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Copyright A Strange Geek, 2005 Last modified 10/11/05 (header adjustment only). Feedback welcome! Send email to astraYOURngegeek@comMINDcast.net (lose YOUR MIND to email me). Please Please respect my wishes about reposting my works.

I walked out of the restaurant to find that the heat of the southwest desert plains had quickly dissipated after sunset. A dark sky filled with cold pinpricks of light allowed the blanket of furnace-hot air to rise and disperse. In the thinner air of the high altitudes, little of the day's warmth would be left by dawn, and I would need a jacket if I wanted to stay out in it. As it was, it was just comfortable.
I glanced to my side and then the other and noticed that I was alone.
"I'm coming, John."
I turned around in time to see the restaurant door swing closed behind my dinner-date and traveling companion. She looked mildly annoyed. "They had trouble running my corporate card through the machine," she said, still holding the credit card in her hand.
"I could have taken care of it, Betty," I told her gently.
Betty frowned and shook her head after putting the card back in her wallet and her wallet into her purse. "He got busy signals. Yours would have had the same trouble."
"I would have just used my own and vouchered it."
She gave a wave of dismissal. "No need, it's been taken care of."
The tone of her voice made me suspicious. I had been working on this project with her for the last three months, and in that time I learned a lot about her mannerisms. "Oh? And just how did you do that?" I asked, the smirk on my face and tone of amusement in my voice most likely suggesting to her that I already had an idea.
Sure enough, she gave me an enigmatic smile and drew herself erect. This was no trivial matter. Betty was a large woman. Not fat. Large. Nearly six feet tall, big-boned, matron-bosomed, with black, frizzed hair that surrounded her head like an aura. When she drew herself straight like that, the term full-figured came to mind.
So did the word formidable.
"I simply used my womanly charms to convince him to use the older credit card swiper," she stated regally, sniffing the air.
"I'll bet," I replied with a snicker. "Will I find him cowering behind the bar if I went back inside?"
She snorted. "He caved immediately. What a wimp."
I laughed. "Come on, let's get back to the hotel before you do any more damage. Honestly, I can't take you anywhere."
"Oh, you're no fun at all."
We must have looked the odd pair. She easily topped six inches over me. Thin-boned and lean, I normally thought I looked pretty healthy and fit, but next to her I was positively scrawny. It had led to some humorous moments during the conference. "Hey, Betty, did I tell you what, um, what's his name, the one that looked like a frog ..."
Betty smirked. "You mean Berkshire from the Los Angelos office?"
"Yeah, him. He asked me if we were married."
Betty gave one short barking laugh. "Oh, really? What gave him that idea?"
"That's what I asked him. He made some embarrassed noises and said something about opposites attract and went off. Have to admit, I was glad to be rid of him. Even though afterward I was saddled with what's his face from accounting ..."
"You're terrible with names, you know that?"
"Hey, what do I know? I'm a programmer and engineer, not public relations. Why'd they think they saddled you with me to make the presentation in the first place?"
A breeze blew up as we passed the side of the hotel, bringing a deeper nighttime chill. I felt a shudder go through me. Betty didn't seem to react to it at all. She was like a huge boulder; it was very hard to move her without a lot of strength, skill, and leverage. I relied on her for far more than just remembering names on this business trip.
"Oh, I don't know," Betty said, her voice a little softer. "I have to admit enjoying this partnership."
I looked at her. She smiled. From her that was a huge compliment. "I know why he thought we were married," I said with a grin. "He pictured me as the henpecked husband and you as the domineering wife."
Betty laughed, sounding loud as it echoed across the park that sat between the restaurant and the hotel on the other side. Rather than walking to the corner and down the sidewalk along the adjacent side, she started down one of the winding paths in the park. I didn't bother pointing this out to her. She did nothing without a reason. "Now how could he possibly get that idea?" she asked.
"Are you kidding? You practically ran that conference."
"Don't sell yourself short. You had all the technical details."
"Yeah, but I would have been lost trying to deal with all our clients on top of the managers from the regional offices. Not to mention you helped beat off the wolves when I got to the really controversial proposals."
