"Good to see you back at work, my young friend," he said. "I trust you enjoyed a productive afternoon?"
Dr. Blumenthal didn't wink. That would be beneath him. But his smile said it all.
"Not bad," I said. "Acquisition made some pretty interesting selections."
"And, I understand, you made some interesting selections on your own."
I offered him a modest shrug. Right then I felt far too high on hormones and endorphins to feel guilty or self-conscious or regretful about anything. The lab lady hadn't been as nimble or athletic as the others, but her passion matched any of them.
Dr. Blumenthal continued to gaze at me, a certain coolness entering his Doberman brown eyes. My tide of good feelings started to recede.
"Was there something else?" I asked.
"Well, yes, a certain matter has come to my attention which I thought I'd ask you about."
"Uh, okay."
"Apparently, RSA received an inquiry about its policy of providing exemptions to its age of consent statutes for research purposes."
I stiffened – to the point I was probably more rigid than my chair. Dr. Blumenthal's eyes never left me.
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Aiden?"
"No, uh..." I swallowed, cursing myself for my lack of cool. There was no way they could know I had anything to do with that. I scrunched my brow in a show of disbelief and confusion. "Someone contacted the RSA asking them if they granted exemptions?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
My heart shot into my throat. Or maybe my stomach, considering the burning. "Wha – ?"
Dr. Blumenthal's bland smile didn't waver.
"Why do you think I had something to do with that call?" I choked out.
"Well, it has to do with probability." Dr. Blumenthal lowered his knowing gaze briefly as he straightened his cufflinks. "How many age of consent exemptions would you guess the Reproductive Safety Agency has issued?"
"I'd guess not many." I thought I saw where he was going with this. That thought was accompanied by a sharp sinking sensation.
"Exactly one," he said.
My sinking sensation graduated to a plummeting off a cliff feeling.
"I'm not a mathematician," said Dr. Blumenthal, "but I'd hazard an estimate that the odds are astronomically low that this call and your singular exemption were coincidences, particularly when it occurred just after you learned about it."
Damn. It was really obvious when you thought about it. Too bad I hadn't.
"It was just a girl – an older girl – I was trying to convince to, you know. She was afraid of violating the law, so I mentioned I had this legal exemption..."
"Does this girl have a name?"
No way would I give him Jenny's name. "Paula something or other. She was just someone I ran into in a park. She must've decided to check out my story."
"Ah."
"I'm sorry, Dr. Blumenthal. That was really bad judgment on my part. I guess I was feeling kind of desperate that day."
"You couldn't wait until today?"
I offered him a mournful shrug.
Dr. Blumenthal leaned back in his tall office chair as if seeking a new perspective on me. A number of seconds passed.
"Look, Aiden, I fully appreciate that you're a young man still coming to grips with his new nature. A few peccadilloes are to be expected and can be excused." He paused, his gaze gathering gravitas. "What cannot be excused, I'm afraid, is revealing confidential information about your activities in order to get laid."
I lowered my eyes.
"Good God, Aiden, you could have almost any woman you wanted any time you wanted. You hardly need to resort to breaching your contractual agreement to achieve that. I'm having trouble understanding your thinking here."
"I'm having trouble understanding it myself, Dr. Blumenthal."
Blumenthal laid his arms out on the arms of his chair, looking like a king about to dispense royal judgment.
"You'll need to do better than that, Aiden. Not being able to control or comprehend your behavior isn't going to cut it. Perhaps now would be a good time to explain something to you." Dr. Blumenthal leaned forward, his hard stare unblinking. "I am merely your 'case worker' – your liaison, as it were, between you and CE. I have some discretion in dealing with you, but the final decisions are made by others. Are you with me so far?"
"I think so."
"Those decisions, including how to deal with contractual violations, may be far harsher than any actions I personally would choose."
"Far harsher...?" My bobbing Adam's apple was making word-formation difficult. "What would that mean?"
