Forever Young: Blessing or Curse (Always Young Trilogy) (11 page)

His
voice sent shivers of awareness through her, melting her insides, as if she and
Roman had actually made love. She was definitely a mixed up chick.

“Almost.
I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

After
a quick shower, she redressed in her suit instead of the wrinkled shift. With
no time or inclination to apply makeup, she dashed outside.

Roman’s
fingers on her elbow as he helped her into the limo were no dream, nor the
inappropriate searing sensation. She couldn’t believe herself. Afraid to look
him in the eyes, she glanced away.

“Are
you all right? You kind of tied one on last night,” he said in a voice laden
with concern.

 “That
drink must have done me in.  I took some aspirin for it. I can’t believe I
slept in my dress all night.”

“I
helped you to your room, so nothing would happen to you.”

A
guilty look crossed his face, then disappeared. Maybe she’d imagined it. He
shouldn’t feel ashamed at looking after her. She was the one who wanted to
crawl into a hole because of those crazy dreams and that iPhone guilt. Focusing
on her duties and not her aberrations might prove beneficial. “When will the
commercials air?” she asked.

“Tomorrow.
The California market is crucial. A good response will go a long way.”

“I’m
sure you’ll get it. People are dying to use your pill.”

Roman
grimaced. “There are some who’d rather die than try anything new.”

Dorrie
stuck her chin up. “Well, I love it. It’s a marvelous invention. You’re a
genius to have thought of something so wonderful.”

He
laughed deprecatingly. “I had to, out of self-defense. I might need it myself
some day.”

“Maybe
so, but I think you’ve got a soft spot inside and won’t admit it.”

Her
eyes shone in admiration. She was such a sweet thing. Her belief in him made
him flinch. Damn, what had he done? 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Since
Roman possessed the gift of persuasion, it should be a simple matter to convince
one single man of one tiny detail. With that purpose in mind, on the morning
after the trip, he stepped into the darkened room of the sub-basement.

“Where
is it?”

“I
have no idea. Your concoction knocked her out before she could tell me.”

“Huh,
after you jammed your dick into her I bet.”

“No
need for vulgarities.”

“Don’t
preach to me, pretty boy.”

“Yes,
I am, aren’t I? What would you do without me? Have you seen the waiting list
lately?”

“All
the more reason to preserve the pill’s reputation.”

Roman
shrugged. “She hasn’t a clue. I’d bet my life on it. What woman in her right
mind would take the pill if she knew the risks?”

Adopting
the convincing attitude of  his infomercials, Roman stared down at the
deformed man. He had to convince him to forget Dorrie. She’d been harmed
enough. Guilt was a funny thing. It had kept him awake and ruminating into the
night, and slithered into his mind when Dorrie innocently smiled at him.

Had
the thrill been worth it?  The tightening in his loins said, “Yes,” but his
tortured mind screamed, “No.”

The
man seemed to digest Roman’s words before nodding. “You’re probably right. If
she knew of her husband’s findings, she’d be an idiot to take chances. We’ll
shelve the matter and continue the program. Okay, let’s consider our next
venue, Chicago.”

“I’ll
bring her along, as usual.”

“You
may as well. She’s a good selling point. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her
just in case. Later, when other test subjects are in place, we can dispense
with her.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dorrie
shivered in the chill evening air as she stepped off the plane. July shouldn’t
be this cool, but apparently no one had clued in Mother Nature. The Chicago
wind, nicknamed the “The Hawk” in her guidebook, bit through her sweater.
Growing up in Wisconsin, you’d think she’d welcome the change, but the swing
from one hundred degrees to fifty-nine was a stretch.

Not
only was the weather cool, but Roman barely glanced at her as they waited for
the limo. Since their Hollywood trip, he’d behaved strangely, almost as if he
and not she were dogged by crazy, erotic dreams. Good thing he couldn’t read
her mind or she’d be totally embarrassed.

When
they reached Columbus Drive and Congress Parkway, the fantastic water and
lights display highlighting the beauty of the Georgia pink marble of the
Buckingham Fountain took her breath away, diverting attention from her
discomfort.

Judging
from the throng gathered behind the red velvet ropes, the publicists had again
done their job. Cameramen and light crews, equipment and sound men, all milled
about, attending to a myriad of details. Time for her to get ready too.

She
entered the trailer’s dressing area to the right of the fountain. After
changing, a quick glance in the mirror proved satisfactory. No unsightly bulges
on her waist or legs, no wrinkles on her face. She smiled and turned the knob.
A waiting escort took her to her mark.

As
Roman swept out, her heart beat fast and warmth spread through her, obviously
the result of not enough sex, a condition she did not plan to remedy anytime
soon.   

Daniel
Burnham’s Buckingham Fountain afforded a spectacular background as, arms
akimbo, the spotlighted man faced his audience. With his shimmering cape and
golden shoulder-length hair, he appeared to have stepped straight from a
romance novel. His signature Renaissance style muslin shirt, tan suede breeches
and matching boots provided just the right touch of braggadocio. The women
couldn’t keep their eyes off of him, while the men stood resignedly by.

“No
longer will you suffer from growing old. You now have the power to be young and
stay young. All you need is Forever Young, the real Fountain of Youth.” He
dipped his fingers into the fountain and flung droplets at the audience.

Those
fingers had touched her where no one else had. No matter how many times she
told herself it was all a dream, the erotic images wouldn’t go away. She kept
fighting them, yet they came back, even more graphic, turning into an
obsession. Was she going insane? Was this a side effect of his pill? For fear
of embarrassment, she dare not ask him,

On
cue, she joined Roman by the fountain and opened her robe to reveal her toned
young body in the turquoise bikini. She stepped into the fountain, letting it
bathe her. The lights danced, the music played and the water sprayed,
transforming her into part of the display.

