The Mistress - an Erotic Noir Novel (11 page)

Her breath caught as she felt the immediate sensation, and she
stared at him longer than appropriate. “Ahh,” she exhaled
finally, her lashes fluttering pleasantly, “That is such a
shame.”

Pulling the needle from her and putting it away he stroked her
arm, and it was as if her skin were aflame with sensations so acutely
pleasant they nearly transcended sexual intimacy. “It is
indeed,” he said, “though she is not the beauty you are,
my dear. So perhaps in a way, it’s fortunate she didn’t.
They’d not have turned out to have your beauty or intellect,”
he said, and perhaps it was the drugs, but that remark felt
remarkably more complimentary and endearing than it logically should
have.

Her lips curled and she could feel her body relax into the couch,
the sensation so pleasant all around her. Even the thick clothes she
wore were a delight.

“I can definitely say it’s working,” she mused,
sucking in another long breath as she felt her body excite at the
simplest touch of his finger. “How long does it last?”

“A few hours,” he said softly, “so it’s
best to enjoy while it lasts.” And he stroked his hand along
her arm again, the knuckles of his fingers brushing against her
clothed breast, “If only I had a pretty student such as you as
my wife. Or daughter even. What lovely fortune that would be,”
he remarked with a bizarre affection.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she could swear she heard herself
moan, though she didn’t entirely feel it. It was something
altogether new and tempting, and she vaguely recalled what she had
said to him only the week prior, goading him about exploring
pharmacology.

Licking over her lips she tried to smile, a weak, “Thank
you,” tumbling over her lips.

Her limbs felt weak, but she had no particular desire to want to
move those muscles. It felt so exquisite to just lay there and enjoy,
after all. The old doctors stroking hand caressing her dark curls and
cheek, “There’s so much enjoyment to be had here with me
in this department,” he stated softly, “especially for
such a beautiful, promising young student such as yourself, Eva.
Wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

“I don’t know I can be tied down li—” her
breath caught and her face grew so hot under his hand as the memories
of just hours below flooded her. She hadn’t had time to reflect
upon the exquisite evening with her lover in the wake of his wife’s
death, and it all came to her so quickly. The pleasurable sensations
of the drugs only made her feel hotter, and her lidded eyes stared at
the professor.

It was such a pleasant heat, stoked only higher as the doctor
touched her cheek and on down to her neck, skirting her collar as he
smiled. “Why tie you down when we can enjoy things like this?”
he asked, standing up and pulling his tweed blazer off, looking more
the thin man he was without it. “It’s warm in here, isn’t
it?”

She was so experienced with things like this that she had figured
out his intents, even in her drugged state. She likely would have
been more concerned, if the drug he’d filled her veins with
didn’t make it feel so pleasant.

Besides, she was warm.

Eva watched him with a passive interest, her skin burning under
her heavy clothes, and she nodded lightly, “I guess.”

Returning back to her he smiled and caressed her jawline, “Let
me help you out of that, hm? The two of us could be a great team
here, you know?” He began to slowly undo the buttons of her
top, his fingers so dextrous and nimble.

“Is this right?” she murmured, each brush of his
fingers against her shirt, flesh and blazer feeling so positively
delightful, all in different manners. It was an experience that was
beyond compare, even as she wondered at the wrongness of it all.

She wasn’t so much panicking, but she could feel some
tension tickle her spine as she watched him reveal her smooth, pale
flesh.

Though it was hard to stay focussed on being upset when it felt so
good! Her mind was full of thoughts of those other men who satisfied
her so well, and as Turing opened her top, exposing her generous
bust, it was a losing struggle to stay bothered by it.

“Of course it is,” he smiled after opening her top
completely, then reaching in under her, undoing the bra. “It
feels fantastic doesn’t it?”

She nodded, trying to swallow yet finding her throat dry, “Yea,”
she murmured.

She had bathed before she’d left, and all residue of her
love affair had been washed away, leaving her pale skin lotioned and
slightly pink as the blood ran to the surface. Already her buds were
puckered and excited against the rush of sudden air, and she inhaled
sharply.

