Page 2 of SummerTime Madness
Letting out a shaky breath, I shake off the small hint of sentimentality that scratches to the surface and focus on this…
This is my life’s work.
What I betrayed my heart for.
Creating the perfect specimen for my thesis.
I want perfect symbiosis — host and parasite sharing one will. But the front door creaks open, the small bell hanging from the door chimes alerting me to his presence followed by the soft sounds against the floor–slow deliberate footsteps.
“Anything new on your ant farm?” a familiar voice rings behind me, dark and husky.
“No, but the cold is significantly decreasing how quickly it spreads, but nothing is connecting.” I press my lips together, disappointment tightening my chest as I set the magnifying glass back down. “I wonder what else I can do?”
Closing my eyes, I brace myself for the smell of his expensive Dolce & Gabbana cologne to envelop me.
My professor, Daniel.
The man that will help me reach greatness without even knowing it.
You learn a lot when studying these parasitic fungi. Cordyceps manipulate behavior. They make the host crave what will destroy them.
I don’t just study that.
I perfect it.
And Daniel is my host.
A smirk tugs at my lips.
Nothing like preying off the weak mind of a man who thinks can steal from you. Daniel’s arms wrap tight around me, pressing my body into his. “Missed you in class today.”
What he really missed was the act—watching me pretend to squirm, when I notice the way he eye-fucked me from the podium. I’m ready for this to be over but I need them to come chase. I already left the bread crumbs for them to follow.
“I needed to come check on the ants, plus I can always go to you if I need you to teach me.” I emphasize the wordteachwith a press of my ass against his forming erection. Daniel inhales into my skin.
“Wicked little thing you are.”
“I’ve been called worse. Wicked is truly an insult to how my mind works.”
I tease as I pull away from him moving closer to another tank. I watch as the ant within begins to twitch as it walks on the small pieces of tree branch. The others already have made their ascent.
This one won’t last long.
Grabbing the magnifying glass, I lean in, knowing full well Daniel’s watching my ass.
The ant stops.
A thin, orange stalk splits through the base of its skull like a blade of sunset-colored grass coated in a wet sheen. Another has burst through its small thorax, and another curled out from its mandible –writhing, reaching.
It is terrifyingly beautiful.
Still not what I want.
The infection always wins.
Daniel steps next to me, crouching to look at one of the hives I’ve created. There’s a ten year age gap between us. He’s in his mid thirties– the perfect breeding partner–genetic viability and institutional access all in one lean vessel.
Too bad I didn’t want any of it.
