She loved the way he said Sarah. It sounded so exotic. She then called Ted Vanders. "Okay, Ted. Tonight's the night. I'll be over about twelve." She couldn't help but compare Michalik's unenthusiastic response to Ted's, who'd been without her favors for nearly three weeks and sounded like he'd wet his pants when she called.
Ryder dressed quickly. She'd already spent some time thinking about what to wear and had chosen a baby-pink thong but decided against a bra. These puppies don't give an inch when I walk, she thought, as she pulled an almost see-through silk shirt over her surgically enhanced chest. It only came down to just above her belly, which she thought was one of her best (natural) assets, especially when emphasized by a pair of skintight, low-rider jeans that only just covered…my naughty parts, she thought, and giggled.
Flouncing her hair into what she called her "just fucked look," she then checked her mascara and applied a shade of lipstick to match her thong. She stepped back with a skeptical look. Hmmm, maybe it's time for a little collagen in the lips. She pouted, then used the tip of her tongue to trace her upper lip seductively. Nah, you've still got it, baby.
Satisfied with the look, she opened the medicine cabinet, took out a pill bottle, and glanced at the label to make sure it was the correct one. Hello, roofies. She opened the bottle and took out three, then closed it and put it in her purse. As she was closing the purse, she saw the steel glint of the surgical scissors in the bottom. She thought about removing them but let them remain where they were. A girl can't be too careful these days, she thought with a smile.
It's a use-me, use-you world, she thought as she closed her purse to go to Michalik's office that night. She put the three pills on a plate and smashed them with a spoon until they were powder; she wondered if three was too many, then figured she'd lost some in the crushing and poured it into a small piece of folded paper. She then walked out to the kitchen, took a small cooler from the refrigerator, and left her apartment.
When she arrived at Michalik's office, she waltzed in, plopped the cooler on his desk, and took out two bottles of beer and two glasses.
"Not me," he said, waving them off. "Beer will put me to sleep."
"Come on, professor, all work and no play will make Alexis Michalik a dull boy," she teased. "Besides, I'd just like to have a beer with my favorite professor, relax, and talk him into approving my master's thesis."
"You have to turn in a thesis to have it approved," he said, shaking his finger at her. "And no work and even a little play for Alexis Michalik, and he will lose his book contract." He laughed as he spoke, and she was happy to see that his eyes kept straying to the twin points that protruded from her shirt. She poked her bare tummy toward him, knowing the effect that usually had on men whose eyes measured the distance between the top of her jeans and her belly button, then did the math.
Ryder cajoled and flirted until he relented. She opened one of the beers and was opening the second when her hand slipped and knocked the beer over just enough to splash some on his papers before righting it. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom to get a paper towel to wipe it up.
When his back was turned, Ryder quickly dumped the contents of the folded piece of paper in one of the glasses and then poured a beer in on top. He returned and mopped up the spill, then accepted the glass she handed to him.
"Mazdorovya," she said raising her glass.
"Mazdorovya," he replied, taking a sip. "You are a bad influence, Sarah Ryder."
They sat back down and for the next ten minutes talked about her master's thesis, or lack thereof. She couldn't have cared less about the conversation; she didn't plan on writing a thesis. She was just watching and waiting for the drugs to kick in.
"Whoa," he said suddenly, placing his hand on his desk as if to steady himself. "That's some beer to get a Russian drunk on just one."
"You're just tired, darling," she said, rising from her seat and walking around the desk until she was standing in front of him with her hips inches from his face.
Michalik fastened his eyes on her crotch, then shook his head and smiled weakly. "Yes. I am tired. I…" He suddenly stopped talking as she knelt in front of him and started fumbling at his belt. He tried pushing her away, "Sarah, please, you must not." But she just laughed and kept at it until she had his pants unzipped and his manhood in her hands.
"Sarah, you are very beautiful and any man would want you, but I must insist." His protestations stopped when she took him in her mouth. Under her expertise, it didn't take long. "Oh, God," he groaned in both pleasure and remorse.
Ryder spit in her hand, then wiped it on her shirt.
"I am so…so sorry," he said. "I am ashamed."
"Don't be silly, Alexis," she said. "I love you. You needed the relief, and it was my pleasure to…to please you. I'd like to do more if you'd let me."
"No, you don't understand," he said. "I am sorry for my wife…"
Ryder froze. She'd just given him the best blow job of his life, then offered her perfect body, and he was feeling guilty about his wife? Bastard. You need to stick with the plan. Plan A isn't going to work; obviously the clown's in love with his wife. So it's on to Plan B, and if necessary, Plan C. She figured that where she'd gone wrong in the past was a lack of options.
Alexis's head flopped forward and he began snoring. She left him there with his pants to his knees and picked up his nearly empty beer glass. She made sure to leave her fingerprints clearly on the glass and gently placed her lips at several places around the rim, leaving little pink smudges. Satisfied, she placed the glass on the bookcase, slightly behind a trophy he'd been awarded at some international poetry event, where it wouldn't be noticed…at least not right away.
With regret for the loss of perfection, Ryder looked in the bathroom mirror and mussed up her hair, then wiped the back of a hand across her lips, leaving a pink smear on her right cheek. She ripped the top button from her shirt and adjusted it as if she'd been in a struggle. She sighed, regarding the mess she'd created, but she wanted to look the part if she ran into the janitor, another student, or a professor. Pausing at the door to the office, she worked up a few tears and sniffles…just in case.
Ryder was a little disappointed that she didn't see anybody on her way out of the building. But, she reminded herself, it doesn't matter, because I have an alternate plan. She stepped out into the night and, seeing no one, practically skipped to the bottom of the stairs and even allowed herself a pirouette and a giggle at the bottom, before composing herself in case she ran into anybody.
Ryder drove immediately to Vanders's apartment, where she rushed past him when he opened the door and ordered him to "undress and get in bed, you little idiot. I'm about to make you a very happy little worm." He'd almost squeaked with excitement and ran into his bedroom and promptly fell flat on his face while trying to remove his pants and socks at the same time.
In the meantime, Ryder walked to the bathroom where she took the pill bottle out of her purse, removed another roofie, and swallowed it. Gonna need that puppy in the ol' bloodstream tomorrow, she thought. And it might be the only way I can stomach having sex with Ted.
Waiting for the drug to kick in, she placed the bottle back in Vanders's medicine cabinet. Can't have the cops finding that in my place. She didn't know if they'd search, but her plan was foolproof as long as she stayed true to the details.
Reluctantly, Ryder walked into Vanders's bedroom, only to be grossed out at the sight of him lying on the silk sheets he bought "for us." He was stretched out in what he must have thought was a seductive pose. He patted the place next to him, but she ignored him.