BLIND TRIAL by Brian Deer (good books to read for adults .txt) 📕

“Tah-dah,” she exclaimed. “What you think of my reef?” By the door bubbled a spectacular aquarium.

He squatted beside it: maybe three feet long, with a drystone wall of plant-choked rocks and a shipwrecked Spanish galleon. She pointed out species: a bulbous brown tang, skulking behind a green leather coral; a purple-and-yellow royal gramma, its mouth gaping wide; a dusky jawfish, fanning its fins. Then she identified her latest: a pair of Banggai cardinalfish, with thick vertical black and silver stripes.

“Those are new.” She crouched beside him. “There were three till Tuesday. But one died.”

In addition to the T-shirt, she wore a pair of gray sweatpants flashed with a white Nike swoosh. The same bangles she’d sported in DC jingled. She squatted so close she touched his shoulder.

“They’re an endangered species in the wild,” she said. “You’ve got to keep the salinity around eight and the temperature a virtually steady eighty Fahrenheit. It’s not that easy at all.”

As she talked, one of the cardinalfish circled its companion, as if inspecting every black and silver scale. When it reached the other’s eyes, it gave a funny kind of shimmy, then swam round the back and did the same.

She sank to her knees. “You think something’s going on?”

He sat cross-legged. “Which one’s Frank?”

“The book says they do this when they’re mating. Or least when they’re getting ready to mate.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“According to the book, the male squirts its sperm on the eggs and then takes them in its mouth for incubation.”

“Got a buddy goes to places like that.”

The first fish shimmied. Sumiko’s elbow brushed his own. He didn’t foresee a need to play with drapes.

She shifted position, turned her back to the aquarium, and joined him cross-legged on the floor. “Now where’s my beer?” She crawled to a rug: deep blue and shaggy. “Maybe we should feed them. Hard to know.”

Her T-shirt hung free as she returned to the tank. Two items of clothing. Three max.

He laid a hand on the floor and their elbows touched again. “You think they got food on their mind?”

She must have felt the contact of skin with skin. “Should we let them be alone?” she said. “I wonder?”

“Cool T-shirt. Get it on Amazon?”

“Caught me out there. I did.”

“Cotton, is it?”

“Hundred percent, I think.”

“Pre-shrunk?”

“I’d think so.”

“You can sometimes tell before you wash it, if you look very closely at the fibers.”

“I didn’t know that. How?” She tugged at the cloth, tightening the fit across her breasts. Then she pressed her shoulders back: even tighter.

He didn’t plan the moment, but it seemed so right. Every instinct yelled out what she wanted. He’d not been in the apartment for fifteen minutes, but the tension was driving him crazy. He raised his right hand and ran his fingers against her shirt. The cotton yielded, soft, to his touch.

“Pre-shrunk.”

She allowed it for seconds… processing… processing… then leaned away and reached for her beer.

SHIT. FUCK. That shouldn’t have happened. He was sure she was up for it. Certain. He looked at her eyes, but she turned from his gaze, stood, and switched on a ceiling light. She half-closed the windows, pulled shut the curtains, and dropped onto a blue-and-white settee.

He rose and sat beside her. But not too close. “So, you wanted to review the situation?”

She fingered her Kirin. “That’s right. I’ve been thinking about those things at the center. What Trudy Mayr found. Wilson must have known about those forms.”

Jesus. Back to that. This was looking less hopeful. A minute ago, he was sure she was cool. “But, I mean, Doc Mayr told you in DC he was all washed up. So, you’ve already won. Forget about the guy. Be happy.”

“Yes. But how do we know? Maybe she’s only saying that. Maybe she’s only here to placate me till she gets her vaccine approved on Monday.”

“She did find the SPIRE forms, I’d point out. I was there, remember? I saw her. You heard it yourself.”

“Yes, I know. But that won’t be all of it with Wilson. Not by a long shot.”

“Fair enough, if you think so. Okay. But she’s worried too. You saw that. And I guess if she’s not on the level then I’m not either? I’d have to be in on it, wouldn’t I? Is that what you think?”

She turned her head and looked straight at him. And what a look. What a look. She shot the stare of a Bangkok ladyboy. “No, I don’t think that. I don’t think that at all. You’re too real to be anything but honest.”

He stretched his right arm along the back of the settee. Maybe he misread her. Confusing. He extended two fingers and tapped her shoulder. “Look, I really want to help you here. Take account of your requirements. I want us to do whatever makes you happy.”

She allowed his touch. But only for seconds. Then she got up and circled the room. “Yes, but professionally, I mean. Do you know, has Dr. Mayr been looking at more records? How thorough is she actually being? Has she found anything else, do you know?”

She returned and sat beside him. But not close enough. If anything, she was further away.

So, a woman teasing: no surprise there. That part of their trip came with the territory. Luke always said this was the straight man’s tragedy: “the compulsive need for mixed sex.” But Ben sensed something else, something deeper, going on. Her eyes were all desire—all give it to me baby—but her mouth was butt-tight: resolute.

This was getting sucky. This was looking pretty manipulative. But he could do likewise. He was expert. Was she really coming on to him, or playing some game? Was Hoffman right after all? Who cares? He could fuck her in the ass and still open the drapes. There was a line or two of coke in the car.

He drained his beer and spun the bottle. “You seem pretty interested in that database, seems to me. Some people might think you’re obsessed.”

“But look what she’s