Like a Wisp of Steam (10 page)

He brought himself to his feet, leaning casually against the table. I watched his hands again as he removed a small notebook from his pocket and penciled a few short notations.

His stance was always so sure, so confident. This man looked more like a soldier than an academic, wide shoulders giving way to hard muscular arms. And those hands. Well, no doubt I had imagined their touch often enough.

The doctor looked up and issued some more instructions to me. As he did, I stared back into those eyes. They were palest blue framed by lashes of dark inky black. It was the contrast between those two extremes of color, light and dark, which always entranced me. They made his face both beautiful and fierce, at once tender and aggressive. We looked at one another for a long moment, unflinching, and then I felt suddenly self-conscious, almost ashamed. I felt he could surely guess my thoughts, lascivious as they were. I pictured skin against skin, the hard press of his lips on mine, how his muscles would feel as he leaned me against the wall and pushed his way slowly inside of me, the handsome master and his willing university pupil.

My face flushed pink. I turned quickly, moving to gather the ingredients he requested, and the spell was broken. I was usually careful not to let my gaze linger too long, but still he must have sensed my preoccupation with him. I was sure of it. Too often now, we would stand, shoulders just a little too close together, arms only a few centimeters apart. We would hold one another's eye a moment too long. We would go too far, but still not far enough.

After all, it was just this sort of temptation we were working to prevent. The goal of these experiments—though we had not accomplished it yet—was to discover a compound for the repression of sexual urges. Such urges, of course, were the source of many societal ills. Dr. Aubrey would be widely celebrated indeed for such a find.

I was attentive as the doctor explained my instructions.

"Nicholas," he said, "I will be gone for a few hours. In the meantime, you must feed her." By "her" he meant the experiment, of course. He talked of his machine as a sailor would speak of his ship, in only the feminine, commanding the utmost respect. To an outside observer, it was a puzzling device, a tangle of hoses, droppers, large glass bubbles collecting condensation, a burner, and a large steam-powered fan for re-cooling the evaporated particles. To others, this overly elaborate collection of scientific instruments might suggest something that only a madman would construct; but, to him, this set-up promised only the alluring possibility of new discoveries.

"Yes, sir," I replied. I sounded calm, but was eager to impress and ecstatic to be left with such a responsibility, even for a short time.

He combined the ingredients I had fetched for him, mixing the powders together in a beaker, and then adding an alcohol base to produce a simple liquid tincture. He held it to the light and stirred it with a thin glass rod from his belt, then handed the dark red mixture to me. "Here's the next compound to test," he said. He opened his small notebook again, scribbling a few notations. "Let's see. Compound ... Compound number four-six-one. You know what to do. Pour a little more of the mixture in every thirty minutes, keep the fan turning, and leave the collection flask in place. If I don't return by midnight, test it on the rats yourself." I nodded, and Dr.

Aubrey collected his overcoat and bag. He paused once in the doorway. "You will remember, every thirty minutes?" I nodded, and he took his leave. Now I was all alone in the laboratory.

I was determined to be as efficient as possible. After all, I was not entirely sure what Dr. Aubrey thought of me, and I needed to demonstrate that I was a capable assistant. I would do anything to please him, and perhaps I would eventually be rewarded.

Carefully, I added new coals to the burner and lit them.

These would provide the power to operate the fan. Next, I walked to the other end of the device, making sure the small flask was in place. I was now ready to add the compound. I could hear the clock strike nine o'clock as I lifted the beaker, pouring fifty milliliters of compound four-six-one into the machine. I sat back in a nearby chair to wait and observe.

Every thirty minutes, I rose to pour in more just as I had been instructed, but the later the hour became, the more slowly time seemed to tick by. Before long, I was startled to find myself waking up to a crick in my neck. My neck was sore, my mouth dry. My muscles had the lazy responses of a man who had been asleep. Indeed, it was true. Somehow, I had nodded off! I panicked, startled to realize the clock was now striking eleven o'clock. I had missed the ten-thirty pour.

