Soma Ch. 03

"You need to go!" Rachel screamed at Amy and Dmitri. "You need to go right now!"

"No!" Amy yelled back. "I'm not going anywhere until she's okay! Is she okay!"

Lauren slithered out of the panties. The elastic at the waist had been squeezing her, and she half-expected to look down and see bleeding lacerations at her hips, given how much it hurt. But the black lace was caught on one ankle, and Lauren kicked it across the office. She continued to huff and puff, the hyperventilation of panic and pain giving way to considerably more evocative heavy breathing.

"She can't breathe!" Amy shrieked. "She can't breathe!"

"Damn it!" Rachel swore, running her hands through her hair. "Go! Go!"

Amy refused to leave. She hadn't gone with her friend to the hospital. She hadn't been terribly supportive of Lauren all week. She'd been called out by Rachel. Sure, she'd had naked drinks with the blonde the previous night, but she chose that moment to demonstrate that she wouldn't leave, that she's stand by her friend.

Dmitri, for his part, looked like he wanted to go. He was worried about Lauren, but he was willing to be ordered around by Rachel, wiling to be told what to do in an obviously stressful situation. Unfortunately for Dmitri, however, Amy was standing in his way, and refused to back away.

"What's going on?" the brunette cried. She didn't understand; Lauren was naked, head to toe. Why was she still squirming and panting?

Rachel hesitated, trying to figure out what to say. Lauren, unable to concentrate on anything but the relief she'd begun to feel on her skin or the rapture that was overtaking her groin, grunted, "I'm going to cum! I'm going to cum!"

Both Amy and Dmitri were aghast. Dmitri looked longingly at the door, while Amy went bright red. Rachel just gripped Lauren's right wrist, steadying her as she leaned against the desk.

Her clit throbbed. Wave after wave of sexual pleasure rippled through her pussy. And just when she thought she couldn't take any more, she whined out loud as the orgasm took hold of her. The pink rash had disappeared, the burning and ache had both dissipated. She continued to gasp for air, but for entirely different reasons. Lauren was able to concentrate entirely on the bliss overtaking her, the sensations in her cunt.

"I'm cumming," she announced to room through tears, detached from the fact that Dmitri, Amy, and Rachel were all watching. "I'm cumming! I'm cum...I'm cum...I'm cumming..."

"Ooohh...," she exhaled, her whole body quivering. "Ahh...."

Rachel shot stern looks at Amy and Dmitri both. The message? None of this was to leave the room. And since they hadn't left when she'd told them to, they were now going to be forced to stay. To Lauren, she announced, "I'm calling Dr. Adams."

Lauren was able to nod, but little more. Relief was temporary. The allergic reaction she'd had to her clothes was gone, but the climax she'd just achieved was only the first of many, apparently. On weak knees, she managed to collapse into her leather chair, and slumped backwards. With no concern for Rachel, Amy, or Dmitri, she turned her back to the hallway, spread her legs, and found her pussy with her right hand. Drunk on sexual stimulation, she wanted to ride out her body's spontaneous climaxing as quickly as possible, and figured she'd speed things along.

Rachel found Dave Adams's business card, dialed his phone number, and relayed to him everything that was happening. Lauren's body had rejected the clothes she'd put on. And, if anything, she'd taken a step back, unable to wear even her bra and panties. Even as they spoke, the blonde was suffering from uncontrollable orgasms. He told her he'd be right over, and that Rachel should do anything in her power to ease Lauren's suffering.

Rachel grimaced at the instruction. She supposed she could drop to her knees and tongue fuck her friend to climax, but she didn't really want to do so while Amy and Dmitri watched. And even they weren't standing two to three feet away, Rachel had no desire to stick her tongue in Lauren's pussy here, at mid-day, with all of her colleagues stalking the halls.

Instead, the redhead pulled open Lauren's desk drawer, removed the tiger print vibrator, twisted the knob, and handed it to the blonde. The blonde accepted the toy greedily, pressing it immediately against her clit. She was seemingly unaware of her surroundings, unaware of anything but the sensations of her pulsating pussy.

Ken Fuji, attracted by the shrieks and screams of the past few minutes, rapped his knuckles against the glass window of Lauren's office. Luckily, there were enough people in the way to prevent the little Japanese lawyer from getting a clear view of what, exactly, Lauren was doing to herself, and Rachel wanted to keep it that way.

