- 5 -
The Vaught Plantation - August 5, 1952 - 10:45pm

“Did it make you feel better?” Greg asked. “Was it even about feeling better?”

Elizabeth peered at the shadowed figure on the other side of the room. “You’re experienced with Abigail’s serums. You know how addictive they can be. I don’t do it because it makes me ‘feel better.’ I hate myself more every time I give in to that weakness. And no, cheating on my husband didn’t improve my mood if for no other reason than he never knew. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it to see his face while another man gave me pleasure.”

Her tongue caught on the last word. Her skin flushed. Recalling the evening with Marcus and the arguments that set the event in motion had stirred her blood. Greg’s leering presence wasn’t helping. She caught glimpses of his forearms and hands, but nothing more. She wanted desperately to turn on the lights and drive back whatever shadowy spell the man had woven.

He drained the watery remnant of his drink. “You’re lying,” he said. Leaning forward, he kept his back straight to keep the majority of his profile out of the limited light as he set down his glass on the end table with a loud clack. “I would like another drink. Make it for me.”

She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. But, before she processed the reply, she had risen to her feet. It happened so quickly that she felt momentarily displaced from her body. A shiver ran through her as she regained composure and decided rather than worsen her brother-in-law’s mood, she would play hostess. If that’s what he fancied, then she would be better off keeping up a show of obedience.

The shadows obscured all but a faint glint of his eyes as she approached. As much as she wanted to ignore his bravado and menacing position, it was too much like approaching the den of a wolf. She snatched up the empty glass and carried it quickly to the bar. She noticed the glass was still warm from where he’d held it in his palm. With a fresh splash of scotch poured, she paused to sniff the bottle. The stringent alcohol smell cut through the haze in the room, and she thought she detected something else. It was a scent that woke something in her memory, but it disappeared before she could form the memory into anything useful. The scent faded back into the noise of other odors in the room, but Elizabeth still felt it, like it was an oil binding to her skin and suffocating her. With each step back toward Gregory, she knew it was emanating from him. She considered deriding his sense of hygiene as a matter of course before she heard a noise.

From the opposite wall, she heard voices and possibly laughter. Straining to listen, she tried to decipher words. “Are we not alone?” she asked.

Gregory still didn’t move. His face remained shadowed, but, standing only a few feet away, she made out the contours of his face enough to see the sly grin. “Do you want to be alone with me?” He leaned out, just enough to take the glass from her hand. Just enough to cast some light on his face. The scent came again, strong and forceful. Elizabeth knew it this time, though she hadn’t known it remained lurking in her memory.

It was his scent, of course. Not the scent of his everyday sweat, but the musk Elizabeth had experienced only once and for no more than a few seconds on the night she walked in on Gregory and Abigail. If he wore that scent now, it meant he had been on or was on serum. Ideas of what waited in the shadows bloomed in her thoughts. Greg’s body, toned and powerful, transformed into a machine for her pleasure. Elizabeth expected him to rise out of the seat, tower over her, and finally have his way with her. She wondered if he could still catch her scent, too. If the stink of another man’s touch still on her skin would cause him to balk as he undressed her. She waited, heart racing and an emptiness welling inside of her. A quiet thought in her mind protested, insisting that she hated this man and that allowing him to touch her would be revolting. The alarm of it was a discordant note in a growing cacophony of need. She thought to silence it altogether by ripping off her dress and throwing herself wildly at Greg.

“Go sit down,” he said, flatly.

It was like being shoved in the chest. The flush turned to cold sweat, and her aching emptiness became a hollow void. Elizabeth tried to protest and demand answers for what was going on in her house and what she was feeling. She failed before even starting and found herself strolling back to her seat with a small part of her imagining her brother-in-law lusting after the sway of her hips. With the extra distance, the feeling lessened. She picked up her own glass and took gulp to flush the pervading scent from her nose.

“So,” Greg continued, “you took four extra vials. Two you used that night for your own interests. What about the other two?”

“Are you a stickler for inventory?” she asked.

“To cleanse our sins, we must confess them,” Greg replied with feigned dramatic air. “You had a plan for them.”

“If you know the story, tell it yourself.”

“I will. We’ve come to a part that I know and you don’t, but first, humor my curiosity. Why involve Alice Turner?”

