“Hospital?”
“Yes. I am a consultant and researcher at the Royal Women's Hospital.” Before I can ask, he answers, “My area of research is human sexuality.”
My eyes and mouth round. “And...the advertisement...the contract...is that related to your research?” I manage to stutter at last.
Julian looks me straight in the eye. “Yes.”
A breeze picks up, and his wavy brown curls moves against his ears and his neck. My eyes skim down the strong lines of his neck and shoulders, and I am suddenly acutely aware of this young doctor's strong, masculine physique. The top button of his shirt is undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing taut, tanned arms. I catch his scent, a clean, manly scent on the breeze.
“Would you like to tell me your name?” he asks, taking a step towards me. I can almost feel the heat radiating from his body and my eyelids flutter as rapidly as my heartbeat.
“Sophia. Sophia Adams.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Sophia.” The sound of my name on his lips sends a shiver down my spine. His hand is on my elbow and I stumble back at the searing contact but he doesn't release me. Instead, he holds me firmly but gently. “Are you all right? You're shivering. Please, come in. It's getting cold out here.”
He leads me towards the house, his head slightly bent towards me. He casts concerned glances at me, his brows slightly creased and his throat moving as he swallows. I have my head bowed, but I can't help but peek up at him from under my bob of black, straight hair. He is a very handsome man, and he is all the more attractive simply because he seems so completely unaware of his good looks. His hair is ruffled and his shirt is tucked out and creased in places. There are many good-looking men around town who strut around knowing full well that women find them attractive. They are confident, arrogant, smooth, charming, smarmy. But this doctor, despite his good looks and apparent wealth, seems rather shy and quiet, even a little awkward.
I try to steal another glance at him and miss a step at the threshold. My hand automatically shoots out to grab his shoulder. Immediately, his arm circles my waist and he catches me in his arms. I let out a small gasp as I lean heavily against a wall of solid muscle. I can feel his heart beating under my palm as he holds me against his chest.
“I...I'm so sorry,” I stammer, feeling like a total klutz. Why am I feeling so weak-kneed and light-headed in this man's arms?
“You must be very tired after walking all that distance,” Julian says. “Come in. You can rest awhile. Can I offer you a drink? Tea? Coffee? And we can discuss the contract as well. That's what you came all this way for, isn't it?”
Chapter Three
At the door, he flicks on a switch and the house is flooded with a warm, orange light. From the outside, the house looks gray and cold, but the interior is almost ludicrously majestic. There is a sweeping staircase leading to the second floor, and a beautiful, glittering chandelier hangs in the foyer. To the left I glimpse the spacious living room with its lush, gilded furniture and an ornate fireplace. With a hand on the small of my back, Julian steers me towards the right and walks me through wide double doors into a rather messy office.
“Please, take a seat, anywhere you like...or rather, anywhere you can find a space,” he mumbles, hastily clearing away stacks of files and papers from the leather chairs. He dumps them on a desk that is already overflowing with charts and papers and strewn stationery. Facing me, he stuffs one hand in his pocket and scratches his head with his other hand. He suddenly seems awkward and unsure of what to do. Clearing his throat, he turns around in a half circle, toppling a leaning tower of files in the process. “Oh, sh...sorry. Would you...like some tea?” he asks, shoving the files into a corner.
I smile. Ironically, the mess and his apparent awkwardness put me at ease.
“Yes. I'd like that very much. Thank you.” I pull up a black swivel chair and sit down.
Julian makes his way carefully across the islands of files and papers to reach a side table laden with delicate cups and saucers. There is a small silver kettle at the corner of the table, which starts to hum the moment he plugs it in. I watch him spoon heaps of tea leaves into the teapot, the back of his shirt stretching and moving over his body. My eyes move down the length of his tall body, down his waist, his faded jeans and long legs. I have to shake my head hard to stop myself from undressing him mentally. God, what am I doing?
“Here. Tea is served. Sugar?” he asks.
“One please.”
