* Reviewing the Evidence
"Dr. Foley, our security team watching patron 113 sent us this footage fifteen minutes ago, what do you make of it?" Simon was at the board room table, having been woken up and called to this emergency meeting just minutes before. Cindy, their COO was across the table from him. Video images of his two board investors filled the far wall. The footage in question was running. He struggled to bring his groggy focus to bear on it.
In the first clip, patron 113, Chris Rothchild, held his passenger car door open while a woman entered the car. The image was low-quality and heavily zoomed, obviously taken from far away. The imagery was skewed yellow from the heavily artificial indoor lighting. It looked to be an indoor parking garage. As the woman crossed behind Chris, she appeared several inches taller, though her feet were not in plain view. It also appeared the full front of her blouse was open.
The clip cut to another scene. The same car, the same woman getting out. The shot was outdoors, with a multi-story building behind. It looked to be an alley or back entrance. Chris was holding the door open while she exited the car and quickly moved towards the door. The camera angle was less obstructed this time, and at the moment she walked past the man, the image froze. She was barefoot and visible head to toe this time. Her head an inch or two above the man in the footage, despite being mid-walking stride. She was obviously taller.
The still image of the woman walking close-by shrank and shifted to the side. Two face-shots appeared. One labeled 'Patron 113 - Chris Rothchild', the other labeled 'Suzanne Oliver'. A variety of personal details filled tables next to their photos. Highlighted in red lettering were their heights, the woman was listed as 5'7" while patron-113 was listed as 5'11". Finally, a diagram overlay was progressively added to the still image. It attempted to estimate her actual height by adjusting for the geometry her legs were in mid-stride. The geometry calculations yielded a result, approximately six-foot-four inches, which after a few more calculations, indicated a 13% height delta.
Simon was still a bit foggy from having been woken up. His first conclusion was that the elaborate quality of the video production and the timestamps indicating that all of this had happened less than an hour earlier demonstrated convincingly that this security detail was worth the ridiculously high pricetag he had balked at earlier. Then his thoughts turned to the imagry, vocalizing as he considered it, "I see. Our security team picked up footage of patron 113 and what they believe is the result of a sernasa event. Experimental evidence showed that patron-113's Rashja levels did not fall-off as expected, and this is in-fact the scenerio we were watching for," he saw the wry look on the board member's faces and corrected his language, "the scenerio we were concerned about. So they're fairly convinced the woman in the photo is this," Simon pauses as his eyes searched the screen for her name on the dossier image, "this Suzanne Oliver?"
Reed spoke up first. "Dr. Foley. We did not wake you in the middle of the night for your conjecture on the identity of the woman in the photo." Reed appeared to press something on a computer in front of him, and the screen shifted to a collection of photos of Patron-113 and the female subject. Many of of the shots offered quite clear views of their faces, and they were beyond any doubt the same people in the video footage. In a couple of the photos they appeared to be close and intimate enough that it seemed obvious the two were in some type of relationship. "This excellent security team your assistant set up has done a perfect job of making the facts clear. What we'd like to know, is what do we need to do about it? Or more to the point, is my investment at risk, and how are we going to mitigate that risk?"
Just as Simon was about to respond, he was interrupted by a husky low voice that seldom offered much in their board meetings. By far their largest investor, Gerard Lutont, seldom spoke, but when he did, everyone listened. He was a burley man with a beard. "It seems we all under-estimated this anomaly with patron-113." His words were paced slowly, lending them an unusual weight as his pause hung in the air. "However, we should not over-react. When we began this project, we felt that publicity was an inevitable eventuality. This may simply step up our timetable." Gerard opened a manilla folder in his lap. "I've reviewed his patient file, and his psych profile seems quite stable. On the footage, he seems to be taking steps to keep this situation private, sneaking this woman out of her office and into his home. Let us merely prepare for press-contact, watch and wait. Afterall, the island resort is quite... isolated."
During Gerard's commentary Reed had grown visibly agitated. He obviously wanted to interrupt, but something about Gerard's commanding voice and presence kept him at bay. Now that he was finished, Reed's pent up energy spilled out. He stood, his voice loud and unnerved. "Gerard. I have an incredible amount of money tied up in this investment. Simon, I want your team immediately focused on a scientific solution to this situation with patron-113. In the meantime, we should bring him back to the island immediately. There is no way we can sit and wait and leave this to chance. Dispatch a team..."
