The Study

/A.N: I've been trying hard to get a good Sci-fi fantasy erotica that I could get behind, and actually got about 7 chapters done for a different story only to lose it all in a data transfer. Anyway, I'm excited for where this story can go and I hope some people like it as much as I do! PLEASE NOTE, this chapter does not have sex (next one does though). Happy Reading xoxo — s.g/

Sweat glistened across my forehead, some staying along my frizzed hairline. I wiped my brow using the back of my hand for the millionth time. My muscles were recognizably strained, and would surely be sore tomorrow. I exhaled deeply, then bent over one last time. With both hands, I taped closed my final cardboard box of belongings. My body must have known that I'd finished packing because I nearly crumbled to the ground, leaning on that box.

My receptionist job at a swanky I.T. firm was only supposed to last until I finished grad school. Nothing about this job screamed "YOU NEED TO BE HERE!" That was until last week, when I was offered a relocation raise. After finding out that all of my credits were somehow transferable, it was an obvious choice. I filled out the paperwork and began packing. Though the offer did come rather suddenly, I couldn't help but feel things falling into place. Anyway, with my pay nearly doubling while my responsibilities stay the same, I just couldn't say no.

Before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep curled on the floor next to a box labeled "TOILETRIES".

I jumped awake at the knocking sound filling the room. I got up and sleepily shuffled to the door, pulling the chain and then opening. Beth, my neighbor and friend, stood in the doorway. "Did you forget about meeting me for breakfast or are you just getting used to being gone?" She snapped, her attitude obvious with every roll of her neck.

"Sorry," I wiped sleep out of my eyes. "I crashed last night and must've slept through my alarm." Speaking of which, I had no clue where my phone was.

Beth rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Let's just get your car packed up." She motioned for me to follow. Even though she acted bitchy, I knew she'd miss me. We loaded up my old pickup with my stuff, which luckily I didn't have too much of. After an hour or so, we secured everything, and we were done. Now both sweating, we sat on the bench near my apartment entrance.

"I still think it's weird," Beth mumbled around the freshly lit cigarette between her lips. "I've never heard of companies moving secretaries out, with raises to boot!" She puffed smoke from her nose like a dragon.

"Maybe there's a promotion in my future," I suggested. Although I knew it wasn't possible, it could get Beth to be happy for me. "Anyway, it'll help with school, ya know?" All Beth answered with was a short shrug and a draw from her cigarette. She was definitely the "too cool for school" type, so that point was lost on her.

Beth threw the butt of her cigarette behind us somewhere. "When are you leaving?"

I looked at my watch, "In about an hour. Figure I can get into a hotel in town by tomorrow night if I head out soon." We both kept our thoughts to ourselves, sitting in silence realizing that soon we would be far apart.

Beth wasn't my oldest friend, or even one of my best friends, but she had never steered me wrong. Her spiney "get back, Jack" attitude took time to get past, especially when you added the fact that she needed another cigarette almost every five minutes. Even if I could find a new friend in a new city, I'd still miss the familiarity of Beth and her constant chimney smell. I'm not sure what was on Beth's mind as she lit another smoke. I hope she was saddened by my moving — not sad to the point of blubbering, just... a thoughtful sadness. I hope there was a little fear that she may never find a friend like me again. But, then again, I can't say that was on my mind about her.

After enough time for another butt to fall to the ground and under Beth's shoe, she sighed. "Ya know, I'm gonna miss you." Her head was leaning on her hand, her arm resting on the back of the bench. The chilly evening air blew some of her blonde hair across her face. I smiled knowing those were as emotional words as any coming from Beth.

"Aw come on, we live in a tech era," I rolled my eyes playfully. "There's no way we won't keep in touch." She nodded in agreement. It wasn't true, I couldn't guarantee that we would stay friends — or rather, become better friends. But, it was a reasuring promise that made the moment a little less awkward.

After some more b.s.-ing, we both knew it was time. I stood up, stretching my back and legs. Beth followed, cracking her neck almost obscenely loud. We walked to my truck, taking our time and hoping to avoid the unavoidable goodbye. I dug in my pocket and fetched my apartment key that Beth agreed to return for me. As soon as the key hit her palm, she pulled me in for a hug. Her clothes and hair smelled of her brand of perfumes and tobacco, but that didn't stop me from hugging back. We stayed that way for a few moments, silently saying bye.

