Under the Influence Ch. 01-03

CHAPTER ONE

Lewis watched as an older lady, whose frail hands frantically tapped the bright blue 'Play' button on a poker machine, lost the last of the funds that she'd most recently taken out of her bank account. She hurriedly placed a RESERVED sign on the front of the machine, and approached him, the young bartender who was absentmindedly monitoring the gaming room.

"Can I get $200 more?" she asked kindly.

"Of course," he responded, pressing a button on a remote, activating a cashout terminal. The lady flashed him a warm smile, before hastily inserting her card and PIN number.

As she tottered back to her machine, Lewis' professional posture faltered, and he went back to carelessly watching the gaming patrons, excitedly losing their money.

This was most nights for Lewis. He was a lowly twenty-two-year-old gaming attendant at a less-than-stellar bar in the outer suburbs, who worked five late night shifts a week. From 6pm until 2am, Monday to Friday, Lewis aided the local area's finest alcoholics and gambling degenerates, providing them a constant stream of unenthusiastically poured beers and a rare quippy remark on the sad state of his life. It was a (relatively) well-paying job, but it lacked the glamour and prestige that Lewis had naively presumed his post-graduation work life would provide.

But it wasn't all sad and sombre; he was blessed with an entertaining and insightful collaborator on these long nights. His regular supervisor, a twenty-four-year-old woman named Maxie, was only his supervisor in title; they were just as experienced in the job as each other, and as such, had developed a close-knit friendship that extended beyond the bar. Together, they kept one another from falling into weary reveries.

On this particular evening, it was nearing 11pm, and Lewis was having an existential crisis of sorts. He had finished his degree in Communications less than a month prior, and despite the fancy piece of paper that now adorned his bedroom's wall telling him otherwise, he felt anything but accomplished. For the time being, he was adamant on hunkering down and working his hours at the bar, as he didn't have much money to pay for rent, and his family could provide no financial aid, as they had moved 1,000 kilometres north a few years ago and rarely spoke to him these days. But whilst others would never (outwardly) accuse him of stagnating with his goals, Lewis still felt like he was wasting time on kickstarting an actual career.

'Not that hospitality isn't an honourable and perfectly adequate line of work', he'd think to himself. Whilst he knew working in a bar for the rest of his life certainly wasn't for him, he wouldn't begrudge others for their decisions.

Slumped over the marble countertop in the gaming cashier's station, Lewis was stirred from his depressive episode by Marcelo, a twenty-eight-year-old stoner who always worked until midnight. Usually, Marcelo would spend more time talking to Maxie, but considering she was currently on her break, he'd decided to come over to Lewis. Most nights, Lewis and Maxie would spend their time trying to avoid him until his shift had concluded, but on this occasion, Lewis appreciated Marcelo interrupting his pointless pondering.

"What are you thinking about, Lew?" Marcelo asked slowly. He often spoke at an irritatingly leisurely pace, but Lewis wasn't too fussed by it on this specific evening.

"I'm just a bit overwhelmed, Marcelo. You ever get like that?" he responded.

"Of course, dude. This place can hit you, can't it?"

"Not so much here. The bar's quiet. It's more just the rest of my life."

Lewis sighed. He looked over to the bar to make sure no one was waiting for service, but his suspicions were confirmed when he saw it empty. It was a Monday night; there weren't likely to be many drinkers out late at the start of the week.

"What do you do to relax?" Marcelo queried.

"I sometimes smoke when I get home. That's about it. I like cooking?" Lewis offered.

"Cooking's cool, man. You seem stressed out. Maybe you should take a few days off and just get to cooking?"

"I was just sitting here looking off into the distance; how'd you know I was stressed?"

Marcelo smiled humbly.

"Because I just look off into the distance. You, on the other hand, are daydreaming about things you should or should not be doing. That creates stress. You should take some time to yourself to fix that stress."

Lewis considered this. All throughout his final exams, he'd been working and studying simultaneously. Once he had finished his course, he'd continued to toil away at the bar, increasing his hours, trying to earn enough money on a weekly basis to keep his head above water and make sure rent was paid. At the same time, the end of studying meant the expectation of a new development in his career. His anxiety about his professional stagnation was mingling with the pressure caused by long, late nights of work at the bar, to create a never ending gully of stress.