Gerard somehow interrupted without interrupting. He hadn't said a word when his subtle on-screen gesture cut Reed off mid-sentence. A moment later, after everyone had pause to prepare, he spoke. "Dispatch a team and what Mr. Kendrick? Kidnap the man? We are not a government. We do not possess an army. This is not a war. He is a free man. Perhaps in your ivory tower you beileve it reasonable to buy yourself out of trouble whatever the cost. I however, am a man of morals. We will not violate Mr. Rothchild's rights." Reed was again visibly agitated on the monitor. If part of him agreed with what was being said, he hid it well. Gerard on the other hand, was completely calm. He somehow settled even further back into his chair, his shoulders shrugging. "Waiting is exactly what we will do."
The discussion was far from over, and Simon could tell it would be a long night.
* House Arrest
Only a short time earlier, half way across the world, Chris Rothchild held the door for Suzanne as she stepped into his third floor apartment. She ducked under the seven-foot door frame, finding it uncomfortably close even though she was still a smidge more than six inches from hitting it.
After Chris finished locking the door behind him, he turned to see Suzanne striking what might have been an incredibly inviting pose under other circumstances. Her hands were on her hips; her blouse still open down the front; her skirt torn and skewed sideways, riding a little too low. Standing several inches taller than him, her presence was as commanding as it was sexy. His eyes couldn't help stare for a moment at the way her tits looked plump in a way they never had before, fighting to escape her now undersize bra. It was all the product of her recent sernasa. However, the sexiness turned to scorn when he met her eyes. "You mister, have some explaining to do."
Chris felt his soul sink, his body wilt. This is exactly what he had tried to avoid -- his secret unraveling. His trip to the resort was a private fantasy turned reality, and now it was losing containment. He'd thought this through and could see the expected outcome flash through his mind. He'd try to lie, try to keep her from over-reacting. It wouldn't work. Sernasa was almost too much to believe even in the confines of the resort, with visitors seeking it out. Here in the real world, with real people, it was beyond reason. She'd start to storm out. Then he'd have to decide whether or not use the Rashja to force her to stay. Either way he'd lose. She wasn't an anonymous fantasy puppet. She was a real person, in his real life. If he forced her to stay, she'd eventually hate him. If she left, she'd show up on the news, her own body a corroboration for the unbelievable story. He'd lose his job. He would never lead a normal life again.
No. He couldn't let it happen. His life, his sanity, was too important. He would save himself. His demeanor changed from sunken and resigned to almost combative, preparing to go to war to keep his life in tact. "Please," he gestured his hand to the couch. "Please sit down." Her eyes remained scorned. Chris remained standing. "You are not to leave this apartment, or let anyone see you, until you are back to normal. You are not to tell anyone this happened." He knew the Rashja would make her comply. He just hated doing it. It made him already feel distant. He looked at her not as a girl he had affection for, but as a danger to his life he had to control.
Suzanne's mood and expression shifted from scorn to animosity. She stood and walked towards Chris in a huff, mouthing off as she passed him. "You have no right to talk to me that way." Two more of her large strides and she was at the door. Her hand went to the handle and acted as if to pull it, only nothing happened. She fiddled with the locks, trying to unlock the handle, only nothing would budge. She couldn't even turn the simple deadbolt. She turned around towards Chris. "What the hell is going on?! You can't lock me in here!"
He knew this was coming. She would hate him for it, but he had to keep his life in tact. He had to keep her life in tact. "Suzanne, it's for your own good. Please, be calm, and sit back down." His hand gestured again for the couch. He could see her huff in angst, even as her breathing slowed and she calmly walked past him back to her seat. She eyed him with frustration the whole time. He was not sure where to start now that reality was slapping him in the face. "Just a moment," he called to her as he left towards his bedroom. He grabbed a t-shirt from his dresser, and a pair of boxer shorts.
A moment later Suzanne took the clothes from him. Her years as an exotic dancer left her completely desensitized to her own nakedness. So it took an offered outfor for her to realize her open blouse and tits on display might not be appropriate for where this conversation was going. As she pulled her damaged clothing free and slipped the t-shirt over her head, she wondered, where was this going?. She really liked Chris. A minute ago she had been quite angered, though she couldn't remember exactly why she had snapped at him. She set the boxers down on her lap. Even though her skirt was torn, it was still covering her just fine. "I just want to know what's going on Chris. What's going on?" She felt very calm now, and as her words broke she caught a scent in the air she hadn't noticed. She couldn't say why, but she knew it was coming from Chris.
