tiles hopefully enough to cover the slightly embarrassing sounds she couldn't keep in any longer.

She rushed straight to the bathroom two doors down from his office but there were two girls inside adjusting their stupid makeup. "Why don't you go do something useful, like your homework?" Elizabeth stood in the door, all but panting, shaking slightly as she glared at them, willing them to leave with her superior intellect, needing them to go so she could lock herself in a stall and... and...

The two girls just giggled like a couple of idiots and made the crazy sign to each other. They offered her some eyeliner but Elizabeth just scowled at them and ran out. Ground floor bathroom was similarly crowded -- the big Freshman lecture must have just let out, there were people everywhere. She could feel the perspiration, the color in her face. Somewhere in her running her cap had fallen out of her back pocket, but she didn't bother going back. With her hair loose, more guys than usual were paying attention to her as she passed, and the part of her intellect that was still working made note of it, as if this were a scientific experiment confirming she'd been right all along about her hair, and about guys.

She had no choice, no alternative in the crowded building. Elizabeth burst out of the front doors, banging her hand painfully on the door's push bar in her haste to get away from the crowd of students milling inside, so many of them paying attention to her in this state.

Fast-walking across campus, back to the safety of her room, she at least caught her breath a little. Her eyes flitted back and forth, checking every guy she passed, seeing them look her over as she walked. It was sickening, and yet it made the tingles still covering her skin jump around and dance. Finally she just lowered her eyes to the sidewalk and focused on putting one leg in front of the other, trying desperately to ignore how good just the movement of her pants against her skin made her feel, how much better she yearned to make it feel.

She took the stairs to her room one at a time, her face still flushed and hair flowing freely. The taunts of the guys on the second floor more subdued this time. Not really taunts at all, more like surprised notice of her presence. She kept going, ignoring behind her the whispers of disbelief, the guys wondering if it was really her or a hot Jenkins sister they'd never met.

Her key worked on the third try and she slammed the door behind her, leaning against it with blessed relief as she enjoyed the privacy and quiet of her room for second, trying to slow her breathing. What was this she was feeling? How could it be so intense? Just because of... of Grant? Was this one of those twisted school-girl crushes she'd heard so much about back in the high school halls? But she was better than that. And Grant definitely wasn't. She pulled out her cell phone and pulled his number up in the contact list just to look at his picture, testing her reaction and hating the butterflies that fluttered between her legs the moment his smug mug popped up.

Elizabeth tossed her cell phone onto her bed in frustration and collapsed face down. The feeling was weaker now that she was out of his office, maybe some sort of reverse endorphin effect from the brisk walk? She rolled over on her side and forced herself to try to reach for the textbook, to make her eyes focus on the words. It was a slog, just like before only not like before. Now she had the image of Grant's face in front of the words, unable to blink him away. She got up, paced her small room, opened the window and looked out into the gathering dark of evening and breathing in fresh air to clear him out of her head. She ran her fingers through her hair and even that felt so good to her it all but made her shudder.

Back at the text book she was making no progress in her dedicated quest to study her way out of this. Only two pages in how long, two hours? Three? It was so hot. She stripped out of her jean, tossing the crumbled cookie onto her bedside and staring at it for a minute, thinking of how good it was. No. Resist the impulses of the body, live in the mind. She had to be more than mere biological impulse and response if she wanted to scale the heights of scientific greatness.

But she couldn't take it any more. Too tired, too frustrated, her hands still shaking too much to hold the textbook still. Elizabeth lay back on her pillow in her panties, making a pained little moan from the frustration she felt with herself for not being able to overcome this. But there was a way out. Her body felt that very clearly in a way she didn't understand, like it was part of that mystical "being a woman" her mom had hinted about, back when that was possible. Elizabeth was a scientist, not just a woman, but her body didn't seem to get that memo.

She closed her eyes and tried desperately not to think of Grant as her fingers slipped inside her panties, her nipples taut against the fabric of her tshirt. If felt so good Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath and her back arched on the bed. She spread her legs, opening herself to her own touch, feeling the soft curls between her legs damp against her fingers as she stroked and moaned, her other hand lightly caressing and teasing her nipples on some sort of autopilot that just knew exactly what sensation she needed.