"Aiden, a few days ago I wrote you out a check for two million dollars. This was regarded as a clear signpost that your days of youthful innocence are at an end. CE considers you to be a responsible adult now. One of us, with all the privileges – and the potential penalties. From this point forth, you will be held accountable as an adult member of our team. What CE values most is loyalty, while disloyalty is considered to be an employee's greatest transgression. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I mean, sort of. Would you mind spelling out what you mean by 'far harsher'?"
"I'm not going to spell it out, Aiden. You have an exceptional mind. I'm sure you can reason your way to the correct conclusion. Perhaps a talk with your mom might help."
JENNY'S EMAIL appeared that evening, long after a short but intense discussion with my mom about my meeting with Dr. Blumenthal, and hours after I should've been asleep. I guessed I wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping.
Hi, Aiden,
I feel like I'm acquiring an unfortunate habit of doing things with you that I regret, but I do want to say I'm sorry for that scene I brought on with your mother. I thought I could handle her, but she's quite a handful! I should've consulted with you before introducing myself to her. I didn't because I was sure you'd shoot down that idea and I honestly felt once she'd spotted us in my car that it was the way to go. I overestimated myself. Not the first time.
That was quite a little adventure you had yesterday! I still can't believe those brats stole your clothes! I assume you got your car back? Did you file a police report?
How's your nose doing? Kayla asked me to ask.
I'm not sure what else to say. Maybe your mom is right. It's probably not smart for us to see each other again or for you to be giving interviews. But I admit I don't like anyone telling me what to do. Also, there's something about you, something more than your "hyperness." I'm pretty sure about that. Though I wouldn't rule out the possibility of being swayed by your pheromones.
Anyway, even if we don't see each other again, I do want to know you're okay.
Jen
Her letter raised a longing that scared the shit out of me. What was scary was that, for a full minute, I forgot about my conversation with Dr. Blumenthal and his chilling admonitions. They returned gradually, tempering my enthusiasm.
Of course, Dr. Blumenthal never said I couldn't see other people outside the program. He only suggested bad things would happen to me if I blabbed about CellEvolve's program. I didn't see any reason why I couldn't avoid doing that. Jenny would probably push me on that, but I just needed to be strong.
Hi, Jenny –
Funny thing, when I got back to my car all my stuff was waiting in the back seat! Some father caught them with it. He said they'd be punished while understandably not revealing anyone's identity.
My mom tends to go all mother bear when it comes to my "relationships" with females. The quotes refer to the fact that I really haven't had any true relationships in the romance sense anyhow.
I would like to see you again, Jenny, but only with the strictest understanding that there will be no interviews. I will not tell you anything more about what I'm doing at CE. Please don't agree to see me if you can't accept that.
Maybe we could see each other next weekend? I'm thinking of going to Sacramento for
some pickup basketball.
My nose is doing great, by the way! Please thank Dr. K again for me.
Yours,
Aiden
I'd considered telling her that CellEvolve had been notified of her phone call to the Reproductive Safety Agency, but I thought she might not agree to see me if I did. Maybe I'd tell her in person...or maybe not.
Was I making a mistake? I had to admit I had next to zero confidence in my judgment now, but then if that were true wouldn't that logically imply that anything I decided would be suspect – including not seeing Jenny again? I smiled at myself. Good rationalization, dude.
I'd just have to wait and see what Jenny said.
THE FIRST rush of excitement over the new people visiting my CE apartment and our wild, athletic conjugations (which I'd taken to labeling "power sex") faded fast over the course of the first week. After the third day the thrill was gone. Not the pleasure – it was still a great release – but the thrill. I'd met everyone and knew their shticks.
There was only so much meaningful variety when it came to sex, I was starting to learn. The variety that I craved really came from personality, and not the simple, one-dimensional kind of personality that people demonstrated while screwing; it was the whole symphony of attitudes and beliefs that made people interesting. At least to me.
