Dr. Trout scoffed, “A falling out? Over what?”
“He asked her out. She said no.”
“Hm. This is no place for office gossip.”
“Yes, sir. I know. It’s just… the hours have been getting to all of us.”
“Do you know why she turned him down?”
“John called last night after the whole thing. He thinks there was someone else.”
“I see,” Dr. Trout replied, sounding pleased, “Well there’s no need to gossip. Run along. I’ll talk to Minerva when she gets in. She knows how you scientists get. It’s up to her to stoptemptingthe men in this office.”
“Yes, Dr. Trout.”
The new data I collected from my implant sent a pang of worry surging through me. Dr. Trout wasn’t angry at the news of Minerva’s lateness, nor about John’s ill-fated attempt to court her. He experienced a troubling response. I struggled against my paralysis to lift my arms. I would be shaking out of my paralysis soon, but I couldn’t rush it.
Minerva eventually showed up. My ocular implant revealed troubling information about Dr. Trout’s reaction as she enteredthe room. I’d never put much weight on the older doctor’s physiological responses. He was typically calm, and cold, with readings far less interesting than the other physicians. When it came to Minerva, the rise in his neurotransmitter levels yoked my attention.
She aroused him.
“Minerva,” Dr. Trout began gruffly, “I want an explanation as to why you’re late.”
“Sorry. My ride with John fell through.”
“I heard about that.”
“You did?”
She was nervous and frazzled. I strained to break free from my binds, to pry myself off the table and remove Dr. Trout with all his lascivious intentions away from her. I wondered if she could see what he was feeling even without an ocular implant of her own. He was dangerous to her.
“Yes. Now we need to talk about dress code in the office and how some of your choices may have led to John’s misunderstanding.”
“I’m wearing clothes that are within dress code.”
“Don’t you think that dress is awfully low cut? I can see your… you know, your breasts.”
“Dr. Trout!” Minerva gasped.
“I’m sorry, Minerva, but it’s hard for the gentlemen in this office to focus with your perky littlebreastsbouncing around in that shirt.”
“It’s a button down! It’s very work appropriate.”
I could sense her shame and her frustration, rising to the surface all at once. He was taunting her, attempting to force her into a corner. She was vulnerable…
“Well, Minerva, that isn’t the only thing,” Dr. Trout continued smugly.
“Dr. Trout, I’d prefer if you referred to me as Dr. Hsu,” she replied, getting testier as her blood pressure rose along with her heart rate.
“Dr. Hsu, your shirt isn’t the only thing inappropriate around here. What about your trousers?”
“What’s wrong with my trousers?”
“They are very tight around your roundpeachybottom.”
I heard him smack his lips in delight.
“Dr. Trout! This is really inappropriate. If I’m not allowed to wear a button-down and trousers, what am I permitted to wear?”