Oh, but what would the doctor think of me? As quickly as I could, I grabbed the beaker beside me and emptied the appropriate amount into the machine. Only after I finished did I realize what I had done. I had added the wrong mixture!

The liquid I had just used had been clear, not deep red. I looked back toward my chair and saw the red beaker winking back at me like a great jewel. The unlabeled container in my hand was now empty. I had no idea what the contents had been.

Not knowing what else to do, I sank down in despair, allowing the experiment to run its course, and trying not to think about what the doctor's reaction would be. I felt certain he would be furious, but as to what he would do I could not say. Would he dismiss me for such a mistake? I was just one of many new students at the university, fresh-faced and untried. I had always been fascinated with the natural world, sure that science would be my field of study, but after this blunder tonight I was no longer so certain. My thoughts raced as I considered my position.

At midnight, the machine sputtered to a stop. The large fan still turned slowly, but all other movement had ceased.

The experiment was over. I moved to the far end of the large table and was astonished to see the collection flask brimming with a bright blue liquid. Its surface seemed almost opalescent, shimmering with the hint of many other colors.

The substance was beautiful, but not what was expected. The previous experiments had all produced a pale reddish liquid.

Now the doctor would most certainly discover my blunder.

I knew the only way to keep the night's details from him was to test the substance on the rats myself. That was the only way he would never see the contents of the collection flask. I walked to one of the terrariums and poured a measure of the brilliant blue liquid into their water. I was astonished to see that the liquid immediately vaporized before reaching the water trough. The violent explosion startled me, and I jumped back a few paces and set the half-full flask carefully aside before returning and sealing the top on the terrarium.

Indeed, this had been a strange night so far. One thing and then another had gone wrong at my hands. I hoped that the rats had not been harmed. I watched for them intently as the thick gas within the container began to clear. I could see now that they were alive. Not only that, but the small white creatures seemed even more boisterous than before. It did not take me long to observe the effects of this experiment.

These creatures were not behaving normally. They had in fact become possessed by the very urges we were attempting to repress, all coupling frantically and most eagerly. This was an incredible find, but how could I ever duplicate it? I had no idea what substance I had mistakenly poured into the machine.

As these thoughts occurred to me, I heard the doctor's sure and heavy footsteps on the stairs. I panicked, not knowing what to do, aware that the gas in the terrarium and the state of the rats made it apparent that something unusual was happening.

Dr. Aubrey swung the door open and threw his overcoat casually over a nearby chair. He strode in confidently, unfastening his cuffs to roll his sleeves halfway up. He flashed me a warm smile and loosened the cravat about his neck, as usual. His face was slightly flushed. Perhaps he had enjoyed a drink or two, or perhaps the night was colder than I thought.

Either way, I liked the effect. The extra color made him look rugged and more full of life. He seemed brimming with health and virility.

It was as he was pulling on his lab coat, however, that his eye finally caught the terrarium. "And what do we have here?" he asked, looking from it to me, and then moving closer to observe. I told him about the reaction that occurred.

He bent at the waist, hands on his knees to study the rats closer. He was clearly astonished. "A fulminate," he said.

"I'm sorry. A what, sir?" I asked.

"A fulminate," he said. "Fulminates are friction-sensitive compounds. The slightest physical contact can produce an explosive reaction. In the flask, these explosive tendencies can be contained, but pour them out and they become dangerous." He was almost giddy as he explained this, fascinated with the result of his experiment. He even clapped a hand across my back and proposed we celebrate our find with a drink.

I was incredibly nervous. My insides twisted, my body wrestling with itself. There was nothing I wanted more than his approval, but I knew I had to explain what I had done.

Otherwise, he would find out when the experiment could not be duplicated. I told him everything, bluntly laying out my entire series of blunders and hoping for mercy.

"Well, Nicholas, you
have
been busy," he replied when I was finished. His mood was inscrutable. "Tell me, do you want to stay on here as my assistant?"

"Yes, sir," I told him. "Very much, sir."

"And why is that?" he asked.

