Iclosed out the sequencing project I’d finally completed, popped out my noise-cancelling earbuds, and stretched back in my chair. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. I should probably do that. I kept a box of protein bars on my desk and tried to remember to eat one whenever my alarm went off. It got harder when I got deep into a project that took all my focus.
Creating this program had kept me in my head for days. I’d been helping a team of biologists design and run a program that allowed them to determine the exact spot on the protein molecules to target with the drug they’d created. It had the potential to help millions of people. Using generative AI, we’d been able to take linear amino acid chains and generate 3D images of the proteins which would let scientists fine-tune the drugs they used to treat a variety of diseases. It was my favorite kind of work—the kind that left the world better than when we started—but it also kept me so involved I forgot to feed myself. Then I survived on whatever Anna, my housekeeper, left sitting on the desk beside me when she stopped by.
She only came a couple of days a week—just enough to keep me from living in squalor. I’d be lost without her. I knew that and paid her appropriately. She made sure the loft was decent, there was edible food in the fridge, and I had clean clothesactually in my drawers instead of on the floor. My own mom was great. I should give her a call. I had a calendar reminder set so I remembered to phone every week. Anna was more like Batman’s Alfred than a maternal figure. Not that I thought of myself as Batman. I didn’t have the gear. A grappling gun could be cool. I might be able to figure out how to make one of those without killing myself or ending up in jail. On second thought, probably not.
I’d been fortunate to turn my hyper-focus into a lucrative career. It let me put systems in place to take care of the things I didn’t notice so I could still function. I liked having food that wasn’t moldy in my refrigerator and furniture arranged in a way that made it comfortable to binge-watchThe Witcherwhen I wanted. I just had trouble thinking of them on my own. But I appreciated when they were there, I thought, drying my hands on a hand towel that appeared in my bathroom to replace the one I wrecked.
Elena made things better too. And not just for the sex and furniture, although they were both stellar reasons. She gave me a way to connect to a person, with rules that meant I didn’t have to worry about what I might miss. I wasn’t selfish, at least not in themy needs are more important than yoursway. I just sometimes lost track of what theyourswere. It could make me seem like an asshole to partners who didn’t understand the way I was wired. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them. I didn’t understand why my brain functioned the way it did. I’d just learned that if I leaned into it instead of fighting against it, things worked better.
Rules were brilliant because they eliminated the nuances and second-guessing that I usually got wrong anyway. Negotiated rules with Elena were sexy as fuck, largely because she was sexy as fuck. She was also intelligent, thoughtful, and so fucking competent. She looked out for me, and I wasn’t sure we could even call each other friends. I could only imagine what she didfor the people she loved. She made the world better than she found it too, although it didn’t seem to leave her much room to relax.
There was something incredibly satisfying about making a woman as in control of things as Elena lose control. It made my pleasure that much better, which proved—at least to my satisfaction—that I wasn’t a selfish asshole. I loved that she seemed satisfied with the relationship too.
Distracted by a different kind of hunger, I dug my phone out of the pocket of my jeans—I needed to shower and change and put on clean clothes. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that either. Elena first.
ME
Wanna play?
I held onto the phone as I headed to the kitchen.
ELENA
Absolutely
ME
What? And when?
I smiled to myself as I dug around in the fridge for something to eat. Now that I’d thought about food again, I was starving. I grabbed a pack of deli turkey—Anna got the pepper kind I liked—and started shoving pieces into my mouth while I evaluated my other options. There was a stack of glass containers, each clearly labeled with the contents, and Anna stocked my freezer with curries and things I could microwave.
I didn’t want something frozen, and I was too hungry to wait for delivery. Which left the glass containers. I pulled out one labeled mac and cheese and another labeled pork and brussels sprouts.
Part of my brain registered the phone buzzing with an incoming text but my stomach overrode everything else for the moment. I put the already seasoned pork in the pan, dumped the cleaned and halved brussels sprouts alongside, and set the glass dish of mac and cheese in the microwave. The note on the lid saidchutney in the pantryso I opened the cabinet and grabbed the jar sitting in the front. I could cook from scratch. I was actually pretty good at it, and I liked doing it. But my brain didn’t work the same way when I was hungry. Until I got enough food in me to even things out, I needed the instructions.
I set the jar on the counter next to my phone and remembered the unread text.
ELENA
Slutty secretary? Tomorrow at 4?
ME
Brilliant! Rules?
ELENA
Can we use your office? Red lipstick, very short skirt. I can drop my pen…
ME
So careless, but it means I can slide my hand up the inside of your thigh to touch your panties.
ELENA
No panties
I leaned back against the counter, sinking into the story she was telling. My cock was half hard already just from the woman’s texts.
