Coming Together: With Pride (13 page)

Frank buried his face in her hair, gulping her scent. "Oh, Princess..." Then he began thrusting, ramming into her while she bounced on top of him.

They came together, in a thundering rush of sensation that drove every shred of rationality from Kit's mind. The first thing that she was conscious of, after the echoes of the cataclysm died away, was the come dripping down her thighs.

Oh, no. No!
Frank's eyes were still closed. His cheeks were flushed. His glasses hung crookedly on his nose. His cock was still half hard inside her.

Kit climbed off his lap so quickly that she landed on the kitchen floor. That woke Frank from his blissful reverie, all right.

"Princess! Are you okay?"

"Okay? Of course not. We just had sex."

"Yes, we did. Fabulous, wasn't it?"

"Unprotected sex. No condom. Nothing." Kit's eyes blazed. "And I'll bet that you do this all the time, getting it on with any unsuspecting female who has the misfortune to enter your shop. Mr. Natural."

"Actually, I don't. It's been a long time, a very long time."

"Hey, well, wake up. This isn't the sixties. You can't just screw anyone you fancy. You've got to be careful. Take precautions."

Frank sighed and looked suitably chastened. "Yes, I know. It's terribly sad, but you're right."

"So why did you do it? You're not stupid."

Frank smiled at her, but his eyes were serious.

"Why did you?" He wrapped the sarong around him and tucked the free end into the waist. "Sometimes there's something there, you just can't help yourself. Call it animal attraction, pheromones, whatever. You can't ignore it. You can't control it."

He had watched sadly as Kit hurried out the door but hadn't tried to stop her. "You know what I mean. I know that you do."

****

Now she was headed back, drawn against her judgment, against her will. Back to his untidy, old fashioned world, to his ridiculous nostalgia, and his sweet, irresponsible innocence.

The paisley curtains were shut. A hand-carved wooden sign hung on the door:
Sorry. Closed for space walk. Please come again.

 
She stabbed at the doorbell, and heard the silly parrot squawk inside, but the door remained shut. Kit struggled between frustration and relief.

Maybe she could come back after work. Still, it was odd that he should close his shop in the middle of a Monday. On the other hand, he couldn't have that many customers, hidden away as he was on this quiet residential street.

Kit tried the doorknob. It turned easily. How typical of him! Naively trusting. Irresponsible. She slipped into the dimness of the front room and locked the door behind her.

The air was hushed, heavy. Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Frank?" she called softly. There was no response. The click of the bead curtain was uncomfortably loud in the stillness. An empty teacup and a charred roach in an ashtray sat on the kitchen table. She headed up the stairway to the second floor, calling his name again.

On the second floor, she found two closed doors. The room to the right of the landing seemed to be storage. Piles of boxes littered the floor and were stacked against the walls. The window shades were closed. The air smelled musty.

She was shocked, though, by what she found behind the door on the left. Neat bookcases and filing cabinets lined the room. One corner held a huge desk with a twenty three-inch LCD monitor and keyboard. In the other, there was a compact lab bench packed with assorted glassware plus state-of-the-art chromatography and sequencing apparatus. There was a faint odor of solvent.

"What the...?" Kit's curiosity overwhelmed her sense that she was violating Frank's privacy. The shelves held mostly technical journals—
Analytical Biochemistry
,
Drug Development Research
,
Journal of Chemical Research
,
Nature
,
Science
—alphabetically arranged and going back at least ten years. There were also stacks of data discs, and several rows of reference books. Kit recognized many of them.

One wall was hung with framed certificates and photos. Degrees from Harvard—in Latin—and Berkeley, granted to Frank Morgenstern. Patent awards. A picture of a much younger Frank, his head an unruly mass of reddish curls, shaking hands with Jimmy Carter. Another, informal, photo of him, sweaty and beaming, sitting outside a thatched hut with a dark-skinned child on each knee.

Frank Morgenstern. Kit racked her brain. Then she had it: he was the guy who had worked for Pfizer and created one of the earliest AIDS drug regimens. Brilliant chemist, according to his reputation. Developed an innovative therapy for malaria, too.

Frank? Goofy, horny Frank? It couldn't be true. But apparently, it was.

All at once, she thought she heard something. "Frank?" Music, faint, coming from above her, the third floor. She tiptoed up the stairs. The eerie strains of a synthesizer filtered through the half-open door at the top.

The shades were drawn. Multicolored lights pulsed on one wall. Weird electronic melodies played in the background. The room smelled of Frank: earthy, musky, hints of cinnamon and pot smoke.

An enormous bed took up the center of the room. He lay there on his back, naked, his arms at his sides. His eyes were closed. Even in the dim light, Kit couldn't miss his erection, arrowing toward the ceiling.

Kit stepped to the side of the bed. He didn't move. "Frank? Are you all right?"

"Oh, hello, princess. Lovely to see you." He grinned crookedly. There was something wrong with his eyes; he couldn't seem to focus.

"Why are you up here, in the middle of the day? Are you ill?"

He paused several heartbeats before answering. "Oh, no! I'm just taking a little trip. I needed a break. Nothing like a tab or two of acid to give you a fresh perspective." He raised his head and looked at her, suddenly serious. "I didn't expect to see you again. But I was thinking of you. As you can see."