Her calm, almost helpless, plea broke through to his core and the guilt surged out. The truth then. She deserved it. "It all started six months ago when I visited a ... retreat." He realized that even in offering the truth, he didn't need to explain everything. "They are working with some rediscovered ancient ritual herbs, and your ... situation ... is a result of that. You'll be back to normal sometime tomorrow. After that you can..." Chris hadn't even been sure how much he cared for Suzanne, but he felt a bit of sadness well up as he prepared to let her go. "After that you can leave and you'll never have to see me again. You can forget about this whole thing."
Suzanne was taken completely off guard by his words, she felt her face contort into surprise even before she knew how to respond. Where did that come from? She had no intention of never seeing him again. Even now she found herself occasionally eyeing between his pants, saddened that the bulge caused by her previous state of undress had died away. It made her regret putting the t-shirt on. "Look, I was a little ticked off at your language a minute ago, but I," she felt foreign emotions. Loss? Affection? "Are you breaking up with me?" She felt wetness curl from her eye, a tear. She hadn't cried for a boy. Ever. These were emotions she didn't think she had. A sad moment, mixed with that sweet smell. What is that scent?
"No no. I just. Suz. This wasn't supposed to stay with me. It was supposed to wear off. They told me it would wear off." Chris collapsed on the couch an arms length from her, his head between his hands. "I should never have let this happen to you. You're coworkers could have seen it. You could have lost your job, or worse." He looked over to her. Wow, she was beautiful. Her face was no longer scorned, but filled with a softness, a tenderness. Tenderness, and a bit of sexy desire. Truthfully it was always there, but he didn't always look for it. "I understand if you don't want to see me again." His head turned down again, staring at the boxers in her lap.
Suzanne could see the guilt heavy in his eyes and set a hand against his cheek. "Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. Literally for the next twenty four hours apparently," she waited for his chuckle. "Chris, really, I'm not a girl who gets attached to anything, and I find myself quite ... attached... to you." She still wasn't sure what that meant, but it certainly meant something. "I can see you feel guilty." She could no longer smell the scent, but instead felt it permeating her. She slid herself closer to him on the couch, reminding them both that she was somehow now several inches taller than him. "I admit this whole situation is pretty unbelievable, but it's not like you did this on purpose, did you?" He shook his head. "And I'm not in any danger am I?" He shook his head again. "Then please, it's okay."
This was not part of Chris' plan. He was going to compel her not to ruin their lives, and then put this all in the past. Her softness was drawing him in, breaking down the barrier he tried to put up. Feelings he didn't realize were there started to surface. His eyes were wet with sadness, and when he looked up, her face filled with sympathy. "Please Suzanne. You don't understand." His voice was stacatto, his words flowing with an urgent pace. He wouldn't let himself stop. It's as if he had to blurt out the truth while he had the nerve. "I don't want to lie, but you wouldn't accept the truth. Nobody would. At least not when the Rashja is gone. Trust me. This isn't even you. You probably think you want me right now, but that's just the Rashja. Just like at the resort. It's not real. It's all just some crazy stupid..." His breath died, and once it did, he couldn't start again.
Suzanne could see it in his eyes now. It wasn't guilt. It was shame. She thought of the shame her family tried to lay on her for making money as a dancer. The shame some patrons irionically tried to lay on her too. It was an emotion that she understood well, but was simultaneously dead to her. She didn't believe in shame. She believed in life. She wanted to share that with him, to free him. Yet even the thought brought that terrible emotion back to her. Why hadn't she told him? Was she still, after all these years, ashamed? Was her family right? No, her mind rang out in a shout. "Chris, we all have things we keep private. We have reasons. We share when we're ready." Was she ready to tell him? Was he ready to hear it? Maybe it was time?
Suzanne's thoughts shifted back to his admission. What was he hinting at? 'You probably think you want me right now,' boy was he right about that one. If she thought it would help, she'd already be on top of him. In fact, once she thought of it, she had a hard time getting it out of her head. But didn't she always want him? 'It's not real. Just like at the resort.' Suzanne wasn't a lawyer for no reason. The hints started to click together like cogs in her mind, forming a little machine that produced the truth.