So I was happy for the week to come to an end and to be driving over to Jenny and Kayla's condo. Jenny had invited me to a barbecue, promising there would be no more questions about CellEvolve or my role there. She claimed she'd be satisfied by simply learning more about my hyper experience – along with getting to know me better as a person. She'd even suggested bringing along one of my friends if that would make me more comfortable.
I'd mentioned the idea casually to Jim, who'd expressed interest in meeting the mysterious Jenny Green, not really sure how I felt about it – and Jim had practically exploded with enthusiasm. Only after I'd emailed her back agreeing to the get-together did Jim reveal he was in heat.
That explained his eagerness, I thought, wondering whether I should cancel the visit – or him – but finally deciding what the heck.
Jim was in the last twenty-four hours or so of his current three days per sixty estrus period – an ever-evolving period as a dude aged. It was Jim's practice, shared by many "norms," of taking a standard 20 mg dose of Melatin a day before their "period." That not only took the edge off the crazed sexual high that many young dudes experienced but also made them infertile.
That was a big deal since the Reproductive Responsibility provision of the Human Reproductive Safety Act was passed several years after the bill that created the RSA. Under the Reproductive Responsibility statute, a guy was presumed "guilty" of paternity if the mother named him as the father until he proved otherwise through DNA testing, which needed to be done within two months of birth. If the dude missed that deadline or was proven to be the father, he was stuck with child payments until the child's eighteenth birthday. This applied regardless of the father's age.
A lot of guys tried to get around this by anonymous sex in places like Georgia Selby's Narcissus. But the Reproductive Responsibility statute also called for the creation of a mandatory DNA Registry. Every person in the U.S. was now required to have their DNA collected for the Registry. So ended the power of anonymous sex. Anonymous many things.
Jim being in rut could add a complication to our visit, but it also took some of the pressure off of me. His presence might also help stop me from doing something dumb. I could only hope.
It was a surreal moment when Jenny let us in and Kayla was standing back from us in the entryway – both wrapped in terry cloth robes that captured their comely curves and bulges while promising better things inside. Maybe it was the power of expectation, but they looked even more beautiful than last time – and that was after a week of me being bombarded by exceptionally beautiful women.
Jim stood in shock just inside the door, managing a shaky smile as I introduced him. When they turned away he shot me an accusing look as if to say "Why didn't you warn me?" The truth was I'd only said they were "fairly attractive" and that I "really liked them for their personalities" because I'd wanted to see his shocked face when he met them. I wasn't disappointed.
We showered and changed into swim trunks and T-shirts upstairs as per Jenny's suggestion to hang out at their pool if it wasn't crowded. I sprayed myself down with a new bottle of Andrydox while Jim went au naturel.
Downstairs, he couldn't take his eyes off Kayla. I sensed him trying to avoid looking at Jenny, probably because he knew how I felt – or thought I felt – about her. Kayla didn't seem to mind his attention at all. In fact, she appeared to be glowing and was wearing a permanent smile that she cast frequently in his direction. I was almost jealous, because Jenny didn't seem to be quite as obviously affected by my presence. But then she'd probably dosed her nose with antihistamine to combat whatever snuck past my Andrydox.
"You two handsome men hungry?" Kayla asked.
Jim blushed. Even I felt a bit of heat rising in my face, if not lower.
"I could eat the whole menu at McDonald's," said Jim.
"Ucck." Kayla wrinkled her pretty nose. "I hope we can do better than that. Why don't we start out with some hors-d'oeuvres? We might even throw in a bottle of beer?" She looked to Jenny, who gave her a grudging nod. "We're having spaghetti – the way my Italian grandmother made it. To die for, trust me. And plenty of carbs and protein to feed those big muscles."
