Placebo Effect
Chapter III.
Celeste Kerrigan was smiling as she drove to her appointment.
It was hard to believe how much she’d changed, and how much things had changed for her, in the past few months. She’d been transformed from a modestly pretty and somewhat inhibited woman with a tame social life to a gorgeous hot-blooded babe. She didn’t even really have to work much anymore: her male co-workers were more than happy to do “favors” for her, and she had a whole new sort of relationship with her supervisor as well.
It was even harder to believe that it was all due to a simple body lotion. But it was true.
She hadn’t really expected much when she’d answered the newspaper ad from Neodyne Corporation looking for volunteers to test a new item, a cream they called Aphrodex. How much could something like that really do, after all? But they were offering money, five hundred bucks, and after all, what could it hurt? All she had to do was try the stuff out and come back for a few appointments to report how it was working for her.
But there’d been more to Aphrodex than she had suspected. There had to be some kind of drug in it: every time she put it on, she got incredibly horny and sank into an erotic delirium in which a sex-bomb version of herself acted out steamy scenarios, alone or with imaginary partners, orgasming powerfully.
And after a while, she’d found herself becoming more and more like the wanton woman she imagined. She’d had to buy a whole new wardrobe as her body developed lush new curves—and the clothes she’d bought had reflected the transformation taking place not only in her body but in her mind. She dressed to show off the package now, and enjoyed the response she got from men.
It had frightened her at first. Celeste laughed softly, remembering how she’d tried to stop using the lotion. It hadn’t worked: after only three days, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from using it again. She was addicted to it.
That didn’t bother her anymore. Why should it? She looked better than she ever had, she felt great, and both her job and her personal life were a lot more fun.
If there was a fly in the ointment, so to speak, it was that the product study was drawing to a close. Everything depended on its outcome. If Neodyne decided to mass-market Aphrodex, things would be fine. If it didn’t, though . . . !
Celeste didn’t like thinking about that. She needed the lotion. If its maker decided to stop producing it, she didn’t know what she’d do.
That was what her appointment was about. She was headed to see Dr. Albert Peters, the researcher who’d been responsible for interviewing her throughout the study. It was supposed to be their last meeting.
Celeste had thought it over carefully. Even if the company decided to abandon its new cosmetic, there was sure to be a lot of it already made up. She intended to do everything she could to . . . persuade . . . Dr. Peters to let her have it all, or as much of it as possible. She knew there were other women involved in the study, although she’d never met any of them—but it was their tough luck if she cornered the supply of Aphrodex.
The blonde bombshell blew out a soft laugh. Back at the beginning, she’d been told that there were two groups of guinea pigs involved in the research, only one of which would be given the real product; the other group was to get a similar-looking fake, and neither the women involved nor the researchers were supposed to know who was getting what until the very end. She’d long since figured out, though, which group she was in.
Dr. Albert Peters smiled as Celeste took her seat in his office.
Ms. Kerrigan had responded beautifully to her treatment. Looking at her, it was hard to believe this was the same woman he’d seen on that first visit.
And now, at last, it was time to conclude the experiment, time for his gorgeous guinea pig to learn the truth.
After just one more session. . . . He reached into his desk drawer and took out the little metronome he kept there. He set it atop his desk and turned his attention to the woman seated across from him.
“Celeste,” he asked carefully, “how have things gone for you since our last interview?”
The blonde smiled. She didn’t mind that Dr. Peters had used her first name, something she couldn’t remember him ever doing before. After all, she knew she could trust him. Everything he did was for her own good; everything he asked her to do was for her own good. She doubted that no more than she questioned any other law of nature.
Even if he decides not to let me have any more lotion? The thought popped into her head. But no—he wouldn’t do that. She smiled again. She intended to make sure of it.
“Well, Doctor,” Celeste answered, “the lotion’s still working.” She raised her long-nailed hands, pressing them into the soft undersides of her breasts where they strained against her blouse. “As you can see.”
Peters’ hand flicked against the little ornament on his desktop, setting its hanging balls swinging and clicking against one another. Celeste’s eyes followed the motion of the little metal spheres as they ticked back and forth rhythmically. “Tell me more,” the doctor instructed. “Tell me all about it, Celeste.”
