Face the Truth

"What is truth? It is the lack of deceit, an open door that prevents us from concealing what we see and what we know. It is personal. A window into how each individual understands the world around them."

The presentation began with a flare for the dramatic, as it often did with Mack. Shareholders sat silently around the board table, discerning eyes absorbing the slides projected on the screen before them. The room was grand as far as office buildings go, with a live edge table and ergonomic chairs, and a wall-sized window overlooking a harbor that spewed light across the tastefully greyscale walls. The room was packed with suits, tailored Italian jackets surrounding the table, and sale rack sport coats sitting in folding chairs along the perimeter of the room. Every important person had brought their entourage of note takers and assistants.

Amid the professional circus, two people in lab coats stood out. One was the centerpiece of the room, the man standing in front of the screen delivering his manifesto. Mackenzie Hannigan II. He dominated the room with his booming voice and broad shoulders. Beneath his lab coat, he wore a fitted black shirt and tie, a tastefully exposed Armani logo screaming out that he was more than another lab nerd. He smiled as he spoke, meeting the eyes of each of the men in the room as they nodded, recalling the preview he had no doubt given them at yesterday's round of golf.

Good old Mack. It was as if they had built him in a douche factory. I internally chuckled at the thought, imagined little workers on ropes hand chiseling that jawline, painting on that trimmed beard that always came with lines so crisp I wondered if he employed a live-in barber. I pictured a foreman looking a the shoulders and calling out "broader! More muscular! And get him a tighter shirt!"

The other lab coat was me. I sat in a folding chair at the back of the room, laptop perched awkwardly on my knees, taking notes on each shareholder's reactions as this designer douchebag delivered the speech that I had written.

Mack continued. "Now I know you gentlemen didn't come here for a philosophy lesson. But this is important. Because until we really understand what it is we're after in theory, the drug will never work in practice. Lies come in three types. We all know about lies of deceit, purposefully spinning a story that is untrue with the intention of spreading wrong information. But the real harmful lies are rarely this type. Lies of omission, saying nothing false without really answering a question. Lies of delusion, sharing information that is inaccurate because one is hiding from the truth deep within their mind. These are the avenues of concealment. These are the lies we need to bring out into the light.

Lies of deceit was the easy part - limiting the brain's access to storytelling functions. But these past few months, my team has worked tirelessly to address these more insidious lies. And I'm pleased to announce --I've done it."

He paused there for effect, allowing the weight of the announcement settle over the room.

"This next round of clinical trials has proven the success of our drug in eliminating all three types of lies. Subjects are now compelled to answer a direct question, eliminating the risk of omission. When faced with complex truths, the drug forces the brain to reconcile one's knowledge and surface the most logical, most true answer. We'll dive into methodologies in a moment but first, I think a round of applause is warranted. Because we've done it. We've finally developed a fully functional truth serum."

Applause broke out over the room. I gave a few half-assed claps, then buried my face in my laptop, reading emails to distract myself from the sting of being relegated to the secretaries' corner.

______________

When the presentation finally ended, the room began to clear. Handshakes were exchanged, happy hour plans were shared, and a parade of suits drifted by me, paying no more attention to me than if I were a doorstop. At last, the room was clear and only Mack and I remained.

"Interesting choice of words there. Your team's work. You've done it." I said, my tone friendly but my eyes accusing. Mack was my peer, the director of the lab team working on lies of delusion, while mine focused on omission.

He smiled--on the surface, friendly and disarming, but with an undercurrent of warning. "You know how it goes Alex. They want a go-to guy. A face of the operation. Of course your team worked hard on this. But what matters isn't the credit, its the stock price."

"For somebody who doesn't think credit matters, you sure give a lot to yourself."

"it's not my fault the guys upstairs see my value. If you're upset I got to present, then take it up with them."

"Over golf at your daddy's estate, like you do? I could tell them you know. About how your trials kept failing, how you kept burning though your budget. I could tell them all about how I had to save your ass. How you promised to back me for VP."

