Redemption Ch. 02

Author's note:

This is chapter two of Redemption, a sequel to my story Emergence which was published in September of 2022. It contains scenes with voyeurism/exhibitionism and group sex. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Thank you for reading!

***

Dear Elaine,

I wanted to thank you again for the herbal treatment patch you made for me last month when Josh and I visited Glisten. I think we made love more often that week than we had in the previous six months! Some of that was the fun we were having at Glisten, but I can tell the patch helped, too. Since then it's been like when we were dating. Josh wants to nominate you for a Nobel prize for the 'fatigue' treatments you made for me. Do you have any idea how long I can expect the treatment to remain effective?

I hope you and Jan are doing well and soaking up that Aruban sunshine!

Take care, Caitlin

That was sweet. I've received a small handful of these thank-you messages, but Caitlin was the first person I helped at Glisten so this one is special. It's also, though I hesitate to admit it, something of a novelty for me. A thank-you note, that is. I've founded several startups, created millions in shareholder equity, and co-authored dozens of studies and papers. No one ever thanked me personally for any of that.

Regrettably, I'm not able to answer Caitlin's question about the duration of her treatment. In a proper study, there would be follow-up protocols. Research assistants would regularly survey study participants or bring them in for physicals. In a proper study, we'd collect years' worth of data.

In a proper study, we'd have more than one subject.

Nanoparticle delivery of gene therapies has been proven safe, or at least as safe as the genetic code they deliver. Efficacy and duration, however, are all over the place. Caitlin will just have to let me know when the patch wears off, although that brings into light the very real problem that I'm facing. I could use PharmaPhab to spit out more of the patches and send them to Caitlin. If customs didn't intercept the package she might gain months or possibly even a year or more of the benefits. But that isn't sustainable. Not only would regularly sending packages back to the States alert the FDA, but I also can't produce that many patches long-term. If I made patches for Caitlin I'd also have to make them for Hailee, and for the others that I've helped out. PharmaPhab is meant for rapid turnaround lab work, not producing pharmaceuticals en masse.

But it does give me an idea.

*

"We're a sexual wellness resort."

In a rarity, Jan and I are out on the water. The operator of a booze cruise sailboat charter is trying to sell Jan on the idea of making it an option for guests at Glisten, and his primary sales technique is to take us out for an evening of tipsy sailing with guests from other resorts.

"What's that?" Jan asks over the wind.

"We should market Glisten as a sexual wellness resort," I repeat, scooting closer to him on one of the boat's aft benches.

"But we're not a wellness resort. We're an intimate resort. We don't even have a spa."

My response to this is to tap his drink with mine in as close an approximation of ringing glassware as one can achieve with the tiny plastic cups. I want Jan to keep drinking. "Glisten doesn't have room for a spa," I agree. "But we can listen to a couple's needs, customize their experiences in ways that larger resorts can't."

"And fix them up with illegal genetic therapies."

"They aren't illegal here."

"Mmm?" This is the first Jan has heard of this.

"I researched it. Aruba follows the Netherlands, and the Netherlands defers to the EU."

"Doesn't the EU have even stricter regulations around genetic engineering than the States?"

I tilt my glass to Jan once more and we each take a sip of rum punch. "Yes, for the food supply. Fruits, vegetables, livestock, grains, but they've been slow to modernize their regulatory framework for medicines."

"How slow?"

"Yes, well." This is the part I have to finesse. "They may have a package in place by next year."

"Uh huh. So, you want to rebrand the resort for possibly less than one year, when the EU inevitably gets around to criminalizing what you're up to?"

Apparently I didn't finesse that as well as intended. "Jan," I begin, trying a new approach, "I've seen your financials. Glisten may not even last a year anyway. Isn't this worth a shot? Wellness visitors will be repeat visitors."

Jan glares at me, but before he can shoot the idea down the skipper makes a cheerful announcement. "We're going to come about! Everyone hold on!"

The mate, a grinning blond youth, spins the wheel and the boat turns into the wind. For a moment it slows and wallows, giving itself to the mercy of the waves, before the wind catches the opposite side of the sail. The boom swings overhead, the canvas snaps back into shape and with a surge of power we're back under way. There's a round of applause from the other passengers, followed by booze-fueled kissing and laughter.

