Chemistry Pt. 06

~

When I enter my room, Pete is sitting at his desk. I had forgotten about Pete. Then I remember that it's Sunday, and here he is, of course, back from his weekend at home.

"Hey," I say. Fuck. I remember Pete's sheets. I look at his bed and see his sheets and comforter are clean and in place on his neatly made bed. My bed is still stripped bare to the mattress.

Pete turns to look at me, but doesn't say anything. He turns back to his computer.

I begin to sputter. "H-hey, Pete. I... um, I'm really sorry about your sheets and stuff."

I look around and see that all the mess has been pushed to my side of the room, by my desk and bed. Pete must have cleaned up, but just his side of the room.

"Look, dude, just don't touch my shit, OK?" Pete says, staring at his computer. "And try to keep the room clean, like we talked about."

"Yeah, totally," I say, bending to pick up a few books from the ground. "Sorry, I had, um... a friend over and we made a mess." I continued picking up papers.

"Whatever," Pete says. He stands up and grabs his bag. "I'm going to the library."

"OK. Hey listen, I'm sorry, Pete."

The door slams. I put the papers I have collected down on my desk. One of them catches my eye, it is full of bizarre-looking structures. Chemical structures. I look closer. No, not chemical structures, intricate drawings of some sort of... mechanical device. It must be something of Pete's. I put the paper on his desk by his keyboard.

My dirty sheets are still in my laundry hamper. There are clothes scattered everywhere in the room. I am not sure what is clean and what is dirty so I load all the clothes I can find -- almost all the clothes I have, pretty much -- into the rank-smelling hamper, grab my detergent and head down to the laundry room. Every machine is being used, as usual for a Sunday night. I leave my laundry there and go back upstairs.

I sit at my computer and sigh. On top of everything going on I have another week of classes ahead. I move my mouse to deactivate my screen saver. There are a couple of notifications on AIM. One from Mahan.

MahanForPresident2020: You and Nadiyah?!?!!?!?!!??!?!

Sent yesterday afternoon.

And one from Nadiyah.

BrasilieraCarioca: Hey

Sent today, just fifteen minutes ago.

I scroll through the rest of my contacts, looking for Jamie. I don't find him. I scroll again, slower. I don't see his handle in my contacts or in my recent chats. With a chill, I realize he must have deleted the evidence of our chat. Maybe he did it before he left the room last night. Or maybe he did it remotely.

A sick realization descends on me. He is in control. He is manipulating me. Does he know that I know? It probably doesn't matter, as long as his hands are on the strings. Can he read my thoughts?

He can probably track my location, and it is obvious that he can put thoughts into my head, but for some reason, I don't believe he is listening to my thoughts, at least not yet. I have to act quickly.

Who can I trust? I rule out all of my friends on campus -- Jamie could get to them too easily. I think about my parents, my sister, but decide not to bring them or anyone else in my family into this, for their safety. Who else do I even know? The list of people in my life suddenly seems very small.

My thoughts land on a friend from high school, Carl, from the soccer team. We weren't super close, but he had hung out with me a few times the summer after Zahra broke up with me. He is in college, too, closer to home. I haven't been in touch with him for a long time, but it wouldn't matter. Carl is solid. I picture him in my mind, remember his easy-going smile and laid-back attitude. Thinking about him, I realize that I miss him. He is a really great guy, and was a friend to me when I needed one.

I open my email. There are a bunch of unread messages, mostly spam, but there's one from my analytical chem TA. I click it.

Amir, I need to meet with you about the problem set you turned in. Do you have time before class Monday? Let me know.

I wonder for a second what that is about but I don't have time to deal with that right now. I pull up a blank email draft and begin to write a message to Carl. I type slowly and keep my eyes glued to the screen as I write. If Jamie is watching, through me somehow, I want him to see the message, to know that I am on to him and that I am circumventing his machinations.