He held my gaze for a moment. The very air between us seemed electrified, a wall of pure energy just waiting to spark. Then he took a step toward me, then another, slinking like a tiger unconcerned with danger. "You're so damn smart Alex. We both know that." Instinctually, I took a step back, finding myself against the wall of the room. "But if you come for me, you'll lose." He closed the gap, caging me in with an arm placed firmly on the wall beside my head.

An onlooker might have just seen two colleagues sharing a private debrief of a top secret conference call, but the way his powerful frame dwarfed mine sent a shiver down my spine. I could see the way his forearms bulged like a passive threat, I could smell the fresh pressed luxury of his shirt. I wondered for a moment if I'd ever be able to escape if he decided to pin me here and make good on that threat. My breath caught.

He smiled and relaxed, leaning into his arm in a casual posture. "I don't need to do anything to you." He laughed. "You'll make your own bed. If you tell them, they'll come right to me. And I'll always be able to smooth things over. Check mate, Alex."

He stalked out of the room, lab coat billowing dramatically behind him. I released my breath. He was right of course. They'd never believe me. But, as I gathered my things and walked out of the arena like a vanquished gladiator, a thought occurred to me. No, they'd never believe me. But they'd believe him.

And I strode through the hallways energized, because I knew what I had to do. Something inside me was excited at this, at being challenged.

______

No matter how terrible the day, few things can't be healed by coming home to the smell of freshly cooked pasta. I walked in the door and let the smell embrace me, almost forgetting my pure anger at the day. Jenna stood at the kitchen island, pouring a glass of smooth red wine. Her face lit up as I entered, and she hurried to pour a second.

I watched her for a moment, letting the sight of her seep into my soul and soothe my sore emotions. She was my rock, she was the woman who held me when I cried and who asked who to kill when I was angry. She had been by my side when I came out to my parents, and had wiped my tears at the altar. She was my everything.

"Long day?" Jenna sidled up next to me, absently twirling strands of my hair in her fingers. She could always tell when something wasn't right.

"Just fucking Mack again."

Nothing else needed to be said. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing herself up against me in a tight embrace. "He'll get bored of this eventually. He has to. Eventually he'll move on, go spend his trust fund on an island in Greece. It won't be like this forever." She held me there, her warmth and her softness spreading through my soul and lulling me into a state of calm.

I felt my shoulders drop, the knot of anger in my chest begin to unwind. My hands moved on their own, wrapping around her slender waist and pulling her closer. I lingered there, just enjoying the feeling. To hold a girl in my arms still felt as magical as the first time I'd tried it all those years ago. She was soft, and gentle and so deeply precious to me. I loved her.

But I could only dwell on that feeling for so long before biology began nagging at the corners of my brain. That familiar hunger was stirring within me. I bowed my head and let my lips find hers, their plump softness melting into me. I felt her breathe deeply and pull me closer, egging me on to kiss her more forcefully.

Our bodies moved as if playing out a script, and in a way we were. We'd been together so long, gone to bed together thousands of times. She knew exactly how to push my buttons. I wasn't innocent in this either.

I flipped her around so that she was bending over the counter top, pressing my weight into her butt. I felt her quiver with desire and arch her back into me, knitting her fingers into my hair as I kissed her neck. And there was no going back.

I expertly unbuttoned her jeans with one hand while kneading her breast with the other. She bucked her hips and grinded her perfect ass onto my crotch. We moved frantically, breathlessly. Every time I pushed her or turned her her body responded obediently, putty in my hands. I guided her chest down onto the counter tops and slipped a finger inside of her, resting a hand on her back to feel the trembling convulsions as she silently begged me to fuck her.

And I did. First one finger, then two, then little bites on her ass and thighs, always keeping my hand on her back as a reminder to stay put. I could feel her muscles tightening as I pumped, clinging to that feeling of fullness. And then, at last, the rapid fire clenching of the night's first orgasm. Moans tore through her as she pressed her hips back, getting to keep as much of me as possible inside her. I picked up my pace, hooking my fingers into her G spot as I had done so many times before. Beads of sweat began to form on her back and I finally released her, bringing my free hand to her clit.

Her gentle moans became frantic stocatto beats as my circling finger electrified her nerves, never once slowing my pumping fingers. Her second orgasm broke, and I smiled as her toes curled, her legs began to shake. Still inside her, I stood and wrapped an arm firmly around her waist, supporting her as she regained control of her legs.

