Roswell Fanatics

It wasn't that Liz didn't appreciate the efforts that Doug and Lexie had made in her behalf, but her cerebral hemispheres told her that this wasn't going to work. Less than a year previously she had made a verbal overture to Max - asking that they start going to dances and other boy-girl stuff, and that one disagreement had lost her Max for the summer and most of this school year. It was, her cerebral hemispheres knew, the wrong path to take, however well intentioned. The best that could come out of this - she was certain - was that Max would realize she'd been as surprised by Lexie doing this to them as he was - as surprised as she was by Lexie's attempt at 'bundling' them last night. But while her cerebral hemispheres thought that this would probably end badly, even they had to admit that it was pleasant right now. Sometimes all you can do is to enjoy the moment, and that's what the decision turned out to be. She placed her head on his shoulder and turned off all the thoughts and the worries. Sometimes as the gamblers say, you have to just let it ride and see what happens. So for right now the cerebral hemispheres were just going to turn themselves off and enjoy the moment. Not even conscious of the movements of her body, she pressed against him, instinctively following his lead. Whatever else happened, she would always have the memory of this.

Max could tell by Liz's shocked expression that this wasn't her doing. An attempt by Doug, no doubt, to play matchmaker. His own cerebral hemispheres knew this wouldn't work - that this couldn't work. If it hadn't been for the difference between them - sure - he'd have given anything to be Liz's special someone, but the knowledge of what he was just wasn't going to go away.

No - it would never work - and his cerebral hemispheres knew that with absolute certainty- but even so. This would be the last time he would ever be this close to Liz. After tonight he'd need to let her go her own way to find her own way in life - he'd not hold her back any longer. Still, what was done was done - he couldn't very well walk away from her in mid-dance - so for the duration of this one short dance he could just let his cerebral hemispheres enjoy the fact that he had this beautiful young lady in his arms - her head on his shoulder - enjoy these last few minutes of being with her like there was no tomorrow - because there wouldn't be. None like this anyway. No, now was just a time to let his feet go with the music - to not think - to put his cerebral hemispheres in memory mode and just enjoy. Whatever else happened, he would always have the memory of this.

While both pair of cerebral hemispheres were in enjoy and record mode, other things were going on in the brain. Cerebral hemispheres are responsible for the intellect - something midbrains consider over-rated. But while love is affected by intellect, it isn't a creation of intellect. It is something more primal. In point of fact, many of Max's problems stemmed from his cerebral hemispheres.

Max's abrupt transition from his warm watery womb in the podchamber was no more severe than Liz's earlier abrupt transition from Nancy Parker's warm watery womb, in some respects it was easier. The difference was that Liz didn't really have functioning cerebral hemispheres at birth - Max did. Sometimes you can overintellectualize things - and that had happened with Max. Liz had been born far more helpless - and far less capable of rational thought. It never occurred to her that she'd spent all of her previous existence as a sea creature - or that her blood contained fetal hemoglobin - totally different from Nancy and Jeff Parker's - or that had her ductus arteriosus not closed rapidly after birth she would have died, because she was not yet adapted to a terrestrial environment. The fact is, cerebral hemispheres weren't needed during early development.

Human babies get by on cute - it's as simple as that - and the cute is mostly supplied by the brainstem. Liz had never worried about her parents being different from her - they moved and she smiled at them - and she melted their hearts with that smile. Actually, the 'melted their hearts' parts was figurative. What she actually did was stimulate their midbrains to care for - and love - a human child. In fact, the cerebral hemispheres were working so poorly back then that there wasn't a thing that she could even recall prior to her second birthday party - and that only because the party clown had frightened her so bad. But it didn't matter. Long before she was making lasting memories, her parents midbrains had accepted her and her little midbrain had accepted them and despite being small, vulnerable, unable to feed herself, and demanding repetitive diapering, she had become her parents daughter.

It was a little different with Max. It wasn't that he didn't care for his parents - he really did. But cerebral hemispheres are inhibitory to the midbrain - which is sometimes good - saves on the diapering certainly - but because of that his bonding with Diane and Philip Evans had turned out different than Liz's bonding. That was something that Diane Evans knew intuitively, even if she couldn't quite come to grips with why that was.

The problem was that while Liz Parker accepted her parents as her parents - because her cerebral hemispheres had been way too immature to catalogue the many differences between her and them. Max' s cerebral hemispheres had accepted his parents only as his HUMAN parents, and the gulf that exists between any child and parent was much greater for him because he realized it always had been. Worse yet, it had bled over into his feelings for humans in general.

Had Max been kicked out of that pod chamber with immature cerebral hemispheres - and managed to survive a night in the desert - Diane and Philip would have been simply mom and dad, and the rest of humanity just more people and he would have been a human with - when he found out about them - some strange powers that other people don't have. But he wouldn't have been an alien. But in Max's case, the cerebral hemispheres were already developed - and too smart for their own good. They knew better the differences that existed, and they'd interfered with that bonding.

Of course, now his cerebral hemispheres were taking a short break. The fact that those cerebral hemispheres were taking a short break was not unknown to the respective midbrains involved, however. It was to a considerable degree due to those midbrains. Despite the difficult and necessary things that they did, midbrains often didn't get a lot of respect from cerebral hemispheres. 'So dumb you have to measure their IQ with a Glascow Coma scale,' was one of the many generalities that cerebral hemispheres frequently thought about the midbrain - and to an extent that was even true. The so-called 'higher functions' of the brain were for the most part a product of the cerebral hemispheres - the expression signaling not just higher complexity, but the physical location of the cerebral hemispheres above the midbrain as well. But as previously noted, those midbrains had been the whole shooting match for eons before cerebrums came along, and they weren't without their own bag of tricks.