Two things registered through the haze pushing against Elizabeth’s thoughts. First, hearing Alice’s name from Gregory’s mouth sent a chill through her. Had she been careful at all or had her privacy been an illusion for years. Second, for the first time since walking into the room, Gregory sounded bored or at least uninterested in the answer to his own question. Elizabeth suppressed both reactions before answering, “The Turners are a good family. Merchants more than landowners, but still. Father and Grandfather did business with them regularly. Alice is a generation younger than myself, a young girl when I had my societal debut. At the time, her mother proved pivotal helping me navigate the scene since my own mother had died. Years later, Mrs. Turner asked me to return the favor for her own daughter, apparently believing I’d somehow managed to do so with Abigail. I went along with it and did what I could, but ironically, Alice was far too similar to Abigail. She wanted schooling and a career. She was clever and inquisitive, so I attempted to channel those energies into social intrigues, but she lacked any grace. In the end, she went to a trade school to learn to be a typist. It embarrassed the family, naturally. She kept on, though, and managed to be hired by the local paper. Apparently the girl has a knack for thoroughly researching things.”

“A skill you exploited the second you needed it. Hypocrite.”

“I didn’t make the girl’s choices, but a tool is a tool.”

“Why not use cash? Why the serum?”

Elizabeth’s lip wrinkled. “I thought you would pay less attention to an overindulgence of serum. Money, however, seems to be a permanent obsession. Also, I recalled Alice’s lack of self-esteem. It is a vile thing to play on the insecurities of others, but my resources were limited.”

“You limited yourself with your pride.” His hand flicked through the air. “Never mind. So, Alice was just lucky you thought of her first? You had no ill intent? No simmering grudge? She was simply the most convenient tool in the toolbox?”

“That sums her up nicely,” she smiled and tried to hold it. “Did you kill her?”

A big guffaw of laughter filled the room, tweaking Elizabeth’s nerves further. It took Greg a while to recover. “No, Liz,” he answered. “I didn’t kill her. My guess is that she’s happier and safer than she has been since you gave her a phone call. You sent her sniffing after some dangerous people, after all. Some of ‘em even more dangerous than me.” He shifted in his chair, knees spreading out a little wider. “Relax, enjoy your drink.”

The tension eased out of Elizabeth’s shoulders. She sipped her drink and found the taste to be stronger and more robust. Along with it came a burst of tingling at the back of her mind. Because I did what he said, she realized.

“You didn’t waste time. The day after your argument with Benny, Alice came to the house,” he said. “A social call meant to go unnoticed by the rest of us. But, in reality, the first fated step on the road to where we are now.”

The Vaught Plantation - July 31st, 1952 - 1:38pm

A phone call from Elizabeth Vaught was the last thing Alice had expected. She hadn’t spoken to the woman in more than five years. Their acquaintance hadn’t ended with animosity, but Alice never felt the sisterly warmth for Elizabeth that her mother expected. From the rumors she heard about the Vaught sisters, Alice didn’t know if they had an ember of warmth to spare between them.

The call had been short. Elizabeth requested a visit in regard to a private matter. Alice didn’t think she had any real use to the Vaughts, but she didn’t want to be rude. When the car arrived for her at midday, she hoped she was on the way to discuss some kind of flowery history lesson that Elizabeth wanted to turn into a newspaper article.

Alice had visited the Vaught estate twice before, each time for a seasonal party. For as much as the Vaughts attempted to liven things up with bright lights and music, the place felt cursed and oppressive. Upon arrival, she realized how much worse it could be without the gaiety of a party. A servant met her at the side door and guided her up through the silent house. On previous visits, they opened up the main hall and let people mingle in the ballroom and a few of the sitting rooms. Alice had never been past the midpoint of the house, and she doubted it was a place anyone other than servants often went. She didn’t see many of those, either. Other than the woman she followed, the house appeared deserted. It didn’t feel deserted though, quite the opposite. An uncomfortable feeling of people lurking behind every closed door followed them all the way up to the office.