When we broke apart, Beth's eyes were red with tears. I was shocked, I never knew I meant that much to her. Although, maybe she was softer than I thought and moments like this just touched her more than she'd like to let on. I climbed into my old rusty truck, pulled away slowly, and honked twice. Beth and I waved our final farewells until we were out of each other's views.

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My eyes were noticeably heavy, the changing light of dusk only made it worse. Every few seconds, my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten in over twenty four hours. Still, I kept driving. With each mile I could almost see the sun setting further. My gas meter shown that my math was correct, and I'd have to pull over soon and fill up.

I kept my eyes peeled, but I seemed to be on a stretch without a rest stop in sight. I gripped the steering wheel nervous that I'd run out of gas before being anywhere near a town. Then I saw the shining lights of an oasis. As more of the lights came into view, I realized it wasn't your typical cruddy gas station and dingy hotel.

Pulling into the gas station, I hardly had time to cut the engine before a coverall clad attendant was at my window. "Evening ma'am," he greeted warmly. "Fill 'er up?" He smiled wide, as if excited to do his job.

"Yes please," I agreed. My hands were already in my purse and searching for cash for a tip. From my rear view I could see the attendant wiping away dirt from my back window, smiling proudly. He walked back to my window; his coveralls implied his name was Daryll.

"Alright ma'am, she's full! Any other services tonight?" His smile was stiff, almost uncomfortable looking.

I handed him fifteen bucks, "No no, thank you so much! By the way, is that hotel open?" I found it odd that the parking lot was completely empty.

"Oh yes, ma'am, " Daryll nodded firmly. "We don't get too many visitors, so I'm sure they've got just the room for you!" Again, his smile was unwavering. I thanked him again, and pulled off into the next parking lot.

Even though there were dozens of street lights — not including the neon sign — I still kept looking over my shoulder as I carried my duffle to the door. Once inside, the old fashioned theme made the gas station make sense. I marveled at the deep oak planks along the walls that contrasted the cream furniture. I slowly spun, taking in every inch of rich wood. Somehow, I had the feeling I'd been here before.

"Hello!" A deep voice pulled me from my thoughts. I spun to find the voice and found myself staring at a handsome man standing behind a wide desk. His features were dark and defined, like a photograph of an old-time movie star.

"Hi, lovely hotel," I complimented. "Wondering if there's a room available." There had to be, the parking lot was completely empty.

"Of course, let me see." His voice was rich and silky, like a poet. I watched him type some things into his computer, probably an employee code or something. "Turns out we have some rooms! How many adults?"

"Oh, just me. And just for one night," I clarified. He typed in some more stuff, prompting the printer to buzz. I signed the paperwork, shocked at the low price. As I passed the papers back to his side of the desk, I looked up to see his eyes staring intently at me. His small smile and focused eyes were hypnotizing, drawing me in and holding me there, unable to look away.

"All set," he said. I snapped out of it, embarrassed by my own gawking. A set of keys were already pushed to my side of the desk; I must've been so entranced that I'd missed the hand-off. I smiled kindly and snatched the keys, obviously in need of sleep. Just as I went to turn, that deep voice stopped me. "Sleep well tonight, Mira."

I turned again to thank the handsome employee, but no one was there. I scanned the entire lobby but I was in fact alone. My feet dragged along the red carpet, feeling more sleepy every step of the way. I rejoiced once I reached the door with the number two-one-three on a golden plate. Inside the room was just as exquisite as the rest of the place, the same dark woods filled the space. A door immediately to my right held the biggest claw foot tub I'd ever seen — something I'd strangely always wanted to see. I promised myself a bath after I checked out the rest of the room.

My mouth nearly gaped once I saw the huge four post canopy bed. It was like looking though a catalog of things you'll never be able to afford. The posts were expertly turned, with intricate swirls carved in a pattern. The polished woodgrain was only more beautiful next to the golden bedding. The thick down comforter looked more like a Victorian ladies gown than cheap hotel bedspread, but when I touched there was no rough scratchiness. The fabric was buttery soft under my fingers, calling me to cocoon within the feather-filled blanket. I had to turn away quickly, or else sleep would come before my promised bath.

