Tease to Please Ch. 09

"Okaaay," Elise muttered, "I guess we need to go a little shorter, Beppo. He's the one buying."

"As you wish," Giuseppe offered, helping her roll the hem farther up her thighs.

When Elise felt the skirt had reached the point of no return, beyond which it would become an unwearable joke anywhere outside the laboratory, she stopped.

"Just a little longer than that please, Beppo."

"Perfecto, Miss Elise. Please just give me a moment. You must stand still while I chalk the line."

Giuseppe lowered himself to one knee and marked the new hem with white chalk. Then he asked Elise to turn away from him. He began pinching the dark gray fabric together along the central rear seam, scribing vertical chalk marks to record how much fabric was to be removed to make the skirt perfectly snug.

Next, he had Elsie put on the suit jacket again so that he could mark the cuffs. They agreed the waist and shoulders were already fine, so there would be no need for any difficult tailoring there.

With that task complete, Giuseppe disappeared again. This time he brought back a stack of white silk vests.

"These," he offered proudly, "Are our specialty for women's suits. You will not find them anywhere else."

Elise smiled brightly. She adored the old man's calm earnestness. She doffed her charcoal-colored jacket and began trying on the vests in a progression of sizes.

They really were, it turned out, rather unusual. They had a French lapel/collar combination made of gorgeously shiny off-white silk. What was interesting was that the collar also served as a halter-top. The vests were nearly backless.

No fabric existed other than the silk lapels until about halfway down her chest. Even then, the vest itself emerged gradually, tapered steeply downward as it wrapped around her ribcage. At the rear, it was only about four inches tall. In the middle of her back, at the vest's lowest point, the two sides were joined together via an eyelet-and-ribbon style closure. The front material, below the deep V where the lapels overlapped, was entirely devoid of seams. The vest only opened in the rear.

Once they found the correct size, Giuseppe demonstrated how the laces in back were to be drawn tight to make the front of the vest lay completely flat across her stomach.

"Wow," Elise whispered as he tightened the laces behind her. "That's pretty sexy, Beppo. Are you sure I can wear this to a meeting?"

"Always keep on your jacket, Miss Elise. Only you will know. You will see how it improves the fit of the coat, to have no material bunching across your shoulders and back. It is a lovely effect. My female clients always tell me they love the freedom of movement it gives. I hope you will agree."

Giuseppe helped her slip on the suit's small jacket again. She turned this way and that in front of the three mirrors, seeing the full ensemble for the first time. She enjoyed the way the silk lining slithered across her bare arms and shoulders. With the jacket's two buttons done in front, the vest's French lapels peeked out beautifully, as though she were wearing an expensive silk blouse. But because she was not, the jacket itself lay that much closer to her skin, flattering her figure.

"Oh, Beppo..." Elise whispered. "I love it!"

"Of course you do, Miss Elise," he replied with a wink. "You came to Cuthbert's."

Half an hour later arrangements were made for the new clothes to be delivered to the laboratory by private courier the following day. The two tailors expressed the utmost confidence that they would have the requisite adjustments made in plenty of time for the courier to pick them up at 10AM.

Doctor Yamamoto paid for everything with a featureless black credit card. Elise had never seen anything like it before, let alone experienced the fragile rush of having an older man pay for her shopping.

Elise and her two chaperones left the store. She was heartbroken to be back in her uniform clothes. She wished she could have worn her new suit instead, especially now that walkways were teeming with lunchtime shoppers. She found herself the subject of a thousand leering, disapproving stares as they marched through the outdoor shopping center. She clasped her skirt's little flaps to her thighs, desperate to avoid flashing the men and women they passed. Her high heels clacked loudly across the pale tile flooring. Everyone within earshot turned their heads to look. The wind whipped between the tall buildings and she felt cold, which was mortifying because it made her nipples stand out through the mesh tube top. The stares of women in their 30's and 40's were particularly hateful.

Elise realized she looked like a paid escort walking alongside Doctor Yamamoto and his chauffeur. If her parents could see her now, she thought, they would both go absolutely postal. Especially her mom.

Instead of meeting the oncoming tide of stares, Elise began to watch the ground in front of her clacking feet. Disturbing thoughts about her mom were quickly supplanted by a much more immediate concern: shoes!