My fingers slowed and she panted as I weaned her off of the overpowering sensation, fucking her slower and slower, eventually removing my fingers and just luxuriating in the wetness around her clit. She peeled herself off the counter and I let my free hand quest up under her shirt, just taking in the scent of her hair and the softness of her skin. She rocked gently, burrowing into my chest.

I felt her gasp once more as a final orgasm, a smaller one, electrified her clit, driving her deeper into my arms and the hazy state of ecstasy that would linger for the better part of the evening. I smiled.

It was always deeply satisfying to fuck her, to connect with her. And yet.... something was missing. To be in love was something magical, but I couldn't help but let my mind wander to less delicate thoughts. Visions of fingers twining into my hair and clenching, pulling my head back with force. Of arms, muscular and sinewy with iron-like hands pinning me down, of how it would feel to strain my muscles and squirm and thrash, to look up at the face bearing down on me and see strength, fierceness, fire. I felt a hotness, a need spreading through me at the thought.

Jenna could sense me getting worked up. She always could. She turned and pulled me into another kiss, open-mouthed and wet. Her hands moved to my chest and toward the zipper of my pants with a drunken ferocity that only the haze of orgasm could bring. Not wanting to wait another second, I unbuttoned them and ripped them down my thighs, somehow managing to hold my balance without ever breaking the kiss.

She began to trace her lips down my neck, my chest, leaving a goosebumps trail down my torso. She kissed me once over my panties before ripping them down and diving in. The warm wetness of her tongue and the drifting coolness of her breath sent shivers down my back as she swirled her tongue over my clit. Feeling my wetness, she slipped two fingers inside me and began a rhythmic motion, flicking her tongue and pumping her fingers to deliver shock after shock of pleasure.

I let my eyes roll back, my mouth fall open, I rested her shoulder to steady myself as my knees grew weak. And even as my orgasm rocked over me, I could feel some ever-present place in my mind light up, reminding me not to grab her too forcefully, to be gentle, delicate. To be as delicate as her. She moved to continue, but I pulled her to her feet, kissing her briefly.

"You don't want to keep going?" She asked.

"Not tonight. I'm tired." I hugged her, pushing away those thoughts of powerful hands and sturdy bodies. I tucked them inside myself and calmed my muscles, running my fingers through her hair gently. And my the time we went to sleep that night, curled up face to face with our legs intertwined, the only thing on my mind was the beauty of her body, her partnership. I was so deeply in love with her. And that was the truth.

______

The reception was held at a local bar. Mack had planned it to celebrate the official launch of the serum, but it became his unofficial promotion party as the shareholders fawned over him. I socialized awkwardly with Jenna beside me. Thank god partners and families were invited, or I'd have been a nervous wreck standing in the corner. I was distracted, waiting for a chance to enact my plan. I sipped my drink and wandered mindlessly around the venue, an upscale bar they had bought out for the company.

Finally, I saw Mack disappear into a private room. I followed him, Jenna at my side. "I just need to talk to him for a minute. Share a victory drink."

I grabbed two glasses of champagne from a server's tray and started after him.

The private room was a small, dimly lit area with a small bar and a few high tables dressed in fine tablecloths. The walls were lined with top shelf liquors and the floors were a glistening marble.

"I picked this room for the shareholders' toast later." He said, turning to face me. "Since you're here, maybe you can help me get ready."

"Like I'd give you any more help." I sneered, surprising myself with my bluntness. I course corrected quickly, stammering. "I-I wanted to share a drink, without the rest of the company. We've been through a lot, but at the end of the day we're colleagues. And we're about to change the world."

He smiled. "I'd love to." And he took the glass that I handed him. The glass that I'd spiked with the serum.

We clinked glasses and he drank heartily. "It's a good champagne, but there's something different. What did you add to it?" He asked.

"Truth serum." I admitted it before I could even think, as if my body was compelled to respond. "Wh--" I started, but he interrupted me.

"What was your plan? Get me to tell them you helped me in front of everyone?"