"Don't all the Dutch sail to school, or something like that?"

That gets a smile. "No, we ice skate. Or bike. Everyone knows that." Jan goes quiet, but I let it play out and eventually I'm rewarded. "Write up your proposal for me. Have it for me by the end of the week. And until then, shut up about it."

Deal.

*

Part of our agreement is that I get to look over the reservation requests, both accepted and declined. Much like with DNA analysis, if you can examine a large enough dataset you begin to see patterns.

Hi. I'd like to reserve for the week of 11/22. Do you accept solo males?

Can I stay for less than a full week?

Heyyy, I read from a reviewer that you have, uh.. fantasy fulfillment? Because I kinda have one...

Is the week of 12/06 open at all? I see rooms, but when I select just one traveler the room rate disappears.

Happy autumn, lol. My wife and I would like to visit the first week of January. How do we specify the Wellness rate, and what information do you need in advance?

Looks like your website has recently undergone a refresh. I like it, but it looks like you still don't take solo male travelers. That's kinda bullshit.

Can we book for just three or four days? Seems like you sometimes take reservations of less than one week, but only at the last minute. Not everyone can book on short notice like that.

Obviously we have some kinks to work out, so to speak. I'm sure that if I can just find the right balance we can fill in the gaps in our bookings and identify future opportunities, but it will take time. Before I can put the pieces together a simpler challenge appears.

"Cindy, Palmer, are you two enjoying your afternoon so far?" I'm learning how to identify who wants to discuss a wellness program with me. From the way this couple eyes me every time I walk by their bungalow I'm fairly sure they've brought a challenge with them.

"It's great!" Palmer says, leaping to his feet. He has the air of a tech entrepreneur about him, from the hipster glasses to the pale skin. Who doesn't catch some sun in California?

"Elaine, please, join us," Cindy says, nudging a chair my way with her foot. She's a petite Asian woman several years younger than her husband, and pretty in a restrained way that stops short of flagrant sexuality.

I accept the offer, settling into one of the teak guest chairs. Palmer seats himself as well, though not before he's asked if I want a drink. "It's fine," I assure him, "I know the bartender. If I want something..."

"We thought you might need a break," Cindy explains. "Looks like you're always on the move."

"I don't mind. There's no gym here so I appreciate any excuse to keep active."

Cindy chuckles. "I'm not missing the Peloton this week."

Palmer shoots her a puzzled look. "You love the Peloton."

"I do, but unlike Elaine here," Cindy says, gesturing vaguely in my direction, "I'm happy to just relax for a while."

They're both trim, so I ask a few polite questions about how they stay that way. Palmer bikes with a club. He must be careful with the sunblock. Cindy sometimes goes along, but mostly rides the Peloton bike and goes to yoga.

"Sounds like you both have good endurance, then."

"Oh, yes," Cindy says, before adding, "Well, most of the time."

Palmer laughs at this.

I'm confused. "What?"

"Go ahead," Palmer says.

Cindy nods and leans toward me, a lock of black hair falling across one eye. "Palmer can ride a bike for three hours. Or me, for three minutes."

Palmer practically snorts. "I wish three minutes!"

"I was being kind," Cindy says, before turning back to me. "Yeah, let's call it thirty seconds."

Here's where I sometimes have difficulty reading the room, but they're both smiling so I try to keep it light. "Well, maybe you're just really good in bed," I suggest, winking at Cindy.

Palmer jumps on this. "That's gotta be it!"

Cindy lowers her glasses, making eye contact with Palmer over the top of the frames. "And were you a sixty-minute man with your college girlfriends?"

"Hey, hey!" Palmer objects. He raises his hands defensively. "I sometimes last forty-five seconds!"

"Forty-five amazing seconds," Cindy assures him. Then, turning back to me, she asks the question that has been on her mind since she and Palmer stepped onto the resort grounds. "Do you have anything in your bag of tricks for a quick trigger?"

*

I dislike the term premature ejaculation. As long as the penis makes it into the vagina, I don't believe there is any such thing. Does sperm reach an egg? Job done.

At least that's what my scientific mind believes. As a woman, I have no tolerance for men who cum too soon. I even had a name for such men when I used to run my sex club. I called them discards, as in no matter how hot a man looks, if he can't last in bed, then I discard him. I'm baffled that Cindy has put up with Palmer's limitations for so long. Love, I guess?

