Free American Mutant by Bernard Lee DeLeo

abilities. Connor stood up to return to his room, ready to acquire some money for a new grant to Harvard in the name of Derek’s daughter. Life was good for the moment.
    Thomas opened his door in person at the first knock to greet Dr. Blakely. Her stunned silence threw him off momentarily. He stepped aside to allow her to walk into his room, and she stared at him the whole way in.
    “You look incredible Thomas.”
    “You saw me in a suit before,” he replied puzzled. “What’s the big deal?”
    Karen shrugged, “I like the new clothes. They look a lot better than the company suit. I guess it surprises me how well you look in expensive clothes. Now, with your new found wealth, I.”
    “Now don’t go paranoid on me woman,” Connor broke in. “You said dress up, so I dressed up. If I look good, let’s go to your place, and you can shock me with how good you look.”
    “Okay, but I’ll drive.”
    “Fine, now let’s go before you talk yourself into such an inferiority complex you blow our date off.”
    “No way will I do that,” Karen chuckled. “You can be my Prince Charming tonight.”
    “And you will be.”
    “Cinderella, you fop.”
    “Fop?” Connor asked.
    “Yeah,” Karen replied smugly, “that’s a cross between a dweeb, and a dork.”
    “Perhaps you would like to go say hello to the rats and the beetles. They just could not get enough of you yesterday.”
    “I meant I was a fop,” Karen backtracked. “I would never call you a name master. I live only to serve your every whim. I.”
    “Enough, I will let you live.”
    Karen fell to her knees and grasped Connor’s hands, kissing them in mock gratitude. Connor pulled her up and held her tight to him. “You will need a shower now little missy.”
    Karen felt the familiar surge of ecstasy course through her body. Her pulse pounded, and she gasped involuntarily. “No Thomas.no. I.” She climaxed in his arms as he kissed her face, and steadied her writhing body. She clung to him weakly, waiting for the strength to pull away. The soft, half focused look she gave him made Connor smile.
    “You little hussy you,” Connor needled her.
    “You made me this way, you pervert. How dare you.no Thomas. I was just joking.” He let her pull away and straighten her clothes.
    “Jesus, I smell like a cheap tramp again,” she complained.
    Connor leaned in to her and kissed her on the neck. “As I told you before, you smell wonderful. Let’s go to your place, and I will give you a bath and clean you up.”
    “Promise.”
    Connor laughed and led her out of the room.
    They arrived at Karen’s apartment building twenty minutes later. The ride over had been quiet and comfortable. Connor got out of the passenger side and went over to open the door for Dr. Blakely. She smiled and modestly swung her legs out together as Connor chuckled. Up in her room, Karen hurried into her bedroom and shut the door. Connor sat down in her living room and relaxed.
    Although clean and neat, the one bedroom apartment did not stand out as anything special. The little alcove, which encompassed Karen’s kitchen and dining room, had only a wall clock for decoration. As Connor looked around, he did not see a single picture. No flowers hung from pots on the walls, nor sat in water filled vases. A bookcase stood against the opposite wall of the living room, and housed her small combination television set, and VCR. A desk next to her bookcase held her desktop computer, monitor and printer.
    Connor walked over and perused her collection of books. He saw Atlas Shrugged by Ayne Rand, one of his all time favorite books. He knew he had never quoted from it to Quenton, nor spoke of it to him. She also had a complete collection of Steven King’s novels, and many by Dean Koontz.
    The more he saw, the more he realized why she had recovered so quickly from practically incomprehensible happenings.
    She came out about twenty minutes later. Connor looked up from the book he had been reading. He