"You, stay!" she ordered Amy, but directed her to stay standing in front of the glass window, shielding the writhing blonde from any passers-by. To Dmitri, she pointed to the door, and instructed him to stand guard outside. Get rid of Fuji, and keep anybody else from stopping in front of Lauren's window.

Dmitri's eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was unable to offer any response more expansive than a simple grunt. He had been transfixed by the scene unfolding before him, but he accepted his marching orders with a nod. Carefully making sure that Fuji wouldn't see anything going on inside the office, Dmitri opened the door just slightly and slipped through the crack. He took up his post outside, barking at Fuji to leave the girl alone.

It wasn't long before the vibrator was back inside Lauren's pussy, and she was flicking it back and forth with her wrist as her left hand ground against her clit. The first orgasm with everyone in the room gave way to a second in front of just Amy and Rachel, and the second gave way to a third a few minutes later. Tears streamed down the blonde's cheeks as she summoned the energy to push for a fourth, knowing full well that her body was not going to stop just yet.

Adams arrived faster than any of them had expected, just minutes after Lauren had cum a fourth time. The fourth had taken more time and effort than the previous three, but Lauren had been unable to stop. When the psychiatrist joined the brunette, the redhead, and the blonde in the office, Lauren was still trying to catch her breath, the sweat on her skin shimmering in the industrial fluorescent light from above.

Dmitri had maintained his post outside of Lauren's door throughout the entire episode, but was dismissed by Rachel once Adams arrived. Amy and Rachel fully intended to leave their friend alone with the psychiatrist, but a tired and hoarse Lauren asked them to stay. It didn't seem like she had any secrets from either of them any more, and she needed the emotional support.

"I don't understand," she cried to Adams, once the doctor had settled into the chair on the far side of Lauren's desk. Amy sat in one next to him, while Rachel shimmied up on the table behind the blonde. Lauren's eyes directed the psychiatrist to the discarded cocktail dress and lingerie scattered through the office. "The contract's done. It's off my desk. I should be able to get dressed!"

Adams looked mystified. "I'm not really sure what to say."

"But you said...you said it was because of contract."

He shook his head. "Lauren, I just don't know. Look, this is all new territory. There have been vaguely similar cases, I guess, but nothing exactly like this is on record. I've been calling it Laframboise's Disorder, for lack of a better term..."

"Please don't."

"Okay," he agreed. "So, this psychosomatic allergic reaction with accompanying spontaneous sexual release...this affliction...you're the first case, so far as I've been able to tell. I don't exactly have much to draw from on the subject."

"But, you said...?"

Adams held up a hand. "Your friend here – Rachel? – she said something over the phone, about you not even being able to wear underwear? Were you able to put clothes on this morning?"

This came as a surprise to Amy, but Lauren ignored her puzzled look. "This morning," she croaked. "Just underwear, though. Bra and panties."

"And the orgasms...they've continued? Spontaneous or self-initiated, they've continued?"

Lauren nodded. Not all of them were achieved alone, of course. The blonde shot a nervous glance in Rachel's direction.

"Hmm," Adams thought to himself, scratching his chin. He thought it over for a moment or two, but eventually broke the pregnant silence of the room. "So, this is pure speculation, I want you to understand that." He hesitated again, looking Lauren in the eye to make sure she did. "But maybe you've eliminated the root cause of your affliction without entirely treating the symptoms."

"I don't understand." This was Rachel. "If she finished the contract, if that stressor is off her desk, if that weight has been lifted from her chest, why would she still even have symptoms? It's over."

"Think of Lauren's body like...like...like a rope," Adams went on, searching for the proper metaphor. "This contract, this job, this promotion on the line – all of it has added knot after knot after knot, until she's just become this big, tangled mess..."

"Thanks," the naked blonde smiled sarcastically.

"Sorry," the psychiatrist frowned. "But her body decided enough was enough. It tried to warn her first, let her know things were getting too tangled and too tight, by breaking out in the rash. Trying to say, 'Hellooo?!! Lauren? Getting a little knotted up here.' When she didn't stop, or go home, her body took matters into its own hands, so to speak, and released a little pressure the only way it knew how."

"By orgasming?" Amy asked, befuddled.

"Late to the party," Lauren explained to Adams. Rachel knew about the secret, spontaneous and not-so-spontaneous orgasms, but this was all new to Amy.