Maybe Marcelo had a point.

"The only problem is that I need money. I live in a shit-box. My housemate sucks. I can't take a week off, or even a couple of days off. I don't want to risk anything," Lewis explained.

Marcelo shook his head for a few seconds smugly, as if Lewis had ignored an obvious answer to this conundrum.

"When I need a T-break, I like doing these clinical trials, down at the hospital. They pay pretty good. You're not allowed to have been smoking recently when you do them. That's why it's good for T-breaks. Money is good motivation to stop for a few weeks," said Marcelo.

Lewis hadn't considered this as an option. Beyond the fact that it would provide the financial compensation necessary to justify taking a week off from the bar, he would also have the opportunity to make a small contribution to the medical community. It would feel a lot more noble than leaving work just to sit at home, smoking and gaming.

"Does the group you usually do them with have a website?" Lewis asked.

Marcelo nodded, and leaned over Lewis to access the gaming cashier computer. He typed an address into the browser search bar, and a page appeared. Joyful young people sitting on hospital beds now covered the monitor.

"Knock yourself out. Oh... and if you do one, let them know I referenced you. I get some money if you do that," Marcelo mumbled.

As Marcelo walked out of the cashier to go serve a patron at the bar, Lewis found himself intrigued by this new opportunity. He browsed the study options, all of which had interesting code names vaguely describing the medicine that would be tested on participants.

Each study listed a variety of requirements, many of which were consistent. Volunteers would need to be healthy, between 18 and 55 years old, with a healthy BMI, have no significant medical history, smoke cigarettes infrequently, and not have used illicit drugs within thirty days of the study's commencement. Based on these requirements, Lewis qualified for the majority of the trials.

Where the trials most differed from one another was in their length. Some of the studies required volunteers participate in an inpatient stay for only a day or two; others mandated up to 30 days. Unsurprisingly, those studies with longer inpatient stays seemed to pay better. A 15 night study was promising reimbursement of nearly $8,000, causing Lewis's eyes to bulge reactively in surprise.

He came across a trial titled, "The Libido Study", which only required volunteers to stay at the hospital for three nights. Besides that, he would only have to return for five post-study check-ups. At the completion of these weekly check-ups, he'd be compensated with $6,000. The notion of doing just eight days of work, and receiving $6,000 for his time, was as tantalising a prospect as Lewis had come across recently. Before he knew it, he had requested an over-the-phone consultation for the following day to discuss his eligibility for the study.

After confirming a time for his call, Lewis closed the tab, and returned to staring off into the gaming room; only this time, he was daydreaming about making more money than he had ever made in a comparable timeframe.

CHAPTER TWO

Lewis emerged from the confines of the hospital, walking out onto a sun-soaked sidewalk, three days after having entered the building for the commencement of the clinical trial. All in all, it had been a peaceful, straightforward experience.

There had been some intrusive episodes, truth be told; for example, every time he had to pee, he had to inform a staff member so that he could receive a bottle to collect his urine. But whilst that had proven somewhat confronting initially, by the end of the trial, it felt more like a mild nuisance.

Most of the stay involved sitting in bed and watching the television shows that he hadn't had time to watch during the past few months. For what it was worth, he was quite good at this.

The drug he had taken for the study had been administered in pill-form, and taken every eight hours. According to the doctor who conducted his physical during the screening process, they were testing a drug designed to help combat libido issues for those experiencing depressive episodes, as well as those with reduced testosterone. The doctor had mentioned something about cholesterol medication that negatively impacts libido, but Lewis had failed to grasp some of the nuance and jargon.

At no point throughout his stay did he seem to have any issues with the medication; he had responded so little to the pills that he had started to convince himself that he had been one of the volunteers who had received a placebo. 'Not that I'm complaining', he thought to himself.

In a week's time, he would be required to return to the hospital for a follow-up exam, but in the meantime, he had work to return to. It was a Thursday, and he was not enthused by the prospect of a 2am finish. But despite his misgivings, he found himself standing behind a distinctive marble countertop, serving an old lady a beer, just a few hours later. Maxie had been questioning him ever since he arrived at work, trying to dig up information on what it was like. Lewis had a hard time convincing her it was as boring as it was.