With the reveal of those large mounds, the doctor gave such a deep
and pleased sigh, “Ahh, more exquisite than I imagined they’d
be,” he said, palming each, rubbing and squeezing them with the
excitement of a much younger man. “No wonder none of us can
stop talking about you, Eva,” he said with a leer on his face.

“What do you say?” she murmured, her eyes closing shut
as the ecstasy of his greedy hands rushed through her body. Her
breasts were round and firm, still so youthful despite their size,
and the sensation was intensified by whatever drug he’d given
her. She couldn’t find it in her to say no to the sensation, no
matter how wrong it felt.

“Not things for ladies ears,” he chided wryly then
lowered his face down, plunging his mouth about her teat and suckling
with such a hunger for her. His mouth felt moist but cool compared to
her heated flesh, and it was a pleasant sensation, delightful really.
Coupled with the extra sensitive nature of her stiff nipples it was
absolute joy to have him use her so, and no matter what she logically
thought of the situation, she could not escape that reality.

His words and actions felt so contradictory, but the thought was
gone almost as quickly as it occurred to her, replaced instead by the
enjoyment of his mouth on her body. Another loud moan pierced the air
and she tried again to moisten her mouth and lips.

She remained so still atop the couch, even as she wanted to shift
and guide him, and she forced her eyes open to stare at the
lascivious old man.

She watched him lose himself in her flesh, revelling in those
large mounds that were so clearly at his disposal. The sensations,
her weakness and heated body all mounted, and the world seemed to
grow fuzzy and dim.

When she awoke next upon his couch, she was, she realized, fully
dressed. Though her head still spun, and she felt weak and warm. Not
to the same degree though, certainly not enough to keep her laying
there without any sign of the doctor but the open door to his lab.

She blinked her eyes, looking down at herself and wondering for a
moment if it was all a dream. She took her time, slowly turning her
body and sitting up, barely even breathing. With the pleasure of his
touch gone, all she could feel was a rising sense of indignation, and
her gaze scanned his desk for the envelope she found earlier.

The envelope was exactly where she dropped it, having passed
beneath his notice somehow. And though the hazy memories of what
happened seemed so diluted and hard to grasp, feeling indeed like a
dream, the soreness in her teats attested to the truth. She could
hear the sound of footsteps in the other room and a light humming.

Once more she reached for that envelope, trying to discretely
ascertain the contents without his notice, her entire body feeling
sore and as though she needed a very warm bath.

Direct and to the point the letter read:

‘Sir, if you do not turn yourself into the authorities
post-haste, your activities—and proof thereof—shall be
made public. The things you’ve done to those girls with your
drugs is horrendous, yet all the same, you have until this Saturday
before I personally see to it that your crimes are exposed.

For the sake of the reputation of Clarford, I would hope you
choose the dignified route of turning yourself over and confessing.

Signed,

Sylvia S.’

The sound of those footsteps seemed to be approaching, the humming
becoming clearer.

She almost laughed, the smile tickling her lips in some cruel,
gallows humour before she pocketed the letter in her briefcase.
Sitting back down on the couch, her hand rubbed along her forehead
groggily, acting as though she had just awoken.

Entering into the room Turing gave her a bright smile, “Ah,
you’re up then. Good,” he said stepping back in, looking
more pleased than she’d ever seen him. “The dosage was a
bit high for you I think,” he said, seating himself on the
corner of his cluttered desk. “We’ll dial it back next
time, no?”

She gave him a hazy smile that hid her panic, nodding, “I
can’t really remember,” she agreed. “What was it
anyways?”

Batting a hand at her he got up and went towards her and the door,
“Oh, we’ll go over that next time,” he said.
“Doubtless you’re a bit weary of all this pharmacology
talk right now, hm?” With one hand on the doorknob he reached
out to take her hand and help her up.

She accepted his hand graciously, grabbing her briefcase, “I’m
just so pleased we got a chance to connect,” she said, her
voice a bit breathless. She was doing everything she could to remain
natural, but it was difficult, and she could feel her facade
cracking. “Best of luck, Doctor. I’ll be seeing you again
shortly, no doubt.”