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Business is business. And sometimes people have to be told what's good for them." She paused a moment, the smiled again. "Yeah, I guess I can see why he thought that. We worked rather well together, didn't we?"
"I'd say so, yes. The company'd be crazy not to recognize it."
The conversation fell silent between us for a short while. The park was largely deserted. It was not terribly late at night, but this part of southern Utah was not known for its night life. The rest of Utah wasn't exactly a social hot spot either.
We did find one other couple in the park. A real couple, not two people that happened to be next to each other. They were seated on a bench in the darkness between two adjacent street lamps, quietly cuddling.
"You know, even the hotel person thought we wanted one room when we arrived earlier," Betty remarked when we were out of sight of the couple.
"Oh?"
"I had the feeling he was doubtful we were really there on a business trip."
I snorted. "Well, not every company tries to cut costs like ours," I commented dryly. "I wonder who's brilliant idea it was to have us drive back from Arizona to Denver instead of going back by air."
She shrugged again. "We can make it back by tomorrow night," she said. "Anyway, it's kind of nice to see some scenery on the way back. And I have to admit, the company's been good."
That was the first time I had heard her express any kind of personal feelings towards me. I had naturally assumed that we were getting alone well simply from lack of evidence to the contrary. Betty was very good at letting you know when you were doing something to annoy her, but slow to mention when you're doing something nice. "Thank you," I said. "The feeling is definitely mutual. Although I'll be glad to be back."
I made that statement automatically, without any thought behind it. If I were pressed to give a reason for why I had said it, I would have to say that it was expected in a conversation like this. Everybody is glad to be back from a business trip.
"Have someone to go back to?"
The question surprised me enough that my mind refused to parse it at first. "Come again?"
"Wife? Girlfriend? Mistress?" Betty asked.
I blinked, still nonplussed by her question. "Mistress?"
Betty smirked. "Whatever. We were working at such a breakneck pace that I don't think we ever really talked about each other much."
I could have pointed out that that night was not the first time we had had dinner together during our partnership, and that we could have talked about it then, but I refrained. Instead, I replied, "No, not at the moment."
I had hoped she would leave it at that, but trying to get Betty to stop doing something was like trying to stop a bullet with a piece of tissue paper. "Dating anyone?"
"Been too busy, I suppose," I replied. I hoped she would assume I meant the time we were on this project and leave it at that. Truth be told, I did not have much of a social life, especially with the opposite sex. I had trouble relating to women. Betty was easy because she was a business partner, and because she was so formidable that I would have been far too intimidated to even attempt anything with her. All women intimidated me to a degree, but Betty topped the list, at least where romance was concerned. Thus it never became an issue in our partnership.
"I know how that feels," Betty said in a slightly more husky voice.
I caught a note of longing in her tone and decided to use it to shift the focus away from me. "You have someone waiting for you?"
"Oh, not really. I don't date all that much. At least ... not in the traditional sense."
"Oh?"
She was silent for a few moments as we passed a couple holding hands walking the other way. The soft roar of running water drifted to us as the path took us close to the creek that ran through the park. "Let's put it this way, John. In some ways, Berkshire was right in his assumptions about me. I do like to dominate."
"Then I would think you would have it made," I told her half-jokingly. "I'm sure many men find you a little ... intimidating."
Betty snickered. "Yeah, but too much so, sometimes. It's real hard when most of them won't even approach you."
"Catch twenty-two?"
She sighed. "In spades."
We were quiet for some time after that, the silence broken only by the sound of the creek. I felt bad that I might have made her depressed, even though it was her that brought up the topic in the first place. I looked at her, but her face betrayed nothing. It held the same hard look that she always carried when dealing with business matters. I felt it best not to say anything. Nothing I could have said would have helped matters.
We continued along the side of the creek until the creek took a sharp turn away from the path, and the silence returned. I happened to look back at Betty as a street lamp passed on my side. The yellow-tinted light briefly illuminated her legs before my shadow fell over them. Like the rest of her, they appeared large and formidable. Again, not fat; they were simply in proportion to the rest of her. They were still clad in the black stockings she had worn at the end of the conference earlier that day.