Hey Carl, do me a favor? I am being monitored so can't explain fully. I might be in danger. If anything happens to me, tell the authorities to investigate the name below. DO NOT tell my family about this, they will freak out. I will write more later when safe to do so. Thanks -- Amir.

I hit enter a few times and type Jamie's first and last name, then hit send. I feel relief as soon as I've done so. I'm doing something, finally. I'm fighting back. I take a deep breath. I feel like I have achieved a small layer of security.

I lean back in my chair and rub my temples. I am sweaty and exhausted and I stink from walking around all day in the heat. I need a shower and rest. Ugh. I remember that my laundry is still downstairs. I strip to my underwear and grab my towel. I'll go shower after putting my clothes in the wash.

I head for the stairs at the end of the hallway to get down to the basement. I hurry, since I am just wearing a towel over a pair of boxer briefs and I don't really want to encounter anyone. Luckily there isn't anyone in the hallway, and I am relieved to find the stairs empty, too.

It is an old building, one of the historic Gothic dorms on campus. The walls of the stairwell are ancient, concrete and stone, with mysterious exposed pipes that are constantly making ominous creaking noises. I feel a little dizzy when I finally get to the bottom of the stairwell. I steady myself on the handle of the door leading into the basement hallway. Why is it is always so hot down here? Sweat has broken out on my forehead, chest and shoulders. When my head stops spinning, I proceed through the door.

The long basement hallway stretches before me. There is a loud clanking sound, muffled through concrete as I walk. The sound is emanating from behind one of the many mysterious locked doors that line the hallway. I make a left, then a right, toward the laundry room, which is tucked away in a remote corner of the sprawling basement. There are signs with arrows pointing the way -- at least there were when I moved in. I don't see them now, but I know the way.

I walk for what seems like a long time down the third hallway and come to another intersection. Did I miss the laundry room? I turn around and walk back a bit, but there are no doors, no brightly lighted room with washers and dryers lined up against the far wall. I turn around again. Maybe I forgot a turn. Back at the intersection, I go right. I walk for another minute, but this also looks wrong. I'm sweating profusely now, it is really hot. Maybe if I go all the way back to the stairwell I can reorient myself.

I head back, make a left at the intersection, but then I am in a hallway that looks completely unfamiliar. Shit. I stop and close my eyes, try to focus on how I got to where I am. I build a map of the basement in my head, and place myself in it based on where I've walked. A path illuminates itself in the map, this is where I need to go.

I begin to walk back, confidently now, along the route in my mind. It doesn't matter that I don't recognize the hallways because I am just retracing my steps. I unwrap my towel from around my waist, it's just too hot. I feel sweat dripping down my face and neck, tracking down my back and down my chest. After a while, I am back to where the stairs should be. But there are no stairs, just another intersection.

"Fuck!", I say, loudly, slamming the wall in frustration. I slump down and sit on the floor, holding my head in my hands, leaning back against the warm wall. I berate myself. I can't catch a goddamn break, everything is going to pieces. I sit for a long moment, feeling myself sweat in the oppressively hot and humid air.

I notice that the walls aren't concrete here, but what looks like fine, mosaic tile that extends around the corner to the right. The whole hallway in that direction is laid with tile -- intricate patterns the color of light sand. I haul myself up to my feet and begin to follow the tiled hallway.

There's steam in the air. Darker patterns begin to appear in the tile, stylized swirls depicting waves and water across the floor and walls. After several twists and turns, the hallway opens up and I step into a enormous circular chamber. In the center of the chamber is a large pool. The water is steaming, filling the room with mist. Around the edge of the pool is a tiled rim, a few feet wide, covered in more intricate designs. Large, domed lights are spaced evenly around the walls of the room and put out warm, yellow light. What is this place? I've certainly never been here before. I've heard rumors of a network of secret passages hidden under the campus, but never anything like this. It looks like some sort of bathing pool out of The Great Gatsby.

With a start, I realize there are other people in the chamber with me, two figures, male bodies, sitting on the far edge of the pool. The steam is almost completely obscuring them. I'm too shocked to say anything, and my feet are rooted in place. I can't make out their faces.

