by Dark Angel
“Yes,” I broadcast genially into the phone after picking up, as if I don’t know who it is.
“Hello, Miss Morrow. It sure is nice to hear your voice again. It is a pleasant day we’re having, isn’t it?”
He can probably tell exactly where I am.
“Yes, it certainly is, Homer. It is nice to hear from you, also. You’re spot on about the weather. I happen to be walking outside right now, moving away from True Love.”
“Oh good, good.” The smile in Homer’s voice is fading as he speaks.
I’d love to tell him that this charade is risible, but he’s been at this a lot longer than me.
“I’m more than a few hundred feet from the facility by now, if you care to know.”
I scan my surroundings, deftly checking behind me. I see nobody—everyone I know from True Love is still inside the building, and well out of earshot.
“Good, good.” Homer’s just barely holding onto the act, ready to let go soon.
“Is this really necessary? It’s not like they’re oblivious,” I whisper-hiss into the phone, more out of annoyance than out of attempted subterfuge.
“We haven’t heard from you in a while.” Homer’s ignoring my complaint, although he’s never heard anything like that from me before.
“Well…I’m sorry. There’s a lot going on with this project, but I’m starting to scratch the surface.”
“The surface?”
Homer’s abrupt, angry yell startles me into halting in my path again, but I restart moving away from True Love, quickly now. I’d rather keep this conversation away from there for my own reasons.
“We know the surface already, Alyssa.” Homer’s moved from artificial to angry to speaking like his real, inflexible self. “We don’t send people in to make nebulous observations about how ‘there’s a lot going on’ after spending days on the job.”
“There is a lot going on, though.”
“I don’t care. Unless that includes the formula. Any news about that?”
“No. Not yet.”
This whole assignment’s been an unimaginable whirlwind, and it looks like it may conclude with me getting pulled away from it.
While that seems like a fitting end, I can’t imagine it actually being the end. At least not now, not yet.
I need to think fast, because Homer will take my silence as a response, and will use that as an excuse to take action, to end the assignment.
The higher ups at the FDA know these types of jobs inside and out, and they know what constitutes a solid outcome. Their standards are high, and from this conversation I can tell that Homer wants the formula and nothing less.
Even if he has to wait. That’s what I’m betting on, at least.
“Give me a week.”
“What?” Homer sounds more confused than angry. I need to work with that.
“I’m getting close, and I can deliver the formula. Just one more week.”
I hear a distant sigh through the line, as if Homer frustratedly put the phone down for a second to figure this out.
“First of all, Alyssa…”
I’m so focused on walking hurriedly away, I almost jump as Homer’s voice suddenly retakes my phone. He doesn’t finish his thought, though.
“Are you still there, Homer?”
“Alyssa, it’s not just me involved with this contract. You know that. You also know how I vouched for you to get this job. Now this is on me, too.”
I involuntarily start gripping my purse, holding it tightly against my side.
“Yes, of course I know. All I can tell you right now is that I’m making progress.”
He continues as if he didn’t hear me.
“Second, you can’t make any assumptions about how oblivious these guys are or aren’t. That’s disturbing for me to hear. Over the course of the next three days…and it will be only three days, right?”
“Right. Absolutely.”
“From now until the end of this job, if you want to talk business as soon as you pick up the phone, that’s fine. I’m telling you this, though: if that’s what you want, you need to be exceedingly careful about where you answer calls from work.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
“I want to repeat that: exceedingly careful. You get three days, Alyssa.”
“I…” I begin, but the line is quiet.
I stop again, still holding my purse tightly. Then I open my hand and let it go, letting it hang from my shoulder.
Apparently, I know less about these investigations than I thought. From what I’ve seen, they can go on almost indefinitely—if need be—the priority being on thoroughness.
Now that I’m out in the thick of it myself, I’m learning a hard lesson.
The assignment will be over with or without the formula, and I’ve only bought myself a measly seventy-two hours to figure it out.
I begin walking again. I’m not headed anywhere I need to be, but I do need to think, and I can’t stand standing still any longer.
This is my job, a job I care about, a job I’m intent in proving myself capable of.
Clearly, I’m capable. The formula’s in my purse and nobody at True Love is any wiser.
Yet I’m lying, and I’m not sure why. I know I don’t want my time at True Love to end, but if I were selfishly concerned solely with what I want, this would all feel much simpler.
There’s more going on, and it’s only coming to the surface of my thoughts now. I’m acting to protect the twelve executives, the remarkable men I’ve gotten to know so well in such a short period of time—and I’m doing it in a way that puts my job and my future in jeopardy.
If I was taking these risks for something I felt morally certain about, than I’d have no hesitation whatsoever.
But as life-altering as my experience with True Love has been, those qualms still occasionally surface to haunt my conscious.
Chapter 23
Alyssa
Opening the doors, the first thing I notice is a new face. That is not the usual assistant that greets me.