"Yes. Expose you as a liar." I answered again, my eyes growing wider as the realization dawned on me. "How--"

"It's easy to get a bartender to make a special drink for a special girl. I saw right through you, Alex."

"But you still drank it."

It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "I still drank it. You know why? Because I'm not afraid of the truth. Not like you." I took a step back, unable to form thoughts as he smiled dangerously and closed the gap between us. "And you brought your wife! Wonderful. Should we uncover together all the things you've been hiding from yourself?"

"No." I answered. "No, I--"

"You wanted to ruin me tonight, didn't you?"

"I did."

I saw Jenna step forward and whip out her phone. "I don't know what's happening here. But I'll call the cops if you lay a hand on her."

He turned to her with a chilling smile. "I won't do anything she doesn't want me to. You have my word. Alex knows how the truth serum works. She can tell you I mean that. Am I lying Alex?"

"No." The words tore out of my against my will. I found no comfort in them.

"But still, you do need to learn your lesson. You hate me don't you?"

"I do."

"How much?"

I could feel the answers tearing out of me now, my mouth unable to stop answering his barrage. Staccato beats, he fired question after question, reeling me in like a fish. "I'd slap you right now." I spat.

"You'd give that slap everything you've got wouldn't you?"

"And more."

"And then there'd be consequences. I might even lay hands on you. You know that, don't you?"

"I do."

"You want me to lay hands on you." It wasn't a question.

My breath caught, and anger blossomed in my chest. Moments ticked by, my own heartbeat the only sound I could hear. Jenna grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. But I was frozen, fear and rage and anxiety welding me to the floor.

"Are you excited now? Do you know what's coming?" He continued.

"Yes." A tear broke down my cheek as I took in the image of his broad shoulders, his powerful arms. He flexed his meaty hands absently, and I couldn't help but imagine them grabbing me roughly.

"Stay away from her!" Jenna called out, but he ignored her.

As he closed the gap, he spoke quietly, barely audible but for the silence around us. "You're bored of love. You want to know how it feels to hate somebody, don't you Alex?"

The answer drifted from my lips like the last wisp of smoke from a dying fire. "Yes."

Jenna looked at me, confusion in her eyes, as with slow, deliberate motions, he placed his hand on my head. His fingers curled and he grabbed a vicious handful of my hair. And I felt the pain rain down on me like cool water from a shower head, dragging me out of slow motion. He yanked backward, pulling my body against his chest and holding me there, feeling the way his muscles contracted against my straining. I thrashed, baring my teeth and grasping about with my arms, looking for something to grab, something to hurt.

But he was stronger. With his free hand he grabbed both my wrists, pinning them against his thigh and locking me into place.

Jenna's mouth hung open, a question she was too terrified to ask frozen on her lips. And then slowly, devastatingly, tears began to well up as he played his final card.

"You want this, don't you Alex? You don't want to leave with her. You want to stay here with me."

Heartbeats passed. Visions of strong hands and straining muscles played in my mind while I struggled to focus on her, the pain in her eyes and the tears on her face. I forced myself to look, to plead with her silently. And then my mind betrayed me, my rebellion fell. And I whispered, "Yes."

The phone fell from Jenna's hands. He released my arms and tore my shirt down the front, throwing it open and kneading one breast roughly, hungrily. I pulled against him, but he clamped down on my body. I threw myself--my whole self--into breaking free, not leaving an ounce of strength on the table. And the more I fought him, the more strength I put into every motion, the harder he held me, the more I hated him, and more that heat emanating from between my legs began to spread.

And Jenna could see it. She could always tell.

"Please Jenna. I love you." I blurted out as he unbuttoned my pants.

"Do you want me to stop this?" She whispered. "Do you want me to stop him from touching you, to call the police and get you out of here?"

I began to cry. "No."

He released me and I fell to my knees, devastated. I was numb to everything around me, except for her face and the way her eyes squeezed shut against the tears. And then I felt his shoe on my chest, roughly pushing me to the floor. He fell upon me, pinning my arms to the floor and forcing my legs apart with his knees. He'd taken those precious few moments to remove his pants and he now brandished his cock in front of me, proud and erect. His powerful body blocked my view of Jenna, and for a moment I was mesmerized.