The beautiful blonde found herself talking, recounting for Dr. Peters everything which had happened since their last meeting. The words flowed out of her as she watched the little metal balls swaying back and forth on the thin wires from which they hung. She held nothing back; she even told him about her encounter with the traffic cop, and how she’d seduced her supervisor at work, how she was screwing him now to keep him sweet. It didn’t bother her that she was telling Peters all kinds of intimate things; after all, he was her doctor. She could trust him. And anyway, it was too hard to think. It was much easier to watch the metronome, to watch the little spheres sway back and forth and listen to the rhythmic clacking sound they made as they moved, and let herself go on talking under the doctor’s guidance.
After a little while, she no longer realized she was still speaking. . . .
Peters reached out and stilled the metronome with one hand. He didn’t need it anymore; Celeste was obviously deeply under. Her eyes were closed and her mouth hung slightly open as she sat slackly in her chair, head nodding gently as she murmured on.
As he listened to Celeste’s dreamy-voiced narrative, his smile broadened. He felt a certain possessive pride. Results had varied considerably among the test subjects his team had selected, and Celeste stood near the head of the line in terms of success. She had become just about everything he and his fellow researchers had hoped for.
At last he stopped her. “That’s enough, Celeste,” he announced. “Thank you. Now just relax and listen to me.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Celeste answered meekly.
Peters looked her over. The experiment was finished. Celeste Kerrigan would remain open to further conditioning, of course—before she left here today, he’d install a keyword to make that easier, and her metronome trigger was firmly established—but her basic programming and the physical transformation which went with it were complete. What would happen to her from now on was up to his bosses.
But—he grinned—that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a bit more fun with her here and now.
“Celeste,” he said, “you trust me completely, don’t you. Of course you do.”
“Yes, Dr. Peters,” came the response. “Of course.”
“You remember a while ago, when I had you play out a fantasy in which you were a sexy model.” It was not a question. “You imagined I was your photographer, and that you’d do anything for me, because I could help you get into magazines and movies and you really wanted that, wanted to be this famous babe adored by men everywhere.”
“Oh, yes, Doctor,” panted the blonde. “I remember. I’d do . . . any thing.”
Peters reached into his desk and pulled out a small audio player. There was a miniature CD already in it. He thumbed the on button and thumping strip-club music filled the office. “Why don’t you get into that fantasy again, Celeste? Make it real for yourself.” Reaching into another drawer, he pulled out the digital camera he’d used the last time he’d led the woman through this scenario. Grinning, he aimed it at her.
Celeste squealed playfully. She raised her legs, which were almost entirely uncovered by the tiny shiny black skirt she wore, and spread them, plopping her spike-shod feet on the doctor’s desk. She arched her back. Her hands came up, tugging at the tight halter-top she had on and pulling it over her head. She waved the little top playfully, then tossed it aside. She wore nothing underneath it; freed of its restraint, her newly massive mams bobbed like balloons.
“That’s right,” groaned Dr. Peters. “Perfect.” He snapped picture after picture. Like the first set he’d taken, months before, these wouldn’t be going into the official files. “Go, Celeste, go!”
She did. Giggling, she brought her hands down to pull at her skirt and writhed sensuously as she drew it down her thighs. As the tiny skirt slid along, she bent forward in her seat and brought her shapely legs together to make it easier to draw it along. At last it was dangling around her ankles. She tossed it off with a wriggling kick.
The rest of her clothes came off after that. She still had her sheer nylons and white spike-heeled shoes on, though, as Peters snapped his last photos; without even being prompted, she posed on hands and knees atop his desk, head tilted back, eyes half-lidded and mouth curved in a seductive smile.
Peters couldn’t take it any more. He barely had sense enough to put the camera safely away before tearing at his own clothes. As he undressed, Celeste watched, rocking back and forth on the desktop, lost in her own private world. Finally naked, the doctor reached for his hypnotized “patient,” pulling her toward him and burying his face in her cleavage. His head spun as he inhaled deeply and the blood left his brain for other parts of his anatomy. He was smothering, and it was wonderful.
Celeste oozed off the desk into Peters’ lap, and the two of them sank to the floor.
Eventually Dr. Peters became aware of the world around him again. He was lying on his side on his office carpet, his body entwined with that of Celeste Kerrigan. He had little memory of what had happened after the two of them had lain down together—only a foggy awareness of frantic thrustings and slitherings accompanied by bursts of pleasure.
Celeste lay with her eyes closed, their lashes fluttering gently. Her lips were curved in a little smile. Her glorious long golden hair tumbled down in waves. Still deep in trance despite all her sexual exertions, she was now completely relaxed.
The doctor spoke. “Celeste, can you hear me?”
“Yes . . . doc-tor,” came the answer in a soft, dreamy voice. The blonde’s eyes opened slightly. “Hear you. . . .”