Adams looked to the blonde, and then to the brunette. "We haven't run blood or chemical tests since this started, but what I think is happening is that Lauren's body is flooding her system with dopamine. Dopamine is responsible for ratcheting up sexual stimulation in you, me, Rachel, Lauren, everyone – but my guess is that Lauren's levels are way out of whack, which explains why she's been having multiple orgasms instead of just one."

Lauren blushed. Another piece of information that Amy hadn't had previously.

"After an orgasm, prolactin is released into the bloodstream. In Lauren's case, it might not be enough to initiate a refractory period right away – again, what's causing the multiple orgasms – but it does, eventually take hold. Prolactin, along with a nice little cocktail of other post-orgasmic brain chemicals, lowers blood pressure, relaxes muscles, and serves as a nifty combatant against stress."

"...like a pressure valve," Amy muttered.

"Yes, like a pressure valve," Adams agreed, but added, "Though, you're mixing metaphors."

"Sorry," the brunette shrugged.

Turning his attention back to Lauren, Adams continued. "Over the past couple of days, every time you've reached orgasm, you've managed to release a little pressure, or loosen some of those knots. It doesn't really matter too much as to whether your body brought one about itself, or if you took matters into your own hand," – at this, his jutted his chin towards the tiger print toy still sitting on Lauren's desk – "it sounds like you were able to loosen yourself up enough to make a few steps in the right direction."

"Fine, fine," Lauren replied, getting a bit exasperated. It was all well and good to get Amy up to speed, but none of this was new to Lauren herself. "But the contract's in. It's done. It's over with. And I still can't get dressed!"

"Well, you've found a way to loosen the knots," the psychiatrist explained. "But just because you don't have the root cause to tie any new knots doesn't mean you don't have to deal with the old ones. The source is gone, but you're still coping with the symptoms."

The naked blonde rubbed her temples.

Rachel stepped in, though, saying, "No, no, no! I mean, she took a step back just now! She can't even put on the same bra and panty set she had on this morning!"

Adams met the redhead's gaze, but once again shifted his attention back to the blonde. "You've had a few more climaxes since then, though, right?"

Lauren nodded sullenly.

"I imagine that you probably won't have too much trouble with your underwear, if you want to try again. You probably just freaked yourself out a little when your body rejected the rest of your outfit, and ratcheted things back up again."

Lauren shook her head, frustrated. "I don't want to put my goddamned panties on. I don't want to wear a goddamned bra. I don't want to have to come in here on Monday in a goddamned thong." She was crying now. "I don't want to have to sneak off to the men's bathroom or the supply closet or anywhere else to finger fuck myself so I don't cum during the middle of another meeting. I don't want to keep fucking humiliating myself..."

She trailed off, and sobbed heavily, even as Rachel wrapped her arms around her naked friend. The hug helped some, but Rachel's clothed arms against Lauren's bare skin just reminded the blonde of her nudity.

"You need to go home," Adams counseled her. "With the acquisition out of the way, maybe now you'll listen to my advice." He leaned forward in his chair, closer to Lauren. "You've got all weekend to keep applying your, er, 'therapy' with the vibrator. Take some extra time if you need to – I'm sure a workaholic like yourself has some vacation time tucked away. You've already made progress since Wednesday. A few more orgasms, in the comfort of your own home, might do you a lot of good."

Lauren sniffled, choking her tears back a little. Adams was probably right. Cortland was over and done with – she could go home without the contract hanging over her head anymore. She certainly didn't have anything to do this weekend, even if it was her birthday; she didn't have much of a life outside of Evelyn Apparel and the gym. And if she needed a day or two to collect herself next week, well, Adams was right – she had the time. There were worse ways to spend a weekend, she supposed, than stringing together orgasm after orgasm.

She looked to Amy, and then to Rachel. Her friends had wanted to take her out to drinks that evening, to celebrate the conquest of Cortland Menswear, Lauren's affliction, and her thirtieth birthday. And, though Lauren hadn't been high on the idea initially, it had begun to grow on her. After all, if she had been capable of putting on a cocktail dress and going out for a few drinks, it would have been a waste of a birthday to go home and go to bed.

Oh, well, she thought to herself. It was a moot point now.

