Right now Oliver’s bitter surprise is leaving him short of breath as he slowly leans up against a rusted, green lamp pole. Despite shaking his head and asking himself if this is really happening. there was Jane, his young wife, stands hand in hand with her lover, their lips touching and searching one another before locking as if in anticipation for a big encore. When they finish the two walked through the Nellington Hotel’s gold revolving door as a doorman in red and white greets them with a slight tip of his polished, plastic brim. 

He trails them into the hotel, careful not to be noticed but working out a plan in his head if he is. If confronted he will simply lash out with cold, haunting eyes letting the guilt devour her whole. But who was he kidding? He will scream, yell and swing at the stranger in the gray overcoat causing a huge scene. A public disturbance is a guarantee but how far will this catastrophe bury him before it’s over? He feels the dense metal revolver inside his coat pocket as perspiration forms at his temples.

Watching them sign in and enter the stainless steel elevator with large green numbers above it, he approaches the balding desk clerk dressed in all black, who is clicking away on a black keyboard. Oliver recites a scene from an old black and white film he once saw in which the protagonist found himself in a similar state, hopeful it will work.

“Excuse me.”

The marching of clicks ends abruptly as the clerk addresses Oliver. “Yes sir, how may I help you?”

“I was wondering if you knew the room number that couple signed under, just a moment ago.”

The clerk studied Oliver with a suspicious look as his head tilts back.

“I have a very important document belonging to that gentleman and I really need to deliver it to him.” He taps the square pocket of his coat giving the impression he has something valuable tucked away.

The clerk’s brow narrows. “I can’t really give that info out, sir.”

“No, I… I understand,” Oliver says, letting out a depressing sigh. “But it has to do with my career. You see, I can’t interrupt him and his” it hurts him to utter the word, “wife because I’m already in hot soup with the guy. See, he’s my boss, and if I could just hand deliver this report and save him the trip down to the lobby he’d be very appreciative.” Slipping him a fifty Oliver smiles awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with the clerks scanning look.

The clerk took pity on him and revealed the room number, slipping the bill into his back pocket. “You’re lucky it’s my last week here.” The bombardment of his fingers on his keyboard commences, ignoring Oliver’s departure.

Leaving the elevator and waiting around the corner from the room number he was given he pauses trying to make sense of the soup swishing around inside his head, while trying to ignore the sound of blood thudding in his ears. He looks down into his pocket and laughs aloud at the position he’s in. An older gentleman sporting a worn, dark green cardigan walking by with a newspaper under his arm asks what the joke is. Oliver lifted his head towards the old man’s gruff voice.

“I guess that’s the joke. I’m laughing at something that isn’t very funny.”

The old man nodded walking away, coughing into his hand.

******

Surprised at her decision is an understatement. What is she doing in this stranger’s hotel room? Jane had noticed him at the other end of the bar downtown, holding his drink to his lips while blending in with the dim lighting. And there was something very attractive about the way in which the shadows in the room fell across his face. And before she knew it they were talking and he was buying her a drink, which she accepted, a little anxiously. To her, the best part about drinking was hitting that line that says maybe you should stop then taking a step or two over it.

She knew she had stepped over that line when conversations centering on careers became interesting and reflective. He told her about some meeting and the agony of seeing it through come morning. The irritation of listening to hapless suits talking over each other. Sitting in a room where men obsess themselves with obtuse banter over deals already completed.

She confided in him that she went to law school, but dropped out second year. When he inquired why, she replied, while politely smiling, that there had to be more interesting things to chat about or else it was time to seriously question how watered down these drinks were. They enjoyed the company of each until she excused herself to use the washroom.

When Jane was done washing her hands she saw herself in the mirror and fixed her hair before studying her reflection. For a moment she thought she heard someone whisper, but no one was there. She reached up with a bent finger and traced the outline of her lips and blue eyes with her shiny black fingernail that skated across the mirror’s surface. She stepped back and admired her trim frame and dark red hair pulled back in a straight ponytail, no fuss and business like. It was her favorite way to style it because it showed off her smooth porcelain skin and sharp cheekbones, which she liked about herself. 

Entering back into the bar she found it empty and a sense of disappointment and annoyance coursed through her. She felt like an idiot. What had she said or done? Was she somehow damaged while others could see through her thin façade of the unsatisfied explorer?

She left, opening the heavy oak doors, a bell chiming her actions, before a voice called out to her, “Leaving already?”