To solve this problem with medication would be to create the single most lucrative medical product since Viagra. Men would pay dearly not just to stay hard, but fuck longer, regardless of their partner's wishes on the matter. In fact, if I had a solution, I might need to tune the medication to prevent men from trying to fuck for hours. Kapp and I tried to produce a treatment using hormone profiles and DNA from that remarkable specimen of a man, Jasper Simms. I believe now that we failed both because we had just one subject, and because we tried to create a medication that could be used on anyone. Too little data spread too thin.

Big data and individual DNA mapping solve these problems. Using GENiE, I sequence Palmer's DNA and upload it to my cloud computing account. From my sex club days I have a fine collection of samples from men who performed well, Simms included. Using this I identify candidate genes and splice them into Palmer's DNA to create a new him. If I've isolated the proper genes, the new him will be able to ride his wife for more than half a minute.

Jan has stopped visiting my bungalow if he suspects I'm designing a treatment. He's working on the plausible deniability defense in case what I'm doing ever ends up being discussed in a courtroom. I've told him that he's being paranoid, but if it keeps him away when I'm trying to concentrate then I suppose I shouldn't complain. He's always welcome to come by later when I want to fuck.

I pull the modified DNA sequence down from the cloud and feed it into PharmaPhab. It's like a tiny printer, attaching the DNA to nanoparticles and layering them onto a patch. With luck I'll be able to dub it the All-Nighter.

*

In between giving Palmer his patch, and waiting to hear back if it worked, I distract myself by going through more of the resort correspondence. There are a few requests that we won't be able to help out with, but those that we might be able to address I divide into three categories. There are men who want to visit the resort solo, couples who want to book for only a portion of a week, and a few requests to pursue very specific fantasies. I don't think everyone knows what sexual wellness means.

I go looking for Jan, but apparently my timing isn't great. There's a heavy cardboard box on the reception desk, into which he is staring morosely. When he spots me his features darken further.

"I told you this would happen."

"What?" I ask, but Jan just points into the box. When I approach all I see is a jumble of burnt metal and wires. "Is this one of the pumps?"

The glare I receive back suggests I should be able to tell one pile of scrap from another. "The Aruban military brought it by yesterday evening, several hours after they shot it down." Then, when I'm still staring blankly, he adds, "It's a drone."

"It isn't LoveDrone," I say, referring to the AI-piloted drone we use to record erotic footage. "LoveDrone is pink."

"No. This one was spying on us, apparently, circling Glisten. Fortunately for us, it was being flown too high. Local military took it out."

"Did they say where it came from? Who was flying it?"

"Elaine, you know who!"

"You think it was the FDA?" The extent to which we should concern ourselves with the United States government is something that Jan and I disagree on.

"Of course it was."

I have to admit that no other interested parties come to mind, but the FDA doesn't ring true either. Risking a diplomatic incident with the Dutch over my hobby doesn't strike me as a balanced risk. "Let me look into it."

"You want to 'look into it'?" Jan is genuinely angry, scorn twisting his otherwise handsome features. "We don't need to look into it. Whatever 'it' is has happened."

"We knew there would be some risks. Without trying something the resort will surely-"

"Fail?" he snaps, cutting me off. "The resort will go bankrupt? Elaine I swear, sometimes I think you care more about Glisten's balance sheet than you do me. No, I don't want to have to shut down, but you know what's worse than that? Shut down, and I have to go back to my family in shame. Telling them that America arrested my lover, but only after we partnered to make illegal drugs and sell them at Glisten!"

I'm crawling out of my skin to object, but seeing in him anger, and the underlying fear that's causing it, stops me. I want to tell him that my treatments aren't illegal, that we aren't selling them, and that he isn't at risk. But I won't be able to convince him now, and the more I turn it over in my head, the more I'm unsure myself. The wreckage of the drone is tangible evidence that someone is taking an unhealthy interest in my work.

"Okay," I say, as quietly as possible. I snap a quick photo of the drone with my phone and turn to go.

Jan yells after me. "This isn't what's going to happen to Glisten, Elaine!"

