Emmanuel's Seed

"Was I bad?" Blonde Girl asked, "You are hurting me!"

"No, Sweetie," Dancer answered, "I just love to see you in agony. The more you hurt, the happier it makes me."

"I don't understand," Blond Girl said.

"You don't have to understand, dear," Bonnie said, "You just have to suffer. I will hurt you more and more until I feel totally satisfied."

"But do you love me?" the girl asked. Dancer turned the girl over and began running the pin wheel all over Blond Girl's front, pressing harder and harder, until the girl began crying out.

"Of course I love you," Bonnie finally replied, "Otherwise, why would I waste so much time hurting you?" When she was satisfied, Bonnie took the handcuffs off Blonde Girl; they took an afternoon nap, wrapped in each other's arms.

After dinner, Laura and her motor home left. Karen sat in the main room and went over her research data. She fixed herself a rum and Coke and worked for a few hours. She was thinking about Kevin and how he strange he seemed at the compound compared with the way he was when they met for dinner in Austin. She couldn't decide if it was just him being moody or if there was something that spooked him about the compound. She was also thinking about Emmanuel and how pleasant he was earlier that day. She walked into the girl's dormitory area and found its emptiness eerie. She walked outside and looked at the badminton and volleyball courts, and pool area. Everything was quiet and empty.

When she returned to the main room, Chuck walked through and asked Karen if she wanted a sandwich, as he was going to fix one for himself. She thanked him but declined. She fixed herself another – much stronger – rum and Coke and chugged it down. She decided to see if Emmanuel was still awake, and walked down the hall toward his quarters and stood in front of the large security doors to his room. Chuck had fixed his sandwich and asked Karen if she wanted him to check whether Emmanuel was still awake. Chuck excused himself and went into Emmanuel's room and returned a moment later. "He's reading in bed," Chuck told her.

"Oh, okay," Karen said, "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Up to you," Chuck responded, "He said that you were welcome to come in if you wanted, Dr. Kraft."

"Well, okay, maybe for just a minute," she said. Chuck opened the door and closed it again behind Karen.

"Hello there," Emmanuel said, in a warm and friendly voice. "Can't sleep?"

"I had some work to catch up on and so I was..."

"Have a seat, Karen," Emmanuel said, pointing to the table and chair set on the other side of his bedroom. "Chuck said you wanted to talk to me. What's up?"

"I thought we were only going to discuss business during the day," Karen answered, flirtatiously.

"Then am I to presume that this is a social call?"

"I guess," Karen said nervously. "What happened to your eucalyptus oil lamps?"

"Dr. Dancer left instructions for them to be removed at midnight."

"Oh." Karen replied, standing up and deciding she would talk to Emmanuel another time.

"Don't go, Karen," Emmanuel said, putting the bookmark in his book and placing it on his end table. Karen couldn't decide whether she should sit back down or not. She stood there for a minute, looking at Emmanuel, fascinated by the inconsistencies between what she had read about him and what she saw with her own eyes.

Emmanuel threw back the bed covers and approached Karen. He turned her face up to look at him. Involuntarily, her mouth opened slightly and she began to smile. He gently kissed her lips and stroked her hair.

"You came to make love with me, didn't you?" he asked, clearly intending his question to be rhetorical.

"No, not really, well, I don't know." Karen stammered, feeling embarrassed that she could not control her inarticulation. "You are such a mystery to me. You know, the contradictions."

"I get a lot of bad press," he smiled. Without another word, he took her hand in his and pulled her to his bed. As he began to remove Karen's clothes, she ran the palms of her hands over his smooth, naked form. When she was naked, Emmanuel lowered himself onto the bed and asked Karen to put herself on top of him, which she did. She straddled his muscular body and could feel him getting harder and harder underneath her. Emmanuel grasped her buttocks and lifted her up and onto his face. As his tongue played with her labia and clitoris, she began grinding herself into his face. He reached for her arms and, grabbing them by the elbows, pinned them high on the headboard behind him. Karen's movements became less and less volitional, less and less controlled, until she was wildly riding Emmanuel's face. Suddenly, just before she was about to climax, his hands left her elbows and returned to her buttocks. His strong arms lifted her into the air, setting her anus down on his enormous erection. Karen winced as he pushed her all the way down, but she was rapidly approaching the moment of release at that point. When Emmanuel was ready to climax, he lifted Karen off of him for a moment. Then he placed her vagina over his erection, holding her over him for a second or two, enjoying the wildness in her eyes. As he lowered her back onto himself, she lost all control and fucked him with total abandon.

