The Experiment (14 page)

Zoe watched the lights of the city speed by the window. He’d heard her, just as she knew he would. He’d felt her through the distance that separated them. He’d been watching her, spying on her in her apartment and perhaps she should have been offended, but instead she felt thrilled. The little cameras, so unobtrusive it was like they
weren’t there at all. It was as if she’d reached out to him with her mind and he’d heard her. It was something magical.

The elevator seemed to take forever, the hallway to his door had never been longer. The big door was ajar and Zoe felt a stab of sudden fear. What if he’d done something rash? She stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her.

“Zoe?”

The entire apartment was dark. She’d never seen it so dark, but then she saw the soft glow of yellow light coming from the living room, the place where she’d first sat and talked to Amy Liu when this all had started only weeks ago. The voice came from there.

“Yes,” she said.

She made her way cautiously, afraid to trip over something and found him standing in the living room, illuminated by the dim recessed lights that illuminated the framed art on the walls. The curtains were open, the lights of the city spread out behind him like a skein of jewels. Despite the dimness, she could see him now though his face was still in shadows, noble, but haunted with tragic shadows. Her heart lifted into her throat and her impulse was to go to him, but something held her back. He was, after all, still the Doctor. The authority he held over her still applied.

“I’m not good with words, Zoe,” he said. “Forgive me if I don’t explain now. But I need something from you. I need you to do something for me, Zoe. I can’t wait any longer. Tell me you will.”

She stepped closer to him and she had little doubt now that he’d been drinking. He wasn’t drunk, but she could feel his anguish and it broke her heart. He seemed beside himself with worry.

“Of course, Doctor. What is it? Just tell me.”

He took a step forward then thought better of it. He stood with his hand on a chair, as if for support.

“Just once more. Just this once, and then I’ll know, and I won’t trouble you again. I need you to do what you were doing in your apartment. Just now, when I called you. Here, on the sofa. Just that.”

Zoe wasn’t surprised. Despite what she’d told him, she knew now what this was all about—the secrecy, the sex, the money, the entire experiment. She knew he’d ask her for this. She’d have been disappointed if he hadn’t.

She threw her coat onto the sofa and the Doctor sank down in a chair opposite the sofa, his nervousness apparent. Zoe stood in the dim light and began to undo her skirt and the Doctor stood and quickly redirected one of the ceiling lights so that it was shining right down on her like her own personal spotlight. He sat back down, his hands gripping the armrests, his eyes fixed on her.

Yes, she had a talent. She had a talent for arousing people, men and women both, perhaps even those who couldn’t get aroused any other way and she worked now to arouse the Doctor. She sat down on the sofa with her knees demurely together and fixed her dark eyes on him and was immediately lost in the intimacy of his gaze. How many times before had she looked into the darkness seeking his eyes, only to find darkness, but now the connection was too strong, his expectation and vulnerability more than she could stand.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on herself, on her own body, imagining herself as she’d always been before, virtually alone with herself. She knew that’s where her power lay, not in performing for him, but in letting him see her performing for herself. In the presence of her lover, she only had to remind him.

Zoe sighed deeply, trying to calm herself. She brought her hands up and slid them over her smooth, crepe-covered breasts, teasing them, concentrating on the sensation of her flesh under her own hands. She tried to put the Doctor out of her mind, but it was impossible with him sitting on the other side of the coffee table, not six feet away. She could hear his breathing, hear the thud of his heart as it made his breath catch in his throat.

Despite herself, she felt her nipples stiffen and swell as she ran her nails around her areolas and teased them into prominence. She gasped softly, not at her own touch, but at the knowledge that her body was eager to perform so wantonly. She had given up her shame to him long before and now she had nothing to hide. She was prepared to play the whore for him. She was prepared to be whatever he wanted her to be.

She showed him how she wanted to be touched and her own touch was exquisite. Her lips parted sensually, her eyelids lowered in erotic surrender and her actions were rewarded when she heard him murmur low, a sound between a moan and a growl, male and excitingly predatory.