Julian hands me a steaming cup of tea. I inhale deeply. The tea has a very pleasant fragrance, like flowers and the outdoors. I take a sip and relax. “This is good.”
He swallows a mouthful of his tea and puts his cup down on his desk. He fixes an inquiring gaze at me, and I have to tear my eyes away from his deep, dark ones to stop the heat creeping up my face. I lower my cup with shaking hands and my words come out in a rush to hide my nervousness. “I'd like to know more about this contract you're offering. You're paying very well, for just three weeks of work. What kind of work are we talking about exactly?”
“Ah. Yes. That.” Julian starts to chew his lower lip, and again my thoughts begin to take off in a wayward tangent. How would those lips feel and taste? How would they feel against my lips, my skin, my breasts... good God, how long has it been since I'd last had an orgasm? Too long. I squeeze my thighs tightly together. I have to seriously control myself. I must be more sex-starved and horny than I'd realized. I wonder if the doctor can tell.
“Before I go into that, I will need to ask you a few questions. These questions are rather...” He coughs and drags a piece of paper from his cluttered desk. “Don't worry, all the information you provide will be treated with the strictest confidence. Your personal details will not be shared or disseminated. The questions may be highly personal in nature but they are not intended to cause you any distress or embarrassment. I think it might be best to just dive headlong into them. So—” He is speaking rapidly in a neutral, business-like voice. I reckon this must be the voice he uses when he is giving a presentation or speaking to his patients and colleagues.
His next question though, is anything but business-like.
“Sophia, how long has it been since you had an orgasm?”
I splutter, almost spilling my tea. Isn't that the question that I'd just asked myself not two minutes ago? For a horrified moment, I wonder if I had not inadvertently spoken my question out loud. My mouth had the tendency to do just that, blurt out my thoughts, usually even before I was done thinking them. I shift uncomfortably in my seat while Julian studies me intently, waiting for my answer. He does not look like he is joking or teasing in the least. My heart starts to pound furiously in my chest, as he gaze deepens and he leans forward.
“Why do you want to know?” I whisper at last.
“I need to know...” he says.
“Why?” My voice is stronger now as my anger rises. This is none of his damn business.
“It concerns the contract...”
My eyes round. “The contract...is for sex? I...I'm sorry...I should go...thank you for the tea, it was...”
“Yes. No. No! It is...it isn't. Not really. Please, Sophia, please sit. Let me explain,” Julian jumps up to hold my arm.
“Don't.” I glare down at his hand. “Don't. Touch. Me.”
He releases me immediately. “Just hear me out. It...it's not for sex. It is related to sex, but not...ah...okay, the contract...” He runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up even more. “It's to test a machine.”
“What are you talking about?” My initial misgivings have been spot-on! No wonder he lives and works so far out from all civilization. He is a mad scientist, a stark, raving lunatic! I should just have turned around and ran the moment he opened the gates. But he had looked so normal, so handsome. My freak-o-meter must be out of order, way out of order for the longest time. That's why I just can't seem to detect them jerks and creeps, until it's too late. Damn! My ribcage seems to cons
trict so that even breathing feels difficult and painful. My eyes dart towards the door. Don't panic and don't falter. I have to keep all my strength and all my wits about me. If I'm fast enough, maybe I can still escape with my life and my sanity. I will just have to kick him real hard in the balls and make a run for it. Just get the hell out of this madhouse and run like the wind.
I start to inch away from him.
“I...I'm working on a...a machine to...to try to...” Julian swallows repeatedly before sucking in a long breath. Unable to find the right words, he finally blurts out, “It's a sex machine.”
“A what?” I am now completely convinced of his lunacy. I'd better try to escape while I can. I continue backing slowly towards the door.
“Yes.” He nods rapidly. “That's what it is...or not, not entirely, I mean...how could it, right?” He barks out a short laugh, and I almost squeal in fright. Oh God! He'd looked so sane, and sexy, at first. Who knew lunatics could speak and act so normally? Then again, that was how serial killers and ax murderers appeared to their victims as well—I'm sure their victims thought their killers were sane, simple, nice people, right up until their throats were slit, perhaps not even then.