"I like you very much, sir," I said, immediately regretting it. He looked up at me sharply, those pale blue eyes studying me. "Your work, sir," I said, correcting myself. "I enjoy it very much. It is ever so important." We considered each other for a long moment. Once again, it was a little too long. I knew he sensed it, too.

He licked his lips. "Well, then. There's only one thing to be done," he said. "You cannot yet synthesize more, but your discovery must be subjected to further trials. You must test the last of your mixture yourself."

I was astonished. "But, that could be dangerous," I whispered. "I don't think I could."

"Oh really, now? And what would Madame Curie think of such a sentiment? She is right now dying from exposure to the very substance she has been studying." He looked me up and down. "Great discoveries require great sacrifice."

I was not sure whether he poured it intentionally, or if the flask slipped from his hand. I only know that in the next moment I saw a cloud of that same heavy gas billowing around the two of us. The vapor stung my throat as I breathed it in. The metallic taste hung heavily at the back of my tongue. I did not cough, however, or feel out of breath.

The gas did not feel toxic, but pleasant. As I looked about, its opalescent color gave everything an otherworldly glow.

I certainly was not aware of any change in myself in that instant. I will never know whether the contents of the flask were guiding my actions, or if we simply had license now to act as we pleased. All I am sure of is that in the next moment, I felt Dr. Aubrey step in close, and I felt the press of his godlike lips on mine. He held my face firmly with both hands and drank me in, tangling the ends of his fingers in my hair.

I responded in kind, desperate and feverish. I had imagined this time and time again, but now I could live out what I had imagined. I could act as shameless and wanton as I wished and no one would question my actions. I could always claim I was under the influence of those mysterious chemicals. And, who knows, perhaps I was.

Dr. Aubrey continued to kiss me as he moved his hands to my shirtfront. He gripped the fabric and tore my shirt away suddenly with a loud ripping sound. I was astounded, both by the violence and the urgency of the action. The hunger behind it frightened me a little, but excited me even more. As his mouth moved down to the exposed nipples of my chest, I closed my eyes. I tilted my head back as he bared his teeth, his soft bites causing me sudden intense pain. I gasped a little, and heard him laugh. He raised his face inches from mine. "That hurts, does it?" he asked. Cautiously, I nodded.

"And you don't think you deserve it? After the way you behaved?" He fumbled at my belt then, unbuckling it and reaching down into my trousers. He discovered then how hard I had become, and grasped me firmly. "You've been incredibly irresponsible," he said.

I sucked in a swift nervous breath as he began to stroke the length of me. My knees felt weak as he worked me slowly. "Yes," I whispered. "I
have
been irresponsible." My breath was coming faster now. I moved my hips in time with his strokes.

Dr Aubrey leaned over me. "Indeed," he said. "And you need to learn your lesson." With these words, he clasped his masculine hands on my shoulders and pushed me backwards against the wide oak table. The device rested behind me, and I could hear the loud clacking of the steam-powered fan close by.

He then spun me around roughly, so I was facing away from him. The doctor gripped the back of my neck and pushed me down against the table. My body was bent at the waist, my torso flat against the wood. I heard him fumbling with his own clothes then, pulling off his heavily starched shirt, and knew what was coming next. At least, I thought I did. I backed up slightly, straining towards him. I could feel his hardness pushing against the fabric of his trousers. Yes, that was what I wanted. I needed to feel him finally take me.

I felt the cool air of the laboratory brush over my skin as my own pants were pulled down swiftly, exposing my backside. I held my body flush against the table, but tensed, trying to anticipate what he would do next, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened. Instead of the warm contact of his flesh, I felt the sharp tingling of pain as he brought his hand down. I cried out a little as he did it again, striking me and producing a loud cracking sound. "Quiet," he ordered. He was spanking me like a child. I struggled a little, but he insisted, holding me firmly, and finally I began to accept each strike, relaxing into the pain instead of resisting.

In truth, it did not hurt much. This only made me more excited, giving me more time to think about what he would demand next.