Her moans grew louder and she looked at the open window in a panic. Rolling over with her heart pounding and her breath coming so short, she accidentally knocked her cell phone from the bed and sent it clattering on the wooden floor. It took all her strength to stop touching herself and struggle up from her bed on new-born colt's legs, to wobble over to the wall and get the window closed. With the window closed her own scent became that much stronger to her and she barely made it back to the bed before she collapsed in it, immediately stuffing her hand back between her legs and stroking herself furiously. Not Grant, not Grant, just not Grant, she thought over and over again, her every thought of "not Grant" as she approached the blistering heat of pleasure trapped inside her. Just not Grant.

She stroked and rubbed, and broke through barriers that had blocked her the previous night, rolling around on the bed and yelping with pleasure, just... just... just so close. But she couldn't rub herself quite hard enough, or quite fast enough, or quite... something. She didn't stop until her arm was getting tired and her shirt was drenched with sweat and her panties drenched with... other stuff. She shrugged out of the damp heat of her tshirt, her small breasts coming free in the evening air and making her nipples tingle with excitement anew. She rubbed and stroked a little more but it didn't help, her bare legs spread wide and trembling with eagerness but unable to close the deal.

Elizabeth lay in bed, spent and frustrated, covered in sweat and tangled in her sheets, panting and red in the face like she'd just run a marathon and finished last, collapsing yards short of the finish line. Not Grant. This was still his fault. She tried not to think about him, but couldn't stop herself. He had even said she had his permission, just like at the party. And she was still a mess. She saw her phone lying on the floor and rolled out of the bed, the sheet wrapped around her ankle coming with her. All but crawling on hands and knees, Elizabeth got herself across the hardwood floor to the phone.

She picked it up and slumped back against the wall, her legs spread, one hand slipping back into her soaked panties while the other thumbed the phone and called up Grant's contact info, bringing his picture popping up again. Her body flushed wetly inside at the sight of him. It was ridiculous, but she didn't bother trying to analyze it, she just stroked herself, staring at his picture while convincing herself she was just doing what she needed to get him out of her head, to get him away from all her important thoughts, to toss him back on the scrap heap in the back of her head where he belonged.

And still, gasping and writhing on the floor, she couldn't get there, couldn't shake herself free. It was like whatever feeling hearing Grant's permission in his office had faded with time or distance or... something, still affecting her and stuck in her head but just not enough. Was she going to be trapped like this forever? Ruined?

Still stroking herself, unable to stop, her anger at Grant for what he'd done to her was too much and she hit the "Call" button. She heard the phone ringing and immediately hung up, suddenly too nervous at the thought of actually hearing his voice. Hearing his voice. Her fingers moved faster and she ached so bad inside she couldn't stand it. She stabbed at the button again, hit the 'speakerphone' button and dropped the phone to the floor as her other hand reached for her swollen nipples, rubbing her breasts while she trembled and moaned and stroked herself. Elizabeth ached to hear Grant's voice.

She heard the click. Nothing. He must be listening. Oh God, did he hear her breathing, the little moans? The unbelievably wet sound her fingers were making between her legs? "Grant? I kn-n-ow that's y-you. Say something. S-say something! It's me, El-liszab-b-beth." She half swallowed her own name trying to get it out. "Damn it G-grant th-this isn't f-funny. You s-said, you said, I h-had your p-p-permission! To c-c-cum!" She was out of pride, even her disdain for him gone missing for the moment. There was no thought left but her need and desperation. "P-please, h-help me!" Every word practically required it's own breath to get out and maybe he'd think it was just a prank caller, or a mental patient stole her phone. And she wasn't sure if she'd be relieved if he hung up thinking that, or if she'd scream and go fully mad never leaving her floor again until they came and scraped her up and drove her off to a nice facility somewhere. Like her mother.