With the pressure of the project deadline gone, I was starting to see Betty in a different light. On the whole, when one got past her large stature and aura of unapproachability, she was actually fairly attractive. If things were different - if I were more comfortable with women outside of a professional setting - I might consider pursuing a relationship with her.
Suddenly the silence between us was deafening. And it was unnatural, considering how well we got along together over the past few months. But what to say to her now? There was no sense in talking about business matters now. That really left only one alternative, despite the fact that it might be a topic she didn't really want to pursue anymore. What's worse, I now had a burning curiosity about something that could turn out to be rather personal.
I had no other options, other than to endure the silence, which I did not think I could do for some reason. "Betty, mind if I ask a question about something you said a few minutes ago?"
She looked at me and shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
"You don't have to answer if it's too personal."
She smirked slightly. "And when have you known me to keep something to myself. Go ahead, ask away."
"When you mentioned before that you tended to ... well, dominate in a relationship, I guess I was wondering what you meant."
Now that enigmatic smile of hers crossed her face, the kind of smile that could make people cringe. Sometimes it even made me nervous. "What do you think it means, John?"
I hadn't expected her to put the ball back in my court. Now I knew a little of how that Berkshire character felt. "I guess it could mean lots of things," I said. "Could just mean you like to lead during a dance."
"I don't dance. Try again."
"Or, um, it could mean you like to be the one to make the decisions. You know, about where you go on a date."
"As I said, I don't go out on dates. Want another go at it?"
It was too late when I realized what I had gotten myself into. Which was stupid, because I had in the back of my mind the idea that this may indeed be the case with her. "There's really only one thing left," I said with a bit of a weak grin.
"If that 'thing' is sex, then the third time's the charm."
It was a bit of a relief to have had her say it instead of me. "Whatever floats your boat," I said, trying to sound non-committal.
"Now it's my turn to ask a question."
I should have expected that. "Sure."
"Do you date at all?"
Turnabout was fair play with her. It wouldn't be fair for me to hold back when she was willing to reveal something personal about herself. "Not really, no."
"Why?"
I shrugged, but I knew that was not going to be good enough an answer, not from the way she was looking at me intently. "I have trouble relating to women," I told her. "On a personal level, that is. Professionally, no problem."
"Which explains why we got along so well," Betty commented. "And what about now, with the business aspect of the relationship about gone?"
I paused a moment to find the right words and failed. "Different."
Another pause. "Intimidating?" she asked.
"Yes. But it would be the same with any woman, not just you."
There was another bout of quiet between us, but not complete silence. We were reaching the other side of the park, and I could hear traffic from the street that ran between the park and the hotel.
Now she started to smile pleasantly again. "So intimidated you won't come up to my room for a bit and have a drink with me?"
"A drink?" I asked, momentarily dumbfounded at the sudden shift in the conversation. "You mean, as in alcohol?"
She smirked. "Of course, silly, what else would I mean?"
"How'd you manage that?"
"What's the big deal? Alcohol's not illegal in Utah, they just regulate it more here. Restaurants have to have a special state license for it, and many don't bother. You just looked annoyed earlier when you found you couldn't get a drink at dinner."
I considered. I knew that she might have had another motivation in mind. Perhaps she was indeed feeling a little lonely. In a way, I suppose we were kindred spirits. Neither one of us could relate to the opposite sex in a normal way. I had to admit that the idea of some female companionship, even just for a nightcap, was an appealing idea. Not to mention being able to get off the Utah government-imposed wagon. "What have you got?"
"Just a small bottle of some good wine. Nothing really hard." She gave a half-smile.
Even better. I didn't like having anything too strong in the evenings. Yes, it would help me get to sleep, but I did not sleep as deeply as I would have otherwise.
"I suppose I could do that," I replied.
"Good. You won't regret it."
And then she gave me another enigmatic smile.
Betty's room was similar to mine. It was just as spacious, as she had used her natural "negotiating skills" to secure us two of the better rooms in the hotel. As soon as I walked in, I saw the bottle of wine sitting on the nightstand next to the king-sized bed.
Betty strode over to it, grabbed it from the table and presented it to me. I automatically took it into my hands. It was Lambrusco, a relatively inexpensive soft Italian wine. It was quite good; in fact, it happened to be one of my favorites.