Adams thought she'd be able to wear a bra and panties, at least. That was something, she supposed. Not that she was any rush to put them on – as she had explained earlier that morning, it might be weirder to don intimate lace at this point than just swallow her pride and finish off the day in the nude. Once the building had cleared out a little, she could have Ginger call her one of the coaches, she could slip through the lobby in her underwear, and go home. But it being midday, Lauren didn't want to risk strutting through the lobby naked, in underwear, or even writhing in agony under an overcoat or something of the like.

"There's nothing else we can do?" Rachel asked the psychiatrist.

"Well..." Adams began, hesitating a bit as all three girls listened breathlessly. "The thing is, masturbation only releases a fraction of the amount of prolactin that sexual intercourse might."

"What?" Lauren asked, not quite believing what she was hearing. Was that going to be his next prescription?

"Look, again, this is all just conjecture," the psychiatrist apologized. "And I'm not doing anything here but laying the facts on the table. But, yes, they've found that intercourse releases maybe four times the amount of post-coital brain chemicals than masturbation does in men. And women – well, there's a little bit more fluctuation from woman to woman – but it can exponentially higher than that." He looked at the naked blonde. "If your dopamine levels are anywhere in the neighborhood that I think they might be, well..." He whistled.

Lauren wasn't quite sure what to say.

"I can't tell you that it'd work," Adams went on. "I'm not even sure it's ethical that I suggest it might. But...well...if you have any good, close friends or old boyfriends..."

Lauren imagined herself calling Jon. Asking him to come over for a fuck. No, begging him. But, no, things hadn't ended all that well, and the last time she'd spoken to a mutual friend about him, she'd heard he was seeing someone now. And really, who else did she know? There were a couple of Penn Law alums floating around in New York, but no one she knew well enough to proposition for sexual favors. Her life had been Evelyn Apparel for the past few years, and there were few men she knew outside of the office.

"What about you?" Amy asked, looking at Dave Adams.

"For what?"

"For, well," Amy blushed. "To help Lauren."

"I don't really think that that's an option..."

"It's clinical, right? It's a treatment..."

Adams laughed uncomfortably. "Even leaving aside the ethical no-no's of a doctor-patient relationship, I'm not sure it'd really be an option. I'm gay."

This, of course, both Lauren and Rachel already knew. But even though it was news to Amy, the brunette pressed on, "But, still, you have all the right...parts. And it'd be...I don't know...therapeutic."

"Amy, come on," Lauren chided her.

"Right parts or not," Adams responded, "Lauren's not really my type. I don't know that I could give her the sort of experience that would elicit any real gratification. You can't just go against the way you're wired for a good lay."

At this, Lauren and Rachel exchanged another nervous glance.

Amy caught them, and looked puzzled. Still, her mind was going a mile a minute, and after another few seconds of intense contemplation, she asked, "What if you could?"

"Amy, I'm not going to have sex with my psychiatrist!" Lauren barked.

"No, not him," Amy said, swallowing hard. "What if it was...me?"

This caught everyone in the room off-guard. After all, Amy had barely been able to make eye contact with Lauren as late as the previous afternoon. She'd been more uncomfortable about Lauren's situation than anyone in the office, save maybe Dick Bramley or Lauren herself. And now, for whatever reason, she was offering herself to Lauren, sacrificing her sexual orientation to help a friend in need.

"I don't think –" Lauren began, but Amy cut her off.

"Again, I know I've been such a shitty friend to you over the past couple of days. But I just want you to know that I'm here for you, that I'm worried about you, that I want you to get better, that I'll do anything in my power to help...even...even that."

Another tear trickled down Lauren's cheek, this one caused by Amy's compassion.

"It's not going to work," Rachel offered after a few seconds of moving silence.

"But..." Amy stuttered.

"It's not," Lauren assured the brunette.

"But you don't know," Amy answered, nervously. "It could. It's sex, right?"

Oh, god, Lauren thought to herself. Amy was going to take the rejection personally. She'd extended herself, put herself out there, and Lauren was going to shoot her down. Lauren took another look in Rachel's direction, only to see that the same thoughts were going on behind the redhead's eyes. Without a word spoken between them, and only a momentary nervous glance in the psychiatrist's direction, Rachel nodded and granted Lauren permission to proceed.

"Amy, sweetie, it's not going to work," Lauren said gently. "It's not that I don't appreciate what you're willing to do for me, and I love you so much for the thought. But, it's not going to work...because, well, it didn't work."