“Do you know how long it’s been?” he whispered. In the stillness of his dark apartment it sounded as if he were speaking right against her ear. “Six years. Six years, Zoe, since I’ve been able to perform as a man. And you know what? The urge never goes away. The need never stops, like an itch that never leaves you alone, but that’s impossible to scratch. I’ve tried everything, seen everyone you can see. It’s only you, Zoe. You’re the only thing that works.”

Zoe felt his words spread like warm honey through her veins. She gushed with wetness, as if something inside her was melting under a fierce heat.

Her stomach was rising and falling faster now, her sex ached for her touch. She opened her eyes and looked at him and saw the crotch of his pants stretched tight across his burgeoning erection and she bit back a cry of impatient hunger and triumph. She could do this. She only had to show him what she was willing to be for him and that was no problem at all. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and exposed the slope of her naked breasts. She sank lower on the sofa until her bottom was at the edge of the cushions, assuming the position of a woman ready for sex. Her hands slid down to the juncture of her thighs and she pressed upward, sighing with desire.

“God, yes,” he breathed, and Zoe looked at him from beneath her lashes and saw him kneading himself through his trousers. She felt as though she’d burst with happiness and excitement, with fierce feminine pride.

“Say what you said before, in your apartment. Say it again.” His voice was low and urgent.

Zoe spread her blouse out over her nipples and ran the palms of her hands over her stiff little buds.

“It’s for you, Doctor. It’s all for you. I’ll be your whore, your slut. I’ll be whatever you want. You know I’ve wanted you from the start. From the very first day.”

“Yes, Zoe! Yes. Say it! Show me!”

Her shoes were planted firmly on the floor. She coaxed her knees apart—the ultimate, most shameful gesture—exposing herself to him.

“It’s all for you, Doctor. You’re the one who’s done this to me. You’re the one who’s made me this way.”

She wanted to tell him that he hadn’t been the only one who hadn’t been able to perform, that before he’d found her she’d been impotent too and her impotence had been even worse, a frigidity of her soul, an inability to even feel desire. He had changed all that. He had made her what she was and now she owed it all to him.

“Do you know how I want you, Doctor? I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you deep inside. I want to feel you spill yourself inside me. That’s what I want. Nothing else matters.”

He was out of his chair in an instant, almost tripping over the coffee table, ripping at his clothes, opening his pants and pushing his shorts down to his knees. Zoe had already slid herself lower on the sofa so that her naked bottom hung off the edge, supported only by her long legs in those wicked shoes, her knees spread wide in lewd invitation.

His cock was big and hard now and he held it in his hand like a treasure, looking first at her and then at his swollen flesh. He threw off his jacket but had no time for his tie and shirt. He got down on his knees and tried to enter her but in his terrible excitement he couldn’t find the way, not until Zoe pushed his hand aside and showed him. Then he pushed into her with a cry of anguished relief that was even sweeter to
her than the feel of his flesh filling her up, spreading her open and finding a home within her.

“Oh God, I’m in you! I’m in you at last!”

“Yes, baby, it’s good! It’s so fucking, unbelievably good! Now fuck me. Fuck me like your whore! Make me take it!”

He dug his hands into the soft globes of her ass and battered away at her like a man possessed, his voice alternating between choked moans of pleasure and cries of savage victory. He fucked her hard, brutally, but to Zoe it was heaven. She would take all he had to give, all he had to give and more, and turn his anguished need into something beautiful.

“Oh Christ, it’s been so long, Zoe! It’s been so damned long. I don’t remember it ever being this good!”

“Yes, baby, yes. Do it to me! Fuck me!”

She couldn’t tell him how good it felt either, after the year of abstinence and weeks of arousal, after the lonely nights of masturbation and the boy’s clumsy fumbling in the hotel, to have the Doctor inside her, touching her body and her soul with his cock and his feverish emotion.