Neither pair of candy striper heels would go with her beautiful new suit at all. She needed black or grey pumps, without question.

Over the next few minutes Elise frantically tried to convince the chauffeur and Doctor Yamamoto of her plight. Her word-rate tripled as she sensed the Doctor's resistance. They had been headed toward a cigar shop that was another of his favorites. He was not sympathetic to the idea of making a stop along the way. Finally, when Elise spotted an upscale shoe store directly across the street from their intended path, he relented. He handed Elise two crisp one-hundred dollar bills and told her (via the driver) to join them at the cigar shop a block away in less than twenty minutes. Elise grabbed the cash, gave him a hurried hug and then ran (or rather speed-walked as fast as she could) across the street in her tall pink sandals.

Elise suddenly felt emboldened. She had a fistful of cash and a shoe store to raid. The sense of independence, of being away from the laboratory and all its men, even if only for twenty minutes, was like a holiday.

Of course, everyone in the store nearly fell over when they saw what she was wearing. Elise hardly noticed though; she was on a mission.

"Hi," she said abruptly to the nearest unoccupied saleswoman. "I need a pair of black pumps. I'm a six. Narrow if you have it."

The saleswoman turned and gave Elise an unhurried onceover. She became particularly wide-eyed when she noticed her braless skin through the mesh tube top.

"Uh-hmmmm," she began languorously, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. What was that?"

"Size six pumps. Black or very dark grey. To go with a suit. Like, like..." Elise looked around desperately at all the racks of women's shoes. "Like those!"

She pointed across the room, toward a woman wearing two-inch high closed-toe pumps.

"Except in black," she continued quickly. "Or almost black, and taller. Do you have anything like that? In a six?"

The saleswoman adjusted her glasses and slowly rotated her head in the direction Elise had pointed. Then she turned back and gave Elise another up and down look, this time paying particular attention to her feet. After a lengthy pause she said: "Size seven, did you say?"

"No. Six. Please, I only have a few minutes!"

"Well. I suppose..." the woman sighed heavily. "Let me see what I can find in the back. Just have a seat, dear."

Of course, Elise did not want to 'have a seat, dear.' She would have preferred a deer rifle and a box of ammo. Then she could have gotten what she needed from the back of the store, tried it on, paid in cash and been out the door in less time than it took her sales lady to amble past the register.

'Crap!' she swore to herself, looking around the room. It seemed impossible her new pet tortoise would ever return in less than twenty minutes. Elise plunged between the chrome racks of discounted shoes and started looking. In less than fifteen seconds she determined there were no dark pumps in her size.

"Can I help you find something?" another sales lady asked behind her.

Elise bolted upright and spun around. "Yes!" she began fiercely. But, realizing her mistake with the first woman, she paused for a moment to think. Then she laid on her softest, most syrupy and conspiratorial tone, whispering:

"I am SO sorry to bother you like this, but I have a real doozy of a situation on my hands and I just KNOW you can help me. You see, we're all just on our way in a few minutes to a charity costume party, which is why I had to wear these absurd clothes, and you see earlier today at the office I broke the heel of my best dark pumps... and since we're all downtown for the charity event tonight I just knew if I popped into my favorite shoe store, you could help me pick out a new pair!"

Elise gave the woman a smile that would have set fire to an iceberg.

"Oh! Well, yes, of course. What's your size?"

"Six. Thank you so much. And narrow if you have it."

"Dark pumps, with um, say... a three inch heel?"

"You know me!" Elise smiled.

"Yes, yes. Right. I'll be back!"

Within two minutes Elise was surrounded by three women, all helping her to try on shoes. It took very little time to identify a perfect pair. Elise paid, collected her change and skittered out the door and down to the end of the block carrying her new shoes in a box. She found the cigar shop and handed sixty dollars of change to Doctor Yamamoto. He checked his watch and gave her a faintly admiring look. They had been apart for nineteen minutes.

Elise did her best to befriend the driver during the long walk back to the limousine. He turned out to be a multi-generational native of the City as well as a Japanese-American. He, like Giuseppe, remained resolutely professional and charming, never once allowing Elise's skimpy uniform to crack his decorum.