"So you went on a trip, but not to just a hotel." Chris' head turned back down, shaking back and forth slowly, not as a denial but as an admission. "A place where they use herbs. Herbs that they say make women want you." Chris nodded his head. Suddenly this whole situation seemed simpler. She had spent quite a bit of time acting like she wanted men, all for an herb called money. "Chris, please, I understand, believe me I understand." Only his head was still hid down in guilt. Somehow she felt like it was time. As if her admission would wash away his shame. "I want you to know something about me. Before law. Before law school. I was a dancer, a stripper."
Chris felt like he was tied to the tracks, watching a speeding train prepare to mow him down. He had already said too much. She was putting together the facts. Just a few moments more and she would see it. She would see through him and want nothing to do with him. What was he thinking? He was mildly surprised at her admission. Not that he hadn't suspected as much, especially after meeting her friends. He was still surprised to hear her admit it. It was a nice gesture, trying to make him feel better, but it only made him feel worse. He couldn't reciprocate. He was shaking his head again when she continued. "So you went to a sex resort then? Is that what you're ashamed of?" An image flashed through his mind. Vanessa, raven black hair, fourteen feet tall, carrying him smashed up against a boob half as big as his body. She didn't understand, she couldn't understand.
He felt both her hands on his face now, as she pulled his eyes up to hers. "Chris. Look at me. I wanted something real, and I found you. Don't you see, this is another part of what's right about us. This doesn't even phase me. Paid sex. Body fetish. Orgy. I've seen it all. I left that life, but I understand it. Sex is fun. If you can't give it up, I understand. If you want, I'll join you. I'll even show them a thing or two." Her face had a sexy determination about it, and Chris couldn't help but let out a little laugh at her enthusiasm.
Suzanne knew she hadn't broken through. His small moment of levity wasn't enough. She racked her brain wondering what could be so bad. Her lawyer skills again coming to bear, she tried to walk in his footsteps. Imagined scenes of a sex resort came all to easily for her. Did he have a terrible STD? He said she wasn't in danger. Did he care for someone he met? Maybe he got someone pregnant? Maybe he had a child? She knew many girls who were knocked up and forgotten -- that was shameful. Admitting it was not.
She realized it was a bit hard to concentrate with Chris so near. Some part of her wanted to ravage him right here and now. Maybe the herbs were real, maybe they weren't pretending. She thought back to how she had to have him in her office. Why did she even do it? It did seem quite uncharacteristic for her, to lose control of her desires. To make him come into her at the last moment. But that feeling, it was incredible. Then Chris rushed her to the stairwell. Something clicked in her mind.
"Wait. You knew it was coming. Back at the office, you knew the growth was coming." She cocked her head in a gesture of curious surprise. As soon as she put the pieces together, it was already flowing out of her mouth in a stream of thought. "This sex resort isn't just about sex then, it's about this. What did you call it? This, sernasa?" In her years as an escort, she had seen all matter of fetish. She thought she had seen most everything, but she had to admit, this was a new one. "That's it? You think I won't want to see you because you like women to be taller than you?" If this was all he was ashamed of, he didn't know her at all. She began laughing.
The laughing was more than he could take. Chris stood. "Look, I'm just going to go. You can stay here until tomorrow and when you're back to normal, you can let yourself out." He turned towards the door, but Suzanne's hand grabbed his wrist. It was an impossibly firm grip, infused by the Rashja. He knew he couldn't break free. What was she doing? The laughing was embarrassment enough. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her.
"Chris. Please." Suzanne could see her mistake. She had laughed because of how unimportant and silly it all seemed, but her laughter had come off all wrong. She had to fix it. "I don't care. If that's all it is, I don't care. I want to be with you." She was glad he wasn't resisting her grip. "Is there something else? If so, I wish you would just tell me." His head shook, and he tenatively looked back at her.
She made to sure keep the most sincere expression she could as she repeated herself. "I don't care, Chris. I want you. Please stay." She gave his wrist the gentlest pull and he came towards her like a ragdoll. She was still seated, and moment later her arms were around his body in a hug, her face lying against his chest. She felt his hands wrap around her head and squeeze. She just held on and let the sadness lift. They both did.