Body Parts

by Adrianna Dane

  I came. And then I came again. And again. The waves of my orgasms matching the heated shocks he spiked through me. And when he came inside me, my whole body convulsed in spasms as his electrically-charged spend pumped into me. I think for one moment my heart stopped ‑‑ everything halted, every breath stilled, as I clung to him. It felt like I floated above the world in a limbo of pleasure.

  I remember gasping and the sounds of life, of the water pulsing down on us, begin again. I collapsed in his arms, eyes closed. And I knew it was enough.

  As we walked back out into the main room, Cornelius was still nose-deep in his journal. He dropped his pen, checking his pulse, and then scratched into his notebook once again.

  He looked up at me as I stepped closer. “Give me your arm,” he instructed.

  I did so and he checked my pulse. I turned to look at Athan and smiled. “Why don’t you go on. I’ll help Cornelius finish up here. I’m sure you’re tired.”

  “I’m not tired. I’ll be in the garden if you need me.”

  I turned back to Cornelius after he had left and frowned at him. “You went too far. You could have killed all of us.”

  His eyebrows show up. “What?”

  “You upped the electrical charge, didn’t you? He couldn’t expend completely. I had to fuck him again to release the balance of what was left.”

  “Is that why your pulse registers erratically? You should have called me.”

  “So you could watch?” I asked softly.

  His gaze clashed with mine. “Of course. We’re scientists first, Sheba. I should have been there to see the effects of the extended charge.” He turned as though to continue writing.

  I cupped his jaw, forcing his head back up to look at me. “What about the pleasure, Cornelius? There was a time when you would watch me with another man for pleasure. I feel it’s been a long time since you’ve done that.”

  “But he’s not just any man, is he? He’s our creation. How are we to produce another if we don’t take note of everything.”

  “He may be our creation, but he’s also a man.”

  His gaze studied me for long moments as though trying to peel back my skin to see inside. “That’s the difference between you and me, Sheba. Your…science…and understanding do not come from the same roots as mine, no matter how much you may wish to disagree. Have you fallen in love with him, Sheba?”

  How could I not? And he was our creation, as Cornelius said. Could any human being be more tied to another?

  “I love you, husband, you must know that.” I tried to skirt a true answer to his question.

  “But do you love Athan? I am curious.”

  “Only curious? Not jealous?” It made me wonder at our relationship as husband and wife. Had the scientist taken over so completely?

  “With Athan, I’m curious.” He shrugged. “He’s not someone simply passing through our lives. He’s a…fixture. To be jealous, considering the dynamics of our positions, would be detrimental to the experiment.”

  The scientist truly had eclipsed the man…my lover.

  “Yes, I love him. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

  “Be careful, Sheba. Your loss of objectivity is showing. It could destroy everything we are working to achieve.”

  I dropped my hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t let it interfere.”

  “I think it may have done so already. You haven’t been taking readings after intercourse. You’ve already admitted that.”

  What could I say? He was right. Maybe I had lost my objectivity. But Athan was different from a rat in a cage. It wasn’t the same. How could one not care for the living, breathing entity that made up the sum that we had named Athan?

  Cornelius turned away from me. “I have something else in mind.”

  “What is that?”

  “Athan needs a mate. We must create one for him. Not right away. I want to make some enhancements to Athan first.”

  “A mate? Enhancements?” I asked incredulously. “Are you mad? We aren’t ready for that yet.”

  “No, not just yet, I realize that. I told you, in relation to that, there is something I wish to try with Athan.”

  “He’s perfect the way he is. What else could you possibly want? He’s beautiful, intelligent, strong, adept, learns quickly. What more is there?”

  Again, he turned to look at me. “You really are besotted with him, aren’t you?” His gaze narrowed as he studied me.

  “Enough, Cornelius. As you said, he’s a part of us. He lives, he breathes. I don’t want to see him hurt. He’s not just another lab animal ‑‑ and those were bad enough. He’s intelligent. He’s a human being.”