"Did they stick anything inside you?" she asked excitedly.

"I mean, they took my blood pretty frequently, so they just left something called a PICC in my arm the whole time, which was pretty weird," he explained. "But most of the time, I was just pissing in a cup. That's about it."

"And what about the follow-ups? What do you have to do for them?"

"They just make sure that things haven't gone tits-up since I left, I guess. They also make sure I haven't broken any of the conditions of the study, though I don't think they'd really be able to tell without me admitting something."

"What conditions do they have?"

"It's mainly about not having unprotected sex. They really don't want me passing on something to a partner, or getting someone pregnant."

Maxie nodded, processing.

"I guess it might be a little sketchy having a kid right after taking an experimental drug. If you do violate the conditions, do they still pay you?" she enquired.

"Nope," said Lewis. "I forfeit all reimbursement."

Maxie made a shocked "o" with her mouth.

"Well, what they don't know won't hurt them," she suggested.

Lewis huffed with amusement.

"I'm not exactly rolling in hot, raw sex now though, am I?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not with that attitude you're not!" joked Maxie, poking Lewis in the ribs.

The rest of their night passed easily enough. All of the older, more geriatrically-inclined clientele in the gaming room were pleasant enough, and one of Lewis's favourite customers, a regular named Phoebe, had come in with her friends and started ordering elaborate cocktails. He had an obvious affinity for her that clearly extended beyond her just being a good regular patron, and Maxie now sought to take advantage of this for her own amusement.

"Phoebe, did you hear about Lewis's clinical trial that he did this week?" Maxie asked, playfully.

Phoebe made a tongue-in-cheek shocked face, but to Lewis's surprise, there seemed to be a brief moment of genuine concern on her face.

"What was it for? Was it safe?" she asked.

Before Lewis could figure out a way to covertly hide the name of the study, Maxie had already jumped in.

"Wasn't it called 'The Libido Study', Lewis?" Maxie offered pointedly.

Lewis nodded to confirm this without saying anything. Maxie smiled, proud of herself for embarrassing her coworker. Simultaneously, Phoebe and her friends started chortling at this news. Lewis put renewed energy into his cocktail-making efforts, as he tried to avoid parading his flushed face to the girls surrounding him.

"Surely you don't have too many issues in that department, Lewis?" chuckled one of Phoebe's friends, Alanah.

"I'm perfectly capable when it comes to my libido," he said defensively. "It's not like you actually need to be suffering from what the study's trying to fix. They mainly just want to make sure nothing will go wrong when you take the medication they're developing, so any random, healthy person can participate."

But Lewis's explanation could do little to quell the banter that had erupted due to this revelation. When Phoebe and her friends went to take their cocktails and sit down in a booth, Maxie turned to find Lewis directing a venomous glare in her direction. She laughed at his exasperation.

As they were closing the gaming area and preparing to leave the venue at 2am, Maxie softly punched Lewis's arm, and made to apologise.

"Sorry for earlier with Phoebe and her gang, dude," she offered. "I thought it was funny, but it clearly made you uncomfortable."

"It's alright. I'm getting paid pretty handsomely for it, so I think I can deal with a few people laughing at me," he conceded.

"Well, to make up for badgering you about it, would you like to come to a party on Saturday night?"

Lewis looked to her, surprised.

"What kind of party are we talking about here," he asked cautiously.

"Drinks and cocktails at this rich-boy's house," she told him. "He's a family friend from way back. I don't know if the people will be great company, but I know that I'd have a decent time if I had a friend who I actually liked hanging around."

He thought for a short moment, before deciding that he had nothing better to do with his Saturday, and spending it stealing drinks from a wealthy party host sounded sufficiently entertaining, particularly if it was with Maxie.

"I accept your offer," he declared. "Will you pick me up?"

"You bet. Be dressed in semi-formal wear at approximately 8:00pm, Saturday evening, or there will be hell to pay!" she warned jokingly.