I nonchalantly threw my bag onto an oversized leather, button tufted Oxford chair. It was the kind of chair you'd imagine CEO's having next to their thousand year old whiskey collection; it was also the kind of chair my father had in his office throughout my childhood.

I pulled some new clothes from my bag and excitedly headed for the bathroom. Once inside, I moved almost mechanically to run the water, dropping just a touch of the fragrant liquid soap. A sudsy foam quickly formed, tricking me into thinking the tub was close to overfilling. But, like the head from a beer, the true level of the water was down beneath the suds. Just as the foam peaked over the lip of the tub, I turned the handle and cut the water off. My excitement made my skin tingle, and the only way to stop it was to undress.

My shirt was first, as always, softly falling to the floor. Not a second later I was pulling my unbuttoned jeans down my hips, then farther down my thighs, and even further as I pulled each foot free. I reached behind myself, fumbling for a second with the clasps of my bra. The straps loosely fell forward, followed by the cups. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, they fell to my feet so I could step out of them. The tingle under my skin was gone, but in its place I felt cold all over. I looked down at my arms, the tiny hairs all stood on end — my skin was riddled with goosebumps. I looked around for an open window or vent, instead I caught a glimpse of myself in the vanity mirror.

Whoever designed the vanity was thoughtful, able to show off a flattering reflection from the angle and lighting. Mid-admiration, my own nipples caught my eye. Along with my all over chill, my pinkish brown nipples were taught; distinctly opposite their normal soft suppleness. I watched myself as my fingers slowly reached for the hard nubs, the pads barely skimming along them.

I jumped back, looking down at my own body rather than the reflection of it. Touching my nipples had sent a jolt of electricity through me like never before. Sure, I liked nipple play as much as the next, but it never made me feel breathless. I was tempted to touch my nipples again, to recreate that hyper intensity. But the coldness was becoming overwhelming, my fingers felt numbingly icey. I turned to the bath. It felt like ages since I'd ran the warm water, there was no chance it held the temperature. Surprisingly, the suds hadn't receded as I would've expected.

Maybe I was too tired for a soak, obviously that was the explanation for my sudden sensitivity. It would be more responsible to sleep well, there would be time for baths later. But, it was like my brain was unwilling to cooperate. Every time I told myself to turn and go to bed, the tub seemed to call to me. I couldn't even turn away, my eyes were fixed solely on the full tub. Before I knew it I was walking, step by step, to the basin. With each step the call got louder between my ears. As I stood at the edge of the tub, the dim murmur had turned into the loudest array of static. It sounded like lost radio signal, only amplified and buzzing around inside of my head. It was like I was watching myself from somewhere else as my foot lifted into the tub. My other foot followed, sinking into the soapy foam.

I heard myself sigh aloud. Everything the water touched seemed to calm instantly. The bone deep cold? Gone. The insanity inducing static? Quiet. I easily slipped down against the natural curvature of the tub. Shockingly, the temperature was perfect. My entire body felt aerated, like sea foam, like I could simply dissipate at any moment. The last thing I remember is hearing a satisfied groan — only, I can't recall feeling a groan leave my throat.

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I came to somewhere unfamiliar, not in the hotel I remember staying in. No, this room was clinical for sure. I swung my legs over the edge of the lightly padded table I was laying on. How did I end up in what looked like a lab? I looked down at my feet, no shoes or socks. My legs were also bare. My fingers grazed the paper gown that draped over my upper thighs. The gown was all that was covering my body, I could feel it hanging open behind me.

"Hello?" I meekly called out, waiting for a response that didn't come. I hopped down, clumsily wobbling until I regained my balance. The room seemed large, maybe twenty four by twenty four with no color. Everything, from the tables and carts to the walls and floors, was either white or stainless steel. I walked slowly from my table to the far end of the room, the floor was cool and smooth against my feet. I craned my neck looking for some door or window, but there were none.

I noticed a long cart lined with what looked like medical tools. My mother had been a pediatrician, so some things like syringes, forceps and a curette were familiar. Other things though, I couldn't identify. I picked up one of the unknown instruments — a slim steel conical thing, with a narrow opening running through it. It was almost like a funnel, only the diameter of the opening was much too narrow for any real use. I set the thing back down, curious of its purpose. I stepped away to explore more of the room, and hopefully find the exit.

