Something in the Air

I paid my way through school easily. I don't have student loans to worry about, and so far at any rate, I haven't had any trouble from the IRS. See, I'm a chemist, and I'm very good.

I'm pretty popular at parties around here -- sometimes I bring freebies. Standard stuff, my own designs. My own designs would be award-winning if anything I did were legal. You've tried Dos Exx? You've got me to thank. And everyone who's making it has paid me royally for the process, let me tell you. See, I've got a pretty intuitive knack when it comes to looking at psycho-pharmaceutical chemicals. I guess what changes might make something more potent, or lower side-effects, that sort of thing. And I usually guess right.

In a few more years, I might actually go legit. Already, as I'm beginning my Ph.D., I'm starting to get the notice of various pharmaceuticals. My Masters' work was highly thought of. The Prof's name went first, of course, but people who'd read her other papers knew who they needed to talk to.

So for my Ph.D., I decided to swing out a little. Find a way to combine my – call it a hobby – with the work I was publishing. Illegal drugs, especially hallucinogens, were my passion as well as my bread-and-butter. Not that I used them very often – hell, the stuff I've designed have only been tested on my customers. I've almost collected enough data on Dos Exx to consider it safe, but the rest? Forget it.

Anyway, I'd been reading lately about human sex pheromones. There's lots of stuff on the market now, but nearly zero research. There's one PhD researcher on the web who markets the stuff (try a search. You'll find her), and her research looked interesting. I decided to try my knack of designing to the search for more effective human pheromones.

My lab assistant is Jill. I've known her since my senior year. She's married, damn it, but that doesn't stop me from trying half-heartedly now and again. See, she's one of the most gorgeous women I've ever met, inside and out. Sweet, loyal, funny. And built. Long, rich chocolate hair. Olive complexion. Stunning brown eyes that I sometimes just get lost in. And, god, what I wouldn't give to get my hands on those breasts, just once. High, round, firm.

She knew it, too. Knew just what to wear for prime display.

I was so jealous of her husband, I couldn't see straight. Of course that meant that I sought him out, got to be good friends with him. Supplied him with some of my best stuff. After all, why not? If she's going to be completely unobtainable, why stop there? Might as well go the extra mile to increase the misery.

Anyway, as soon as I got funding for my research, I hired her. I think I just like to torture myself. And. . . And it meant that I at least got to be with her, watch her. Pine for her.

I'm a masochist.

So, she's my lab assistant, and we've talked for hours about pheromones. We did some informal studies of the pheromones on the market (I was wildly hopeful, and wore some every day for a week. I think she was a little more affectionate than usual, but I can't claim that I took good data). Found that the Good Doc's stuff really did have a significant, if slight, effect on behavior, and that basically all the rest of the stuff is pure waste.

Once I'd demonstrated to my own mind that there was something there, we started, uh, fooling around with designs. Looked at the structures, made guesses at the functional sectors, took wild stabs at what might boost the effect. Then it was into the lab to start producing our leading contenders.

We've manufactured a half-dozen possibilities so far. Jill dutifully sniffed each one, though we both knew that effects were going to be subtle, and that we really wouldn't know anything until we'd done some structured tests with undergrads (ah, I was looking forward to that!). Last week, about a half-hour after she tried a sample, she reported feeling a little horny. It's an exciting possibility, though of course, she might have felt that way without our pheromone. But it immediately became our most promising lead, and we spent late hours that night looking through our other possibilities, looking for ones that were chemically close to the one we'd just tried. There was one I felt particularly hopeful about, so today, we're synthesizing that one.

It's late spring, and hot here in Virginia. Jill is wearing a white lace top, the top three buttons undone. The next button strains to hold her breasts in. She's wearing a sheer bra, and I can see the dark of her nipples resting so close to the surface. She's just let her brown-black hair down, shaking her head. She's going to put it up better before we get started, but for the moment, her dark locks cascade across her shoulders and stick briefly to the moist skin between those glorious breasts. Almost, I put my hand out to brush the hair away.

I look away, crossly ask her if she'll be ready anytime today. She grins, puts her hair back. She's purposeful now, her arms back behind her, chest pushed out. She's teasing me. Fuck.

Finally she's ready; she slides on her lab coat, and my distraction level drops a bit. We're set for the synthesis. It takes only a few minutes to measure out the reagents, and start the process. Soon the sealed glass tube begins to drip our liquid hope into a stoppered vial. After about 20 minutes, the reaction stops. We have a precious few milliliters of fluid.