She waited in the hall as the servant woman knocked. To Alice’s dismay, she found herself standing between a glaring portrait of some old woman on one side and a large mirror reflecting the portrait on the other. Both versions managed to scowl at her as she tried to appraise herself in the mirror. The morning had been a long one, and she hadn’t started it off with her best dress in the first place. Ink smudges stained two of her fingertips, but she saw none on her clothes. The dress she’d chosen was cheap and tailored by her hand rather than a professional’s with mixed results. Good enough to go entirely unnoticed by her colleagues, and bad enough to earn absolute scorn from the woman she’d come to visit.

Her makeup wasn’t much better. She’d gone into the office first thing to get ahead of her daily workload. She was a junior reporter at the Farrs Post News, a paper with moderate circulation that primarily printed society news and wire stories, which meant she spent most of her days transcribing or typing up things for the senior reporter. As such, she never dressed herself up much, nor did she wear the jewelry or fashion of the women who had once considered her a peer. She wore gloves for practical reasons, and a wristwatch that men usually told her was unbecoming. Otherwise, she looked as plain as possible, dressing in drab colors and wearing her hair in a tight bun with no showing pin. She sighed and found herself agreeing with the disapproving portrait when the servant returned to show her in.

As expected, Elizabeth Vaught looked every bit the pinnacle of composure and class that Alice expected. She rose from behind a desk as Alice entered the room. Elizabeth smiled in a faint attempt at warmth and familiarity as she crossed the room cooing a greeting. “Alice! So nice of you to come on such short notice. And a delight to see you again.”

“You as well,” Alice said, separating herself from an awkward embrace. “You look absolutely wonderful, Elizabeth. Women must badger you constantly for your secret.”

“I don’t think it’s as much a secret as we all pretend, dear,” she answered. Elizabeth had on a forest green dress that hugged her bosom up into a bevy of cleavage. Alice had grown accustomed to seeing women dress more cavalierly to show off their sexuality, but it seemed out of place in the dim room, and particularly on Elizabeth who Alice remembered as socially conservative and a polite prude. “Please, sit, the drive out must have made you tired.”

“The opposite actually,” Alice said, taking a seat opposite the desk. “I rarely come out to the countryside any more. When I travel, it’s to the Capital.”

Elizabeth settled down behind the desk like a monarch settling in a throne. She kept her posture rigid to the point that Alice wondered if the woman was actively putting her breasts on display. Alice never advertised her figure if she could help it. Displaying any hint of femininity in her workplace was counterproductive at best. Her clothes were chosen to hide what few curves she had, and if they failed at that, she had a few tricks of her own to keep things in line. She’d spent so long fighting back her female identity that seeing a woman so comfortably forward with her body put Alice on edge. Elizabeth grinned at her like a shark sensing blood in the water.

They exchanged polite conversation for a few minutes, covering Alice’s parents, work, and other circumstances. Elizabeth shared little about her own life over the past few years other than to say her daughters had recently returned from boarding school. Alice was between the mother and daughters in age. On the occasions she allowed herself any social life, she tended to gravitate toward younger women as companions for nights of dancing. She didn’t know if that was preference or simply necessity as most of the women her age were married or committed to a life of spinsterism. “How is it that you never found a husband?” Elizabeth asked. “Too married to your work?”

Alice returned a cheerful smile. It wasn’t a new question. Not even from Elizabeth who had been a significant force in the social circle that was meant to produce Alice a husband. “A husband hasn’t found me, I suppose,” she answered. “Things have changed since your day, you know. The war has loosened everyone up a bit.”

“Not too loose, one hopes.”

Alice gave a small shrug. Elizabeth was not a woman with a hesitancy to insult when provoked. Alice also didn’t want her morals brought in to question by another judgmental socialite. She let the moment pass while gazing out the window. The gardens around the estate remained well kept despite the apparent lack of gardeners. In the distance, she saw glimpses of the house Abigail Vaught had built. She considered asking about the sister, but decided she would rather get on with the reason for her summoning. “Our phone call was short, but I gather that you have something I can help with.”

Someone knocked at the door before Elizabeth could answer. Alice sat uncomfortably on the edge of her chair while Elizabeth went and opened the office door. The same servant brought in a tea tray and placed it on the desk. Elizabeth waited at the door until the servant finished laying out the tea and went to exit. The two had a quick word before the servant left and shut the door with an audible click that Alice sounded suspiciously like a lock. Returning to the desk, Elizabeth went about preparing two cups. “How do you take yours?” she asked. “With milk?”

