Dion did not go directly home after the wholly unpleasant encounter with Samantha. He made a beeline to his office. A cramped, windowless thing in the basement of the Chemistry Building. Had enough room for a desk which was either 50 or 150 years old if you went by the style or number of scratches, a bookshelf, and a computer Dion used maybe twice per week. Enough room for a student to visit, but he rarely had visitors during his office hours. Even though he had hundreds of students in his lectures, they had other things to do than learn chemistry. Test scores were abysmal.
He hated it here. Hated his office. Hated Samantha. Hated it all even more than before. But, he could not go home. Dumping this all on Liz would be unfair. Needed to process it. Figure out how to tell her what happened.
Could he? Maybe not. It would terrify her and she would not approve of what he was asked to do. She was a fighter and would encourage him to fight back. He just wanted it to go away. The stress it would cause her would be too much. He could not inflict that on her. He kept telling himself he did not want to involve her for her sake. She helped him with so much. He could handle this on his own. She would never know.
Perhaps… perhaps it would not be so bad? It was just perfume. And Samantha offered him an attractive bargain. Not the college students. No, of course not. Thinking about pawing all over some confused 18-year-old made his fur spasm in revulsion. An advancement. Material success. He wanted a research position. This was the fast track to it. The fast track away from that horde of students filling his lecture hall every day. Too many people, all staring at him. Every morning filled with dread and every evening exhaustion.
Besides, it was not like he was the one doing whatever perverted nonsense Dr. Gilbert had on his mind. Not responsible for what he did with the perfume. He just made it.
It took… less time than he would have liked to rationalize his behavior. Make the moral quandary disappear in a puff of relativism. Material rewards could do that. It would have bothered him more if he was cognizant of it.
Instead, he was preoccupied with what he had to do. He needed to know how to make the perfume. Difficult if one had to research it from scratch? No, impossible.
But, he was an Izorian. They still had pull over the magical planes. And every Izorian knew how to study their own magic. He turned the perfume bottle over in his paws. Unscrewing the lid, he took a sniff. It was simpler than he thought. In fact, the hardest part would be getting materials. Second hardest? Replicating the scent. He was no master perfumer.
One week passed. Every day, Dion worked on it in his free time. Every day, Samantha sent him a message inquiring about the status of the perfume. Unnerving and distracting? Absolutely. But, it did motivate him to work hard. He knew the consequences of failure; a price too high to pay.
The full perfume bottle was in his paws. He stood before the door to Dr. Gilbert’s office. Could not quite bring himself to knock on the door, despite being expected. Frozen in anxiety, the same thoughts kept running through his mind. Did he get the spell right? Mimicry was never perfect, even if one knew what they were doing. Especially true if it was the first time. Was the scent okay? He thought it was a little too fruity. Some of the more exotic ingredients he did not have access to, so he made substitutions. Would it work? He hoped so. Not about to test it out himself.
The thought of whether it was right or wrong was not in question. He knew it was wrong.
Delaying only prolonged the torment. Rip the band-aid off and deal with the pulled fur and irritated skin. He knocked three times, but heard an “Enter!” after the second knock. Samantha not only knew he was coming, but was very interested in his arrival. The alacrity startled the poor skunk, but he kept hold of the bottle. No way he was going to spill this stuff. Too dangerous and it would never come out of the carpet.
He entered to find Samantha not behind his desk, but leaning on the front of it. Arms crossed expectantly, he only looked at Dion’s face for a split second before immediately focusing on the bottle. He smiled.
“There it is. Give it here.” The cat commanded.
Dion held it out, but never delivered it. Dr. Gilbert pushed himself off the table, crossed the room in three strides, and snatched it out of the skunk’s paw. Dion avoided counting his fingers afterward; that might have appeared rude.
Samantha held it up, examining it in the dim light supplied by the fluorescent bulb overhead. There was only one working in the room. It was this dim in the room last time too. After a week, it should have been replaced. Personal preference? It was too dark to get any work done for someone like Dion, but maybe staring at a glowing screen might help. It would never occur to Dion why the cat liked it so dark.
Despite the low light, Samantha had no trouble examining the perfume. Even in murky conditions, it shimmered, betraying its uniqueness. Inspecting it, turning it over, looking at it like a craftsman would a new tool. What was he looking for? Mistaking that amulet for something special, Dion knew the cat knew nothing about magic. Perhaps he was sensitive to similar forces to what altered him? Exposure worked like that.
