pouty, clammy face tilted toward me. I waited a moment to see if she would stir. When the whimpering tapered off, I slowly crawled out of bed, retrieved the device from the nightstand drawer, and went to the kitchen.
After putting on a pot of coffee and drinking a glass of water, I began my search. In order to test the three drugs secreted by the device one at a time, I needed something with which to plug the other two eyelets.
It took searching nearly every drawer before I finally noticed the candles on the counter.
Wax. Perfect.
I made myself a cup of coffee and then set up a little laboratory on the kitchen table. A small glass of water, a spoon, tweezers, the needle I’d used to stitch Flora’s arm, dish gloves, and a candle.
I used the spoon to scoop out three small chunks of wax, each of which I rolled into a little ball. Next I used the needle to carve a tiny L and R on the sides of the device, to make sure I didn’t confuse myself. The wax balls clung firmly to the device when I pressed them against the middle and right eyelets. Setting the device carefully on the table, I put on the dish gloves and used the tweezers to pick it back up.
Okay, here goes.
I hovered the device over the glass of water, pressed the button, and submerged it for three seconds. Then I pulled it out, pressed the button again, and carried it to the sink, where I removed the wax--it came out easily--so I could rinse out anything that had secreted.
Holding the device under the bubbly stream, I began to play out how each individual drug would affect Flora, how I would deal with it. If this first round was Libido, I needed to stay away from her but also keep her from reopening her wound.
Love, though . . .
With the Love Drug I could restore her faith in me. It would be a lie, but we would both benefit.
I heard a clanking sound and my mind jolted back to reality. I must have loosened my grip on the tweezers because the device had fallen into the sink. I tried to snatch it but the gloves were too cumbersome and it slipped into one of the holes of the drain screen. Thanks to a soggy tag from a tea bag, the device caught there and didn't fall all the way through.
Shutting the water off, I leaned in with the tweezers and slowly clamped onto the protruding end of the device.
A harsh knock at the door made my heart leap into my throat and I jumped, dropping the tweezers. The device was gone, down the drain, and my supplies for this little experiment were still spread out on the table. Someone--it had to be James--was rapping harshly at the door and now Flora sat up in bed.
"Who is it, Melissa?" Groggy but mortified. Achy-sounding, too.
I spoke in a harsh whisper. "Lie back down! Pretend you're asleep!"
She fell back onto her pillow, drawing the blanket up so far I couldn't see her face.
Another knock, louder and longer.
I surveyed the items on the table and realized, one at a time, that if I tossed the remaining wax ball in the candle, moved the candle to the center of the table, left the tweezers in the sink, and dropped the gloves on the counter, nothing would look suspicious. I completed these tasks as I thought of them, leaving only a glass of water and a hand towel on the table. Then I ran to the door, terrified of what bad news waited on the other side but more afraid of what would happen if I didn't answer soon.
Yesterday I was irritated to learn that James had been instructed to unlock the door but still knock. This time it saved me.
Turning the knob, I was met with another round of pounding on the door. It was enough to inflame my swollen cheek. My fear turned to anger. I threw the door open saying, "Do you have to be so goddamn rude ?"
James was turning and walking away.
Before me stood Kate.
"Fuck."
"Hi Melissa!" The sound of her voice made my fingers curl, I so badly wanted to strangle her. More so when she winced and said, "Jesus, what happened to your face
After putting on a pot of coffee and drinking a glass of water, I began my search. In order to test the three drugs secreted by the device one at a time, I needed something with which to plug the other two eyelets.
It took searching nearly every drawer before I finally noticed the candles on the counter.
Wax. Perfect.
I made myself a cup of coffee and then set up a little laboratory on the kitchen table. A small glass of water, a spoon, tweezers, the needle I’d used to stitch Flora’s arm, dish gloves, and a candle.
I used the spoon to scoop out three small chunks of wax, each of which I rolled into a little ball. Next I used the needle to carve a tiny L and R on the sides of the device, to make sure I didn’t confuse myself. The wax balls clung firmly to the device when I pressed them against the middle and right eyelets. Setting the device carefully on the table, I put on the dish gloves and used the tweezers to pick it back up.
Okay, here goes.
I hovered the device over the glass of water, pressed the button, and submerged it for three seconds. Then I pulled it out, pressed the button again, and carried it to the sink, where I removed the wax--it came out easily--so I could rinse out anything that had secreted.
Holding the device under the bubbly stream, I began to play out how each individual drug would affect Flora, how I would deal with it. If this first round was Libido, I needed to stay away from her but also keep her from reopening her wound.
Love, though . . .
With the Love Drug I could restore her faith in me. It would be a lie, but we would both benefit.
I heard a clanking sound and my mind jolted back to reality. I must have loosened my grip on the tweezers because the device had fallen into the sink. I tried to snatch it but the gloves were too cumbersome and it slipped into one of the holes of the drain screen. Thanks to a soggy tag from a tea bag, the device caught there and didn't fall all the way through.
Shutting the water off, I leaned in with the tweezers and slowly clamped onto the protruding end of the device.
A harsh knock at the door made my heart leap into my throat and I jumped, dropping the tweezers. The device was gone, down the drain, and my supplies for this little experiment were still spread out on the table. Someone--it had to be James--was rapping harshly at the door and now Flora sat up in bed.
"Who is it, Melissa?" Groggy but mortified. Achy-sounding, too.
I spoke in a harsh whisper. "Lie back down! Pretend you're asleep!"
She fell back onto her pillow, drawing the blanket up so far I couldn't see her face.
Another knock, louder and longer.
I surveyed the items on the table and realized, one at a time, that if I tossed the remaining wax ball in the candle, moved the candle to the center of the table, left the tweezers in the sink, and dropped the gloves on the counter, nothing would look suspicious. I completed these tasks as I thought of them, leaving only a glass of water and a hand towel on the table. Then I ran to the door, terrified of what bad news waited on the other side but more afraid of what would happen if I didn't answer soon.
Yesterday I was irritated to learn that James had been instructed to unlock the door but still knock. This time it saved me.
Turning the knob, I was met with another round of pounding on the door. It was enough to inflame my swollen cheek. My fear turned to anger. I threw the door open saying, "Do you have to be so goddamn rude ?"
James was turning and walking away.
Before me stood Kate.
"Fuck."
"Hi Melissa!" The sound of her voice made my fingers curl, I so badly wanted to strangle her. More so when she winced and said, "Jesus, what happened to your face
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