“Yes, please,” Alice replied. She watched the other woman work delicately through the steps and admired the grace she had never been able to master. Once she finished serving, Elizabeth went back around to her seat, but before sitting she opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. She placed it in the center of the desk in front of her own cup. It slid open from one side. She pulled out a small vial, roughly an inch and a half tall with a flat bottom, and sat it down on the desk. Alice stared at it as she sipped her tea. Managing to not scald her mouth, she pushed down the flustered response that had leapt to her tongue. Alice knew the rumors about the Vaught sisters, about Abigail’s involvement with Milktec and the parties Elizabeth organized in the basement of the country club. She knew what could be in a vial like the one Elizabeth put on the table. “I’m assuming that has something to do with why you called me,” she said in as neutral a tone as possible.

“In a way,” Elizabeth said. She sat back in her chair in regal posture with her tea held perfectly at her midriff. She might have been sitting for a portrait, and Alice wished she’d brought a photographer to capture the moment. “It would be payment. Like a retainer for services, perhaps.”

“Then that is what I think it is?”

“I cannot read minds, Alice. But if you assume that to be a recreational dose of Milktec serum, then you would be correct. Have you ever tried it?”

Alice felt heat creeping up around her neck. She steadied herself with another gulp of tea. “No.”

“I can explain a bit more about it in due course, but first I should explain what I want you to do for me,” Elizabeth paused to take an egregiously long drink from her own cup. “I can’t recall specifically, but surely you’ve met my husband?”

“In passing,” Alice said. She remembered vividly the first time the handsome, flirtatious man had spoken to her. He’d not shown anything more than a polite interest, but she’d been a young woman entirely unaccustomed to male attention. She’d daydreamed about Benjamin for weeks.

“Did you ever fuck him?” Elizabeth asked.

The word hit like a blunt weapon. “Oh, god, no!”

Elizabeth held up a hand to silence further protests of innocence. “It’s not as unusual a question as you might think. My husband’s reputation shouldn’t surprise you. Our marriage has been a business arrangement for the most part. Not one of fidelity and certainly not romance. Please, Alice, I’m not trying to shock you, but if you are to help then you will need to understand the situation. Benjamin’s affairs have been an accepted part of my life for many years. I am not a spurned wife seeking revenge. Instead, I am a business partner concerned for the future of my contract. Benjamin’s latest affair is apparently more serious than is appropriate. He has deluded himself into believing he could pursue a life with another woman. I would like to know who that woman is.”

“Wouldn’t this be a job better suited to a private detective?” Alice squeaked. “I know we have some contacts at the paper.”

Another slow, contemplative sip, “This is a delicate matter. One I would rather put in the hands of a friend than a stranger. An additional complicating factor is my brother-in-law. Are you familiar with his work?”

“Nothing specific. If memory serves, he works in shipping? We’ve never met.”

“That is likely for the best. Gregory is an unsavory person, well beneath my sister’s upbringing. He is also familiar with every bottom feeding lowlife in this state. Using a private detective would mean utilizing the same network as Gregory. I do not want him or my sister involved in this. It is my mess, and I prefer to see for myself that it is cleaned up. So, with the idea of an investigator ruled out, I must rely on my own resources of contacts. You, Alice, unless I am mistaken, have all the wit and education required to find out who a man is sleeping with behind his wife’s back. Is that something you can manage?”

“Well, yes, but —”

“Good, then we can move on to payment issues. While I’m sure cash would be a better facilitator, the family finances are too involved for a sum significant enough for your time to go missing. But, I can offer you something much more valuable than money. Doses of the serum on a regular basis for as long as you wish.”

“Elizabeth, I wouldn’t even know where to begin with it. You seem to have confused me for a much more worldly woman.”

Elizabeth smiled. “No, I don’t have you confused at all. I remember the precocious girl who fawned whenever a young gentleman glanced at her. I remember the frustrated gaze she gave to her peers who had more provocative assets. I’ve been using this serum for years, and I’ve developed a knack for knowing the type of woman it appeals to. One time, that’s all it takes. Once you feel what it does for you, you’ll never want to live a day without it. And that’s only the beginning, Alice. This is but a small taste of a world you have not even considered.”

