I saw her leave his room again the next morning. Again she carried an empty tray, but this time she wore a baggy tshirt and flannel pajama pants, feeling, perhaps, a bit too ogled lately.
“Oh,” she said as I approached the study. “I think I left my panties in there, could you grab them?” She stuck her tongue out at me and headed for the stairs.
I apologized, and though she didn’t seem interested in mending any wounds at first, our work was largely on autopilot until the organics matured. Which gave us a lot of free time throughout that week. We went our own ways, reading or exercising in different wings of the house, but she also came to me occasionally, bored, begging to play cards or twenty questions or never have I ever.
“Never have I ever given head in a public restroom,” I said, and Madison rolled her eyes, lowered a finger, and told me to watch my mouth.
We took a paddle boat out one morning, her in the yellow-checkered bikini, the sun warming her thighs as she paddled. We played tennis on the professor’s private court. We rode bicycles down the first floor corridor. And eventually Madison removed the towels from her mirror.
I still saw her leave the professor’s bedroom each morning with an empty coffee tray. Rising at such an early hour, tasked with such remedial labor, she seemed less and less concerned with hiding her nighttime attire. As she left his room one morning, closing the door behind her, I saw that her t-shirt was mistakenly tucked into the back of her white cotton panties, which were indeed mostly transparent.
“I see London, I see France,” I whispered as she passed, and she sleepily jerked the t-shirt from her underwear.
It was that morning that the professor asked me to make a few changes to the DNA.
“Nothing major, just a few tweaks that need to be done before the organics mature,” he said. “Always part of the plan.”
I input the changes, with only a few days until completion.
Late that night – after midnight, at least – I was woken by the phone ringing. I sat up to glance through the mirror, and in the faint moonlight I saw Madison in her bed, propped up on her elbows holding the receiver to her ear. She stayed that way for a long time, her hair hanging over her bare shoulders. then she rolled onto her back. The receiver still in one hand, I thought I saw the other moving rhythmically beneath her sheet.
***
I didn’t see her leaving the professor’s bedroom in the morning, though he had coffee when I met him at his desk.
“Todays the day?” he asked
“Fingers crossed,” I said.
***
Madison had her own cup of coffee when I found her in the lab, running diagnostics on the hibernation bath. She smiled sleepily at me.
“Long night?” I asked
“Up late running last minute numbers in my head,” she said.
“I thought about popping over last,” I said, glancing at Madison for a reaction. “I thought I heard you up late.”
She ignored me, too focused on copying data onto a clipboard.
“You almost ready?” she asked.
We went about the lab doing final checks on the critical systems. We test-ran the oxygenators and pumped coolant water from the sound. We slipped last minute nutrients into the distribution channels, flushed and rehydrated the sustainability tubes. Then we switched on the auxiliary power and backup diesel generators.
The equipment whirred, light bounced along the cathodes.
“Is this right?” Madison shouted above the noise.
I didn’t know.
A fire broke out near a water heater, triggering the automatic sprinklers, then a power surge pitched the entire lab into blackness and a sudden silence.
“Charlie,” Madison said softly somewhere in the dark.
I felt my way across the room toward the circuit breakers, pushing the wet hair from my face as the sprinklers rained down.
“Charlie,” Madison called again, a bit more urgently.
I found the box, and flipping the breakers one by one, light returned to the lab one fixture at a time. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Madison’s backlit silhouette, shapely and demure, rise slowly into the air. Flipping the final breaker, the light fully restored, I saw Madison held aloft by a naked, barrel-chested man with long, blonde hair. His enormous arms rested just beneath her bottom, her back was pressed against a bronze cistern, and her clothes were soaked through from the sprinklers.
“This is the professor?” she asked through a shocked, breathless grin.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/10p6vkv/forever_hung_part_4_scifi_slow_burn_all