Lazily, he stroked his rigid organ. It rose proudly from the tawny curls at his groin, beckoning her. He gave a sensual sigh that sent a thrill through her body. Saliva gathered in her mouth. Before she could help herself, she was unzipping her slacks, unbuttoning her blouse, tearing off her underwear. Leaving her clothes in a tangled heap on the floor, she crawled onto the bed.

It wavered and flowed under her weight. She felt slightly dizzy. Everything seemed unsteady, unreal. The only reality was her overwhelming need to taste his fat, juicy cock.

Kit straddled him and bent over his hard-on, breathing in his oddly appealing smell. He removed his hand. His cock seemed to wink at her. She flicked her tongue over the bulb. He moaned. She pursed her lips against the tip and applied a little suction. He arched toward her, begging for more. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, she swallowed him. She was amazed to find that she could take almost his whole bulk.

He tasted salty and a little sour. It was intoxicating. His furry thighs tickled the inside of hers, sending sparks racing to her pussy. She bobbed up and down, running her tongue along his length. His skin was silk stretched over stone. He twisted his hips, trying to force himself deeper.

"Oh, princess, that's so, so sweet..." She sucked harder. "Swing yourself over here, baby. Let me have a taste."

He managed to maneuver her so that her buttocks faced him and stroked them gently. His touch was electric. Out of nowhere came an image of him spanking her. Her cunt flooded and spilled over. He ran his tongue through her cleft, from back to front, ending with a firm flick against her clit. She moaned, mouth full of cock flesh, and pressed her crotch into his face.

He slurped up a mouthful of her juices, then stabbed his tongue into her depths. Kit ground against him, mashing her clit against his nose. He got the hint. In a moment, he was sucking hungrily on that aching bead of flesh, and Kit was climbing higher and higher. It was almost too intense, the pleasure shading into pain.

He backed off and let her breathe, lapping at her swollen lower lips and swirling his tongue around in her hungry cunt. Meanwhile he was pumping his cock down her throat. She could feel the tension coiling under his skin.

He was close, they both were, and suddenly all she wanted to was to taste him. She worked him harder, sucking until her jaw ached. She willed him to come.

He seemed to sense her need. She felt the contractions rippling up his shaft. She forgot that she didn't like the taste of come, swallowing the bitter fluid as fast as it spurted across her tongue. She wanted it all, everything he could give her, anything that he would do to her.

His cock remained hard in her mouth. She wondered if he could still fuck her. He licked steadily at her clit, but she needed something to fill her, to satisfy the aching hunger in her cunt.

All at once, she
was
full, something cool and hard and definitely not human sliding into her slippery depths. "Oh..." she began, and then couldn't say anything else, the pleasure driving away words. Whatever it was, it felt heavenly.

"Like that, princess?" Frank's voice was kind, with a hint of laughter. All Kit could do was grunt. He stroked once, twice, thrusting deeper each time. At the same time, his tongue danced over her clitoris. She hovered on the edge of ecstasy; he pushed her over and into free fall.

A whirlwind took her, fireworks, explosions of sensation. Endorphins raced through her blood, flooding all her senses with delight. Her mind was drugged almost to insensibility by pleasure. It was just so amazing...

Kit lay with her head on Frank's furry chest. His arm around her felt natural, right. She could hear his heartbeat, smell his sweat. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness; over on the bed table she could see the penis-shaped incense burner she had noticed in the shop, still slick with her juices. The odd, haunting music flowed over them. She was floating, totally satiated, completely comfortable. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

"I really thought that I blew it," said Frank softly. "I was sure that you'd never come back, Katerina. And I was so very sorry."

"Well..." Kit began. She didn't know how to answer.

"Anyway, I'm surprised that you're here, on a weekday. I would have thought that you'd be at work."

Work. The staff meeting. Kit felt a brief stab of panic. The comfort overwhelmed it. She settled back into his embrace. "I should be. But I decided that I needed a break."

Frank's laugh woke new tingles in her sex.

"But what about you? You're a famous chemist. I didn't know... I thought that you were just some weird old hippie, living in the past."

"I am. I quit, quite a while ago. I just couldn't stand to see profits be given a higher priority than people. Just a crazy idealist, I guess."

"But the lab, downstairs...?"

"Well, I still dabble a bit. Play around. Try to keep up with the journals." He circled one of her nipples with a lazy fingertip. His other hand crept across her belly toward her pussy.

He captured her clit between thumb and forefinger and squeezed gently. She gasped at the sudden surge of pleasure. As the ripples faded away, he followed up with a kiss.

His mustache was sticky with her secretions. He tasted like the ocean. It was sloppy and messy and delicious. Somehow there was a question, though, nagging at her. She couldn't quite relax.

"So what are you working on now? AIDS? Parkinson's?"

"Nothing so important. I've just been experimenting with a little private project. Something to amuse myself and a select few of my friends."

Drugs, Kit thought, annoyed that this world-class mind should be focused on something so frivolous. But what else should she have expected? "Some kind of hallucinogenic? Or a new synthetic stimulant?"