“I’m going to wake you up in a moment,” Peters informed her. “We’re going to get up and get dressed, and I’m going to wake you up. When I wake you up, you will feel relaxed and happy, just as you did after our earlier sessions. Do you understand, Celeste?”
“Yes, Doctor,” sighed the blonde. “Relaxed and happy.”
Dr. Peters paused a moment before continuing.
“When I wake you up, Celeste,” he said at last, “I’m going to tell you something important. Something very important. I’m going to explain the experiment you’ve been part of.
“When I do, you will accept what I tell you. You will accept it calmly and gratefully, because you trust me completely and you understand that everything I’ve done has been for your own good. Do you understand, Celeste?”
“Yes, Doctor,” the gorgeous girl murmured. “Accept what you tell me . . . calmly and gratefully. Everything you’ve done is for . . . my own good. I understand.” She nodded.
“And because you trust me completely, because you understand that everything I’ve done has been for your own good, you will continue to trust me completely, even when you are awake. You will want to do what I tell you, want to believe whatever I say to you, even when you’re awake. Do you understand, Celeste, and will you do this for me?”
“Yes, Doctor,” came the soft response.
“And Celeste,” the doctor went on, “I’m going to help you some more. And to help me help you, I need you to open your eyes and listen to me carefully.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Celeste’s eyes opened.
Peters rolled over, propped himself on one hand so that he was leaning over the hypnotized woman, and began moving the other, index finger extended, back and forth in front of her. Celeste’s eyes tracked the motion helplessly.
“You remember the metronome on my desk,” the devious doctor stated. “The way it holds your attention when I start it going, when its hanging balls go back and forth, back and forth, tick-tock, tick-tock.”
“Yes, Doctor,” whispered Celeste. “Back and forth. Tick-tock.”
The metronome helps you relax, doesn’t it, Celeste?”
“Yes, Doctor. Helps me . . . to relax. Back and forth . . . tick-tock.” The blonde’s eyes kept on following the rhythmic motion of Peters’ finger.
“That’s good, Celeste. Relaxing is good for you.” Albert Peters drew a breath. “So from now on, I’m going to help you relax. From now on, whenever you hear me say ‘tick-tock,’ you will see the metronome in your mind, and you’ll relax just the way you’re relaxing now, you’ll sink into the same relaxation you’re enjoying right now, the same relaxed state in which you’ll do only what I tell you to do, think only what I tell you to think, and you’ll do only what I tell you to do, think only what I tell you to think, until I wake you up again. Do you understand, Celeste, and will you follow my instructions?”
“Yes, Doctor. Understand. Follow . . . ‘structions. . . .” Celeste was drifting peacefully, a soft little smile on her lips.
“That’s fine, Celeste. That’s just fine.” Dr. Peters grinned.
He got to his feet then, gathered his clothes and dressed. At his command, Celeste Kerrigan did the same. The doctor seated himself once more and directed his hypnotized honey to return to her chair as well.
Peters’ grin broadened as he looked at the befuddled babe. Celeste was nodding gently, her eyes unfocused under half-closed lids.
“Open your eyes now, Celeste,” the researcher ordered. “Open your eyes and listen to me. I’m going to wake you up now, Celeste.”
Blue-green eyes opened. “Yes, Doctor.”
Dr. Peters fell silent and regarded the beautiful babe now sitting placidly across from him. The experiment had been a complete success. The suggestions he’d made during this final session had been the finishing touch, giving him the means to regain control of Celeste Kerrigan whenever he chose.
He grinned. He certainly would choose. He had no intention of letting this delectable doll get away, even if the study which had brought them together was ending. He’d find a way.
Peters commanded Celeste to put her clothes back on. She obeyed silently, retrieving her cast-off garments and then slipping into them with a vague smile on her face. As she dressed, he reclothed himself. When they were both dressed again, he seated her in her chair and resumed his own seat behind the big desk.
“One.” The word echoed in Celeste’s skull. “Two.” She sighed. She began to be aware of her body and her surroundings. She felt calm and relaxed, as though she were waking up from a restful night’s sleep.
“Three.” Celeste Kerrigan blinked. Of course; she knew where she was now—in Dr. Peters’ office.
“I’m sorry,” she said, flushing. “I must have nodded off for a moment.”
The doctor smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it.” The smile vanished and he looked soberly professional again.
“Celeste,” he said, “it’s time for me to explain the study in which you’ve been participating.” He paused. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit deceptive with you. Do you remember when we talked before, and I explained to you about how researchers use control groups to test how an experiment is really working?”