Jim was beaming and blushing so hard that I worried he might spontaneously combust. We drank our beer and we laughed – mostly Kayla and Jim – and I had this overpowering fantasy as we nibbled on cheese, bratwurst, and crackers that I was aging with every bite and sip: eighteen, twenty, even thirty – growing into the man who could be with someone like Jenny and Kayla – become someone they could look up to. I ached to be an adult. I wondered if someday, some incalculable time from now, I might ache to be a kid.
"I'm going for a swim," Kayla announced.
"Yah, me, too," said Jenny.
Kayla smiled over her shoulder at Jim as she popped their patio's rear gate and stepped directly out into the pool area. Jenny rolled her eyes briefly at me before following.
Their condo gate remained open, and there was plenty to look at as Kayla wriggled out of her robe while Jenny shed hers with more decorum – both depositing them on a pool table.
"Do you think they want us to join them?" Jim asked, practically drooling.
"I think they probably want a moment alone," I said, not really having a clue. "Girl gossip and stuff."
"About us?"
"Maybe. I think Kayla likes you."
"You think so? Seriously?"
"Why not?"
"She's like twenty-eight or something. I'm eighteen!"
"At least you're legal."
"Yeah. You're what they call jailbait." He winked at me. "Man, I feel buzzed. Maybe it's the beer or the hormones, but I feel like anything could happen."
"Maybe it could."
I didn't find the prospect of sex with an older woman all that amazing any longer, but I could relate to how Jim felt. It was a heady sensation to be wanted by a "mature" woman so relatively full of knowledge and experience.
"I've never been with anyone that old before," said Jim, his grin slipping. "I'd probably be a fumbling dork compared to what they're used to."
"I wouldn't worry about it."
"Because I'm not going to get any."
"I'm just saying I don't think it's much different for older people."
"Easy for you to say. How many older women have you had?"
I shrugged. "Not that many, really."
"Quit lying, dude."
I shrugged again. I might want to grow up but I didn't particularly want Jim thinking of me as being older.
"You know what?" He shoved his plate aside. "I'm goin' in! You coming?"
I hesitated before shaking my head. I was in a good, mellow place right now with a ni
ce fuzzy beer buzz in my head. If I went out there near Jenny and Kayla's semi-naked bodies – or even if I watched them too closely – I'd lose that. Plus, the chlorine would wash of the Andrydox.
"Have fun," I said.
"Yeah," said Jim, doubt entering his voice. But he rose with a resolute jaw. "I guess it's my funeral."
I watched him stride out to the pool as if he owned it and jumped in beside Kayla, who splashed him. I was having trouble locating the reserved and poised doctor who'd straightened my nose as she jumped on his back and demanded that he ferry her across the pool. Jim had to be in seventh heaven or higher.
Jenny put on her robe and walked back to join me in watching them from the patio.
"Kayla seems to like my friend," I said.
"Kayla's ovulating."
I had no sense of how to reply to that, especially since it made me feel approximately 12 years old.
By coincidence, I heard Kayla ask Jim exactly how old he was. Jim replied: "Eighteen and a quarter." I so envied him in that moment being legal.
I couldn't stop a jolt of surprise as Kayla grabbed Jim's hand and more or less dragged him out of the pool. That surprise became shock when Kayla continued to tug him, giggling, across the concrete through the gate and past us into the house – my shock echoed by Jim's expression while Kayla shot us a guilty but basically unapologetic smile in parting.
I listened to their footfalls recede and then thump up the stairs inside. Jenny gave me a strained smile.
"A case of perfect timing, hormonally," Jenny said.
"Oh." I nodded sagely.
It struck me then that despite my disproportionate familiarity with sex that my knowledge about the so-called "war of the sexes" was mostly limited to my reading. I had no actual experience or first-hand knowledge of how normal adult men and women related in the real world. I'd observed girls and boys flirt in the classrooms and hallways – supposedly a pale imitation of what it once was – but that was only the surface and barely related to how adults navigated the thorny post-MES world. I hadn't even ever been inside a rut bar.
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