"Hello Miss Morrow, we've been expecting you. I've got an appointment all scheduled for you. If you'll follow me," tall and blonde, the new assistant at True love has apparently been given specific instructions.
I’m confused for a moment but go with it. Nothing terrible has happened to me yet.
"Are you new?"
I'm curious how this girl knows me, but surely, they must have told her all about the infamous Alyssa Morrow.
Leading me down the hall to the salon, the tall blonde opens the door, handing me off to another receptionist. This day is quickly becoming very odd.
"Miss Morrow, we have a room here for you to change and put on a robe. I've placed one on the bench already, and when you're done, just come out, and I will take you for your massage."
Just like that, she disappeared. No other explanation.
I look around the room, wondering why no one told me about this appointment. I guess it was a surprise for me.
Slipping out of my black fitted skirt and blouse, I left them folded on the bench along with my undergarments.
The robe is silk and feels incredible the I put it on my body. Even the color happens to be my favorite. A deep shade of purple that compliments my skin tone.
The slippers match the robe, and whoever thought of this knows the perfect size for me. Those men think of everything.
"I'm ready," I smile at the salon assistant.
I am taken down the hall to a room that makes you feel relaxed the moment you walk inside. Everything is so peaceful. From the walls that are painted a deep shade of green, to the sounds of babbling a brook coming from every corner of the room.
I take the robe off and proceed to lay on the table when the therapist arrives.
"Miss Morrow, I am Hilda, and I will be doing your rub down today."
Hilda is a sturdy woman, about 30 years old. She has a thick Swedish accent.
I enjoy a lavish massage lasting about 45 minut
es. The woman’s magical hands releasing any tension I might have. At one point, I almost fall asleep to her skilled fingers.
"Alyssa, the stylist is ready for you now. Just walk down the hall and into the first room on the left," Hilda said as she cleans up the room for the next appointment.
I'm still a bit woozy from having my muscles manipulated, but overall, I feel relaxed and refreshed.
Once again, I am greeted, but this time with a mimosa and lunch. I wonder if this is a special treatment, or does everyone get the same experience.
After my hair gets washed, I'm in the hands of one of the best stylists in the country. I've tried to get into this woman's salon on many occasions, but all attempts failed.
It's now that I realize I’m not alone. I see other patrons come and go, all of them people who have dealings with True love.
My hair is being cut and colored, and my nails manicured, but all of that is overshadowed by what I hear from the other clients. I can't help but listen, though I can’t see them from where I sit.
"I can't believe how wonderful life is right now."
The first woman is speaking to the others, but I don't recognize the voice.
Another one speaking, but her voice much softer.
"Since they allowed me to test the product, I am so much more inclined to do things sexually. Ones that I've only dreamed about in the past."
This conversation is what I need to hear. The real people who use the perfume. I've lucked into something enlightening here.
"My husband, well, he took me to a party with swingers. Can you believe it? We hadn't done that since before we got married," the first lady speaks again. She is giggling as she talks.
Now I know there must be something in the formula.
The mimosas are lovely, and lunch is unexpected and delicious. I can't believe how lucky I am, but the conversations I’m overhearing are what intrigues me the most.
I know that True love does something to women, but honestly, these women are happy. Not one of them seems upset by the change in their sex life. I know mine is a million times better now.
"Miss Morrow, your hair is done, and the makeup artist is ready if you are?" the assistant smiles.
"Of course. Sorry, I was having a daydream for a moment. I feel too relaxed right now."
Laughing, I am feeling like a princess right now. The way this salon pampers goes above and beyond any I have ever experienced.
I set back in the chair, this time though it's not just me in the room. Those ladies that I overheard are getting made over as well. Both still raving about this new True love.
"Did you go to the party last night?" the taller redhead asks.
The blonde nods, her hand covering her mouth
"I did. Oh my god. Did you see all those hot men? My husband punished me later for flirting. I was so turned on by just being there."
I am trying not to listen to them talk about their personal lives, but they are feeding me all I need to know. I am sure about the effects of this perfume, but what can I do? I am falling for them all.
Sighing, I am unsure of what to do with all this information and what to do from this day forward. I don't want to ruin the good times for them, but if it imbalances your senses, isn’t it wrong?
I don't know what to do at this point. These women honestly seem so happy with everything in life.
My makeup looks beautiful. The artist has made me look better than I ever have before.
Grabbing my phone, I take a selfie and send it to all twelve men. I want them to see how good I look today. It might be weird, but since I've met them all, their approval matters to me.
The manicurist paints finger and toenails the perfect share of red. It's almost crimson, but it's perfect. I am dazzled by the way they turned out.
Those women are still there talking, and I can't draw my attention away from them. I have to find out everything they have to say before I do anything about this True Love line of fragrance.
"Miss Morrow were done here. Would you like to look?"
The assistant is smiling at me. She seems to approve already.
I nods.
"Of course, I’ve been waiting all day to see this."
I stand, looking in the mirror with my mouth slightly open. I am shocked by the changes in my appearance.