Jill removes the vial from its little chamber. We'll seal it and mark it in preparation for the sniff tests we'll run when we're through. But dutifully, Jill lifts the vial to her nose. She sniffs lightly, takes a deeper breath.

"No odor, Mitch. Just like. . ." She drifts off, looking faintly puzzled.

"Jill?" I ask, looking over. Her face is going blank. It's so devoid of emotion, she no longer looks human. Show me this picture, and I'd never recognize her as Jill.

"Jill," I say again, and step over to shake her. She looks up at me. Her eyes are blank, but then they focus. And something wild enters them. I stop, watching. Those eyes, they're hypnotic.

And then Jill leaps. Her mouth presses into mine, hard, her tongue slides between my teeth. I feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder, then feel her pulling, tearing at my pants. I hear the ripping of fabric, and suddenly I'm exposed. We're falling, entwined. I can hardly think. I feel my cock grow hard as she penetrates my mouth again and again. More tearing and I feel her hot cunt pressing down. She finds me, envelopes me. I slide into her easily. I've never felt someone so wet, so hot. She grinds down on me. God this is all so fast. I should. . . Something, I can't think. I press up into her. She moans, presses down even harder. My dick is on fire and quenched all at once. I must have those breasts. I reach up, rip at her top, wrench her bra down. She falls free, and I greedily run my hands across her. I pry my lips away from hers, push her up. My tongue slides across her nipple, my hand caressing, kneading her other breast. She's past moaning now, coming closer to shrieking. Her rhythmic movements are powerful. My own voice joins her as the passion grows. I press deeper, my hand grabs her ass, pulls her down. Her face twists, she looks furious, crazy. That's an animal on me, I think and my own animal screams back at her. We're fucking now like nothing ever before. I slip deeper and deeper into her, losing myself. There's only this, only the fucking. These glorious breasts, my tongue her teeth my skin her flesh our screams oh god.

And white hot, I explode inside her, she explodes around me. I feel she feels we feel my juices spray up, mingle with hers. I arch against her trying to climb into her, to inhabit her. She grips my hips and rides me, arching herself.

I collapse, looking up at her. She's wild, insane, laughing. Her hands move over me, her lips, her tongue dart downwards. She's not done, not nearly done. She grazes her breasts across my chest, lifts herself off my hips. Her mouth moves down, seeking me.

What the fuck am I doing?

I finally pull away, push her back. "Jill, knock it off!" But there's no sign of understanding in those animal eyes.

What have I done?

She's coming at me again. I see that her eyes are fully dilated. She presses up against me, her hands sliding down.

"No, Jill," I say, pushing against her. No response.

As she comes in again, I grab her, turn her around. She moans and presses her ass backwards against me. Again I can feel the wet, the heat. I feel myself starting to rise again. God, maybe once more.

No. I swing her into the reagent room, lock the door. Immediately, she's pounding against it, howling. No words, just a wolf-like keening.

Please god let it wear off.

For the first time since she leapt at me, I take stock of the situation. Broken glassware on the counters, the floor. I'm cut on my ass, my arm. There's a little blood and wet on my chest.

Shit. That's the sample. She had the sample in her hand when she leapt. Now it's splattered against me.

No wonder she kept going. This room is probably saturated.

Now there's a pounding at the lab door. Someone from down the hall, hearing the commotion. Hearing Jill, still crying in the reagent closet. Someone saying open up or they'll call the police. Someone female.

I can't think straight. Maybe the pheromone is having some effect on me, too. It seems logical to open the door, let her in. Neutralize her complaints. I draw my tattered lab coat around me and open the door.

She pushes in, and I close the door behind her. Not bad. Kind of flat, but a pretty face. Red hair. I've always loved red hair. She looks at me, her eyes widening as she takes in my coat, which fails to adequately cover my ruined pants.

"What the hell's going on in here?" she asks. She turns around, looking at the workbench. I step close to her, turning so that my coat's wet spot is as near as possible. She turns again, partly towards me, looking at the door where Jill is still pounding. She's just starting to look horrified when the emotions all drain from her face. She stands very still. I run my hand down her cheek, across her breast. She doesn't move.