“Elizabeth, uh, thank you, but I think you have misread me entirely. I would like to help you, but you were the one to advise me against such sordid novelties.”

“I gave advice to a young woman looking for a husband. Your circumstances have changed. You are approaching middle age with no prospects due to your insistence upon work. The sort of man who would look at that vial as a “sordid novelty” would never give you a second glance for the simple fact that you earn a paycheck.”

“Be that as it may, I do not see how that should plummet me into a life of debauchery.”

Elizabeth laughed. “But debauchery is so much fun. You’ll see.”

“Will I? That old version of you would advise me to storm out of here with an indignant air.”

“Yes, she would,” Elizabeth said as put her tea down. “But then you would have a very awkward moment somewhere in the outer hall when then serum kicks in.”

“I’m not taking that,” Alice shot back. She didn’t normally feel so rigid, but she also didn’t often feel backed into a corner. “Not as payment or anything else.”

“Ah, it seems we’ve had a misunderstanding.” Elizabeth reached forward and tapped the vial. “This is one of a few vials I acquired recently. The serum has grown more advanced over time. If you took this as your first attempt, you would be a frothing cow within an hour. However, I have been facilitating recreational serum use for some time now. As part of that, I keep an inventory of strength grades so first time experiences wouldn’t be too extreme. The introductory grade is so mild that my supplier doesn’t care what happens to them. For an experienced user, that formula would do nothing more than arouse them, but for someone who had never experienced the serum before it would be mind changing. At least, that’s what I hoped when I put it in your tea.”

Alice had been mid gulp when Elizabeth announced she’d drugged the tea. The bottom of the cup had a small ripple of liquid left in it, and Alice had to force herself to put it down. It hadn’t tasted off or chemical or anything. It had been delicious, to the point that she’d been considering asking for another cup, even with the terse nature of their conversation. Her mind raced, and for a while her mouth failed to keep up. All the while, Elizabeth leaned casually on a propped up fist, her face a smirk of devious delight. “You put something in my tea?”

“I asked if you wanted milk,” she said.

“This is…” Alice struggled to find words for her outrage. “…a violation!”

Elizabeth waved the word away. “I measured out enough for your estimated weight for it to do nothing more than wake up the parts of your body that society has deadened.”

“The society you’re so adamantly a part of!” Alice shot back. She was pleased to see a vague glimmer of irritation in her host, but it quickly turned back to a wicked smile.

“It’s starting, I think,” Elizabeth said. “Your heartbeat is faster. That’s usually what people notice first. Sometimes it causes a panic. It’s only a mild change, no worse than a quick jog. You didn’t jog, though, so your body naturally worries. Luckily, the heat follows quickly.”

Alice moved up to the edge of her seat and prepared to storm out. Elizabeth was right, her heart was beating faster than it should, but that was certainly due to her anger. The heat spreading across her chest and neck was no doubt caused by the same thing. It was a flush of outrage and nothing more. Yet, she remained seated, an uneasy gnawing feeling grabbing hold of her. Her eyes drifted from Elizabeth’s smiling lips to the gentle curve of her neck to the tightly encased bosom. She watched the other woman’s heavy breasts rise and fall in time with Elizabeth’s breathing. Her calm was uncanny and cold for a woman who had effectively poisoned a guest and friend.

Elizabeth leaned over to the desk and pushed out her breasts even further, “Next comes the thoughts. We take for granted how much our minds shift when aroused. Things we would never consider under normal circumstances are suddenly actual possibilities, maybe even necessities. For example, you’re probably wondering what my nipples would feel like under your tongue. If you weren’t, then you are now. Your breath is hurried. A need to be touched is growing at the back of your head. Or at least to touch yourself. Go ahead. You have no reason to be ashamed. I promise you, I’ve seen all sorts.”

The woman’s voice scratched against Alice’s will. Clenching her fists in her lap was the only way to deny the slow, cajoling feeling of giving in to her body. Still, the more she silently protested, the less it made sense. Obviously, Elizabeth wanted her to make a fool of herself. Even if the woman seemed excited by the idea of Alice touching herself, it was still a trick meant to compromise her and give Elizabeth leverage in their negotiations.