“Yes, Doctor.” Celeste laughed softly. “I’m afraid I figured out a long time ago which group I was really in.” She ran her hands lightly over her body’s exaggerated curves. “I mean, just look at me.”
Peters coughed. “Well, that’s just it,” he said. “I lied. There was no control group.”
“I don’t understand,” Celeste answered. “You mean, everybody got the real Aphrodex?”
“No,” came the answer. “There was no real Aphrodex. Every one of the women in our project received a perfectly ordinary shower cream packaged in fake brand-name tubes.”
“But—but—!” Celeste faltered. “Look at me! Look how I’ve changed!” She gestured toward herself again. “And I”—she blushed—“I feel so different now.” Images flashed through her mind, of what she’d done with her boss and with that cop who’d stopped her for speeding. She thought of the way she had learned to manipulate the guys at the office to do her work for her, and how much she enjoyed it.
Peters smiled. “Yes, I know,” he told her. “But it wasn’t the Aphrodex that did it. You did it to yourself, with my help.”
He drew a breath and went on. “Our real research project was something very different from what we told you and the others. Are you familiar with the idea of psychosomatic illness?”
Celeste blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“The human mind has amazing control over the body,” Peters explained. “It can speed healing or hinder it, cause disease, all sorts of things.
“And in some people, it can go much further. Under proper stimulation, it can actually reshape the body. That’s what we’ve been doing here.”
“Proper stimulation?” Celeste’s mouth drew itself into a puzzled frown. “What do you mean, Dr. Peters?”
The doctor drew another deep breath before answering. Celeste’s response to what he was about to tell her would show whether her most recent programming had taken. If it hadn’t, he’d need to work on her some more.
At last he spoke. “Each time you’ve visited me here at the office, Celeste, I’ve hypnotized you.” He reached into his desk and pulled out the little metronome. “I’ve been using this as a focus.” He set the device down gently on the desktop. “While you were under, I’d make suggestions designed to encourage your, ah, self-improvement.” He smiled broadly. “And as you’ve said yourself, it worked!”
After a few moments, Peters continued. This last bit would be the final test. “There’s one more thing.”
“Yes, Doctor?” Celeste sounded calmly curious.
“While I’ve had you under, as part of your conditioning, I’ve had you act out sexual fantasies, Celeste.” Peters watched carefully for the woman’s reaction. Seeing no signs of distress, he pressed on. “Both by yourself, and with me. It’s been a part of your psychological transformation.” He told her how he’d had her pose for pictures and video, how they’d had sex right there in the office, and how he’d made her forget all about all of it afterward. “But it was for your own good, of course,” he concluded. “You know you can trust me not to do anything bad to you, don’t you, Celeste.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Celeste knew the doctor’s revelations should shock her. He’d been hypnotizing her? Having sex with her while she was hypnotized? The Aphrodex was fake, its effects on her body and mind produced not by some chemical but by the power of suggestion? It was ridiculous—and even if it were true, she should be furious with him for manipulating her this way.
But she wasn’t shocked at all. She believed every word, and none of it bothered her. After all, Peters was her doctor. Everything he’d done had been for her own good.
Peters watched Celeste Kerrigan carefully as she wrestled with what he’d told her. After a few moments, he relaxed. Just as he’d hoped, she was accepting it calmly, as he’d suggested to her that she should.
The experiment was a complete success.
He smiled. He’d been skeptical himself when he’d been approached to join Neodyne’s “Aphrodex” project. He’d found it hard to believe that the sort of radical transformations they were aiming for could be achieved through hypnosis alone. The case study they’d shown him had seemed too fantastic to be true.
But it had worked! The woman now sitting in his office was hardly recognizable as the same one who’d answered the ad Neodyne’s people had placed in the paper seeking volunteers for a simple “product study,” never guessing that she and the others like her would be the product.
For that had been the ultimate goal. The process Peters and the others had been testing could produce gorgeous, obedient women to order, for sale to those willing to meet Neodyne’s price. Naturally, this wasn’t the kind of thing the corporation could afford to take public, but what did that matter? What counted was the money it would make.
Well—Peters’ smile broadened into a lascivious grin—that wasn’t all that mattered. He did wonder, sometimes, what else was going on at Neodyne. He didn’t spend much time worrying about it, though. And as he gazed across his desk at the transformed Celeste Kerrigan, he wasn’t thinking about it at all. What he was thinking about was whether he could persuade his employers to let him keep her for himself. After this last session, he’d decided he wanted more than just the unauthorized pictures he’d taken and the memory of her body against his.