Julian is pacing in small, tight circles in front of me. “The human body...” he begins. “...is a complex, complicated, mystifying work of art. It is a thing of beauty, of utility, of pain and pleasure. The female body is even more mysterious and beautiful. It...is like a temple, secret and sacred. It can plunge you to the deepest, darkest depths of passion and take you to heights and pleasures unimaginable,” he whispers, looking deeply into my eyes. I start to shiver involuntarily as his eyes move down my neck, past my shoulders and linger on the swell of my breasts, before sliding down my waist, hips and legs. I can almost feel the heat of his gaze burning into my skin.
Shaking my head to clear it, I stammer, “W-what does your machine do?” Keep him talking. Distract him. Don't arouse his suspicion. The dos and don'ts when engaging with crazy, murderous scientists. I should have paid more attention when watching horror movies, instead of squeezing my eyes shut and screaming myself senseless at the most frightening bits.
Moving his eyes back up to my face, he sighs and continues in a surprisingly calm, clinical voice, “It has been found that quite a sizable percentage of the female population has never achieved an orgasm. These women never, or rarely, experience the full sensation and pleasures of an erotic or sexual climax. Sex, and its glorious pleasures, are like food, water and air. They're basic human needs. Humans, animals, insects...all living things have been eating, drinking, breathing—and mating, since the beginning of time. It's all part of nature. So what would happen if a basic need is denied? Yes, Sophia, if your needs aren't met, if you constantly deny your body and your senses, you'll slowly wither and die.”
I stand rooted to the spot. His last word seems to echo round the room and reverberate in my mind. The question leaks from my lips. “Die? Are you...going to kill me?”
Julian starts, his eyes wide. “What?”
“Am I going to die?” I repeat in a strangely detached voice.
“Die? No one is going to die, Sophia.” He looks genuinely confused and a little worried. “What's wrong? Are you ill?”
All I can do is shake my head.
“You'd better sit down,” he says, guiding me to the chair.
“No!”
He jumps visibly at the vehemence of my protest, then puts both hands up, a gesture of helplessness or surrender.
“I can understand your discomfort and distress. Human sexuality is...still not openly explored and is still considered a taboo subject by many. It is a complex area of study, with far-reaching psychological and physiological implications and consequences. The machine that I am working on...” He blows out a breath. “I would test it on myself, but this model is for the female body. I said earlier that if you're denied a basic need, you die. The death may not be physical, but mental, emotional, spiritual, psychological. There are many ways to die, and many of us die a thousand deaths in our lifetimes. We just don't realize it, and so we go on as zombies, mere shadows of what we could have been. How do you feel when you don't experience an orgasm, Sophia? How does your body and mind react? No, you don't have to answer that. I'm just giving an example. Generally, if you don't feel fulfilled in any area of your life, frustration, resentment and discontent sets in. Sexual fulfillment is just as important to humans beings as any other need. And needs have to be sated and satisfied. It is part of being human, an essential part of being a woman. I wanted to study how the female body could be fully and completely aroused, to slowly explore and pleasure every inch of her body. Every woman should know and acknowledge this desire, this hunger to feel and love. To experience the shattering intensity, to scream and feel alive. Did you know that bringing a woman to orgasm was a known medical treatment for hysteria and depression as early as the Victoria era?” he finishes earnestly and falls silent. Dropping his gaze, he takes a step back, as if giving me some time and space to fully absorb all the facts that he has just laid before me.
While I stare between him and the door, Julian walks back behind his desk and pulls out a chart. There are colored boxes and all manner of squiggly lines across the large piece of paper. “I just need three weeks,” he murmurs.
I sway on my feet as my landlord's voice chooses at this moment to screech through my brain. I'm giving you three weeks, no more, then out you go!
Three weeks. I squeeze my eyes shut. This contract...it's just for three weeks. And the money would go a long way.