He was on his knees, the edge of his tie tickling her pussy as he fucked her. Zoe had been entirely willing to fake an orgasm for him, to show him that he still was a man, but now she found the strength of his passion made faking it unnecessary. She’d never felt someone enjoy her body so much, with such savage intensity, as if he could make up with his strength for what he felt he lacked in virility. She was totally helpless in his grasp, unable to stop him or slow him down, just able to tilt her hips enough to put him where she wanted him and when she had him there, she just abandoned all control and concentrated on the feel of him moving inside her, his insatiable lust for her.

And suddenly he stopped. He stopped and leaned over her and took her face in his hands, turned her to look at him and Zoe gazed up into the eyes of the man who was fucking her. There was so much there she could barely stand to look—love and need
and gratitude. But what really stirred her soul and sent a little orgasm burning through her body was that look of angry male pride, that look that said she’d never get away from him, that she was his now.

“Oh God! Doctor! Doctor!”

She reached up and slid her fingers into his steel gray hair, looked into his eyes and saw him losing it, sliding into his orgasm. His jaw was set, his face dark with masculine rage. He closed his hands on her jiggling breasts, squeezed her nipples and punched his cock into her hard and Zoe felt herself explode into a shattering orgasm, her pussy spasming on his plunging rod in a biological reflex of female need.

“Oh Zoe! Zoe! I’m going to… I’m going to…”

“Do it!” she screamed. “Give it to me! All of it! Come in me, baby! Please! I’m coming too!”

“Oh Christ!” he groaned, and she felt him push deep into her, deeper than he’d been, his hands clawing at her ass and pulling her tight against him.

She felt him throb inside her, felt him jerk with orgasmic force and then the hot flood of his release gushed inside her, all his pent-up desire and frustration, his male anguish, pouring into her as he shuddered and sobbed.

She felt him coming and closed her eyes, riding her own orgasm to a delicious release that spread from her pussy to the very hairs on her head—chills, shudders, explosions of light that left her trembling with sobs as he collapsed on top of her, completely spent.

But still she wouldn’t let him go. She wrapped her arms around him and then her legs, kept her satisfied pussy around his shrinking cock, squeezing out every drop he had to give, afraid to ever let him go.

Chapter Six

The waning moon hung low in the sky over the sleeping city. Midnight had come and gone long before and yet Zoe still lay half-naked upon the Doctor’s warm body, both of them on his living room sofa. She still wore her stockings and shoes, her tools of seduction, too satisfied and comfortable to bother with removing them now. She had her ear pressed against his chest so she could feel, as well as hear his words as he talked. Had she been a cat, she would have been purring.

Doctor Spencer Grant—she knew his name now. She knew his body too and his scent and the taste of his skin, the feel of his muscles as they moved beneath his skin and the sound he made when he climaxed, the way he gripped her shoulders and crushed her to him, his open mouth pressed against her cheek. She knew his name, but to her he was still the Doctor, the man who had changed her, shocked her and saved her from the pit of apathy and depression that had become her life.

She knew she should be careful. One round of sex didn’t mean anything, no matter how passionate it was, but she could hardly control her emotions. All the tension and confusion of the past weeks, the shame and uncertainty, they’d all come to a head and she was just overflowing with feeling. She knew she was falling, but she couldn’t help it.

“You’re still worried.” She spoke softly, as if half asleep, though it wasn’t sleep that tugged at her, more like a deep, satisfied peace, a feeling of completeness. The sound of his heartbeat in her ears was wonderfully comforting, the warm sweep of his hand as he lazily caressed her back soothed her and made her feel wonderfully small and safe.

“Of course I’m worried,” he said. “We’re not done yet, Zoe. One swallow does not a summer make and you’ll forgive me if I just find it hard to believe that one girl is able to accomplish what six years of doctors and medicines and therapies weren’t able to do.”