First things first, though.
“You want me to do what, Dr. Peters? Quit my job?” Celeste blinked. She certainly hadn’t expected this! Coming on top of the doctor’s revelation about what had really been going on with her, this sudden suggestion threw her off balance.
Peters nodded. “Of course,” he answered. “You don’t really fit in there anymore, do you?”
“N-no,” the blonde heard herself agreeing. “I guess I don’t.” And it was true: she wasn’t interested in the work anymore. She had fun “persuading” the guys at the office to do it for her, but already she was beginning to be bored with them. She was a whole new woman these days. She needed a new life.
But—! “Where else would I go?” She still needed money, after all. “What else would I do?”
“Let me worry about that,” came the reply. “You trust me, don’t you? You understand that everything I ask you to do is for your own good.”
The key phrases produced their reflex response. “Yes, Doctor.” Celeste’s eyes widened and went slightly glassy. “Of course.”
Dr. Peters nodded in satisfaction. “There’s no need to rush, Celeste. You can give notice in the usual way, and tell your boss and co-workers you’ve found another position.” He smirked for a moment at his unintended play on words.
“Yes, Doctor.” Celeste nodded.
“Then we’re done for today,” Peters instructed her. “You should be receiving your check for your participation in our study sometime in the next three weeks.” The payment would come as promised; there was no sense leaving loose ends, even now that it was clear the hypnotic treatments had worked. It was a small enough price to pay, after all.
Celeste stood up and made as if to turn toward the office door. Suddenly, though, she hesitated. She turned back to face Peters again.
“What’s the matter, Celeste?”
“Doctor,” the blonde answered, “if the Aphrodex lotion never really did anything, if I changed myself the way you say because of suggestions you gave me when I was hypnotized, will I start going back to the way I was now that I know? And will I still feel”—she blushed—“the same way about the lotion? Will I still . . . you know . . . need it?”
Dr. Peters looked thoughtful as he responded. “You shouldn’t revert,” he told her. “Not without explicit suggestions to do so, anyway.” He paused briefly before continuing. “As for your, ahem, dependency, now that you’re aware of its origins, that should fade with time, since it’s not a true physical addiction.” He smiled. He was lying, of course, about the addiction fading. If it showed any signs of doing so, it would be reinforced by a fresh round of programming. It was just too useful.
“Oh,thank you, Doctor,” breathed the blonde babe.
Peters nodded. “Now remember, as soon as you’ve left your job, call me and I’ll help you find a new one. You can trust me, you know that.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Celeste’s eyes, which had cleared, glazed again momentarily. “I can trust you. I’ll call.”
“Good.” The doctor nodded again. “I think that’s all, then, Celeste. You can go home now.”
“Yes, Doctor. Thank you.” Celeste turned toward the door again. This time she didn’t falter, but went to it. She left Peters’ office without another word.
The doctor smiled as the door to his office swung shut.
Celeste’s conditioning had taken hold perfectly. Even telling her the truth about what he’d done to her hadn’t shaken its hold on her mind. He’d been prepared, of course, in case there’d been any indication of that, but everything had gone smoothly. He had every confidence that it would keep on doing so.
Dr. Peters delivered his report to the Neodyne board the following week. As he concluded, he looked anxiously at Alexander Barron, the company’s VP for research. Barron’s reaction would be crucial to whether he could ask the favor he wanted.
The researcher was startled when the executive gave forth a hearty chuckle. “Sir?” he couldn’t help asking. “Excuse me?”
Grinning, Barron pulled a bulky manila folder from his briefcase and slid it across the boardroom table toward Peters. “Go ahead,” the beefy man in the fifteen-hundred-dollar suit urged. “Read it.”
Peters opened the envelope and examined its contents, feeling his eyes widen and his face turn red as he did so. The folder held photographs and verbal transcripts revealing in detail what he’d done during his sessions with Celeste. There was even a CD, presumably documenting more of the same.
At last he lifted his eyes, trying his best to meet the amused gaze of his boss. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Barron laughed again. “We’ve been monitoring everyone on your team from the beginning.” He smiled. “Of course, we keep tabs on all our employees. Can’t have them wasting their time, or worse, stealing from us or talking to the media. Bad for business, you understand. But this particular project has always presented, ahem,” the smile widened briefly, ”unique temptations, and so we’ve taken special precautions. All of your offices have been under full surveillance all along. And as it turned out, that was a smart idea.”