When
the last notes died, she stepped out into the warmth of Roman’s hands as he
slipped her into the robe.

They
weren’t scheduled to leave until tomorrow afternoon. She’d called Keith
beforehand, and she was looking forward to having dinner with him that evening
at the Italian Village restaurant. It would be great to see someone from her
past.

 Dorrie
stepped out of the dressing room to find Roman dismissing the cameramen. He
turned to her. “A cancellation’s made it possible to leave in three hours. Now
we can avoid the Fourth of July crush.”

Hiding
her disappointment, she nodded, and reached for her smartphone to tell Keith
she couldn’t meet him after all. Frowning, Roman stared at it. His apparent
displeasure caused guilt over the iPhone to erupt inside her. Of course, she
had every right to keep it. It had been Larry’s prized possession, paid by his
own salary, yet the idea of Roman’s discovering her lie made her legs quiver.
God forbid, if he ever learned she had it. She did not want to grow old again.
She needed her pills.

On
the plane, Roman sat next to her. Praying for a respite from her imaginings,
she hugged the window seat, staying as far from him as possible to avoid her
body’s brushing against him. While heat flooded through her at Roman’s
nearness, her jumbled mind couldn’t grasp how she could betray her husband this
way. She didn’t mean to and knew it was wrong, yet couldn’t help herself. That
pill had awakened her libido and she couldn’t shut it down. Hopefully, the
feelings would level off in time.

Putting
up with such an inconvenience was a small price to pay for the reward of
looking and feeling good.  For that she was eternally grateful to Roman.
Also, she knew what a boon the pill would be to the elderly, whose lives would
soon become long and productive, free of age related illnesses.

She
admired Roman for his craftsmanship and genius, and to be honest, also his sex
appeal.

CHAPTER NINE

Stepping
into the Institute’s air conditioned lobby, Roman wiped his brow with a
monogrammed handkerchief. Only eight-thirty in the morning, yet this mid July
day already promised to be a scorcher.

Once
in his office suite, he forced himself to tread at a normal pace, instead of
dashing past his tempting secretary. Once he’d reached the sanctuary of his own
space, he sank onto the leather chair, grateful to escape the punishment and
pleasure of Dorrie’s presence. Each day the attraction grew, threatening to
overwhelm him.

Thank
goodness, the activity of the Forever Young campaign offered a distraction from
his nagging, semi-awakened conscience. Commercials, public appearances, and a
myriad of details left small time to dwell on personal feelings. He couldn’t
complain. The frequency of direct deposits into his accounts more than
compensated for any discomfort. Each public appearance begat a fresh spate of
guinea pigs. Who could blame them?  With a chance at being forever young, who
in their right mind would prefer the alternative?

People
from all walks of life embraced the pill’s promise. The growing interest in the
product forced him to hire additional staff to separate mail orders from fan
letters and quacks. All seemed under control, but that could change in an
instant.

Due
vigilance remained essential, especially from episodes like that of Larry
Donato. If the man had not been so righteous, insisting the pill too flawed for
release, he’d still be alive, growing old with a wife who’d obviously adored
him. Instead, she sat outside his door, a young, tempting, violated widow.

Maybe
by sharing some of his fortune, his conscience might ease. He pressed the
intercom. “Dorrie, can you come in here, please?”

Considering
his abrupt demeanor since the night he couldn’t forget, he didn’t blame her for
the wary look on her face as she crossed into his office. Her subtle perfume
and trusting doe eyes didn’t help his cause.

 “Dorrie,
I want to thank you for all your hard work in promoting Forever Young. Your
efforts and example are a tremendous asset to the Institute.  To show my
appreciation, I want you to take this.”  

As
he handed her an envelope containing ten thousand-dollar bills, he ignored the
voltage searing his fingers.

“Roman,
I should be thanking you. This is not really necessary, but I appreciate your
generosity. I love the pill and am happy to share my good fortune with
everyone.”

A
smile lit her face. Her warm brown eyes reached out to him, making it almost
impossible to keep his vow not to have her again. Something about her seemed
different now, more womanly. Her breasts in the jersey dress looked fuller. Her
hips begged to be touched. Those same hips had moved beneath him in exciting
rhythm. He swallowed hard and surreptitiously scooted his chair under the desk
to hide evidence of his arousal.

“All
right then. Let’s get down to work. My sure-fire proposal to Walt Disney World
came through for Monday.”

***

The
setting couldn’t be more idyllic. Flanked by Mickey Mouse and Snow White,
perpetual symbols of youth and innocence, Roman stood before the Cinderella
Castle and pitched his product. The subconscious minds of the audience would
fill in the blanks. If people bought Forever Young, they’d live in the eternal
bliss of youth, a state impossible to resist. In the commercial’s finale´, a
manufactured bubble burst to reveal the fairy tale-like figure of a smiling
Dorrie.

With
the commercial through, he glanced with interest at the Magic Kingdom’s
attractions. He hadn’t ridden a roller coaster in years. Dismissing the crew,
he turned to Dorrie. “Are you game?”

 “I
was hoping I’d get a chance.” She eagerly followed him to the ticket line.

His
blood pulsed in exhilaration as the cab ascended. His stomach dropped at the
sharp descent. The wind blew against his face, making him feel alive, and
thrilled to be sharing the experience. While the roller coaster zoomed up, down
and around, his assistant laughed and screamed in enjoyment.

There
was something so beguiling about her regression to an earlier age he again
wondered if he should chance taking the pill himself. His looks were his life,
and if he lost them, he had no idea how to survive.