When the three of them reached the limousine, Elise was delighted that Doctor Yamamoto had no objection to her request to sit up front with the driver.

Fifteen traffic-clogged minutes later, they were back at the Market street shopping center. The four lab geeks were waiting on the sidewalk outside an empty Tourneau store. They piled into the rear compartment, looking unhappily sober and footsore. The driver neatly arranged all their plastic garment bags into the trunk.

Elise was glad to be up front with the chauffeur as the long car crept toward the East Bay through the afternoon traffic. She propped her elbow onto the sill of the passenger side window and leaned her head back. With the privacy glass rolled up, the front of the limo was quiet. She allowed herself a tranquil, contented doze all the way back to the lab.

Doctor Peters had been busy during their absence. Apparently two of the project's most well-connected investors had already put the word out to their contacts about the potential of the PVA patents. As a result, executives from two competing biomedical device manufacturers would be attending Thursday's gathering.

This raised the stakes considerably. Doctor Peters insisted on another all-hands meeting as soon as the limo was unloaded. The junior scientists seemed exhausted as they settled one by one around the conference room table, but Elise felt rested and upbeat.

Now that prospective buyers would be in attendance, the two senior doctors were noticeably more anxious about Thursday's big meeting. To them it represented not only the culmination of ten years of collaborative work, but also, especially in Doctor Peters' case, a singular chance to sell something really valuable. Most of Arthur's prior achievements had been scientifically significant and commercially useless. This, in contrast, had the potential to revolutionize an entire well-funded industry.

Elise desperately wanted to help him, but felt at a loss for how. She watched him standing at the front of the room, looking a bit like a retired football player, going through a draft of his PowerPoint slides for everyone to critique. She could tell that he was not thrilled with the presentation's content. In mid-rehearsal he paused and shook his head.

"We need more punch on this, guys," he said to everyone in the room, "this pitch-book is probably the most critical thing we'll do all year. It has to sing! What am I missing?"

He was answered by a collection of sighs from the hung-over troops. Doctor Yamamoto was pacing the opposite end of the room, just stroking his moustache and looking worried.

"How about..." Elise began quietly. She had been standing off to one side of the conference room, listening intently but staying out of the way. "How about a demonstration?"

She was met with silence. Only Doctor Peters looked at her.

"A what?" he asked.

"You know, like, on me. Why don't you show them how it's done?"

Every single face in the room turned in her direction.

"Um... no. Absolutely not," Arthur began. "We don't have time for wild ideas right now. We have to nail this presentation, that's all."

"Well, yeah..." Jacob countered, "That's true, Doctor P., but actually... if Elise were serious; if she's seriously willing to do that, it would be one hell of a ballsy move. I mean, think about how much confidence that would show, both with the process itself and with its proximity-to-market."

"No. Too many unknowns. Way too much downside. Imagine if something went wrong. Besides, it's totally unethical."

"But..." Elise began to say.

Suddenly the table was swirling with both Japanese and English conversations and none of them involved her. The longer it went on, the more it seemed to Elise that everyone was turning on Doctor Peters. Doctor Yamamoto and the four geeks were in favor of the idea. A live demonstration, they argued, was the best way to show off the simplicity and superiority of the PVA tissue implantation process relative to traditional breast implant surgery. There was no better way to make those benefits palpable.

Doctor Peters just kept shaking his head. He glanced at Elise with an annoyed expression, as if she were at fault for deliberately overstepping some boundary. Elise recognized that she had, in fact, created a disruption in the team's unity. Doctor Peters was their leader. Everyone knew he was their best point-person as far as communicating with the investors and potential buyers. And now they had all turned on him, distracted by an idea she had introduced. It had probably been unfair, Elise realized in retrospect, to throw out a potential game-changer like that in front of everyone. She should have run it by him privately instead.

The cat was out of the bag though, and Doctor Yamamoto and the rest of the team were doing their best to convince Arthur that the idea was not only viable, but actually the best move possible.

"Think of the message it would send," Jacob reiterated, "That we're so confident in this procedure that we'll do it live, right in front of two outside buyers as well as our own investors!"