“You’re certain this will work?” The cat asked, his critical eye finding Dion.
Dion nodded. He only wanted to speak if he absolutely had to.
“Hm. I’ll take your word for it.” He smirked. “I have one on one office hours with a student soon. Second visit, so time to make my move.”
Dion tried his hardest not to flinch. His conscience screamed at him to snatch the perfume back and deny Samantha his victim. His fear shut that voice down with all reasonable haste.
“He’s the type that’s from a very repressed family.” Samantha continued, unaware of Dion’s discomfort. “So I have to make sure I’m irresistible.”
He heard enough. “Can I go now?” He asked. The cat was liable to wax on into the night about his erotic fantasies if Dion stuck around.
“Hm?” Samantha cleared his throat, maybe intending to do just that. “Yes. I have to do my makeup anyway. I’ll let you know if it works later, so keep your phone on. I’m sure you can get texts on that ancient flip phone.”
“Yes. I will watch for it.” He replied robotically.
Turning to go to the door, one thing bothered him. He should have said nothing else. Left the cat to his own devices and went home. The burns from his seared conscience, however, were not so deep yet. If the cat would not relent for the sake of others, maybe he would for himself? It was worth a try.
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“Dr. Gilbert…..” He tried not to look directly at the cat. “Um, don’t overuse that stuff….I mean, it isn’t safe. The magical contamination can…..”
He was cut short by a laugh.
“Please, stop.” Samantha suppressed his giggles long enough to speak. “I know what I’m doing. I had to wear this stuff every day for a very long time. It’s obviously harmless. And, trust me, I plan on using it as often as possible. Now run home. Don’t keep your little Catholic wifey waiting.”
More of a taunt than good natured advice. Dion left the room. He felt better the second he was through the door. One time. Just this one time and that was it. After that, he was through.
Poached salmon with lemon, dill, and shallots, steamed brown rice, green beans roasted with plenty of garlic. A delicious meal on Dion’s plate he mostly moved around with his fork. Delicious was a relative term, as Dion normally found this stuff borderline tasteless. Years of a high sugar diet left his tastebuds in a fried state, but he still ate the food because Liz made it.
Tonight, he was too distracted. Thoughts kept drifting to Samantha. He never stopped thinking about their meeting since he left the office three hours ago. The flip phone in his pocket felt weightier than it ever had before. An ever-present, burning mass that constantly reminded him of its presence. Samantha was going to contact him at any moment. He just wanted it to be over. He….
“Dion, is something wrong?” A thousand miles away, he heard a rabbit ask him a question.
He glanced at Elizabeth sitting next to him. She was still in her powder blue hospital scrubs from work.
“….huh?” Eloquent as ever.
“….I asked you if something was wrong. For the third time.”
Dion’s heart sank. All-consuming nonsense like this should not be so distracting. Causing him to miss her statements was not only wrong, it was really suspicious.
“I’m fine… um… yes.” Dion answered. About as convincing as a politician saying he never played dirty.
“… you’re not fine, you’re miles away.” She scooted her chair closer. “You’ve been preoccupied since the party. Did something happen?”
Dion tried to shake his head no. Neck would not cooperate. Could not lie to her. The skunk sighed. “Yeah… um, sort of….”
“They treating you okay?”
“Good enough, but you know me, I keep to myself….” While this was a separate issue, it was not what was bothering him. He rarely mixed with any professor but Dr. Gilbert, who coincidentally was the last person on Earth he ever wanted to see again.
“Well, what is it? You can tell me.” She put a paw on his shoulder. He let himself get pulled into a hug, his chair hitting hers with a dull click.
He had to explain this to her. Too much to explain, but he had to try.
“Well, it’s…..”
WAIT! Think about this. Tell her everything? Dion knew he was in the wrong. Giving a pervert enchanted perfume that would make anyone he set his sights on a victim for his amusement? How could he explain that? Fear’s icy fingers reached into his brain. All the years he spent with Liz vanished. The ups and downs, the good times, the loyalty. Fear can make you irrational. In that moment, he was convinced if he told her what he did, she would leave him. No questions asked. Just out the door, never to contact him again. Could not lie, but could not tell the whole truth.
Maybe… he could just provide enough details to give her a faint idea? Her mind naturally closed gaps, so she would fill in the rest. Deceptive, sure, but it would spare her feelings. This was preventing her from feeling even worse. That is what he told himself.