  “I think you need to look again. He is an experiment. And we aren’t finished. He isn’t perfect.”

  “You’re wrong, Cornelius.”

  “He can’t exist on his own, not without our help. He isn’t self-sufficient, you know that. He’s been tested and you know what happened when we tried to reduce the treatments ‑‑ the monster that was driven to the surface.”

  I hated to admit he was right ‑‑ I wanted Athan to be truly self-supporting.

  “You know he’s going to live longer than us and he’s going to need to be able to draw sex partners to him when we aren’t here. Be honest, Sheba, admit it’s the truth.”

  “Yes, I know. I don’t want him to be alone, but how do you hope to change that?”

  “Finding him a mate won’t be easy. In the meantime, I plan to heighten his pheromone level.”

  Something told me that Cornelius was going too far with this latest experiment. I was afraid of what the outcome would be. And I fear for Athan.

  Korrie leaned back against the pillows as she read this last entry. How alone must Athan have felt through all of this? According to Sheba’s entries he exhibited all the emotions of a sentient being, yet it seemed Cornelius treated him as simply an experiment. How must that have made him feel? She felt an empathy with Sheba and the same desire rose inside her to comfort Athan and care for him. What she wouldn’t give to have known the man and have become a member of their team as they breached this amazing territory.

  She rubbed her slick thighs together. What she wouldn’t have given to become a participant in their sexual discoveries.

  Korrie returned the pages to the envelope and slipped them beneath the bed. Who knew if or when Paul might return and she wanted to make certain he didn’t find them. Time was running out and she needed to find out the secrets this place held before his return. Paul was the type of person the Ransoms would never have wanted to share their experiments with and she had to make certain that didn’t happen. The only way to do that was to find the documentation herself.

  Chapter Six

  Paul sat in an uncomfortable, refurbished chair outside the boardroom and waited anxiously to be called in. The board had kindly left him to stew for more than a few days before summoning him to this meeting. Probably their way of letting him know who still held the reins to the organization, much to his dissatisfaction.

  He knew he was probably but one of the items on the agenda to be checked off. That thought irked him. The secretary totally ignored him as she tapped away at her keyboard with long red, fingernails clicking at his nerves. Definitely fake, just like the rest of her body, with her white-blonde hair and double-D tits.

  He reached up to straighten the expensive, navy blue tie he wore. It was important he look his best. The blue silk suit had cost plenty, and the white Egyptian cotton shirt was handmade to his measurements. There was nothing wrong with enjoying the finer things in life. And the one thing he couldn’t allow was for them to think he had anything to hide.

  Exactly how much did they know about the falsified reports? How deeply had they penetrated his doctoring of the files? Once he determined the extent of the information they had, then he could decide how best to diffuse the situation.

  If only he’d discovered the Ransom documents, he wouldn’t need to be here now waiting on these elitist bastards.
He’d already be on his way to securing his future. He knew what he needed was at the estate; he just required more time to ferret out the evidence. How he wished he’d gotten Athan to trust him before he left. But at least he’d fixed it so Athan wouldn’t trust Korrie Odell.

  The phone on the secretary’s desk rang and she turned to answer it. Paul couldn’t gather anything from the conversation, but within moments she had returned the handset to the cradle.

  “Dr. Carter says you can go in now, Dr. Cathcart. They’re waiting for you.”

  Paul rose from the plastic-cushioned seventies-era chair and straightened his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. He stopped at the secretary’s desk and gave her one of his most engaging white smiles. “Thanks, sweetheart. You’re looking gorgeous today. You have a good one.”

  She gazed up at him with her big baby blue eyes and batted her long fake lashes ‑‑ and then snapped her gum. “You have a good one too, sweetie,” and then she winked before swinging around to face her computer screen.

  Bitch. She was definitely banging Carter.