 

[Bevatoria]

"You... just g-g-great, everything's f-fine for you, j-just go b-b-back to your p-p-papers. " Her stuttering was rattling him, throwing him off even as her body language clearly said she was unsettled. Grant would need time to process this. "So I have your p-p-permission, your Holy Ex-x-xaltedness, thank you s-s-so much."

"That you do." He watched her leave hastily, rising up as he saw her cap falling out by the door. He grabbed it, wanting to give it to her but by then she was long gone.

Maybe I won't give it back if she keeps wearing her hair like that...

*******

He wanted to say 'hello', to announce his presence, but something stopped him. Elizabeth never called him late at night - come to think of it, she'd probably never called him ever on his cell. He took a breath, the instinct almost kicking in until he heard something.

Or, more specifically, dead air. Meaning nothing.. She'd hung up. Curiously, he looked at it, wondering if it was a misdial, another ring a moment later confirming that it had indeed, not been a mistake. So he answered it quickly, keeping his own counsel and wanting an explanation. His patient, listening ears did hear something, but no words, at least not a first. A breath. Not the kind of 'oh she's alive thank goodness' type breath. The type indicating she was involved in a physical activity. Further listening indicated that it was the kind that good men weren't supposed to listen in to, hearing just the faintest sounds of moaning, something rubbing against something else, and then....

"Grant? I kn-n-ow that's y-you. Say something. S-say something! It's me, El-liszab-b-beth."

It's on speakerphone. He could tell instantly from the sound of her voice, slightly fainter then usual on a phone call. The image seared into his mind, as plain as day even though he couldn't see it. Elizabeth was so desperate to get off that both of her hands were occupied with certain other things. And suddenly the faint squishing noises he was hearing made sense, too...

"W-what are you doing?" He gulped, his own voice hoarse with nerves and lust, a potent tonic as it wasn't entirely certain which force was more overpowering at the moment. It was pretty damn obvious what she was doing, and Elizabeth seemed to be fully aware of that as she responded.

"Damn it G-grant th-this isn't f-funny. You s-said, you said, I h-had your p-p-permission! To c-c-cum!"

"And you do...." He started, partly confused, partly wanting to hear more. Much, much more. Words to accompany the sounds he heard, and the pictures his minds was forming of her of a woman in heat.

"P-please, h-help me!"

How tempting it was to say he didn't know how. But Grant knew that he'd lingered too long already, his cock hardening at the wanton sounds of self pleasure that seemed to be wafting through the phone, if that were possible. His hand creeped down to his belt, undoing it so his manhood would have a little room to stretch out a bit as he heard more. "I can help you as long as you listen to me." Again, his voice was a whisper, dark as the devil on his shoulder started to take over. "And then you'll get what you want." Another moment to listen to her, and he spoke again.

"What are you wearing?" His hand undid the button on his pants, slowly sliding inside and forcing his zipper down as he spoke. "It's a hot night, after all..."

At her answer, his own breathing started to get labored, but without the burden of a speakerphone he doubted she had as much of a clue about his actions as he did of hers. Or that her mind was focused enough to pick it out. "Take them off. You don't want them to get dirty." A simple, childlike statement, even as it carried the darkest of intentions. Now, he knew she was as he wanted her, as he dared to imagine her.

Grant was hard, and he let the moment linger as he dared to stroke himself. It was sickening to think about, about him getting off at her debasement at his command, but it was like the most delectable of treats, sitting in front of him, and all he had to do was do nothing, listen to her beg, plead, her body wracking and striving for something it couldn't have unless he granted it. The thought of uptight young Elizabeth, nude and writhing, her hands manhandling herself desperately, twisting and pushing, near a perverse climax only he could grant.

"Ask me again." He said hoarsely. "For what you want."

To let her form the words. The blush on her face, probably her whole body at this point, and then he felt his own rise coming, taking in a breath only to get the words out.

"Cum, Elizabeth."

 

[skittish_butterfly]

Elizabeth's face was scrunched up, miserable with need and perspiration and desperation. Somehow, Grant's voice cut through the fog and she heard his "and you do." And she did? It took a moment, but she connected it to her bitter accusation that his casual comment in the office about permission was a lie. And even those three vague little words, "and you do" zapped her up and down her spine, making her grimace with a need and a pleasure she couldn't bear but couldn't shake or release. She was so close, so close and she just wanted it to be over, to go back to being Elizabeth again.