One of them pushes himself down into the pool and begins to walk toward me. The water comes up to just above his waist, and as he walks, ripples V out to either side of him. When he approaches me, I see his face. The shock of recognition hits me, causing a sharp intake of breath.

Carl. The friend from home I just emailed, minutes ago. What the fuck? Despite the steam and heat in the room, I feel a cold wave of terror that raises every hair on my body. I want to run, but I am paralyzed with fear.

Carl stops a few feet from the rim of the pool where I'm standing. He smiles up at me.

"Hello Amir", he says.

I am too stunned to reply. How is this possible? Is Carl part of this? How did he get here? Did Jamie get to him that fast?

It is definitely Carl. His strawberry blond hair is cropped close to the sides of his head, longer on top. His eyes are exactly how I remember them; clear blue, like the sky, offset by faint, golden-tinged eyebrows and a spray of tawny freckles across his nose and cheeks. The freckles extend to his shoulders and speckle his chest, but the rest of his body is pale, lean, compact, and muscular. Just as I remember it from when we were teammates, working out together every morning. Looking at him, I feel my anxiety begin to melt. It's Carl. I feel a surge of blood to my dick, a pulse of desire in my belly.

"It's good to see you again, buddy," Carl says.

He gestures for me to enter the pool. I feel my body begin to comply, take a step forward, but I force myself to stop. My mind begins to fog, my vision blurs, and I feel a sharp pain along my spine. I grunt. I feel my body move forward again, against my resistance. The pain increases. I force my legs to stop, and I feel pain shoot down the sides of both my legs.

"Amir, hey -- relax," Carl says. "Don't fight, just let it happen."

I am breathing hard now. Sweat is pouring off of me. I keep fighting with my body, trying to assert control. Carl keeps talking to me in a soothing tone. After a moment, I can't struggle any more, the pain is too much. I let myself focus on Carl's voice. His words are like a balm on my mind. Here is Carl, my friend, someone familiar. He won't hurt me, I should trust him.

I relax and feel my body move to the edge of the pool. I sit down and put my feet into the water. It is wonderfully hot. The heat radiates into my feet and calves. Carl moves toward me and puts his hands on my knees, then runs his hands up the outside of my thighs as he comes to stand between my legs.

Up close in the dim, yellow light, his eyes are beautiful. I see the lightest dusting of blond hair on his cheeks, chest and arms.

"I've missed you," he says, quietly, and he leans into me. His hands come up to my chest and he turns his head up to kiss my mouth. I bend to kiss him. I feel the fullness of his lips against mine, the sweet, ripened taste of him. My whole body aches with lust.

He grabs the elastic of my underwear and gives a tug. I shift my weight to let him pull them down, down over my knees, off of me completely. He is naked, too, standing in the water. I push off the edge of the pool to stand next to him in the water, and I am momentarily surprised at how small he is. I had forgotten the huge difference in size between us. His head is level with my chest, and every feature of his body is finer, more diminutive than mine. We embrace, and I feel my erection press against his stomach.

He grabs my cock, just underneath the surface of the water and begins to stroke it. I feel my mind dissolve into the pleasure of being with him, his smooth, perfect body, the taste of his mouth lingering on my tongue. I grab him and push him up against the edge of the pool, overcome with desire.

My hands move to his ass; I feel the luxurious give of his rounded flesh. I pull him up and feel his legs wrap around me and the stiffness of his erection against my belly. I press my fingers between his ass cheeks, feeling for his hole. He moans when I find it and push against it, feeling its supple resilience.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispers in my ear as I grind my body against his. His hands are in my hair and beard as I grind against him, my tongue in his mouth and my fingers pushing up against his hole.

I feel a brief surge fear. This is not right. And then a flash of pain in my temple in reflex to my resistance. But then, Carl's mouth is on mine again, and I release myself to the immediacy of what is happening.