"That's right, I'll be out of the office for 48 hours. Please courier over a laptop and the Pikens brief. Thanks. No, no. It's nothing, just a 48 hour flu. Yes, Judy. Thanks." Suzanne set down the phone, and sank back into the couch. Chris was out on a grocery run. If she was going to be held up in his apartment for a day or two, she's suggested they might need more than his typical over-supply of Pink Ice Vodka and assorted snacks. 

Looking around, the feeling of being trusted there alone warred with her curious desire to peek and pry at everything. Curiosity won. As she stood up, however, she was caught off-guard by the dramatic sound of her skirt ripping. "Oops," she exclaimed to herself. The fabric floated to the floor, the previously small tear elongated enough to split the item in two. She didn't even feel the strain, and had forgotten how careful she was being to avoid tearing it earlier. 

She felt momentary excitement at an actual excuse to rummage through Chris' clothes until she remembered the boxers he had brought her. She snatched them up off the couch and slipped them on, finding them snug around her hips in a way she hadn't expected, with pleats bunching above and below. They looked positively silly. "Maybe these don't fit after all," she reasoned out-loud. She made her way to Chris' bedroom closet. Certainly he would have some exercize shorts, or sweats that would fit better than this. 

What happened next caught her so off guard it seemed to occur in slow-motion. She reached her hand for the closet door knob, and as she pulled, she heard an uneasy cracking sound as the door came towards her at a very odd angle. Her mouth simultaneously came open in surprise as she saw the upper door hinge tear away from the wall at an odd angle, the screws slightly exposed. She stopped opening the door, but in her surprise she had squeezed down hard on the handle, and somehow it felt soft in her hand. "What the hell!" She released her grip and put her hands up, afraid to continue the damage she had obviously done to the door. 

With a little crunch, the door settled at a funny angle, hanging from both hinges despite them being half torn out of the frame. Suzanne stood looking at the door in disbelief. The door handle itself was also sitting at an odd angle, having torn into the wood. The near side of the handle was smushed, like someone had squeezed it into a strangely shaped vice. Had she done that? After a minute or two, curiosity got the better of her. She reached out for the handle and squeezed, a little at first, then harder, until she could feel and see the metal handle deform in her hand. She yanked her hand away with surprise. "What the!"

She carefully, daintily stepped back and gingerly set herself on the bed. The gears of her mind turned over today's strange events and her view of the twisted door, unable to put together any reasonable explanation for what was going on. She also now felt a tinge of guilt at having mangled her boyfriend's closet door, even though she was pretty sure this was more his fault than hers. She sat, puzzling and staring at the mangled door. 

--

Chris propped the bags between himself and the door as he turned the key in the lock, almost sending them tumbling when the door opened. "Suz?" Locks clicked closed behind him as he headed towards the kitchen. He noticed Suzanne's skirt resting on the couch, obviously without her in it. "Suzanne?" 

OJ, Milk, and a few other essentials went into the fridge, along with a salmon steak and some greens for the dinner he planned to cook tonight. He knew the Rashja infusion eventually replaced an appetite for normal food, but he wasn't sure how quickly that transition occurred. The salmon steak was big enough for both of them. By the time he finished putting the dry groceries away, he still hadn't heard a peep from Suzanne. 

For a moment he worried she might have left, cringing at the thought that he would be the cause of an Amazon walking around in the real world. His mind conjured an image of Suzanne towering next to a traffic light. However, his mind was indulging more than predicting. She was only about six-foot-three, maybe six-foot-four. Tall for certain, but not abnormal, and certainly not traffic stopping. Unless someone recognized her, she'd merely be taken for a female athlete. Plus, he had willed her not to leave the apartment.

Chris concluded she must still be in the apartment. He didn't hear the shower running. She was probably napping. He set the empty grocery bags in his neat stash under the sink, and headed for the bedroom. 

Suzanne was still sitting on the bed speechless. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since she half pulled his closet door off the hinges, but now she felt the seconds tick by. She smelled his scent the moment he opened the apartment door, possibly sooner. Part of her wanted to run to him and take him the instant she knew he was near. The other part was worried. If she could accidentally crush a metal door handle, what would she do to Chris? She forced herself to stay put. It was tough enough before he strolled into the room. Now it seemed impossible.

"Ohh hey Suz, there you are." She held out her hand for him to stop, not able to find the words to explain. Chris looked around the room and quickly noticed the damaged closet door. It only took a few moments to add it up and realize what had happened. "Whoops. I guess I forgot to mention that." Chris thought of his resort orientation and realized the women probably received a full explanation of the entire process. That would explain why none of them ever seemed surprised about the fantastical effects of the sernasa. He wondered how much more he should tell her. 

Her face flashed a challenging smirk. "Yeah. I think you forgot to mention a few things." Like how I can smell you from the other room. "I guess you're not upset at the accidental redecorating then?" 

Chris shook his head and laughed. "No no. That one's my fault. At the resort they have a little trick to make this easier. Suzanne, I will you not to accidentally damage or destroy any more stuff around the house." Even when wearing mis-fitting boxers and a t-shirt, she somehow looked sexy. He took another step, and her hand went up immediately to object, her whole frame bracing against his approach. As if he was going to hurt her. But he wouldn't. Ohh no, she thought she would hurt him. "Suz, don't worry. You won't hurt me. The Rashja won't let you. Ohh, and I will you not to hurt anyone else either. It's okay, please relax." 