Turning she spotted white smoke ascending over a tall figure leaning standing next to the red brick wall of the building. She approached the stranger, who had a lit cigarette balanced between two fingers. “I thought you left.” She said.

He took a long drag of his cigarette. “Did that bother you?”

She gave him an amused look while staring up at him, asking for one of his smokes. He retrieved his lighter, the initials H.D. inscribed at the bottom. Her hands cupped around his as a small flame ignited her cigarette. “Maybe it did, just a little though.”

She admired his looks. His jet black hair, tanned skin, broad shoulders and strong jaw complete with thick brown eyes and a roman nose that blended in nicely with the rest of his features. He looked like a football player in an expensive suit. She wanted him to kiss here right there on the cold sidewalk while she gripped the lapels of his gray coat. She could picture him stooping down to meet her embrace, his big hands enveloping both her shoulder and waste.

She took a shot of the aged whiskey he had poured for her back at his hotel room, coughing a little, not being used to the sting. The stranger approaches her, his dark features smiling before gently taking her glass, setting it down and removing her burgundy overcoat. He then loosens his tie undoing the top collar of the classic, white shirt he’s wearing putting it in the closet, next to the washroom. The room is standard and clean. Grey carpet, green curtains, off white walls and one King sized bed complete with a painting hanging above the bed’s headboard of a ship sailing through some dense, ominous fog. Next to where he sleeps was a black watch on the nightstand, ticking away.

“Fancy another burn?” He asks.

“I would.” She smiles sheepishly taking another drink of the whiskey.

As the empty glass leaves her lips she can feel his hand around the back of her slim neck. It pulls her into his grasp making her heart race and the pencil skirt enclosed around her tighten against her ass. It sends a slight tremor traveling throughout her pussy and thighs. She meets him willingly and feels his face gently with her fingers and lips. She lets off a slight shudder under his embrace, her clit now hardening while she starts to feel wet, and gazing up at the bold eyes watching her she feels strings within start to tickle their way up as they rise from the flats of her feet and slide up into her chest consuming her with a hungry ache.

Tossing his tie and racing to unbutton his shirt while ripping it free, she lets it fall to the ground, her hands running through his short, dark chest hairs. He then pulls off her shirt feeling the silk in his hands drain away as he watches her remove her black lace bra which exposes round, heavy breasts. They glisten under lamplight as they climb and drop with each excited breath she takes. He grabs her ponytail, tilting her head back necking and biting her just enough to tantalize while making her groan for more, her voice scarcely crawling along.

“Oh Jesus Christ, don’t stop.” she says digging some of her nails into the sides of his shoulders as her teeth glide over his collarbone.

Still being pinned by her nails, he inches down towards her chest catching her soft red nipples in his mouth, licking and sucking them taught while curling his tongue around her areola. He squeezes her heavy tits with one hand while still holding her by the back of her straight hair, pulling tight if she tries to back away. When he tugs on her she feels her pussy convulse with a heat that makes her squirm and bite her lower lip hard.

She loves the way his solid hand glides over her nipples before coiling his tongue over the tips and pressing down hard again and she feels them caught between the front of his teeth. He pauses momentarily as her eyes slowly lift open. He looks up at her listening to her panting and begins to flick his tongue back and forth teasing the shit out her to the point that she cries out begging him not to stop, her nipples turning rock hard.

“Holy fuck, baby, that’s amazing, don’t stop!” She says.

He tugs on her ponytail making her slightly cry out. “Are you telling me what to do?”

“No,” she says, I’m sorry. It just feels so good.” She grabs the back of his hair, “I’m just so fucking wet right now!”

Pushing her up against the wall he presses up against her lean body, restraining both her hands over her head with one hand. Her left leg grasping his waist, resting on the top part of his ass which she can feel tighten as he kisses her hard on the mouth, tasting her while capturing her tongue with his. She forces her head forward greedily seizing his desire and teasing him for more while letting his free hand slide under her black skirt, slightly tearing it at the seams. She gasps as he grabs hold of her lace panties, twirling them around his two fingers and yanking them down. And he feels just how soaked she is along his knuckles as he presses his fingers into her captive, soaked cunt. She cannot get enough.

“I don’t even know your name,” he says to her as he coaxes her to cream over his agonizingly teasing fingers.

“Does it matter at this point?” She utters sliding her back up against the wall, wanting him to fondle and go deeper into her. “All you need to know is that I want you to fuck me and make me cum! Can you handle that?”