Across the room, in the left hand corner, I found some kind of cabinet. I assumed some answers could be found, so I searched for the handles. Of course, there were no pulls. It was just a rectangular box, with thin slits. I hit the thing and was honestly surprised at how solid it was. It wasn't like a cheap file cabinet, it was thick. As I contemplated cheaply made office furniture, I heard what sounded like elevator doors closing. I spun to find the noise and possibly an exit.

My eyes fell to movement on the floor, which to me looked like the floor was closing. I was more confused than before, and wishing I knew where the exit was.

"Hello," I heard from my right. I jumped, almost falling over. I must have missed when the tall man came into the room. His eyes were on the thing in his hands, it looked like it could be a clip board. "You are Mira Alpin. 25 years of age, born January tenth nineteen ninety six. Female, five feet four inches, one hundred and six twenty-four pounds."

My mouth fell open and my knees rubbed together. Somehow this stranger knew detailed information about me. "What the hell is going on here? Who are you?" I held my arms tight against my chest.

"I am Krox," he answered. His voice sounded almost computer generated. "I am to assess your well-being." He never looked up, if he had then he would've seen my scowl and furrowed brow. What kind of name was Krox anyway?

"Well-being?" I shouted. "Ya know what's bad for well-being?" He did not look up, making me angrier. "Being locked in here, in this stupid paper gown, with no explanation!" My fist landed firmly on the top of the file cabinet. Instantly I shrieked as pain tingled up my fist.

"Refrain from emotion induced outbursts," he said coldly. I cradled my hand against my heart, my fingers throbbed from my punch.

"Why don't you just tell me how to get the hell out of here and I won't have another outburst?" For the first time, Krox looked up at me. His features were sharp and angular, offset by the curve of his bald head. His white lab coat was void of a name or something to signify our location.

"I cannot do that. You are to be examined," his expression was unwaveringly flat. He took a step in my direction, causing me to step back.

"I think you have the wrong person," I reasoned. "I just want to go home." He kept walking towards me. His steely gaze was emotionless, but that's what was scary.

"You may return after your examination," his hand reached for me. As he reached, I pulled back and he accidentally caught hold of the paper gown. Already in motion, his hand pulled back, taking what little was covering me with him.

"You son of a," I didn't finish my sentence as my hand flew through the air and clipped him square in the jaw. His head jerked to the side, a grunt coming from his mouth. I wrapped my arms back around myself, struggling to cover my nude body.

I calmed myself enough to demand my clothes back. I waited, but the man said nothing. Finally his eyes settled on me. From this short distance, something strange caught my eye. It was actually his eyes, they were a sickly yellow but there was no pupil or iris, only one narrow black slit down the center of each eye. Every other feature was the same, except his chin. Where I hit him, there was a gash. I expected blood, but there was none. I grimaced in horror as I watched the wound I'd caused slowly pull closed on its own. What looked like scales grew from the skin around and seemed to seal the wound, leaving his pale skin without any trace of my hit. His lips formed a thin smile.

"You have seen," he spoke steadily. "Now, you have seen. There is no reason to wait patiently." His hands reached and gripped my arms, pulling them away from my body. I struggled and twisted, but it was no use.

"P‐please," I stuttered. "I'm sorry I hit you." I wasn't, but I thought apologizing to my captor might be wise.

"You are not sorry," he held my arms tighter. "It is just like your kind to forego instructions."

"My... my kind?" His hand moved to my throat, I struggled to breathe. I had already tried fight, and his grip meant flight was out of the question. I was out of options. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Krox!" A loud, thundering voice called from somewhere behind me. His grip loosened, but he didn't let go. "What do you think you're doing?"

"The female assaulted me, sir," his breath was hot in my face.

"Please," I rasped. "He‐lp me!" I already knew my voice would be horse for at least a few days.

"Release her, now!" The whole room shook. Suddenly, I was free and on my knees, unable to stand. I reached for my throat, flinching at the burning sensation. I heard footsteps slowly coming towards me, then remembered that I was naked. More tears fell from my eyes. If something bad was going to happen, now was the time. I waited for the man, whoever "saved" me, to touch me — to take what he'd earned. But no touch came.