Snapping my eyes open, I force the tremor from my voice and say, “You're looking for testers...for your machine? Just for three weeks? And you'll pay thirty grand?”
He looks up in shock, but manages to recover quickly enough. “Yes. That's right.”
“What...does the test entail?” I ask breathlessly.
“You just have to test the machine. To see if you're...happy, with what it does,” he says carefully.
“It's supposed to make me orgasm,” I clarify. “So...if I don't?”
“Then there is something wrong with the machine.”
“And if after three weeks of testing, I fail to...be happy with your machine...”
“You'd have fulfilled your contract. You'll be paid in full and you're free to go,” he answers firmly.
I draw a sharp breath. “Will I...be in any danger?”
Julian frowns deeply. “I don't think so. I certainly hope not. I'll be monitoring your heart rate, pulse, breathing, brain activity and other bodily reactions very closely. I'll have to record all these down. For your safety, there will be some restraints. But this is not like bondage or anything. If you're after those...” He raises his eyebrows.
“No. I'm not into that.”
He nods wordlessly.
“And the contract commences immediately?” I gulp.
“There will be some questions you need to answer, and some papers to sign. But if it all checks out, yes, the contract is effective immediately.”
I answer with a resolute nod, more to assure myself than him. I take a couple of steadying breaths, desperately scrolling through the reasons and justifications in my spinning head. I know I should be convincing myself not to sign the contract, to just get up and walk away from this strange, sexy doctor while I can. But instead, my disobedient mind starts doing the opposite. I start trawling through all the reasons why I should sign the contract. One, I need the money. Two, the machine sounds harmless enough. Three, the doctor is sexy as hell and my heart and my gut tell me that he is not crazy and that he may be the sanest man I've met in a long time. Usually the crazier something sounds, the closer to the truth it is. It is always those sweet, charming stories told in cooing, honeyed tones that turned out to be the biggest lies. What Julian has just presented to me are the plain, awkward, barely palatable facts. He didn't sugarcoat anything. Four, I haven't had an orgasm in like, forever, and if a machine can give it to me, why not? The rest of
the reasons all involve the attractiveness of the doctor's person. I must be more sex-starved than I'd realized, and as Julian had put it to succinctly and bluntly, if we deny ourselves, starve ourselves, refuse to give our minds and bodies what they craved and needed, we die in a thousand little ways. But we die nevertheless.
I jerk my head up. What the heck. I have been dead for so long anyway.
“Okay. Let's do this.” I look up at him, refusing to let myself waver. “What do you need to know? Sexual history? Diseases? First time?”
He flinches visibly. A brief look of anger, pain or sadness, or all three—I can't tell, flashes across his features. He passes a hand across his stubbled chin, as if to wipe away whatever annoyance or discomfort he is struggling with. His throat moves as he looks down for a long time, but he doesn't say a word.
Finally, I hear him exhale and he looks up. “All right then. We'll just go through the questions...” He turns around to grab a clipboard and a pen. “When I'm done with my questions, then you can ask yours. Okay?” he says gently.
I nod.
He clears his throat awkwardly but I can see the feverish light shining in his eyes. “First question then. When did you last have sex, Sophia?”
“I...” I frown deeply, pursing my lips.
“Just a rough estimate will do, if you can't recall exactly. When was your last sexual experience?” he repeats. “And do you usually have difficulty achieving orgasm, or do you climax easily, at the slightest...”
“No! I don't have an orgasm at the drop of a hat, if that's what you're implying. Not having sex for...for...” I stutter. “...some time—,” I huff at irritation. “—doesn't mean I'm horny and desperate!” I glare at him, but frankly I am taken aback by my own outburst. I don't even know why I am so annoyed and frustrated at his question. Frustrated—that must be it. I cross my legs tightly. I am extremely frustrated. And maybe a little horny, but I am definitely not desperate. The doctor might be really sexy and handsome, with a body that is just screaming to be let out of his stuffy shirt, but that doesn't give him the right to be probing into my sexual affairs. Or the sorry lack thereof.
How You Tempt Me Page 2