She looks at him with anticipation while nodding to the throbs of delight extending out from the drenched walls of her slit.

While he continues to finger her he uses his thumb to arouse her clit turning her pussy into even more of a hot mess as white heat rushes up her neck filling her face.

As they kiss she bites down on his lower lip, drawing blood, and he pulls away tasting it while grinning as if he just found the secret answers to a test. 

“Maybe I’m in over my head, huh?” He acknowledges in a voice deep and starved.

He let her arms go and seized her by the waist of her skirt. Unzipping the back, she shakes loose from the restricting fabric, her ass bouncing hypnotically as she shimmies free while pulling down the skirt with her two thumbs tucked into the sides. Her legs are slender and thin at the ankle, with well-toned calves that flex slightly as she stands there wondering what will happen next.

He spins her around as she squeals, bracing her against the wall. He slides his two middle fingers into her from behind as she uses one of her arms to reach around and clasps onto the back of his neck, pulling his chest closer into her. She can feel his heartbeat and cool breath between her shoulder blades as his other hand cascades up and down her chest and neck before settling on one of her nipples, which he now holds firmly like one of his cigarettes.

Her lips are curled away exposing clenched teeth in a savage pose, and almost growling she tells him “I want you to punish me with your cock.”

With that he throws off his suit pants, strips away his briefs and socks too, almost tripping.

“What are you doing back there. Hurry!” She demands.

He laughs regaining his composure and clutches her throat with one hand causing her to excitedly wrap her fingers tight around his.

“Oh my God, squeeze tighter!”

“Mmm, well aren’t we fucking interesting?” He says.

He spreads apart her ass with his other hand, letting his erect cock push into her tense and eager pussy. Stretching it out with his girth and swollen head she arches her lower back making it easier for him to fit inside her small cunt as she spits into her hand, running it across the part of his stem that hasn’t already penetrated her. Wincing because she is so tight, he finally fits it all in. He goes slowly, almost holding it in place, working up to what he wants and being careful not to waste it. She doesn’t want any of his inches going to waste either, she wants this stranger filling her up completely.

He fucks her from behind slapping her ass so that a red hand print is left there. With each pump from his long meat she feels a surging lower over her, pulsing and ringing as her vagina clamps down on his cock. Then with his arms extended he holds her chin in his hands as she bends over at the waist while still keeping her legs straight and holding his sturdy forearms extended across her entire back, as if they were horse reins guiding her. He punishes her pussy the way she needs it, while letting his middle fingers slide over her face and enter her mouth. She bites down on them as if it were a bit being placed in her mouth and cringes at the pain as she giggles back at him. 

“Keep fucking me like this harder! Please! Harder!” She says as his fingers grip the inside of her cheeks causing her voice to sound mumbled. As he fucks her he tries to take one of his fingers out of her mouth so he can have an arm free to help steady him. But she was having none of that. Biting down harder on this makeshift bit she keeps him in place.

“Don’t go anywhere; I’m going to fucking cum, please make me cum!”

He pulls his hands free, grunting, and picks her up in the air holding her high while his cock is still inside her. She braces her feet against the wall leaning with her back planted against his chest while he continues to drive her pussy from behind. And as he holds her in that position her orgasm comes in waves with each thrust of his cock as he hits her spot just right. Her one leg starts to quake until she is standing on the tips of her toes. She is now bucking and throbbing all over, sore and alive at the same time as she moans aloud a fuck cry before cumming hard over his cock, covering the base of his prick in a thick white cloud.

She leans up against the wall, her arms crossed and bracing her forehead as she breathes heavily. He feels her sweat as he places a hand on her back feeling her ribs. He moves in close to her tight little ass, as it perks up in the air, and she loves the way it fits perfectly in the palm of his hand.

“Oh my God, I’ve never had that happen before. Jesus Christ!” She says slowly collapsing near his feet.

They lay there on the floor spooning and she lets his cum dry on her skin as she thinks about the way he holds her. She is suddenly startled by the quick, nervous voice calling out demands. She is suddenly alert and shocked to see Oliver pressing a piece of shiny metal into the back of the strangers head.

“Oliver, what… what are you doing?” The words scarcely come out of Jane’s numb mouth as she can hardly believe what she is witnessing; she has never seen eyes this corrosive before.

“What do you expect me to do?” Oliver shrieks, his hand shaking as he darts back and forth between pointing the gun at her and the stranger, now standing against the wall bowing his head and raising his arms in submission. 

