She got dressed as fast and silently as she could. Opening her window, she slipped outside, and ran for her car. Embarrassed and ashamed to be sneaking out of her own house, and away from her loving son, whose only crime was loving her too much, Carol cried as she drove back to her lab. She had to find an antidote to her son’s hold over her. Even as she thought that, a question entered unbidden into her mind. Would it really be so bad?
Harold was frustrated. Why hadn’t it worked on Carol? It had worked on every other woman he’d used it with, but not her. He watched her storm out of her office, probably to go fuck her son again, the slut. Maybe it had worked, just not as he’d thought.