She was silent, listening to him over the sloppy wet sound of her fingers moving in her damp panties. Grant's promise to help if she listened had her ears alert for his words, as if she somehow really believed anything he said could make a difference in her state, but she was so miserable and had no other idea how to get herself out of this she just couldn't help it. His voice was so quiet and her harsh, labored breathing was almost louder, but she made out his words, his promise.

What was she wearing. The bits and pieces of Elizabeth's brain that were still working even close to normally fought a war with the rest of her, that vast majority of her mind and body that needed release, that couldn't stand this anymore, that would do anything if he could just help her end this. But to tell him what she was wearing? If he was there, he would have been slapped. There was the flare of heat as her revulsion at his crudeness washed through her, but in the end even that just warmed her further, making her circling stroking fingers work even harder. But there was no way, no way she could ever look him in the eyes if he thought, had any inkling she was lying on the floor in just her panties like this....

Her voice was a hoarse whisper that she could barely get out she was shaking so badly. "I... I'm w-wearing the jeans a-a-and the t-tshirt... the ones f-from y-your office." He didn't deserve the truth. This was all his fault, and he was disgusting for even asking, like this was some sort of crude, cliched... phone... sex. And her fingers were even more of a blur at the thought as her head tilted back, eyes glazed.

Then Grant told her to take them off. He couldn't possibly think, no, why would he even think she would? "You... " Her teeth chattered too hard at the thought of stripping down to nothing as he asked, maybe getting what her body needed, unable to call him a vile pig as he deserved. "I c-c-an't..." can't do that... won't do that... can't, won't, can't... "I can't s-stand it, please!"

The shame burned hot and unseen on her face as she rolled around briefly on the floor, tugging her wet panties off her sweat damp legs. The panties ended up in a moist little heap near her head where she couldn't avoid their strong scent, but was too busy with both hands now to bother moving them further away. Elizabeth had somehow turned herself to the point she was lying parallel to the base of the wall on her back, one shoulder slightly elevated and pressed against the wall, her legs open wide with one knee against the wall and the other knocking into her bed side again and again as she stroked herself furiously.

She'd done it, what he said, and still she was trapped like this. After a good half minute, she remembered he wasn't actually there, just listening, didn't know she'd done what he asked. Somehow, actually telling him was maybe even more embarrassing than if he was just watching her somehow. She took a ragged breath and reluctantly admitted it to him, "I d-did it, w-what you asked." To come out and say she was naked to him was more than she could bear, the whole conversation a surreal nightmare she knew would haunt her every time she ever had to see his ugly face again. She turned her head and looked at his picture on the contact screen of her phone lying nearby, seeing the cookie he'd given her lying right next to it. Ugly face, yes. She shivered and closed her eyes and her legs spread even wider, her hips bumping and grinding, thumping against the floor board.

When she thought she couldn't be any more humiliated, Grant seemed to find new ways to prove her wrong. "Ask me again for what you want." She heard him but couldn't speak. Elizabeth had never wanted anything more in her life, crazy as it was. How was this possible? Was this some sudden onset hormonal issue? Some psychologically delayed trauma triggered by Grant's lewd rudeness? She couldn't figure it out, it didn't matter. All that mattered now was what she needed, trembling and struggling with herself, stroking her soft folds again and again and just not able to get it herself. And she couldn't be Elizabeth again, not like this, not until Grant helped her. Somehow she knew it, felt it in her bones, in her wet inner places, all through her. She was like iron filings, Grant the magnet. She hated the magnet, but was running out of strength and pride to bother fighting it.

"This is your f-f-ault!" Her head went back as the anger burned hot through her, only making it worse, every emotion, thought and sensation just piling more wood on her fire. "You know I need help, please!"