“It’s… um… I have been networking… one of the professors can help me. Get me that research position.”
“Okay… that’s good news.” Liz replied. “But you look like you’ve been contemplating walling yourself off from civilization.”
‘I really want to’ was Dion’s first through. Thankfully, he did not voice it.
“The professor that’ll do it is… Dr. Gilbert. He’s… different.”
“Different how?” Liz asked.
“Um….” He’s a rapist? A fiend? A malefactor who knew his dark secrets and threatened to out him for being a race of magical slavers who deserve nothing but vitriol? “… he thinks he’s a woman… wears a pronoun pin and everything.”
“Ah…..” Liz shook her head. “Lot of that going around these days. We’re in a college town.”
“Yeah… um… didn’t see it much at Aledo… or Carston.”
“Was around when we were in school, but wasn’t a big thing back then. Not like now….” She sighed. “I’m lucky. I don’t see it that often. Most of my patients are older. Has to be hard on you, having someone like that above you.”
Dion did not like that mental image. It was also not technically true, him working in a different department. Best not to correct her. “Yeah….” Simple reply.
“Do what I do when I’m in that situation. Be respectful without playing into his delusions. He’s not evil…” Dion disagreed. “… but he is sick. Still a child of God.”
“Yeah.” He repeated, not feeling better. Mischaracterizing what happened felt wrong. No, was wrong.
“Set boundaries, though. He may be in a protected class, but doesn’t give him the right to…um, touch you or anything.”
If only it was that simple. Dion tried not to wince. “I… um… I’ll stick to… work.”
“Good.”
Dion’s phone let out a series of three chirps. Notification for the very text message Dion waited for. He dropped the fork so suddenly it fell off his plate. Withdrew the phone from his pocket with fumbling fingers, causing it to flip on top of his salmon. He picked it up and opened it on the second try.
“Exciting news?” Liz asked, raising an eyebrow. The suspicious nature of his movements was stealthy as a mass of exploding firecrackers inside a tuba.
No effort made to hide it. He just wanted the message. Fingers shook so badly he miss-selected the message three times before settling on it. Writing was just black text on a white background, being a simple phone, but it had more weight than any amount of graphics could convey.
Everything went wonderfully. He’s at my home now. <3
Have another bottle ready for me next month. Your bonus will be on your next paycheck under the heading ‘History Department Research Fund’. Looking forward to a long collaboration.
It worked! This was great news!
Dion blinked. It worked. This was terrible news. That meant Dr. Gilbert was going to want more. He said as much. The cat was addicted and did not even know it, but did know the skunk was his dealer. A dealer at the mercy of the user, a strange case indeed.
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” Liz interjected. “What’s doing?”
“Uh…..” More half-truths. Great. Digging the hole deeper, but he was too deep now. One cannot dig straight up. “It was… Dr. Gilbert.”
“Oh? Good news?” She smiled. “Did you get that research position?”
“… yes.” He smiled back, not sure what else to do with his face. Not technically a lie. He was getting paid with research funds. He put his phone down, looking at a space on the wall. A maelstrom of thoughts in his mind, all focused on how he was going to manage this going forward. What would keep it concealed, whether he could explain it to Liz, how he could live with himself.
Unfortunately, he had the same look and mannerisms whenever he was stunned by great news. Liz pulled him into a hug. “Wonderful! Exactly what you’ve been looking for!” Squeeze.
“Er… it’s… um, with the history department, though.” He corrected.
“Oh… well, disappointing, but one step closer, right?” She asked, Dion nodded. “I mean, they use chemicals to analyze stuff, so you fit. It isn’t designing medications, but you’ll get there.”
“… guess so.” He managed a bigger smile. This should have been a wonderful feeling. He got the exact stepping stone he needed. Anyone would kill for an in like this and it showed up just because of his Izorian blood.
So why did he feel so terrible? Maybe he could just ignore the feeling? This was a good thing. Everything was going to be fine. Except it was not fine. His thoughts turned to that poor student. Head clouded over, already grappling with teenage hormones, now at the mercy of that predator. A silver tongue and enchanted form could convince him of wants he did not want.
He grappled with the thoughts for a few days. He was on the verge of telling Samantha he was done. That is, until he got his paycheck. It turned out the ‘History Department Research Fund’ was generous to the tune of an extra 5000 dollars. The materials cost a fifth that much. That kind of money was difficult to turn down. The kind of money that could affect one’s conscience.
He got to work making more perfume.