“Paranoia,” Elizabeth said. “I see it in your eyes. The frantic search for some reason your body is responding this way. It’s natural when you try to resist. You simply need some encouragement, something that normalizes what you’re feeling. For example, seeing another person embracing the altered social contract.” Elizabeth slid her hands behind her back and worked at the laces of her dress. The fabric loosened at her shoulders, and Alice’s breath caught. Elizabeth tugged down her dress, and her breasts poured into view. With every bit of her resistance, Alice tried to remain neutral, but she failed. Her mouth opened in a needy gasp. The ache in her core bloomed into a roaring fire of need.

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. Her breasts shifted slightly as they settled into place. Gentle slopes down from her shoulders that rose sharply at her areolas before cresting with thick, pink nipples and then curving again to round teardrops. Alice’s breasts not only couldn’t compete, but seemed to sentiently ache for their lacking. Unbidden, her hand moved up and pressed against the front of her dress. The touch sent soothing ripples through the ache. Her legs spread naturally allowing her skirt to dip between her knees. She kept her eyes on the rise and fall of Elizabeth’s breasts as her other hand pushed between her thighs.

“Need develops and pushes down all the other competing voices. Existence gains a new form of clarity. You need to fuck and be fucked. Attraction barely factors into the equation any longer. Your need grows so strong that former aversions and predilections are cast aside. I’ve seen men who would lynch another man for sodomy bend over and pull their ass apart for the attention of a bull. I’ve seen mortal enemies rolling together in pure bliss drinking milk or cum from each other. Nothing is more powerful than need, Alice. I expect you’re learning that quickly. Can I help somehow? Perhaps you’d like to see my fingers on my breasts like this?” She moved her hand up and dragged her nails around her swollen nipples. Alice felt the action echoing on her own skin. “Touch yourself,” Elizabeth said.

Alice’s hand obeyed, grinding against her damp underclothes. Her fingers crawled against her bare thigh, sliding under the shift. Her fingertips touched her pubic hair and then found the slick outer lips of her pussy. Part of her rebelled, mortified to be so brazenly touching herself in front of another woman. She thought about the ink stains on her fingers as they pushed into her molten warmth. Elizabeth cooed out encouragements, and Alice grew bolder.

If the other woman was comfortable topless, Alice saw no reason to deprive herself. She tugged with her free hand and managed to loosen her dress enough to pull down the front. Her hand took a greedy grip on her breast and squeezed. The pleasure forced a moan out one second before her inner walls spasmed tightly around her fingers. Her whole body tightened and then released in a flood of ecstasy. Twitching and mumbling, she rocked on her fingers as they wriggled inside of her trying to reach an exact spot that eluded her from one second to the next. Still, she came close as her orgasm rolled up and down her body.

When she came back to the world, Elizabeth had walked around to the front of the desk. Only the fatigue of satiation stopped Alice from lunging on the woman and sucking a nipple into her mouth. Elizabeth held up the vial that had been sitting on the desk. She pushed the glass around one of her pert nipples playfully before putting it into a small case alongside another. “That was a taste, Alice. I can offer you so much more than that. This vial will give you a whole new world. Drink it and give yourself, and the man you pick, the night of your life. Or give it to the man and pray he can contain himself enough to be gentle, unless you prefer it rough. Or another woman, if that interests you. I can vouch for the joy of nuzzling against the swollen breasts of a woman in the throes of serum. Consider this an advance. A little detective work for a lot of pleasure isn’t a bad trade. As soon as you have information on my husband’s mistress, you can have as much of this wonderful drug as you want.” Elizabeth stood, placed the box on the desk, and covered herself with her dress. “At the very least you owe me the cost of cleaning that chair,” she said with a smile. “I’ll let you compose yourself before sending in someone to show you out.”

With that, Elizabeth swept from the room. Alice remained still, nearly catatonic with competing emotions and urges. She stared at the box with absolute wonder at how she had lived so much of her life not knowing what pleasure felt like. As she reached for it, she felt a wet drop roll down the underside of her breast. A few droplets of milk had formed on her hard nipples. She scooped one up immediately with her fingertip and slurped it down. “Oh, fuck, what have I gotten into.”