  He wheeled away and stalked toward the closed door of the conference room. Whatever was waiting for him behind this door, he had to be ready for it. Grasping the knob, he opened the door and stepped inside.

  It had the look of any boardroom ‑‑ long and rectangular, with an oblong mahogany conference table, and eight gray cushioned executive chairs to accommodate eight big-headed, soft-assed members. The institute had been founded in the midfifties and the Odell Building was actually the original structure that became the Morgan Institute. It had since grown to include a complex of buildings, both above ground and below, and the Odell Building now housed strictly the administrative arm. The laboratories and classrooms were rehoused and modernized in several of the outlying buildings.

  This structure smelled old and reeked of old men, old ways. It was something that Paul had been hungry to change. That opportunity was gone now. Replaced by Plan B.

  “Sit down, Paul,” Erik Carter called. He nodded toward a chair at the end of the table. “We’ve saved this discussion for last, so we could give it our full attention.”

  Paul sauntered to the end of the table as though he didn’t have a care in the world and sank into the chair, facing the others. Carter sat at the opposite end. To Paul’s right were Arthur Grayson, Dorothy Morrison, Garver Tarrington, and Harvey Bickard. Arthur and Garver were retired professors, but Dorothy and Harvey still actively led research teams, although they were close to retiring. Dorothy often served as spokesperson and go-between with the various organizations that supported the Morgan Institute.

  On the other side of the table was the younger crowd. At least compared to the right side of the table. In age, they were his peers; in intelligence, not even close. Mallory Parson was married to Carter’s youngest daughter, Annie, and had smoothed his way into a senior analyst position without needing to start as an intern. He’d always been a burr in Paul’s side, since the day he’d arrived.

  Then, of course, there was Annie Carter Parson. Her specialty was DNA research. Now seven months pregnant, she’d pulled back on her work schedule until after the baby was born. Apparently, she had plenty of time to remain on the board. Lawrence Dixson had come on board about a year ago and had already risen to a senior research position in cell reconstruction. And then there was Dianne Montgomery; if there was a meaner dried-up hag than Korrie Odell, Dianne was it. She headed up human resources.

  This sanctimonious representation of an organization now gone civilized by the government would be his judge and his jury. He studied each of them carefully, trying to weigh their expressions. How much could he get away with? He turned to glare down the length of the table at Erik Carter, concentrating on keeping his expression and body language neutral.

  “So…why have I been royally summoned back here, Erik? There’s a lot I need to accomplish out at the Ransom estate. A lot yet to be uncovered. This wasn’t a good time to be called back.”

  Erik frowned. The vibrations of his disapproval raced like a tidal wave down the length of the table to drown Paul. “This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t important, Paul. And besides, from your reports on the work you were doing at the Ransom estate, it didn’t appear you were making much progress. We thought” ‑‑ he nodded to the others at the table ‑‑ “this might be a good time to reassess as well.”

  Paul knew damn well what game the old man was playing. He’d been good friends with Tom Odell and had taken Korrie under his wing after Tom died. The whole damned institute knew Korrie had wanted this assignment, but based on the very reports Erik now had setting before him, Paul had managed to land the project. Of course, there had been a few side negotiations that had gotten him the choice deal.

  His gaze again circled the table and settled on Annie Carter. He fixed on her protruding belly. Just whose brat was she carrying? It wasn’t too long before the wedding that he’d spurted his semen into her cunt. Had she been on anything? Sort of made one wonder.

  She met his gaze with a hard look and a protective hand over her belly and subtly leaned closer to her rather new husband. Maybe there was more to him getting the job than just marrying the chairman’s daughter. Paul leaned back in his chair. Well, at least fucking her, and in a roundabout way letting her know what he wanted, had helped him pull the choice plum off Korrie’s little tree. At least for a while.

  “What exactly seems to be the problem, Erik?” He folded his hands and placed them on the gleaming table, pleased to see the turmoil inside him was not evident. Steady as a rock.