All she heard over her own body's lewd sounds was silence from him. Nothing. "G-g-grant, p-p-please, rel-l-lease m-me f-from this hell, it's your fault." Silence. "I want..." She couldn't. "You know what I want." Did he? "Please!" Still more silence. She had to. Couldn't stop herself.

"Damn you, Grant, I need you to let me cum!"

His two little words set her off like a firecracker. "Cum, Elizabeth."

Her whole body tensed up, and her head exploded in a supernova of pleasure and release, more need than she knew her little body could hold suddenly flowing wetly through her, fingers coaxing it out as her body just helpless obeyed his simple command.

"Oh god oh god oh god oh grant! oh!! ohhhhhhhhhh!" She screamed and thrashed as everything in her focused on his words, and her need, and everything went away, nothing mattered but feeling and sensation and his permission and release.

Elizabeth was gone a long time, her mind empty, her body wrung out by all the cries and moans and screams she'd made, and now her ragged breathly, slowly returning to normal, if she could even remember what normal was. Her eyes started to focus, first on the phone and Grant's picture still displayed -- the phone was still picking up everything, all her noises, and even her deep, relieved breathing now -- and then, behind it, the cookie. Her fingers were still between her legs, unbelievably wet, but she reached out, not to flip off the phone, but for the cookie.

 

[Bevatoria]

He hadn't expected it to be like flipping a switch, but it essentially was but for the distance that separated them now. It was only a visual distance, though, as Grant could hear the change in her nearly instantly, no longer the wanton and subtle hints of masturbation and self pleasure that filtered through. "Oh god oh god oh god oh grant! oh!! ohhhhhhhhhh!" Her sounds, moans, and lustful release bought forbidden images to his head of her thrashing, bucking randomly with the climax she had hit. All because of him.

Because of his brilliance. Because of the cookies she'd eaten. And she had no idea. No idea that she'd been duped, conned, manipulated into the slow descent into sexual debauchery and submission to a man she hated, despised, the one she'd slapped earlier in the day. Because of a simple sweet, something supposed to ease pain, not to bring about the cause of it. She was to enjoy this, to be sure, but this would hurt her as well. Leave scars she couldn't undo. Never talk to strangers, never take cookies from a man who could bake them into your DNA.

Two so far, and one more on her dresser nearby, unbeknownst to him. The cookies were the furthest thing from his mind as he tried to maintain his own sense of control, his hand longing to reach, to squeeze, and to stroke his own member. But he wasn't being controlled by chemicals or subtle biological manipulation, and something in him hardened his resolve...he couldn't give her the satisfaction. Still, it was a struggle to talk - even to listen to try to imagine what she was doing now.

He heard some deep breaths, not just his own, of her settling in. Of Elizabeth recovering from what she'd just done, even if she probably wasn't fully cognizant of the barrier she'd just shattered. Then he could hear slight sounds of movement, as he imagined her, her clothes pulled off only as much as she needed to access her body....

"What are you doing?" He breathed. He thought he heard something muffled, and longed to know. Grant had to know. Slowly, deliberately, he closed his eyes, no longer wanting his eyes to limit his imagination. He didn't want to see the worn carpets, the dishes he still hadn't cleaned from the party, glasses and cans with drinks still in them. He wanted to see Elizabeth. Imagine her, letting his mind do the drawing.

And to ask her something else.

"Are you satisfied?" Hearing it from her, even if he knew the answer, would be so delicious. Much like his cookies to her slowly submitting body. He gulped. "I have to know." His voice was dark, husky, as if he had to.

If she was eating a cookie...

"I'm sure you won't be satisfied again until you see me." Her lust could be sated for the night, but he wanted it to rise again. And he wanted to be in control.

Grant wasn't sure he would ever be able to let her go.

Or if he could.

 

[skittish_butterfly]

Lying still, insides still swirling with warmth, absolutely nothing in her head, nothing at all. Elizabeth felt joy as she did a complex variable analysis in her head, just because she could, the only thing dimming her happiness the fact that her hands were still between her legs, her hips grinding now and again still against her slick and glistening fingers as the very last bits of bliss worked their way out of her exhausted body. And she was so tired, so hungry.