"Yeah," Alex chimed in. "It would be epic, Doctor P. Those greasy MBAs will be talking about it for decades."

"No you guys. It's just not right," Arthur protested, "I'm sorry. Besides, Elise isn't in a position to give informed consent. It would look like I was forcing one of my employees to be a Guinea-pig. We'd be run out of town!"

"But I'm not an employee," Elise piped up. "Technically I'm a volunteer, remember? I have no financial incentive either way. I just happen to want, you know... the results."

"Elise," Doctor Peters said, raising his hand to stop her from saying more. "I appreciate it. I really do. It's a sweet offer, but it's simply not okay with me. I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you."

"Does how I feel about it count for anything?" she said.

"Well, not really. Not in this case. This is a business deal, not a personal choice."

Elise furrowed her brows and glared at him.

"Look, Elise, of course you matter. That's not what I meant. This is just... not the way to go... and besides, you don't even need... God! This is supposed to be a business meeting! How did we get so far off track?"

There was an awkward silence. Arthur looked back at the slideshow projected on the screen behind him and shook his head.

Doctor Yamamoto dragged a chair back at the opposite end of the table and sat down stiffly. He laid both hands flat on the tabletop and began to speak. He and Doctor Peters volleyed Japanese back and forth for a solid ten minutes without interruption from anyone else.

In the end, the two partners agreed to a compromise of sorts. Doctor Peters would call the lawyers and run Elise's idea by them first. If they had no overwhelming liability-related objections, then he and Doctor Yamamoto call their top two investors. If they thought it was a good idea, Arthur would concede and Elise would get new PVA boobs. In the meantime, just in case, the Japanese team was going to prepare a clinical theater in the upstairs lab while the Americans worked on improvements to Arthur's presentation.

The whole team embarked on a quick roundtable discussion of logistics. If the demonstration got the go-ahead, they would only have about thirty-six hours to prepare. The rough workflow would be this: Doctor Yamamoto and Kazutoshi would liposuction whatever small amount of subcutaneous adipose tissue they could from Elise's abdomen. This fat would be processed in a centrifuge to refine its stem cell density. Then, overnight, they would begin cloning sufficient quantities of the refined tissue as well as a sample of its vascular network. By late the following night, after twenty-four hours of 'grow time,' they would be in a position to re-combine the resulting tissues into a mass of injectable, uniformly-vascularized goop.

It was an achievable timeline, but only just. The team would need to pull shifts in order for everyone to get at least a few hours of sleep each night. There was no room for error but nothing could be done about that. Doctor Yamamoto felt confident that by Thursday afternoon he would be ready to inject the new tissue beneath Elise's skin, but he cautioned that it would be so fresh that it would most likely contain still-active growth agents. It would remain quite hygroscopic for the first few days.

Doctor Peters adjourned the meeting. He seemed sure the law firm would take his side. Elise tagged along behind the two partners as they retreated to Arthur's office to make the phone calls. She imagined the lawyers might want to speak with her directly, to ask if she was 'of sound mind' or something. The whole plan did seem a little bit crazy after all, even to her.

Two hours later the pair hung up from the evening's third and final phone call. Everyone had been on-board with a live demonstration. The lawyers just wanted Elise to sign a boilerplate release document they used for clinical trials. The investors were enthusiastic.

'Poor Doctor Peters,' Elise thought. 'He looks miserable.'

Doctor Yamamoto stood from his chair and glided toward the door. His face was determined, as though he had a tremendous number of tasks to accomplish, which in fact he did. Upstairs, his two junior scientists were already working flat-out on the necessary preparations.

"Let's take a walk," Doctor Peters said to Elise. "I need to stretch my legs, and you need to hear more about what you're agreeing to before you sign this thing."

Elise rose from her chair. With Doctor Yamamoto gone, she pulled the ribbon from her hair and shook out her long ponytail. It had been tied too tight and was starting to give her a headache. Before she followed Doctor Peters out into the lab's long center hallway, she dug her cell phone out from her desk and brought it along. She imagined he might want to call her parents for approval or something.

The two of them spent the next fifteen minutes strolling, talking and wandering deep into the laboratory's maze of hallways. As far as Elise could tell, they were not headed anywhere in particular.