  “It has to do with the discrepancies that have been flagged in these reports. The initial documentation was all done by you. Many of the lab experiments were ones you coordinated. What we want, Dr. Cathcart, is for you to review each one of these files and provide us with a written report explaining your position and, in some cases, backing up your research to our satisfaction.”

  He shoved the pile toward Mallory, who rose from his seat, picked up the folders, walked the length of the table, and dropped them before Paul, a smug expression on his face. Then he returned to his chair. Paul studied the pile, zeroing in on the small multicolored, florescent flags, which apparently marked each and every discrepancy. Then he looked back at Carter.

  “And just when do you need this report, Dr. Carter?”

  “As soon as you can get it to us, but no later than thirty days from today.”

  He flicked a finger down through the stack of files. “And if I don’t get it to you in your designated time period?”

  Erik glared at him, his expression stone hard. “Then you’ll leave us no recourse. You’ll be dismissed and someone else will have to redo each of the experiments, probably costing the institute steeply as well as putting us in a very embarrassing position with our contributors. And if any problems are discovered that can’t be explained, we are prepared to take appropriate action. Are we clear?”

  Paul saw flames of red flash before his eyes; his fingers itched to surround the leathery, wrinkled neck of the man facing him across the table. “Very.”

  He looked at Garver, who had a tape recorder resting in front of him, as well as a legal pad. “One month from today we will meet here again and Dr. Cathcart with provide us with his updated findings.”

  Garver scratched a note on the pad, then looked up at Erik. “I’ll give these notes to Violet to transcribe and ask her to put Dr. Cathcart’s report on the agenda for next month.”

  Erik looked at Paul. “Thank you for coming, Paul. We’ll look forward to receiving that report next month.” He looked around the table. “Any new business?”

  It was Paul’s signal to leave. Scooping up the files he stalked out of the room and headed toward his office. Bastards. Slamming the door to his office shut, he flung the files onto the floor where they slid and scattered across the smooth parquet surface. Everything he’d worked for, everything he’d built, was about to come crumbling down around his feet. One day he’d make
them pay for treating him this way.

  He’d made a fatal mistake in pushing Tom Odell to an early death. He should have waited just a little longer. He’d had Tom and this institute by the balls, right where he wanted them. He’d squeezed just a bit too tight, too soon; unfortunately, it was a mistake he was going to have to pay for. What he really wanted to know was how they’d discovered his doctoring of the reports.

  He looked at the files scattered over the floor. Maybe if he could slide through a few of them, he could get an extension. All he needed was enough time to get back to the Ransom estate, get rid of Korrie Odell, and do what needed to be done.

  He looked at the phone, then reached over to pick up the handset. It took five rings before someone picked up.

  “Hello? Donald? It’s Paul Cathcart. I’m in town for a few weeks and thought we might hook up for a drink?” Always have a secondary plan in place.

  * * * * *

  Korrie trembled with excitement, as well as fear, as she stumbled into the library the next afternoon. She was still stunned by her discovery. She had taken the morning to delve into some of the shadowy nooks and crannies these older structures seemed to hide, looking for someplace else where documents might have been hidden away. She had even gotten up the courage to go into the master bedroom. And that’s where something very odd had taken place and why she was ready to burst right now.

  She wasn’t sure it was a room she wanted to return to any time soon. But it certainly did give her hope that there were more documents in this place to be uncovered ‑‑ that maybe Paul hadn’t found. Documents that had been hidden by someone not so earthly bound as they were.

  In that room, more so than any of the others she had entered that morning, it was as though there was still a presence in residence, hovering just out of sight as she scoured the room. Then the ice-cold breeze she had become accustomed to over the last few days descended, drifting over her like a misty cloud, drawing her deep into its lair. She’d never been one to believe in the supernatural, but after this recent experience, she held a healthy respect for things not seen.