Elizabeth was so hungry. She reached past the still active phone, scarcely even aware of it, her attention all on the cookie just out of her reach. Her glistening hand reached for it, knocking her phone and Grant's still active contact picture skittering across the floor a little farther away as she struggled with her knees against the floor to slide her sweat slicked body the last foot or two across the wood floor, until finally her wet fingers closed on the cookie and brought it to her lips. She closed here eyes, smelling the exquisite aroma wafting from the partially crumbled cookie along with the vulgar scent coming so powerfully from her own hand. The smell of her hand should have bothered her, embarrassed her, made her leap up to wash her hand and fling the soiled cookie in the garbage, but somehow the cookie's aroma made it ok, made even her own wanton juices smell wonderful. Everything was fine in her world and she was at peace as she took a first bite, even a bit of her own dampness adding a bit of flavor that the cookie somehow made seem perfect. Even Grant's voice on the phone talking to her was ok. Grant. She took another bite, chewing slowly, her body warming even more as she swallowed it.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She didn't want to answer, too busy chewing a third bite. But if she didn't, he would just keep bothering her. Make something up, anything, just make him leave her alone. Jen mumbled through a mouthful of delicious cookie, "Mrrrm getting dressed." No, that wasn't right. The little part of her head that wasn't lost in the cookie scolded the part that was for saying something like that to him, tried to fix it... "I mrrrm, mrrrrm, I mean, uh, hungry, having a snack." That sounded innocent. No way that could get her in trouble.

Elizabeth popped the last little bit of cookie in her mouth and then licked the crumbs from her fingers, tasting herself more than the cookie, but it didn't matter. Everything was good now.

Grant's voice from the phone again, "Are you satisfied?" Was it really that hard for him to shut up long enough just to let her enjoy a bite of cookie? "That's none of your business, Grant." She went on chewing contentedly, until he pestered her again. "I have to know."

Satisfied? As she chewed and swallowed the last bit of cookie, she wriggled at the thought of how satisfied she was, her world was perfect, if he would just leave her alone. Tell him anything, just make him be quiet, so she could dwell in perfection for a few minutes and drift off to sleep. Sleep. She was so tired. Tell him anything. "Yes, Grant, for the love of God, I'm satisfied, all right, now will you please shut the hell up?" Her eyes flared open briefly, realizing she'd told him the truth. But she let it be, just wanting quiet.

But Grant was genetically annoying, it was in his blood and he couldn't help it. He had to talk again, didn't he. "I'm sure you won't be satisfied again until you see me."

His stupid words annoyed Elizabeth, almost as insulting as his words at the party that started the whole mess. Irked again, she felt them bury themselves in her heart like an arrow, but this time she decided to just ignore him. She felt to good to worry about it, to get herself all worked up about a vile man's idiotic and perverted words. Elizabeth was a smart girl and she'd learned her lesson. Nothing could shake her peace of mind, not even Grant, not even the little phrase he'd just left festering away inside her.

She groaned, impatient with him, her cookie gone now and her eyes so bleary she could barely keep them open. Her hand reached out for the phone. "Whatever, Grant, whatever. I'm not playing any more of your games. Good night." She snapped the phone shut on him, not even waiting for him to talk lest he say something worse and take away any of the utter goodness she felt wrapped around her.

Elizabeth lay on her floor, naked and sweaty, the phone still in her hand, her other hand still shiny from what she'd done, gently touching herself as her eyes slowly closed. The lights were still on but it was dark outside, the middle of the night. And Elizabeth drifted off right where she was on the floor. She slept on the hard wood, deep sleep, with swirling dreams of Grant and cookies and pleasure.

She woke only once as dawn's first rays peeked through her window. The warm glow was gone, but she still felt good. Really good. The sweat on her body had dried, and she'd somehow moved to the middle of the floor in her sleep. Her hair was in her face and she brushed it aside, sniffing at a faintly lurid smell from her hand. She felt a mild ache, a yearning between her legs, but after feeling so good the night before, she didn't worry about it. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift as her hand went back between her legs, stroking herself absentmindedly as thoughts of Grant and cookies slowly dragged her back into her dreams. Her stroking felt good, but led her body nowhere. Still, she was too at peace to worry about it, and fell deeply asleep again on the floor.