When they both had finished, he reached for a cigarette and stopped himself from offering her one. "Oh that's right," he laughed, "People get a spit-shower when you smoke." Karen laughed and felt unbelievably happy. After half an hour of conversation, she slipped into Emmanuel's bathroom and fixed her hair, put on her clothes and gave two taps on the door, signaling Chuck to let her out.

"Good night, Dr. Kraft," Chuck said politely, "Sleep well."

"Oh, I will, Chuck; I will. Thanks."

Blonde Girl wouldn't let go of Bonnie the following morning. When Dancer woke up, the girl's arms were encircling Dancer's midsection as though the woman were a life raft in an angry sea, her pretty face buried in the her ribcage, her legs scrunched up and entwined with Bonnie's.

"Mommy don't go," the sleeping girl mumbled every time Dancer would try to move, even the slightest bit. Dancer finally stretched out far enough to reach her pack of cigarettes and her lighter. The smell of the tobacco smoke started to bring the girl back to consciousness, but her eyes didn't open. She released her grip on Dancer and rolled herself into a tiny ball at the bottom of the bed sheets.

"I'll let you sleep some more, Sweetie," Bonnie allowed, "You have a big day ahead of you. Dance padded into the bathroom, depilitated her arms and legs, showered and washed her hair. Then she quietly left the room and made herself a large mug of hot tea, made with 100% milk, no water. As she sipped from the steaming mug, her cell phone rang.

"Dancer!" she snapped, which was her customary way of answering the phone.

"Oh, good morning, Dr. Dancer," the gruff voice announced, "This is The Colonel."

Sweetening slightly, Dancer provided, "Good morning, Colonel; what can I do for you?"

"Some brass from D.C. are coming over to your shop this afternoon. Not exactly an inspection, but they want to take a look at the facility out there."

"No problem!" Dancer replied, "Always ready to receive important guests."

"This delegation just needs to look at the place, maybe some sort of dog and pony show about all the progress y'all are making out there, just a heads-up to look sharp, okay?"

"Yes, that's great!" Dancer lied, "When should we expect this 'delegation' to arrive?" she asked.

"Hell if I know; schedule says 1500 hrs so that's what time it will be no matter when they show up!" He hung up the phone.

Dancer called Gabe, who lived in a staff dormitory separate from the main building. "Gabe!" Dancer barked, "We got a bunch of white gloves coming this afternoon, maybe around three; get a straightjacket from supply, a full-belt-shackle-and- chain restraint system, and bring them here. Tell your team to wear uniforms, shiny shoes, you know, and have those 'nurses' of yours get off their fucking knees and look busy, okay?"

"No problem, Dr. Dancer," Gabe said, although the line had already gone dead.

Mug still in hand, Dancer walked down the hallway to Emmanuel's quarters. Dave, Chuck's counterpart during the late shift, was sleeping, slouched over on his folding chair. Dancer kicked one of his legs out from under him, and he fell onto the floor. "Wake up, you idiot!" Dancer growled, "Brass at 1500."

"Yes sir, ma'am, Doctor, okay," the groggy guard responded.

"When's the last time you checked on Emmanuel? Where's your clipboard?"

"I think I might have left it in the kitchen; you know I got hungry and ..."

"Open the door."

"I think he might still be sleeping; we, I mean he likes to sleep in in the mornings a lot..."

"Open the fucking door!" Dancer barked. Without a word, the guard did as he was told.

"Rise and shine, Emmanuel." Dancer snapped as she strode into his bedroom. "We are going to have visitors this afternoon and we have to tighten this place down so it doesn't look so much like a fucking resort."

"Good morning, Dr. Dancer," Emmanuel offered, looking around for his wristwatch. "It IS morning, isn't it?"

"We're going to have to make this back into a prison for an afternoon," Dancer calmed down a bit. "You know, straightjacket, shackles and chains."

"Do I get to ride around on a hand-cart wearing a plastic goalie mask like Anthony Hopkins in ..."

"This isn't funny, Emmanuel. If they don't like what they see, they will pull the plug on this whole deal and I will be back riding a desk in Atlanta; you will be in the general prison population someplace." Dancer replied.

" 'Well, Clarice, have the lambs stopped screaming?' ''

"Okay, fine. You treat this as a joke all you want!"

"Oh for Crissakes, Dr. Dancer," Emmanuel apologized, "Give me a break, I just woke up. You woke me up while I was dreaming of one of your little friends. Sure, I'll do whatever you want me to do this afternoon."

"Which friends?" Bonnie softened.

