Charlotte swallowed more of the intoxicating milk, and as more tears fell, she pressed her nose deep into the gusset of her red panties and deeply drew in the musky odor of Thomas’s gummy semen.
***
Peter hadn’t slept for two nights–understandable given the immense stress he was under–but he couldn’t help wondering if that wasn’t one of the side-effects of the chemicals that Mosley had been injecting into him. What if every horrific detail that Mosley had sadistically outlined to him was real? He looked into the mirror and was shocked at what he saw. His eyes were dark and sunken and his skin, clammy and pale. He held out his hands and noticed they were shaking. He felt weak, but then he hadn’t eaten–he was afraid of what they might be adding to his food.
Why hadn’t anybody come to see him? When were they going to charge him? Where the hell was Mosley? Was he just keeping Peter out of the way so that he could work on Charlotte? He tried not to torture himself by imagining what might be happening back at Mosley’s house. Was Charlotte still staying with him? The images of her naked photo shoot remained firmly embedded in Peter’s mind. He wanted to shake them, but he couldn’t. Even worse, he kept picturing Mosley circling his wife, photographing and videoing her, studying every detail of her nude body!
And then there was Charlotte’s sexy smile. That was what troubled Peter the most. But he had to keep reminding himself that she had been posing for those pictures under duress–so by extension, her smile had to be fake. Mosley had forced her to smile to make Peter think that she was willingly cheating on him. This was Mosley’s mind game, to break down their mutual trust. Well that wasn’t going to work as far as Peter was concerned–but what insidious little lies was Mosley telling Charlotte? How was he attempting to break her down?
Peter unzipped his fly and pointed his dick at the toilet bowl. Nothing immediately happened. He caught himself studying his limp manhood, which looked like a pathetic white slug between his fingers. Back in college Peter had once measured himself at over seven inches, fully erect. Mosley had taunted him about chemical castration and penis shrinkage–what if that was true?
Peter had always been proud of his masculinity. Beautiful women had always chased after him and dating had been effortless. As a result, he had always been socially confident and comfortable within himself, never questioning his sexual magnetism, accepting it as his natural birthright. But what if his balls really were to dissolve the way Mosley had described it? What if his cock did shrink to the size of a pea? What a crushing effect that would have on his self-confidence! And if the unthinkable really did happen, how would Charlotte react? Their passionate sex life would be over–would that spell the beginning of the end of their marriage?
Charlotte had sexual needs like any young woman. If Peter was no longer able to satisfy her, no matter how much she loved him, surely she would eventually seek male attention elsewhere. Peter had always regarded himself as an alpha male, comfortably up there in the top one percent, but minus his sex organs he would no longer be a man of any description. Even a sad and lonely freak like Mosley would be a more viable proposition to a healthy young woman. Peter would plummet from being one of the best options in the mating game to not being a part of it at all!
The very thought of that chilled him to the bone–surely it would be better to be dead. He slipped his fingers inside his shorts and cupped his balls. Everything felt normal–for now at least. He took several deep breaths and ran his hands through his hair. He had to stay calm and keep his wits about him. He was ten times the man Mosley was–even with the apparent threat of this toxic drug. No more despairing thoughts of suicide. Faith was the key. He had to trust Charlotte.
A weak dribble of yellow urine finally escaped from his urethra and he looked down at his hands–there were several strands of his hair stuck to his fingers.
***
“Did you have a good night in there?” Thomas said to the tall, wooden door.
“Yes, thank you, Thomas,” Charlotte’s voice replied.
Thomas exchanged a glance with Luke–she sounded surprisingly docile.
“Were you comfortable?” Thomas said.
After a pause, Charlotte said, “Yes, thank you.”
“I’m surprised,” said Thomas. “Standing in there for hours on end.”
“The milk helped,” said Charlotte. “Thank you for my milk.”
“You’re very welcome,” Thomas said. “Did you sleep at all?”
“No,” Charlotte said.
“So you spent the night just standing there and thinking.”
“Yes, I did a lot of thinking,” Charlotte said.
“And what were you thinking about, Charlotte?”
A little sigh, and then, “I’ve been thinking about you, Thomas.”
“Me? What about me?”
“I-I’ve missed you.”
“Really? I’m flattered. But I don’t quite understand. Yesterday, all you could think about was the welfare of your husband. Aren’t you worried about him anymore?” Thomas said.
“I-I don’t want him to come to any harm, and of course I care about him, but after seeing you again–I’ve had time to think about things.”
Thomas nodded at Luke who turned on the camcorder.
“And what conclusion have you come to?” Thomas said.
Another deep sigh from the standing cell.
“That–I’ve always been attracted to you, Thomas.”
“But that’s not what you told me yesterday.”
“That’s because I didn’t want to admit the truth,” Charlotte said. “I was lying to myself, lying to Peter–and to you.”
Thomas said, “I find this turnaround a little difficult to believe. Are you just saying this so I’ll let you out of the standing cell?”
“No!” Charlotte said quickly. “After you left me last night, I was thinking about Peter a lot. I admit I am worried about him–he is my husband after all. But during the night, I started to think about our college days and about all that attention you gave me.”
“You mean, like when you called campus security?” Thomas said.