The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense) (12 page)

“Begin,” she says
without pleasantries and fanfare.

“Disrobe, please,”
the doctor says to me.

I’m
uncomfortable to be doing it in front of Agent Sansky, whose
piercing eyes crinkle into an amused expression. She enjoys
watching me humiliated. Well, I don’t blame her.
Don and I did pull a fast one on her back in my
house.

I am wearing a
T-shirt and pants, and I
take
these off slowly, revealing my bra and panties. Their eyes never
leave my body, but it’s not in a voyeuristic or sexual manner. I’m
made to feel as if I’m a chimpanzee in a lab. I unclasp my bra and
pull down my panties. Agent Sansky’s mouth twists in a smirk when
she sees the matted hair on my pussy.

“I still don’t know
what he sees in you,” she says.

“Why?” I shoot back.
“Are you jealous?”

A twitch passes over
her features. She says contemptuously, “Why should I be jealous of
a brood mare?”

The doctor helps me
up the examination chair.

“
What do you
mean?” I demand as he spreads my legs and places them into the
stirrups.

“It means exactly
what it does. Why do you think we put the two of you together night
after night? We told him to fuck you, which is exactly what he
does.”

Wait a minute. Don
is fucking me on behest of someone else? A shiver of doubt creeps
into my mind.

Jean, I think I’m in love with you.

But it was
real! He said it when I was in his arms. He said it and really
meant it.

The doctor
begins his examination of my breasts. He palpates my right tit,
feeling for lumps. My thighs are splayed embarrassingly
wide open, and Agent Sansky moves to
stand right in front of me so that she can have a good view of my
genitals.

“
We told him
to fuck you good
, and we would
keep you in good health.”

I
remember
what she had told Don
on his examination bed.
If you would like to keep her that way, it would wise
for you to comply with everything we ask of you.
But Don is not making love to me because of
that, surely? I remember his urgency to undress me, to kiss me and
mount me on the table that first night.

If my doubt
was a shiver before this, it becomes a veritable
wedge in my brain now.

But he told me he
loved me.

How much of that is
true, and how much of that is wrought out of compliance because he
was told he had to fuck me to keep me safe?

Am I
imagining
things?

I should
believe in Don. He
loves me.
Yes, keep telling myself that.

Still, my mind
is a strobe machine of wild, telescoping thoughts. We are too early
in our relationship for me to be fully certain about
him.

The doctor has
f
inished with my breasts. He
pulls a stool and sits in front of my open legs. He straps on a
forehead torch which is mounted on a headband. Agent Sansky moves
to his right so that she can peer in on what he’s doing.

“
Is
she ovulating, doctor?” she
asks.

Brood mare.
Everything falls into place. I knew there was a reason behind them
putting me and Don together. It was never his reward for good
behavior.

The doctor gels up
the duckbill-shaped speculum. “Breathe in deeply, Ms.
Mansfield.”

I take in a
deep breath, my mind churning over. Brood mare.
They want Don to breed with me.

Why?

The answer is
obvious. To create a child between two worlds in some sort of
government experiment. Project Oz Part Two.

They are
trying to make something that is wonderful and precious between me
and Don into something clinical and experimental
and unethical.

The speculum
slides inside
me.

“You’ve had sex this
morning, Ms. Mansfield?”

“
Yes.
”

“
You still
have semen in your vagina. Allow me to take a sample,
please.”

He inserts a
swab and cores out a generous spool of Don’s sperm. Then he takes
another swab from my vaginal walls and smears it onto a slide. He
gets up and goes to a microscope in another part of the
room.

Agent Sansky
moves in again. Grinning, she inspects my
open legs. I grit my teeth and grip the sides of the
chair.

“
I’ve been
watching you in your bedroom,” she says.

It is as I
suspected, but
my gut still
recoils in disgust.

“Like what you see?”
I challenge.

“
He’s a very
interesting man.
A very, very
interesting man indeed. Pity he’s wasted on you.”

“
I take it
that it wasn’t your decision to select me as his brood mare?” I say
sarcastically.

“
Certainly
not. I would have chosen someone
far worthier, and certainly much more attractive.”

I grimace. She’s
trying to needle me, and she’s getting exactly the reaction she
wants.

“
Well, at
least he’s fucking me and not you,” I declare. I know it’s
childish, but I’m so steamed up that I don’t care.

She laughs
mirthlessly. “What makes you think I want to fuck him?”

“
Oh, I think
you do. He resembles a god and has the manners of a prince. Which
woman wouldn’t want to fuck him?”

We face off, staring
murder into each other’s eyes.

The doctor
looks up from the microscope. “
She’s not in her ovulation phase yet.”

Pamela
Sansky
says, “Well and good.
Then seeing as you’re not ready to be bred, you wouldn’t mind
taking a little time away from your lover boy, would
you?”

My heart grows
cold.
“What do you
mean?”

She smiles
mysteriously. “You’ll see.”

13

It is exactly what
the bitch meant.

Don doesn’t appear
at my doorstep that night. Or the night after.

I spend them
fretting on the
bed, the very
bed we shared, wondering where he is and what they are making him
do. Are they making him run the gauntlet, clocking him to do it
faster and faster each time? Are they taking ghastly samples from
his deep tissues to see what makes him tick – such as from his
liver, and God forbid, his heart, which beats so strong and
true?

Or is the
dreadful Pamela Sansky
doing
something abominable to and
with
him?