Ushering her out the door he seemed almost as eager to be rid of
her as she was to be gone.

In that panic of hers to get away, she made for the closest place
of comfort she could think of. Martin’s place was on campus, a
large room, secluded and by itself in the dorms, it didn’t take
long for her to be knocking on his door.

Opening it up, dressed in his usual attire of shirt, tie and
sweater, he began speaking before really noticing her condition, “Can
you BELIEVE what’s been happening, Eva?” His voice high
at his astonishment, “There’s talk of making Turing the
new department head should Sinclair go to prison!”

Her eyes widened and she pushed her way into the room, forcing the
door shut behind her. “Martin,” she looked up at the man,
her eyes a bit wide, “What’s Sinclair’s wife’s
name?”

She was red faced, both from the cold and her anger, and tears
threatened her eyes as she stared up at her dear friend.

Martin, blonde and blue eyed, looked her over, his brow furrowing.
“Oh Eva,” he said with such lamentation, “I told
you not to get involved in their drama.” He gave such a heavy
sigh, “These old married fools... I mean, it’s bound to
end badly. Always was.”

“Is it Sylvia?” she asked, moving so near to him, her
hands shaking. He had never seen her looking so out of control, the
woman usually so calm and confident, even in the face of great
stresses. Her hands went to her briefcase, fumbling it open and
grabbing out the envelope, but not offering it to him.

“Just tell me, Martin!”

Looking completely surprised by her outburst, eyes wide and
shocked, he reached out for her hands, “Yes, Eva, of course it
is! It’s in the newspaper and everything,” he said, and
she realized in her panic and haste she could’ve confirmed it
that easily. “Are you letting this whole thing with Dr.
Sinclair get to you?” he shook his head with such
disappointment, “Eva, give up on them. I told you to steer
clear of them.”

“Shut up,” she leaned against the door, feeling as
though she might faint. She was so overwrought, she couldn’t
even speak for a long time, hyperventilating against the door. What
if he found out she took the letter? Who else had he done this to?
How had Sylvia even found out?

She dropped her briefcase and the letter as tears began to stream
down the corner of her eyes, uncontrollably even as she tried to wipe
them away, her entire body beginning to curl in on itself.

“I have to use your bathroom,” she managed out through
choked breath, looking as though she may very well become sick.

Moving to her, he was struggling with the desire to hold her and
try to comfort her, it seemed. The awkward, meek man reaching out to
her, “Of... of course, Eva. I’ll be waiting here,”
he said with such a pained tone of voice.

It took her a long while of dry retching before she finally went
back out. She didn’t remove her clothes; couldn’t stand
to think of what he had done to her, and when she returned, she
looked barely any better. Her face was red, and she stared at him
intently, “I...” she trailed off, swallowing.

“Martin, I need help.”

Always eager to help her, he stepped up, looking again as if about
to hold her but instead wringing his hands. “How? What can I
do, Eva? You know I’d do anything for you,” he said with
such a mix of pain and hope on his face.

“I just went to visit with Dr. Turing. You remember we had
planned last week?” her eyes fluttered, blinking back fresh
tears before she swallowed a lump. “He gave me a drug. I was...
stupid. But he took advantage and... I found a letter.”

She had a hard time reading his reaction, for it was such a mix of
strong emotions. “What happened, Eva? What’d he do?”
he asked, sounding so impatient. “A letter? What...” he
was obviously confused, anxious and agitated.

She moved back to the discarded envelope, handing it to him with a
shaking hand, her eyes once more glossing with the threat of years,
“Martin...” she whimpered, moving close. “Martin,
he doesn’t know I took this yet.”

“You stole from him?” he asked with some confusion
before taking the letter and reading it over. He seemed to be taking
his time, or else reading it twice, but he didn’t react
immediately. Or quite at all.

Eva stared up at the man, her tension rising without his reaction,
and tears spilled without her regard, “I don’t know what
to do,” she moaned. She sounded so small. Even in her youth,
she’d never felt so fallen and without hope.