He looked at Peters, in whose eyes light was dawning. “Come on, did you really think you were the only one taking advantage of the, let’s say, opportunities offered by Project Aphrodex? We’ve already spoken with several of the others.”
“So I take it,” Peters got out, “I’m fired?”
Barron laughed out loud. “Fired? Why the hell would we do that? Your team succeeded! We at Neodyne don’t punish success! We reward it!”
“Reward it?” Peters echoed. “Er . . . what do you mean, sir?” It couldn’t be . . . could it?
The research VP smiled. “We offered you all a very substantial bonus package for working on this project.” He paused.
“Yes, sir,” Peters agreed. It was certainly true. The money had been eye-opening, as had the offers of further advancement at Neodyne.
“Well,” Barron said expansively, “since the project has proven a complete success, we’re in a position, I think, to sweeten the pot.”
“Yes, sir?”
“How would you like to have this”—the executive glanced down briefly at the papers in front of him—“Celeste Kerrigan for yourself? Now that you’ve worked so hard and developed such a, ah, relationship with her?”
Peters gasped. With an effort, he got control of himself. “You’re serious?” he couldn’t help asking.
“Of course.” Barron nodded. “The others are getting the same deal. After all, now that we know the process works, we can find other suitable candidates for our potential customers. Giving your team this little perk won’t hurt us.” He winked at Peters. “And here at Neodyne, we like to keep our professional staff happy.”
Peters didn’t respond, at least out loud. His gleeful expression said everything that needed to be said.
Celeste Kerrigan’s farewell party was a bash to remember.
It was supposed to have been just a plain group lunch, the kind everyone got. But when word went around that she was leaving, the guys in the office all chipped in for a real night out, at the posh Flamingo Club.
The food was great, the booze flowed freely, and before too long Celeste was flying pretty high. All at once she jumped up onto the stage where the band they’d all hired for the evening was playing. She whispered into the ears of the musicians, who grinned. Then, turning to face the other invited guests, she flung her arms over her head and smiled. “Hit it, boys!” she cried gaily.
Hit it they did: the thumping rhythm of the song “Take This Job And Shove It” filled the air. Celeste launched into a sultry version of the lyrics and pranced to the beat. As she moved, she peeled, first pulling off the long opera gloves she wore, then reaching back to unzip the form-fitting sheath she had on.
As the women in attendance watched in silent shock, the men erupted in cheers. Laughing, Celeste tossed her head, then shimmied out of her slinky outfit, revealing a filmy lace bodice, tiny panties and gartered stockings, all perfectly matched to the white fuck-me pumps she had on.
“Take it off! Take it off! Take it alllll off!” The chant seemed to arise all by itself.
Grinning, the blonde bombshell teased her watchers, repeatedly moving as if to continue her strip. Finally, though, she shook her head. “Not tonight, boys,” she announced.
“Awwwww,” came a mass groan from her male audience. “Why not?” someone called out.
Celeste giggled again. “I’ve got a date tonight,” she told them. “He’s the one who’ll get to see it all.” She pointed. “Come on up, Doctor!”
From near the back of the room, Dr. Albert Peters came forward. As he approached the stage, there was a murmur of mingled envy and puzzlement. Who was this guy, anyway, and how long at he been dating Celeste?
Peters chuckled as he approached the stage. “I’ve got to get her to stop calling me that,” he said jokingly. “People’ll start to get the wrong idea!” Laughter answered him.
At last the doctor reached the front of the room. Still half-nude, Celeste stepped off the stage and took his arm. “Time to go, I think,” she said. “’Bye, everybody!”
Peters smiled fondly at her. “Don’t you think you should bring the rest of your clothes with you?”
“What for?” Celeste asked, amusement in her voice. “It’s not like I’ll be wearing them anymore tonight.” Male hoots and whistles followed her words. Just the same, she turned away from Peters briefly and collected the shed garments. She steered the doctor over to her seat, picked up her bag and stowed the clothes. Then she allowed herself to be led away toward the exit.
As he walked out with Celeste Kerrigan on his arm, Dr. Albert Peters smiled smugly. Celeste had actually invited him to this celebration without any “encouragement” on his part. And from the looks of things, leaving this job wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice.
He had promised her she wouldn’t need to worry about what would happen afterward, and he’d keep his word. He would find her a new position, all right—under him. Who knew? He might actually get her a job, too.
As the pair left the party, Celeste looked up at the man holding her arm. She wasn’t worried about what would come next. After all, she could trust him. Whatever he did, whatever he had her do, she was sure it would be for her own good.