"Very good choice," I said, and tried to hand the bottle back to her.
Instead, however, she backed away. "Let me get some cups for us," she said. "Why don't you go ahead and open it?"
She dashed away before I could react, heading into the bathroom with her purse still slung over one shoulder. As I set the bottle down on the nightstand, I heard the bathroom door swing closed behind her. I thought nothing more of it. I simply assumed that she had to use the bathroom.
I opened the bottle and took a seat on the sofa just as Betty emerged from the bathroom carrying two styrofoam cups. She was no longer carrying her purse, and somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that I did not hear the toilet flush.
She reached the bottle in several long strides, as if some sense of urgency was dogging her steps. I had been about to stand and pour the wine for her, but I decided it was best to let her run the show. I admitted to being mystified at her sudden burst of intensity, something I generally saw only when she was working on something she needed to get done.
Whatever it was, it all but disappeared when she finished pouring the wine into the cups. With a much more relaxed gait, she brought the cups over to the sofa, handing one to me and sitting down on the cushion next to mine.
"Not much to be said for the presentation, I'm sure," Betty commented with a grin.
"So long as it has alcohol in it, that's fine by me," I replied.
"In that case ..." She thrust her cup forward. "Here's to the end of the conference."
I could definitely drink to that. I touched her cup with mine, and the two of us took a long pull at the wine. Betty watched me over the rim of her cup with eyes that had a sense of expectancy to them.
By now, I had a vague feeling that something was not quite right, but I was not able to put together all the subtle clues to figure out what was going on. Perhaps Betty was simply more desperate for companionship than I had thought. I had the brief, wild thought that she was hoping I was going to make some sort of advance. It only took a moment to realize that was ridiculous. From what she had told me, it was her that made the advance, and there was no clear sign she intended to do such a thing. She had to know I would turn her down in any case.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
I nodded. "I've had this wine before," I said. But as my tongue shifted in my mouth, I caught a very faint, acidic tang. I took another sip of the wine, let it linger for a few seconds, and swallowed. There it was again.
Betty had been about to take a sip herself when she stopped and raised her eyebrows. "Problem?"
"Oh, no, not really. Did you get this wine today?"
"I've had it for a few days. Why do you ask?"
I nodded. That had to be it. "Never mind, that explains it."
"Explains what?"
"The wine's just very slightly acidic," I told her. "I've had that happen if the wine gets too warm."
"Oh, yes," Betty said, looking relieved. "I think I might have left it in the car for a few hours the other day. That's probably it. I'm sorry about that."
I shook my head. "Not a big deal. It's still a good wine." To prove my point, I took another long sip.
Betty smiled. "I'm not much on wine myself. I tend towards gin and scotch myself."
I made a face. "Can't stand either of them. I don't go much for mixed drinks anyway."
She snickered. "Oh? You had no trouble with that Margarita the other day."
"Now that's an exception. You always make an exception for a good Margarita."
She grinned. "Did I ever tell you how I reacted when I heard I was going to be working with you?"
"I can't recall that you did."
"I was sure it was going to be a disaster. I couldn't see two so incompatible people in my life."
It was something of a relief to hear her say that. I had had similar thoughts, though most likely for different reasons. To me, engineers and client support never mixed. They couldn't; their agendas, their focus, was just too different.
"I would have thought, though, that you might have seen an advantage. You could have easily taken complete control of the project. Isn't that more your nature anyway, to dominate."
"I suppose that's true, as far as it goes."
"Oh?"
"Business is a little different. I'm naturally aggressive in the corporate world, but as for actual domination, I tend to apply that strictly to matters of sex."
I had finished about half the cup of wine already. I found it easy to drink fast when I was talking with someone at the same time, as I tended to focus on the conversation and relegate my drinking to autopilot. I was feeling a little flushed, like the blood was rushing to my head. I did not think I had had enough to make me feel like this, but perhaps it was because the tension had lifted.
"Sort of separating business from pleasure, I suppose," I commented.
Betty smiled. "You might say that."
I felt a sense of vague discomfort below the waist and shifted in my seat automatically to fix it. "I apologize for asking you such a sensitive question in the first place," I said, still having a sense that I needed to atone for pursuing the topic.