I can’t bear
to think of it, but like an obsession, those horrible images keep
intruding into my mind. I am bleary and sleepless. I listlessly
pick at my meals.
During the
evenings, when they take me out for exercise, I shuffle my feet
upon the cemented yard.

And then the
unthinkable happens.

On the third night,
Agent Sansky comes to my door. She is surprisingly
unaccompanied.

“
Come,” she
says.

“Where?” I’m
immediately wary.

“There’s something I
want you to see.”

I look around
for my usual minders in the cold grey corridor, but they are
conspicuously absent. Has she sent everyone away? Or is it merely
night and they have gone home to their families? They don’t seem
like the type of people to have families . . . but you never
know.

I guess there will
be no one to see me punch her in the face.

Perhaps she
intuited what I was thinking, because she crisply says, “Hold out
your wrists.”

“Why?”

She takes out a pair
of handcuffs.

*

Thus
c
uffed and suitably chastised,
she leads me down the corridor. We encounter no one. We enter a
room with a huge glass window that looks out into another room. It
reminds me of a police interrogation room.

Agent Sansky
turns on the lights. There’s a chair
fronting the window, which I now realize is a two-way
mirror.

“Sit.”

I’m not going
to like this, I’m certain, but I obey anyway. She cuffs my wrists
to the back of the metal chair. Then she turns off the lights and
closes the door behind her. I hear the soft hiss of a computerized
lock.

Great. I won’t be
able to get out of here unless I have a valid fingerprint.

The room
beyond is an examination room. They sure have plenty of those
in
this place, which makes me
suspect that they dissect people on a regular basis. The table is a
metal slab, and there are monitors and medical paraphernalia
everywhere.

A sudden
apprehension descends onto me.

They are not
going to wheel in Don’s moribund and dissected body before my very
eyes, are they?

I begin to
hyperventilate. Surely they wouldn’t hurt Don? He’s their most
precious asset from the whole goddamned Oz or whatever they want to
call it experiment. But they have taken biopsies off his flesh.
What if they needed to go deeper to study firsthand how his organs
work? What if they wanted to find out the secret of his
speed?

Is that why he
hasn’t been to see me?

Keep
calm
, I scold myself. You’re
not helping Don by panicking. I’m not sure how I can help Don in
any way, given my current state, but it certainly would not help my
case if I break down or freak out now.

I must have
spent twenty minutes forcing myself to breathe deeply in the
d
ark, so much that I see green
zigzags on my retinas. Then the other room is suddenly flooded with
bright light. The operating lamps have been turned on
overhead.

“Go in,” I hear
Pamela Sansky say.

Don enters,
looking
simultaneously puzzled
and scared. Relief washes over me in a tide. To see him alive,
intact and as gloriously handsome as before shreds away all my
fears away . . . until it hits me that I have yet to find out what
she brought him in here for.

“
I want to see
her,” Don demands.

My heart leaps.

“
Maybe if
you’re on your best behavior, you’ll get to see her. Unharmed.”
Agent Sansky lets the barely veiled threat linger. “Now I want you
naked. Take off your clothes.”

Oh God. She
wouldn’t. No.

My nightmares are
becoming real.

“
Don!” I
scream at the mirror.
I rock
myself against the chair, but my handcuffs bind me securely to
it.

His eyes pass over
me and flicks away. They return to Agent Sansky. I realize he can’t
see or hear me.

“Why?”

“Because I want to
see you naked.”

“
You have seen
me naked.” His jaw is set in a determined line.

Agent Sansky sighs.
“I don’t want to repeat what I can do to your girlfriend if you
don’t do what I say.”

“
I told you. I
w
ant to see her before I do
whatever it is that you want me to do.”

“
Don’t make
this difficult, A21.”

“My name is
Don.”

“Take off your
clothes. This is the last time I’m going to say it.”

Don’t do it, Don, I
will him.

He stares at
her for a prolonged, resolute moment, and then his shoulders droop.
Sighing, he
peels off his
T-shirt. Despair engulfs me. Utilizing all my strength, I attempt
to hop with my chair to the mirror. My movements are stilted and
feeble.

“
Don!”
I call out in vain. Tears squeeze out
of my eyes.

His
magnificent torso gleams in the overhead lights. The planes of his
abs are a sight to behold.
He
reaches for the zipper of his jeans. Agent Sansky watches him with
the same abstract fascination as when she viewed me in the
gynecological chair a couple of days earlier. He is not wearing any
underwear, and so his marvelous cock – which is thankfully
not
erect – uncurls itself from its resting
state.

Don drops his
pants
, and then bends over to
ease his feet out of his shoes. Finally naked, he is the most
splendid creature I have ever seen.

Pamela Sansky seems
to think so too from the admiring and lusty look on her face. She’s
a beautiful woman. I cannot deny that. I wonder if Don thinks so
too.

Something in my
chest wrenches.

“Put your hands
behind your head. Then turn around. I want to look at you.”

She’s intent on
humiliating him the way she humiliated me.

His movements
are burdened and reluctant every step of the way. He seems to be
fighting some
sort of internal
warfare within himself. Then he complies, placing both hands at the
back of his skull, like a prisoner of war. Pamela Sansky
scrutinizes his body with both the curiosity of a scientist and the
desire of a bitch in heat.

I bite down on
my tongue to stop myself from screaming when she moves in to touch
him.
Her fingers pinch his
nipples, making them swell and stand up. They run down the planes
of his ripped abdomen – which resembles a perfectly sculptured
piece of plate armor. They grope his fine shaft of a penis, and
this is where she starts to slide her palm up and down his flaccid
rod. There is no question that she wants to arouse him.