Elizabeth didn't wake for many more hours, until it was already 11 in the morning. She hadn't set an alarm! Morning classes were already half over, she was missing them! Leaping to her feet she reached for the nearby jeans, thinking to just dress quickly and run to what remained of her classes. But sniffing the jeans, she recoiled in horror. Had she been walking around smelling like that? Her body's odors were coming from the jeans, strong in the crotch, and she closed her eyes with embarrassment suddenly remembering the previous night.

Well she'd learned her lesson, she really had. She wasn't going to let him get her upset. His comment about being satisfied again? It was like he never said anything to her. Over, done with, never happened. But Elizabeth needed a shower, a bite to eat. She wasn't going to make class. Uncharacteristically, she decided to take a little time to shower and grab a bite for breakfast from the kiosk and then skip classes entirely. She was behind in her research after the mess Grant had made of her day yesterday, so she thought she'd go into the lab early instead of class. And that way Grant wouldn't be there yet either. She wouldn't have to see him until much later in the afternoon, if at all. Maybe she'd leave before he came in. The thought of facing him suddenly sending intense feelings through her, embarrassment mostly, even thought everything was his fault, not hers.

She showered slowly, enjoying the hot water, soaping herself far longer than she usually did, wanting to wash away an entire day of her life. Her hands felt good on her body, which was nice, and she lost herself in the sensations a little, enjoying touching herself without all the frustration Grant had caused her. It felt good, and she felt her body responding, so she touched a little more, opening her soapy legs enough to stroke more firmly where she needed it. She never did this, certainly not twice in one week, but the memory of how amazing she'd felt the night before was still strong, and the thought of feeling that way again drove her on.

Elizabeth stroked and stroked, breathing harder, moaning in the shower and trying not to think of Grant as she got closer and closer. She could hear the wet sound, the warm shower water bathing her, feeling perfect if only for his image flitting in and out of her head. Somehow, thinking of him just ruined everything, and she couldn't quite reach that bliss she'd found earlier.

Frustrated, she gave up, still breathing hard, and rinsed off. No matter. She was not going to let him get to her. She dressed, picking another tshirt from one of her dad's conferences, the nipples of her small breasts taut and making her gasp as she pulled the tshirt over them without a bra on. Elizabeth didn't think she could stand a bra today.

Fresh panties and then a pair of jeans. She pulled out a pair she almost never wore, tighter, a pair a boy she'd briefly dated in high school had bought her in the mall one day, telling her she'd look hot in them. Her mind flitted to the boys staring at her the day before and she touched herself momentarily through her panties, then shook her head and stepped into the tight jeans. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Was she cute? In a skinny kind of way? She thought, maybe. She brushed out her hair until it was smooth and shiny and lustrous, falling loosely down her back. Elizabeth headed for the door with just her lab notebook, and her bag. Where was her hat? It wasn't on the peg by the door. She was so hungry, she ended up ignoring it and just going out with her hair loose. Maybe she'd buy another hat after she was done in the lab.

Breakfast, a frozen burrito in the microwave and orange juice through a straw. Then she eagerly headed to the lab, ignoring everyone else going to class. She could find out what she missed later. Important work was ahead of her. She headed off to the lab, smiling secretly at the eyes of various boys and men on her as she walked, her tight jeans, her hair free, feeling so good about herself.

***

As she sat at her work station, though, she kept glancing to Grant's area, needing to check whether he was there, the thought of him coming in sending ripples of anticipation and embarrassment rolling through her. She was back to messing up the simplest tests with jittery fingers and her frustration was growing. Elizabeth really wanted to get her head straight, stop thinking and worrying and feeling ashamed about him. But mostly it was because she wanted to finish her experiment and get out of the lab before his shift started, even the thought of him looking at her making her face turn bright red.