"Oh wow. I can't even believe this is me!"
I have the attention of the entire room now. Those three ladies who were so engrossed in their conversation before are now looking in my direction.
"Thank you all so much for all of this. Wow, just wow! I don't think I have ever looked quite this stunning."
I am not trying to seem vain, but I'm sure that is how it comes out.
When I'm done, the assistant escorts me back to the dressing room to change. On the other side, I can hear one of the women speaking on the phone. I assume to her husband.
"I can't wait to get home tonight and fuck you. My pussy has been wet all day because of those dirty pictures you sent me. Yes, I love you too, see you soon."
Wow, I am such a snoop, but they have given me so much to think about and more than that, I don't know what to do now.
I inhale deep when I smell that distinctive fragrance. The woman must be wearing it on, but just a hint of it has my body sexually charged.
I thank them all as I leave, feeling more turned on than ever before.
Chapter 24
Alyssa
Here I am, on my way out the door of True Love’s salon, all dressed up with no place to go.
“Or should I say, all turned-on with no super-hot men to fuck,” I say out loud to my reflection in a mirror. I see my reflection immediately start blushing in response.
“Whoa, that came out of nowhere,” I confess sheepishly to my mirror-self.
I’m not wrong, though. Not about the turned-on part, at least. Fortunately, I believe I’m wrong about the part that I’m hoping to be wrong about.
True Love hasn’t disappointed me yet in that area. Every bit of desire I’ve ever felt here has been addressed handily, and I’ve no reason to believe that this time should be any different.
Although with that perfume hanging heavily in the air, I’m not sure if anything could fill the great chasm of fiery, devastating lust that’s still growing inside me.
I wonder if anyone got my selfie yet. I hope that simple, seemingly innocent photo of me, smiling and radiant in the salon, is enough to convey a crumb, a tiny fragment of the carnal heat that’s consuming me.
Even if I’m horribly, disappointingly correct about no men to help me live out my current cravings, I can take some comfort in the fact that I got to share some of my passion with an audience who I know will appreciate it.
But there is a deep, deep well―a sea, actually, an ocean of that same passion waiting for its chance to be explored properly.
All I can think about right now, the goal I have in life that’s eclipsing everything else at the moment, to fulfill any part of it.
A friendly walk in the park, a picnic, a wild night of crazed sex with a coterie of devoted, sexy men―I would be over the moon to experience any of it right now.
I’ve barely left the salon when I’m greeted by the welcome site of the most handsome foursome imaginable.
Sean. Ethan. Nico. Ford.
My eyes scan the group slowly from left to right, then from right to left as they stand before me in a straight line. It doesn’t matter if I start with Sean and move slowly to Ford, or if I begin by looking at Ford and work my way over to Sean; it always starts out amazing and gets better and better.
“You guys are about the best sight I could have hoped to see right now,” I share, and they exchange a few understated looks with each other.
“I said the same thing when I got your text,” Ethan responds immediately. “That photo, my goodness.”
“We all said that,” admits Nico, his beautiful eyes fixed on me, riveted by my post-salon allure.
“The four of us were all in t
he same room when that text went through, and after seeing that photo, we all basically raced each other down here,” Sean explains with a mischievous smirk, which lets me know he’s embellishing a bit and letting me in on the joke.
“That’s all true, technically.” Here’s the moment I knew would come: Ford weighing in with his serious and seriously sexy way of cutting through the silliness and presenting the bare facts.
“But we’ve also been planning this for a while,” he continues. “Your selfie just happened to come at the perfect moment, throwing gasoline to the fire I already have burning for you wildly.”
Ford’s doing his best to draw my attention exclusively to himself―stepping forward slightly, his eyes both greedily drinking in my beauty and effortlessly conveying his own intense passion and desire.
“Yeah. You looked fucking hot!” Ethan interrupts Ford’s meaningful gaze with that pithy observation, but Ford doesn’t even turn around to give Ethan a brief, angry look. All he does is nod in agreement.
“You look even better now, which I didn’t think was possible.” Ethan’s follow-up to his own statement is met with nods from everyone.
The four of them are still standing in essentially the same position, perfect for going down the line one more time, and I’m feeling real heat as they return my desirous expression with fiery expressions in their eyes.
“I’m not sure where this is going,” I say, “but I’m liking it very much regardless.”
“We’re all liking it very much, as well, I assure you,” Nico responds instantly, “but I can also give you a hint where this is going in the very near future.”
Once Nico sees that I’m providing him with my full attention, he indicates where this is all leading to by silently pointing upwards.
I look straight up at the ceiling, spotting nothing out of the ordinary.
Nico’s grinning ear to ear when I look back down, and within a few seconds he’s laughing delightfully, and I start laughing at the sheer absurdity, the mystery and the fun of it. Sean, Ethan, and even Ford join in our nonsensical amusement, creating a beautiful harmony of laughs.
I still have no idea what the rest of the day will bring, but I’m already loving it even more than I was a few minutes earlier.