As they said goodnight to one another and departed for their respective cars, Lewis spent a moment considering Maxie. He had had a crush on her from their first shift together, and he suspected that she was aware of this fact. That said, he'd never tried anything, and did not intend to do so, because realistically, if Maxie was interested in taking their relationship further than friendship, she would have done it herself. She was a confident, extraverted person, who always seemed to know exactly what she wanted. As such, Lewis was comfortable remaining friends, until Maxie indicated that she might want more.

For what it was worth, Lewis considered himself an attractive individual. He worked out regularly enough, so whilst he was slim, there was a bit of muscle to gawk at when he took off his clothes. Additionally, he thought he had an average yet aesthetically-pleasing face, with a decent jawline, endearingly shaggy brown hair, and bright blue eyes. He wasn't anything special, but he ticked most of the boxes.

But Maxie, on the other hand, certainly was special. She customarily wore clothes that gave her an androgynous figure, and her short, blue-tinged hair came only to her shoulders. Despite these qualities, she still possessed the hallmarks of traditional feminine beauty. Her eyelashes were long and dark, her lips big and inviting, and her eyes had a tantalising quality to them, probably in part due to the fact that she was constantly thinking up quippy, devilish responses to whatever you said to her.

Her body was nothing to scoff at either. She was relatively tall at 5'9", just a couple of inches shorter than Lewis, and she carried the majority of that height in her long, beautiful legs. Her calves and thighs looked strong thanks to years of running in high school and university, and they seemed to extend endlessly on the rare occasions where she wore skirts or short dresses. And despite her lithe figure elsewhere, her ass and breasts were clearly identifiable when she wore anything even remotely tight. He had, obviously, never seen these attributes in the flesh, but it was apparent that she was not lacking in size and shape.

But beyond her physical appearance, Maxie was just cool, and that was the most attractive thing of all. She was assertive and always poised, which helped her make friends quickly. This meant that it always seemed like she had a party to attend on the weekend when they weren't working, some of which Lewis ended up getting invited to. Whereas he could be shy and noncommittal, Maxie inspired spontaneity. They were a great complement to one another.

On the night of, Lewis wore a pair of brown pants which ended at his ankles, with his best button-up covering his top half, and waited at his front door for Maxie. Typically, he'd just wear some black jeans with a nice white top, but Maxie inspired enough confidence in him to try something slightly different. When she arrived, she immediately made to praise his effort.

"Look at you," she ogled, as he got in the car. "Actually putting on something kind of cool. I like it!"

"Thank you. You look gorgeous too."

He was being honest with his flattery. She'd worn a surprisingly tight pair of denim jeans (hadn't she said semi-formal??), and even whilst seated behind the wheel of her car, it was plainly apparent how well it highlighted the curves of her shapely hips and ass. Her colourful crop-top showed off a belly piercing, whilst simultaneously flaunting her curvaceous breasts. Her make-up was subtle, but she'd done well to apply a classic black smokey eye that captured Lewis's attention.

"You're too kind, you big flirt. Have you brought any drinks?" she asked him.

"Ummm... no? I thought rich boy might provide?" he said, feeling dense.

"He might. But I am taking no risks. Don't worry, I've got us a case, so drinks are on me tonight."

"Thanks Max, I appreciate the foresight."

The party was difficult. They arrived, Maxie started greeting everyone in the immediate vicinity, and at some point, Lewis decided that he'd best leave her to her socialising. He waded into the sea of anonymous faces, determined to drink his beers and have a good time.

It was a few hours later. He had engaged in an awkward conversation with a fellow Communications graduate whose name he couldn't remember. He got through this exchange only by taking large gulps of beer frequently, and as such, now found himself quite drunk. He stumbled onto a large group that was seated around a stone firepit, laughing effusively. He discovered the storyteller prompting such evocative responses was, in fact, Maxie, who was describing an incident at the bar in vivid and theatrical terms. He had come across scenes like this all night; groups of people, listening raptly to a loud narrator. None of these tales were told as well as Maxie's. Her arms painted a picture in the air that enhanced her words, leaving her audience enthralled. He took a moment to appreciate that he was good friends with someone so charismatic. She wasn't famous or anything, but she sure felt like it at that moment.