And then she does. And again, it's wild, rough, fast. I grab quick and pull her pants down so she won't tear them. I let her push me backwards against the vent stand, and then she's taking me inside her. She presses against me, hard, fast. Pumping. I slip off the robe, throw it as far across the lab as I can. It builds quickly, and I'm coming in her. She howls, arcs, trying to pull me through her, and collapses against me.

I grab her, and carry her back to her lab, fingering her to keep her quiescent. I use tubing from her stock to tie her quickly against the bench. I go down on her briefly, present myself for her to suck on for a moment, then I head out.

In the hall, I can hear the muffled howling of both girls. But the rest of the wing is quiet. Good.

Good is a relative term.

I go back into my lab. Jill is calling my name. Good sign. Language is returning.

"Jill, can you hear me?"

"God, Richard, please come in here. Please let me fuck you again. I want you. I want to feel you slide inside me. I want to take you in deep. Fuck me, Richard, please."

Well, it's progress.

I start cleaning my lab space. I use solvents to collect as much of the liquids as possible, seal them in large plastic bags, put them under the hood. It occurs to me that I'm blowing traces of the stuff out into the campus at large, but convince myself that it will be dilute enough to not be noticed over typical Saturday night drunken street-screwing. I use the emergency bath to rinse myself off, put all my clothes in another bag. Grab a spare lab coat.

Now, I just need to get the rest of Jill's clothes off her. There's probably some level of pheromones still on them. I pull open the door. Jill surges out. My hand catches her shoulder, keeps her from coming closer. She tries to push past, get to me, but I hold her firm. I start taking off the ruined remains of her blouse. She gets the idea and strips quickly.

I then turn her around again, and again she tries to back up against me. She's crooning my name. I drag her over to the emergency bath and spray her down – the water is cold, and she shrieks, but it doesn't seem to stem her drive.

What the fuck. The animal side of me starts pointing out that this is what I've been wanting for a long, long time. And now that she's rinsed and her clothes are off of her, there's nothing to do but wait for her head to clear. And as long as we're waiting. . .

I take her, wet and dripping, from behind. I throw the lab coat aside, bend her over and penetrate her. She braces her hands against the bench, pushing back at me, taking me deep inside her. Again, my hands find those breasts that have haunted me through so many lonely weekends. And then I grab her hips, and drive into her. Hard, fast, god I'm coming again.

I slide down to the floor, pulling her on top of me. Her eyes are hers again. Intelligence shows in them.

"Jesus, Richard, what have we done? I'm still so fucking horny. I'd fuck you again this instant." Her hand goes down, urging my member on. But three times in, what, a half-hour? It's going to take more than a little stroking this time.

She shakes her head, trying to clear it.

"Richard, I don't even quite remember what happened. We had the sample, I smelled it. Then there was – somebody – in me. Somebody I didn't know. And I just felt swept away, like this person took over. I can almost picture her." Her eyes glaze for a moment. "No, just a shadow, just a presence. She's still there, Richard. And she wants you again." Her breath is hot on my skin. Her hand is urging again, and incredibly, I'm responding. "She wants you. And I want you. Richard, god, I can't control her. I don't think I want to. Please, one more time."

I don't need much urging. This time it's much different. Her hands touch my face, her lips brush my throat, her teeth and tongue find my nipples. I stroke her hair, her back, her ass. She rises up before me, rides me slowly. I wrap my fingers into her hair, pull her back, slide deeply into her. We moan in concert, finding our music. I look up at her in awe. She who I have loved so long is here, now. We are moving together. She sees me looking, smiles down and touches my cheek.

"I've wanted this, too, Richard. I've teased you and held back from you, but I've always wanted you. In a way, I'm grateful for this. I would have gone to my grave with these feelings buried." She grins wickedly, and presses down firmly, forcing a whimper from my lips.

I lift up, take her nipple between my lips, taste it with my tongue. "I've loved you for so long, Jill. I've just been crazy these last few months, having you so near, unable to touch you."

"Well you're definitely touching me now. And speaking of touch. . ." She pushes me down, lays her glorious breasts across my chest, stroking me with her nipples. And she starts a new rhythm, faster. My body responds; I press up into her, catch her hips, pull her down against me. Our moans become howls and my liquid lightening spills forth.

As we lay there, stunned, another sound slowly penetrates. Jill sits up, listening.

"Who's that?" she asks.

Shit. I explain about the girl pushing in, responding to the pheromone. She listens quietly, then pulls me to my feet.

"Silly Richard," she says. "Don't you know it's bad to leave an engine idling?"

And we go over to rev something up.