"Well, not that tit-less retard blonde you had strapped to my table out there."

"Then who?"

"Whom."

"Don't fuck with me, Emmanueal..."

"Wouldn't think of it," Emmanuel yawned, rubbing his eyes. "That Dr. Kraft girl. She's a hot one."

"Keep away from her, Emmanuel; we need her for The Project. Don't touch her!"

"Ummm, too late for that, Dr. Dancer," Emmanuel giggled, pulling the sheet up to his face so only his dancing eyes peeked out, shifting back and forth cartoonishly.

"What do you mean?" Dancer's dread stopped her short. She didn't like it when things happened at her compound without her knowledge and she feared the worst from Emmanuel, particularly when left to his own devices.

"She visited me last night," Emmanuel said, in his creepiest little-boy voice.

"Oh my God! You didn't..."

"Fuck her? Hell, yeah!"

"No, KILL her!?"

"Now, why would I do that?" Emmanuel said innocently, tossing the bed sheets away to display his erection.

"You fucked Karen Kraft?"

"Mmmm, well, no, not precisely. Actually she fucked me. It all came out the same ... in the end, so to speak," Emmanuel smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

"Where is she now?" Dancer asked, worry on her face.

"How should I know. I don't even know where I AM now."

Dancer stormed from the room and went to the guest quarters, barging into Karen Kraft's bedroom. When she saw that Karen was sleeping comfortably, she gently woke her and told her of the upcoming afternoon events. She didn't mention the girl's having had sex with Emmanuel; she didn't know how much Emmanuel might have told Karen about her own interactions with him. In any event, she was growing tired of being Team Mom, and she didn't invite Karen Kraft to the compound in the first place; Kevin did and he wasn't there to play den mother.

10- The cars and vans of the motorcade could not yet be seen, but seeing the comet's tale of dust they made speeding along the dirt roads was unmistakable. The military types were in Hummers, while the corporate types were in black sedans and SUVs.

The housekeeping crew had changed all the linens, baked fresh pastries, brewed coffee, and had made the main building smell slightly of sage and sandalwood with a slight hint of eucalyptus. Emmanuel was dressed in an orange one-piece jumpsuit and was strapped into a glorified wheelchair, his hands and feet shackled to the chair. "How long are these assholes going to be here?" he said, trying not to whine, but it was evident that he was not accustomed to the appurtenances and apparatus' of criminal opera.

"Just relax, Emmanuel, they will get bored after their little tour," Dancer assured the man. "And for crissakes don't talk to them!"

"What if I have to scratch my nose," he smiled, then looking over at Karen, "Or jerk off or something while they are here?"

"I'll scratch your nose for you," Karen smiled, turning her face toward Emmanuel and poking one of her cheeks out with her tongue while her hand pantomimed the moves of a blowjob... but only so Emmanuel could see what she was doing.

"So, where's your little bitch, Bonnie?" Emmanuel asked.

"You mean Blond Girl?" Dancer asked, rhetorically.

"Whatever. And what kind of a fucking name is that, anyway? So where is she?"

"I think the name is very descriptive. Her mother must have had a wonderful imagination," Karen announced, irritating the already-edgy Dancer.

"She's in Dr. Dancer's quarters, Mr. Emmanuel," Chuck said, feeling uncomfortable in his starched dress uniform.

"I want to torture her tonight," Emmanuel said, partially suppressing a lazy yawn, "Can I do her after your guests leave?"

"That's why I ordered the eucalyptus oil lamps out of your room," Dancer replied softly, "But one thing at a time, okay? Let's get through this inspection thing first."

"You take such good care of me, Dr. Dancer," Emmanuel cooed, revoltingly.

"Fuck you," Dancer replied, clearly annoyed by Emmanuel's patronization.

"Maybe later..." Emmanuel quipped. Nobody laughed.

After the introductions, the visiting party was divided into several groups. Each group got to tour the entire facility at one point or another, but first, some inspected the security arrangements, some went over the logs, books, and records Dancer had been required to keep, while others just stood around with no apparent purpose, eating the free food.

Gabe played host to each group that toured the Green Room stage area. When the guests saw the table in the middle, he explained that it was used "for harvesting Emmanuel's blood," intentionally leaving the impression that Emmanuel was the one strapped onto the device. Twice, people noticed the cameras and asked if there were any videotapes to review. Gabe told the military types that the pictures belonged to Fitzer-Rheem Pharmaceuticals and had been transferred to their corporate office for review; he told the corporate types that the videotapes were 'classified' and needed to be 'cleared' by the military before anyone could see them. In truth, there were only two significant tapes, one Dancer had in her quarters and the other he used for his own masturbatory purposes, when Rachel and Rebecca were away.