Betty shrugged. "I answered it, didn't I?"
"Well, yes, but you didn't have to. I mean ... the fact that you don't ... well, get much opportunity ..."
I trailed off, realizing that I was only making things worse. I sighed and took a long pull of my wine, getting down to nearly the end. Perhaps it would be best to simply finish it off and get back to my room.
"Don't worry too much about me in that regard," Betty said. "I'm going to rectify that problem quite soon."
As I downed the last of the wine, I was fully aware that something was indeed amiss. I shifted in my seat as that sense of discomfort and tightness came over me. Things moved in just the right way to alert me to just what the problem was. For the past few minutes I had been very slowly gaining an erection, and the way I had moved in my seat released the pressure enough to allow it to complete its expansion, a long, hard bulge in the crotch of my pants.
I was so surprised at the realization that I said nothing for a few seconds. Why would I be having one now? While the topic of conversation had turned somewhat to the matter of sex, there was nothing inherently erotic being said. Sex was not even really on my mind that evening.
"Is something wrong, John?" Betty asked with a grin.
Did she know already? My pants were fairly dark-colored; unless I brought attention to it, she might not see it. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking maybe I should get back to my room."
"Maybe stay just a few minutes longer," Betty said. "At least until I finish my wine."
I nodded vaguely. Perhaps in that time my erection would abate. I've sometimes woken up hard, or had a particular bumpy road induce one, but they generally went away in a minute or so.
Yet instead, if anything, it seemed to get harder. I could feel the pulse of my heartbeat in the shaft where it pressed against my skin. Generally it took a great deal of arousal to get me that way.
"Are you uncomfortable?" Betty asked.
"No, not really."
"That's surprising. Most men would if they were that stiff."
It took a moment for my mind to believe that it had actually heard her say that. I briefly entertained the notion that she meant something else and was teasing me by using language like that, but the look on her face destroyed that theory. "I, um ... I have to admit to being a bit ... embarrassed," I managed to say. "I wasn't even thinking of ... of anything."
Betty finished off the last of her wine and put the cup aside. She gave me that smile again. "I know. But I was."
I struggled to understand what was going on. "Huh? That doesn't make sense. And I have to tell you, I don't think ... I don't think we could ..."
"We could. We can. And we will."
My penis was so swollen that it ached. "And what if I say 'no'?"
"Then you'll have that erection for the next eight hours."
"That makes even less sense. No one can have an erection for that long!"
"They can if its been helped along a little."
I stared at her for a few seconds. Finally I managed to put it all together. Closing the door of the bathroom; no toilet flush; her rush to pour the wine out into the cups before I could see the inside of them; the acidic aftertaste in the wine.
"You put something in my wine," I said stonily.
"Just an erection enhancer," Betty explained, grinning.
I thought furiously. "But I thought that stuff's not supposed to work until you actually get ... well, excited."
"It's not Viagra," she said. "It's something else. An earlier, somewhat more crude drug. But it won't harm you."
"How can you say that?" I said in a rising panic. "An eight hour erection is enough to cause ... p-permanent damage."
"That's true. Unless something is done about it before then."
"So is that what this was all about? To send me to an embarrassing trip to the emergency room?"
Betty smiled. "There's another way around the problem. If you have an intense enough orgasm, you can lose the erection for a short time. Have enough of them, and you'll give your cock enough of a rest to avoid damage."
I rose to my feet. The cotton of my briefs rubbed the underside of my shaft in a provocative way. "Then I'll return to my room and ... take care of that."
"You'll never get them intense enough to do you much good," Betty said. "But I can."
I knew what the right thing to do was. The right thing was to leave her hotel room immediately and head straight over to the hospital. As embarrassing as it might be, it was what I should do. And then call the police and report Betty for what she had done to me.
I half-turned towards the door, but went no further.
"I only had the two pills with me that I gave you," Betty said in a matter-of-fact voice. "And I'm not telling you the name of the drug. The hospital won't be able to treat you without knowing which drug it was. And it could take an hour or two to test you, more if they have to send out to a lab, which they probably would in a rinky-dink little town like this."