Scott Nicholson - Liquid fear

Nine of the fourteen people in there are doctors, and I wouldn’t trust so much as an aspirin from any of them.

The meeting was a two-day affair at the Crown Plaza Hotel, and while many of the council members gathered in the hotel cafeteria, where the brave would take a glass of wine with their Alfredo pasta, Alexis caught the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, company stepped inside.

“Hi, honey,” Mark said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“You were out late last night.”

“Damned Senator Burchfield,” he said. “He’s got a hammer-lock on the health care committee. We did everything but juggle and dance for him.”

Alexis reached past Mark and pressed the button for the fourth floor. In the first year of their marriage, she would have taken the opportunity not only to rub her breasts against him, but maybe even hit the “Stop” button for thirty seconds of frantic foreplay.

The honeymoon five years over, now she looked forward to sitting on the bed, removing her high heels, and maybe coaxing him into a foot rub.

“So what’s Senator Botox up to these days, besides keeping widows from getting cheap Canadian prescription drugs?” Burchfield had earned his nickname during his transition from congressman to senator, when the wrinkles in his forehead miraculously vanished and the gray in his hair had been reduced to two distinguished patches near his temples.

“He’s been fast-tracking a lot of experimental drugs, leaning on the Food and Drug Administration to discreetly lift a few bans. That could be good for us, but it could also be good for our competitors. When we’re gambling with supply and demand, one jackass like Burchfield can cut us out of the game while the cards are being dealt.”

“You’ll have him eating out of your hand before the weekend’s over.”

“I’d rather be eating out of your hand,” he said. “And other places.”

Mark Morgan, junior vice president of CRO Pharmaceuticals, was a smooth talker who had come up through the marketing department, and his science background was limited to a few undergrad biology classes in which he’d eked out a C. Luckily, he’d met his future bride there, the straight-A grad student.

That was all fine with Alexis. She battled wits with enough eggheads as a researcher and professor at the University of North Carolina, so after hours she preferred the company of a guy whose interests included sex, swimming, and televised sports, though not necessarily always in that order.

And he looked dynamite both in and out of a suit.

“Maybe you’ll get your chance,” she said. “I have a whole hour for lunch.”

“Quickie?” He kissed beneath her earlobe and blew against the moistness, causing her to shiver. “How’s the meeting going?”

Adopting a Southern accent, she mocked, “Dr. Forsyth thinks I’m the darlin’ little flag-bearer for the Antichrist.”

“He’s a close friend of the president. Even though he got smeared in the election, he’s still got clout. I told you, that’s just the way this town works.”

“I can’t wait to get back to Chapel Hill myself.”

The elevator dinged open, and Mark took her briefcase, leading her down the hall. “I’m afraid I’ll have to stay over.”

Alexis gave a fake pout. “I thought we were flying back tonight.”

“You are. The council should wrap up by dinner. I’m going to be tied up lobbying the health committee. They’re working on some make-or-break bills for the next session, and we’ve got to whisper in their ears the whole time or the idiots will forget who put them in office.”

“You make it sound so noble.”

Alexis swiped the room key in the slot, and Mark brushed past her and went into the bathroom. As his urine drilled into the toilet bowl, he raised his voice and said, “There are two bottom lines, honey. One is helping people, and the other is helping the company. If we can’t get our drugs out there, then people will suffer.”

“Please. I’ve heard enough of that from the council.”

Mark sat beside her on the bed. He’d left his fly unzipped. “Poor baby. Want me to get you a tranquilizer?”

“Hell, no. With CRO’s markup, it would probably run me ten bucks.”

“I know a guy with the company,” he said, kicking off his shoes and crawling behind her to rub her shoulders. She relaxed and let her head hang forward, wishing she could let down her hair and undress.

Mark’s strong hands kneaded the back of her neck, eliciting a sigh. They hadn’t made love since the previous weekend, and though statistically it was considered normal for ardor to decline during the early thirties, Alexis considered sex a foundation of good mental health.

The Centers for Disease Control should set a recommended minimum daily adult requirement of at least one orgasm.

“Hmm, if you gave Senator Botox this kind of treatment, he’d hand you the pen and let you write your own legislation,” Alexis said with a purr.

He scooted against her until the hard heat between his legs pressed against her back through her blouse. “Yeah, but think of the rumors. People already believe Congress is in bed with the pharmaceutical companies.”

“If they only knew,” she said, yielding as his hands slipped from her shoulders and around to her breasts. Her nipples hardened even before his fingers reached them. A classic case of conditioning.

“That feels good, honey,” she said, and now his breath played along the nape of her neck and his lips sought the vulnerable flesh where her scalp met her spine.

He slid his hand inside her bra, stroking the underside of one breast while his thumb teased her nipple. His other hand skillfully released the buttons of her blouse, his fingertips trailing along her belly as he did so.

She reached behind him and fished inside his pants, heat radiating as his erection filled her hand. “You’re fast.”

She raised her hips from the bed so he could hike up her skirt. He stroked the outside of her cotton panties. She was already moist, a little embarrassed at her own sluttishness.

“Forsyth would demand an exorcism if he knew you were wearing garter hose,” Mark said, easing aside an elastic leg band and stroking the soft hairs beneath the fabric.

She licked her fingers and felt along Mark’s length until she reached the soft, sensitive skin beneath the head. “Don’t screw up my fantasy.”

“I’m only screwing one thing,” he said, slipping a gentle finger inside her and smearing her juices up to her clitoris. He rubbed in steady, teasing circles until it swelled, and then he caressed the underside in counterpoint to her manipulation of his penis.

She writhed, pressing back against him, debating whether to turn but reluctant to break the electric flow from his fingers to her vagina. Maybe if she lifted up slightly, he could slide into her from behind and The page buzzer was like the shriek of a bomb siren.

Mark stopped the movement of his hands. “Damn,” he whispered.

“Damn? Everything’s still in the right place, isn’t it?”

“I shouldn’t have started this,” Mark said, slipping his hand from her panties and reaching toward his jacket on the bed. “I’ve got cocktails with some FDA suits in half an hour, and with traffic like it is-”

Alexis groaned, still holding him in her hand. “‘Work before play’ is for responsible grown-ups, not us.”

“We wouldn’t have time for the full monty, anyway. You’ve got the council meeting this afternoon.”

“And I’m going to have to sit through it with moist panties.”

“Well, leave them at home.” Mark adopted a light tone, trying to minimize her disappointment. “Maybe give Forsyth a peep show like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. Torture him with all the delights of heaven and hell.”