The Fitzer-Rheem people wanted their pictures taken with Emmanuel in front of the main building. Gabe said that one of the terms of The Project required Emmanuel to be hooded, as well as restrained, any time he went outside the perimeter of the compound, and technically, the parking area was outside the compound, notwithstanding the fact that there was a secondary guard station and fence around the entire Groom Lake area. Karen left the group to take a call she received on her cell phone.

"That's no fun," one of the Fitzer-Rheem interns complained, "How will my friends know who the orange guy in the picture was?"

"You'll tell them," Gabe responded, ordering Chuck to take Emmanuel back to his quarters to get hooded and have additional restraints put on.

"Yes, sir!" Chuck said, almost tempted to salute, but thinking better of it.

The military entourage wasn't interested in the photo opportunity and left before it began. After their dust had settled, everybody was assembled outside the main building, leaving a space in the center for Emmanuel. Since there were no official photographers, just a handful of personal cameras, Rachel and Rebecca volunteered to take pictures for everyone, using the visitors' cameras. Each girl had six or seven cameras slung around her neck. Once the pictures were taken and the confusion as to whom each camera had belonged, Chuck wheeled Emmanuel back toward his quarters. When they reached Emmanuel's door, they found Karen Kraft nervously milling about.

"Hi, Chuck!" Karen chirped, uncharacteristically enthusiastic in her greeting.

"Dr. Kraft," Chuck acknowledged.

"Let me take it from here; I need to speak with Emmanuel privately."

"Are you sure it's okay?" Chuck pondered, "I'll have to put it in the log."

"Sure, that's fine. I have Dr. Dancer's permission, you know, for my work."

Chuck hesitated a moment, then, "Alright, I have to take a piss anyway. I'm going to have to lock both of you in the room, you know; he can't be left unguarded, but in just a few minutes I'll be back on my folding char outside the door, in case you need anything." With that, Chuck handed his restraint-key ring to Karen and locked them both in Emmanuel's bedroom.

Karen began unlocking the various components of Emmanuel's restraints.

"The hood key is over there, on the table by the chairs," a muffled voice said from beneath the locked orange hood. "And hurry up; I can't freaking breathe in here."

Taking one of the keys, she unlocked the hood and snapped it off KEVIN's head.

11- Bonnie Dancer sat by the swimming pool, her diet Pepsi and magazines by her side. She was exhausted from the stress of the days events, but relieved that the preliminary comments of the visitors indicated that both the government people and the pharmaceutical people were more than satisfied that they were getting their money's worth. She dozed off in the brilliant desert sun.

She woke with a start when Gabe tapped her on the shoulder. "Dr. Dancer? It's me, Gabriel." Dancer took the sunhat off her face and stared blankly at him.

"What is it, Gabe?"

"We just got word that Chuck's mother died suddenly. Dave is going to have to take Chuck to the airport. Chuck was the woman's only son, and ..."

"So?" Dancer replied, still a bit groggy from her nap. "You're in charge of security, you go take care of it!"

"I understand that, ma'am, but he needs his project-discharge countersigned by you, the Commanding Officer. I signed as his immediate supervisor, but you need to sign as well. You know, military red tape."

Dancer signed where Gabe indicated and waived the man away, and resumed her nap.

Epilogue

"I never thought I would love pigs so much," said Karen, looking at 10,000 pigs milling about in an enormous feed lot and rubbing her pregnant tummy.

"You have to be careful not to go in there alone, Karen," Emmanuel said, giving his new wife a peck on the cheek, "Pigs can be very vicious creatures."

"But not when they are happy, right?" Karen replied with a loving smile.

"When Kevin Stature gets out of jail, we really ought to invite him to come and visit for a month or so."

"Yeah, I guess we kind of owe him," Karen replied, pensively, "When he got that phone call and left the compound so suddenly, I knew something was up."

"I got a letter from him yesterday telling me that his practice was suspended a year by the Texas and California State Bar Associations; at least he wasn't disbarred. Nevada had no issue with what he had done, so there was only the Federal beef he had to deal with and he reached a plea bargain with the Feds that, in exchange for his guilty plea to a lesser charge and his agreement not to reveal what he knew about The Colonel's private deal with Dancer and Vade to black market the vaccine, they reduced his sentence to one year. He said that they fired Dancer after they read the confession Gabe had her sign to cover his own ass, but as far as he knew Laura Vade was still on top of her game."