As soon as he spoke the words, she felt herself calm, her guard lifting. Which was a good thing, because his scent was getting to her. When he finally stepped in close, she tucked against and sniffed deeply at the base of his neck. She didn't know if her desire for him was real, or fueled by the scent and this mystical 'herb' from the resort. She also didn't care. She knew she possessed the talent to make men weak with desire. What she didn't know was that the Rashja now possessed it too. It wanted him, and it wanted him now.

"You know Christopher, there are a few things *I* may have forgotten to mention too." She took his head in her hands, slowly bringing their lips together. Gently at first. Not a kiss, just the hint of a kiss. Then her teeth, just a little against his skin. She kept it slow, drawing it out, nibbling at him, coaxing him into it... or rather acting as if he needed coaxing. She could feel him trying, trying to progress. She held his urges at bay, gently sucking his bottom lip, then finally, she devoured him. Thrusting her tongue into his mouth in a fiercely unexpected move, dancing it around before retreating and cutting him off just when he wanted it most. 

Even as Chris felt lips tear away, her embrace held him firmly. Her legs straddled around him, and he was all too aware of his budding erection pressing into her crotch as she spoke again. "For example, I've been holding back. Alot." She seductively arched, seemingly making an effort to rub every inch of her tits against his chest. When their eyes connected again, it was only for a moment before his attention fell on her lips, silently mouthing the word once more, "alot." 

She abruptly pulled in close, hands slipping up the back of his shirt, head alongside his, treating him to the passionate sound of her breath before she whispered. "Most men can't handle me. One time in bed, and I own them." Her hands were moving softly against his back, caressing to fill the pauses in her seduction. "Then I'm done with them, and they just won't leave me alone." Her face backed into his view, her eyes piercing through him, "but you, you're different. I really like you Chris. I want to own you." His mind held the phrase, shocked, excited, frightened. "Help me with this?" She held her hands playfully over her head, and as quickly as her dark confidence showed itself, it seemed to melt away. 

Chris had the shirt halfway off her before he even thought to do it. Her perfect naked breasts revealing into view pushed his body further into undeniable reaction. Then his conscience caught him. Wasn't this what he was trying to avoid? It had only been a few hours since she jumped him in her office, getting them into this mess. He had to smuggle her out just to avoid her being seen. He brought her here to hide the Rashja from the world, not flaunt it. Not half an hour later, she was already angling for more. 

Chris, on the other hand, was conflicted. The part of him throbbing and pressed up against her was ready to re-live his resort fantasy right here, right now, yet he felt responsibility holding him back. A responsibility to contain this; a responsibility to contain the Rashja; a responsibility to contain whatever part of his private desire was still private. "Suz. I don't think we should. You're already stuck here until this wears off. Let's not make it worse." The excuse felt as bad as it sounded.

Suzanne was undeterred, as she set her arms on his shoulders. The drama in her mock-pouty expression showed she had no intention of stopping her advances. "Poor Chris. Your ex-stripper girlfriend wants to fuck your brains out. I think I can hear the violins playing." She desperately wanted to take action, to get him inside her, but something was stopping her. When she thought to move, her limbs were heavy, sluggish. She felt drunk, herself but not herself, as she struggled to pull close to him again. Was she not willing to defy him? Did she care that much? 

Suzanne might not have been consciously aware of what was stopping her, but the Rashja knew. It also knew what it wanted, and it was going to do everything it could to get it. "You don't want this to wear off." Her voice was raspy, just above a whisper in his ear. "Don't you see? I don't have to hold back anymore and you don't either. You can tell me about this little fetish of yours. Or I can make it up as I go along. I'm very good at satisfying male desires. You want to give me more." 

The trouble is, she was right. Chris did want to give her more. He'd been wanting this all along, avoiding it, yet wanting it. He thought of how sexy she looked after the sernasa, looking down at him from a few inches above. He couldn't stop himself from imagining her taller still, as if it had happened, towering over him in the stairwell. Chris felt his resolve getting weaker, her offer more tempting by the moment. 

Her cheek was against his, her arms draped over his shoulder. "I want you so badly right now, Chris." He recalled his conjured image of her standing next to a stoplight, letting it excite him. He could let it happen right now. What was stopping him? His hands held her, and beyond his better judgement were working themselves upwards, hungry to to feel her. His hands caressed the curve of her breast, and he felt her heavy exhale against his skin. "Uhhh, yes. Tell me you want me." 

She ran her hands into his hair and gently squeezed their heads together. There was a bit of whine in her voice now. "Say it Chris. Tell me you want me." Her whole body was aching and moving now. She felt his hands move to the front of her breasts, fingers flicking the nipples as they passed. She wanted him so badly, she was going to crawl out of her skin. She pressed and slowly dragged her tongue near his ear. "Say it." 

Chris knew what he was doing, or at least some part of him did. The only thing holding her at bay was the Rashja. His will. The sernasa had already made her strong enough to crush metal with her bare hands. There is no way he could physically stop her, yet he knew she wouldn't defy him. At the moment, however, he couldn't remember why he was resisting. What man would turn down his own personal sex goddess? In his own home? 

He leaned away to face her. "You have to keep this a secret." She nodded as he continued, "this whole thing. The Rashja, the sernasa, you can't show anyone. You can't tell anyone." She nodded again. Not really in response, but in expectation of him saying the words that would free her. The words that would get her what she wanted. 

Just as he looked to be about to set her free, the doorbell rang, startling them both. She let out a frustrated groan and responded to the startled look on his face, "It's the courier. He's dropping off my laptop."