She sat and tried to calm herself, and her hand drifted between her legs. Realizing what she'd done, she jerked up right and scanned the room, ready to stare down anyone who'd seen it, but thankfully she was unnoticed as far as she knew. It was that feeling again, though. But last night, she'd dealt with it just fine, more than fine even.

Elizabeth looked around to make sure no one was watching, everyone busy at their stations, and snuck off to the bathroom, locking herself in a stall. She pulled down the tight jeans, and then the panties, and sat on the toilet's seat. She closed her eyes, a little embarrassed at what she needed to do, but it was important for her to be able to concentrate and finish. She spread her legs and started stroking herself, just like last night. Her leg muscles started tightening up as it felt so good, and her toes and ankles started to point as the pleasure built. Breathing hard and moaning as softly as she could, thinking intently about finishing before Grant saw her, before Grant saw her, before Grant saw her...

She couldn't get there, so turned on, her nipples taut and throbbing under her tshirt, fingers wet again, hips bucking on the toilet seat, but she was stuck. And now she could smell herself again, her hands, between her legs. The dampness was easy enough to wipe away with some papers but the scent was still there, at least she could smell it. Hopefully it was all in her head. She dressed up, a little shaky, and half-stumbled out of the stall, starting to feel that desperation return, like early the day before. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked good. How could she feel this miserable?

Glancing at her watch, she realized her next batch was due to come out in 2 minutes. She checked herself in the mirror and walked back to her station, hurrying and trying very very hard not to let her trembling fingers mess up again as her eyes kept checking Grant's work area even more than before. She was a mess.

 

[Bevatoria]

He could make out the groan, and visualize her impatience simply from the tone of the words, the cut of them as he imagined her saying them to him. Much like she had many times before, as if Elizabeth was looking down on him in the lab again, as if she were the supervisor and him the impudent student. "Whatever, Grant, whatever. I'm not playing any more of your games. Good night."

The hangup was not a total mood killer, as Grant still felt his stiffness in his pants. With the call ended, he now had his own privacy to deal with his 'excitement'. Before long, his own gasps matched hers, in intent if not in intensity or desire.

*****

Grant got up later then usual, and he stumbled through his shower, still wondering if he'd imagined the whole night. Checking his call history confirmed that he hadn't, and that Elizabeth had made two calls to him last night. One received, duration of call - he blinked at it in disbelief. Had it been that long? Had their lewd session of debauchery and humiliation really taken up that many minutes?

It wasn't that he was worried about it. Only surprised, and shocked, and as he went through his bland breakfast of toast and oatmeal, he wondered how long it could last. It was one thing to all but brainwash someone, but the excitement would not always be this new, this fresh in a relationship where the balance of power would skew decidedly in Grant's favor. Today would be another important day, another step into turning Elizabeth into what he wanted her to be, what he longed for her to be in the name of his revenge, his lust, his want for power.

His day was unsettling. Mundane activities became frustrating, normally challenging tasks arduous, and little bits of time spent fretting over what was going to happen in his lab session. He'd be there late; a meeting with the department heads, ironically enough, about what kind of projects they had on the go. And he'd tell them the truth. Officially, they didn't have much in testing, or even in the theoretical realm. What he was doing was off the books, and before he put it on the books he'd have a lot of hurdles to clear first.

The first of which would be to make sure Elizabeth was under his full control. Her behavior had been erratic, and he'd have to do something to try to control it. An order, perhaps? Or maybe a sign he'd never get to share what he was doing, at least explicitly.

It was midafternoon when he came in; goggles and lab coat on. Two students were in a far corner, jointly testing the effects of vapors on a rat. The rat would survive, of course, although were it human it'd definitely have a wicked hangover the next day. Grant wasn't one to test on animals; another department entirely, as far as he was concerned, but a concession he would make to get more students, and more funding.

It was at that point he noticed Elizabeth. And he did his part by paying her no more heed then any of the other students, even if his mind would have betrayed the lie easily. He wanted to go to her, to ask her what she was feeling, how much she needed to cum again, what she would do for it...

She wasn't wearing a hat. Her hair was down.

How much would he end up changing her?