“Please… Oliver Oh my God, whatever you’re thinking please just stop and we can work this out… Please!” She repeats herself again, admonishing some form of sanity to overtake him.

******

A man in his mid-sixties donning a navy blue sports coat layered with a striped dress shirt sits in front of Jane and Oliver. He adjusts his pale yellow tie as he scrolls down a sheet of paper while humming. Jane looked at the plastic tag dangling from his lapel. It was the man’s face with the name Graydon Russell running underneath it. She then looked over at Oliver who was staring straight ahead, ignoring her bloodshot eyes.

The man christened Graydon started in, “Now we do warn everyone, without exception or omission that this simulation test, which both of you agreed upon,” he nodded a withered finger at them, “can be emotionally draining. And of course, we provide psychiatric care and testing to ensure the quality of our service is met, and that there will be no long-term” he paused smiling quaintly, “issues.”

Graydon scratched something down on the paper in front of him and cleared his throat before stretching out in the comfortable leather chair he was seated in. “Now I know that a result as intense as yours can be seen as problematic and troublesome but many of our clients have had similar” he was careful to highlight the word similar, “results. As a clinic that specializes in these occurrences we can pinpoint the problems accurately and provide the needed professional and authorized help. But you have to let us.”

Oliver was staring down at his reflection in the polished glass table. “I wish I never entered your machine. I was happier being in the dark.”

Graydon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Ignorance is a path no one chooses and our machine, as you call it, lets us acknowledge this and see what our pre-programing is, what our true desires may be, if you will.” He wrote something else down on his sheet of paper. “You see at the Irving Institute we believe free will is nothing more than pre-programmed thought. A reaction that our mind controls and…”

“We’re just along for the ride?” Jane interjects.

The man nods sympathetically, “Essentially, yes. And now that we know this, as demonstrated by our neuroscience team and their ability founded in research and technology, we can dispatch with the banter of philosophy on the subject.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You both came here wanting to know that if faced with temptation that you could remain true to each other.”

Jane and Oliver just stared back in wonderment, looking like children in an advanced physics class.

“The sedation and artificial reality you underwent left you with an environment that your brain could not tell was an illusion, and I’m sure there is a part of you that still thinks I’m lying, due to how realistic the experience was. After all, you were asleep for two days, fed intravenously before it even began. But I assure you that each of you was put through a test to see if your faithfulness to one another would falter. It is a test that is based on the mapping of your brain, interviews with our specialists and a study of your habits. It was conceived to produce maximum results based on a situation which would examine those vows you made to your mate.”

“But neither of us remembers signing up for this,” Oliver said.

"And in a few days the clouds will be lifted, that’s a normal part of the process; your memory will come flooding back and in patches you’ll remember seeing our ads and coming into our office to see if what you heard about us was true."

Oliver took a drink of the water sitting in front of him, “So talking to you after the fake reality we just went through it part of the process too?”

“Absolutely, and we now can lay out a definite plan that will strip your mind of these cravings and render you both hopelessly monogamous.” 

As they all rise from the conference table Graydon pulls Jane aside. “Oliver, may I correspond with you wife? It seems we need a little more clarification about her medical history, would that be tolerable for you?”

Oliver agreed leaving the spacious meeting room complete with its abstract art and stainless steel trimmings.

“Jane, if you could have a seat.” Graydon sat too and folded his arms staring at her as if waiting for a confession to occur. “We know who that man is, the one you had an affair with in the simulated area. He’s the same man you have been having an affair with even before entering the simulated reality.”

Jane looked confused as her face tightened at the statement made by Graydon.

“Jane, he’s the proprietor of everything you see here and much more. And I’m afraid that getting into the heads of people has made him a lot of enemies in the government, enemies that would not hesitate to exploit what was inside your head.”

Her mouth went dry as he continued.

“You really don’t know who he is and that’s what makes this so unfortunate. He’s too valuable to be exploited in any way, seeing as he is set to usher in a new presidency in the near future which rides on a platform of purity and religious triumph. He won’t be directly involved, of course, his mark will be behind the scenes, but personally I could care less about faith-based, subjective matters.”

Without warning, she feels a sharp bite and sees Graydon retrieving a needle from her exposed arm. She looks at the man in disbelief as she gets up already feeling drained and weak.

Graydon puts the needle inside his coat and looks down on her. “However, ignorance is not a path taken, but self-interest is.”