*

I need simplicity. My ego, my relationship with Jan, the plight of Glisten, and the role of my genetic therapies are a Gordian Knot. With distance and time I may be able to tease out my role in the mess, but right now I want something to point to and say 'I did this', or even 'I understand this'. I find just that clarity more quickly than I could have imagined.

Early evening is when many couples come down from dinner to swim, socialize, or just hang out on their terrace to see what entertainments the evening will hold. I grab a to-go meal of grilled fish, plantains, and greens to finish in my room. I consider just staying there for the evening, but my volunteer duties compel me to make at least one circuit to chat with the guests.

"Elaine. Elaine!" Cindy waves at me from the terrace she shares with Palmer. The wave is perhaps slightly more exuberant than I would have expected from the compact and restrained woman.

"Cindy," I say. Both she and Palmer are dressed in the flimsy robes that Glisten provides. I also venture a smile for Palmer, who is grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Give us an over/under," Cindy asks.

"Mmm, what?"

"An over/under on how long Palmer can fuck me," Cindy explains. "You designed the therapy, you know he rarely lasted one minute before. How long do you think he can withstand my vaginal charms now?"

I make a note to myself to use the term vaginal charms myself. "Well, it's difficult to say..."

"Oh, just throw out a number, Elaine. Give us something to aim for."

The men who impressed me in my previous life, which is to say in my sex club, lasted ten minutes or longer. Surely Palmer can manage half of that. "Give her a five minute ride."

Palmer's face droops at this. "Sheesh, Elaine. I mean, I would have been happy to last two minutes."

"Shut up, Palmer." Elaine winks at me and tugs off her robe. She has a sleek, inviting body, medium-length black hair, and no inhibitions. Soon she's naked and is helping Palmer out of his robe as well.

"No pressure," I say, backing away a few steps. A couple in the pool swims over to get a better view, and another pair offers a hoot of encouragement from their terrace.

Cindy gives Palmer's cock a few delicious licks, but she isn't there to blow him. As soon as he's hard she mounts him, easing her slick folds around the tip of his organ. "Time us," she says as her eyes flutter shut.

They're a well matched couple. Palmer has a lanky quality to him, with little body fat and prominent muscles on his legs and across his shoulders. His endowment is average, but against his lean frame, and especially sliding into his petite wife, it looks bigger. I can't help but feel a touch of envy.

Cindy works herself onto Palmer's cock, slows, and gyrates against him. She's smiling. "I've been needing this," she says, either to Palmer or the audience. "I need a long ride."

They're attracting notice. The couple in the pool is getting quite handsy, with him standing behind her groping her breasts while she reaches back to stroke him. And LoveDrone makes an appearance, darting in and circling to record the scene. Their session is turning into a nice, unscheduled entertainment.

"Mmm," Cindy groans. She's riding him in earnest now, pelvis rocking against Palmer, hands placed on his chest while her back arches. Her breasts are slim, but they do jiggle. "Touch me."

Palmer doesn't immediately comply, and I wonder if he's reluctant to do anything which might arouse him more than he already is. For a moment I fantasize about helping out. I could snuggle myself up behind Cindy where I could fondle her breasts, kiss her ear, or whisper obscenities for them both. The idea gains traction in my mind. If Jan is about to eject me from Glisten anyway, why not soak up some of the resort's lust-charged atmosphere on the way out?

But I'm spared the potential awkwardness. Palmer reaches one hand to first cup, then grip, Cindy's breast. Next he reaches a hand to her hip to add some force to her gyrations. When I steal a glance at my phone I see they've already been going at it for almost three minutes.

"Oh!" Cindy gasps in surprise as Palmer drives her down onto his cock. "Who are you and what- oh!"

I know she meant to finish with "-and what have you done with my husband?" but Palmer pushes Cindy onto his cock again, interrupting her. His body is taut and his brow furrowed, but he's giving off the vibe of someone savoring the moment more than of someone trying to hold an orgasm at bay.

"Ride me," Palmer says, his voice a low purr. "That little pussy feels so good on my dick."

"Right there," Cindy agrees, "this way." She slumps forward, letting her husband pull her against him. Cindy's hair is cut to an even length, and falls around her face like a veil. Her ecstatic features are hidden, but the series of moans she's releasing testify to her bliss. "Oh, yes," she says, "oh yes, don't stop."