Midbrains knew damn well what dancing was about - they had invented it. Dancing was a stylized courtship ritual. Long before homo erectus even existed, let alone actually having an erection, midbrains of all species were courting one another through elaborate rituals of sound and movement. Liz and Max's midbrains recognized this dance for what it was - a stylized courtship ritual - even if their cerebral hemispheres were too occupied with all the myriad of nonsense (at least nonsense in the opinion of a midbrain) that cerebrums seemed to constantly busy themselves with. In fact, the midbrains were sort of glad right now that the cerebral hemispheres were busy dithering over whatever the hell the stuck-up things were dithering over right now, because it kept them busy. Cerebral hemisphere, as has been previously noted, were inhibitory to the midbrains and as long as Liz and Max's cerebrums were up there wallowing in doubt and pain, there was nobody minding the store so to speak, and the midbrains had relatively free reign.

Not actually being as stupid is the cerebrums thought they were, the midbrains had already started pumping endorphins into the bloodstream - no doubt in time to the beat of the music - to mellow those cerebrums right out and keep them satisfied with their moment up there in the darkness - while the midbrains got down to the serious work.

Cerebrums don't sway to the music - or move their bodies in response to the body of their dance partner - midbrains do that. The midbrains were responding to the rhythm and very shortly the bodies of Liz and Max were reacting to one anothers movements in stylized ways - interpreted by the cerebral hemispheres as 'going with the flow' - that were actually directed by their midbrains - movements that were sending messages from his midbrain to hers and from her midbrain to his.

Love was not the exclusive province of the cerebral hemispheres - nor had it ever been. As their bodies pressed against each other, the movements were a language of their own to the midbrains. Soon the pheromones joined in as well. Dance is a form of communication and this communication was one of courtship and the vows were made and accepted - vows were affirmed and reaffirmed through the movements and the pheromones in a language that was ancient long before humans existed on this Earth.

As the slow dance ended Liz and Max each took a deep breath, their cerebrums anxious and fearful. But their midbrains were strangely at rest. The midbrains had completed their courtship and - despite being fairly earthy in their outlook - did not really require immediate gratification. OK, they actually were horndogs, midbrains are like that - but right now they at least had it under control. The important thing was that vows had been made and sealed in the biochemistry of pheromones and in the reactions of their bodies together, and all of this had been recorded in the periaqueductal gray matter of the midbrain.

No, midbrains really aren't all that stupid, whatever the arrogant stuck-up cerebral cortexes might think. Vows had been exchanged and Max and Liz's midbrains knew that they had become mates - even if the physical act of consummation was a long time off. Midbrains had been doing this for eons - long before cerebral hemispheres came along. No doubt they thought the stuck-up cerebral hemispheres would find out about it in their own time.

As far as the midbrains were concerned, their search was over. Not all midbrains of course were monogamous or mated for life - but these two were. So as the dance broke up both midbrains were pretty content. However much Max and Liz's cerebral hemispheres were screwing things up, at least their midbrains knew who they belonged to - they belonged to each other.

Of course, that wasn't helping much in the angst department right now.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said, “...I'd better circulate around and get some shots for the project I'm doing for the school newspaper,” he continued, holding up the small camera. She'd enjoyed the dance more than she would have felt possible - even knowing Doug and Lexie had mousetrapped him into it and it wasn't really his idea. For all her fears that he'd never be able to get past his shyness – his feeling of being 'different' – his fear of closeness that seemed to alienate him so much of the time from the society around him – Liz felt that somehow that dance had changed her. Somehow she had been left with a deeper need for his presence as if at some primal level she and Max had somehow bonded. Ten minutes ago she was looking forward to trying to make this work – trying as Lexie had said to 'vamp' Max. Somehow she realized it had been her that had somehow been seduced in that dance and it made no sense to her at all. One lousy five minute dance – one he was tricked into at that – but as he retreated across the improvised dance floor it felt like she was losing part of herself.

As Max walked across the dance floor he was hoping that putting distance between them would calm the feeling in his heart. It had been a lovely five minutes – quite possibly the best five minutes of his life. But the memory was not the comfort to him that he'd thought it would be. Somehow he'd made himself believe that could hold on to that memory like a talisman – to remember this moment with joy – but lovely as the memory was it seemed to only emphasize the loss of her – the loss of something that had somehow become a part of himself. 'Stop it, Max,' he told himself.'In that direction lies only pain for you and what's worse, pain for Liz. If you really love her, you can't do that to her. You can't lie to her and pretend that you aren't different when you know that you are. Eventually she'll find out and it will destroy you both – even destroy the memory of the times you were both happy together. You can't want that Max... not for yourself and certainly not for Liz.'

As he looked back across the dance floor he saw the first guy ask her for a dance. He seemed a nice enough guy – a sophomore from Salt Lake City if he remembered correctly. As the guy led her out on the dance floor, he readied his camera.

Liz barely knew this guy - she'd only met him on a tour of competing exhibits - but he was friendly enough. Her heart wasn't in it but Lexie had told her that she needed to pretend to be having fun – needed to let him get over his shyness – needed to make it obvious that he was special to him while at the same time demonstrating that dancing was fun. She would try to stay as close to him as she could, she decided. As he pointed the camera his way she smiled up at him. It didn't feel right though. Somehow – deep inside her – she could feel it. This guy she was dancing with just wasn't the right one. Maybe if Max watched long enough he'd sense that and come and rescue her. He'd always been good at rescues – whatever other problems he had socially. Maybe eventually he'd rescue her from these guys she didn't care about – and return her to his arms where somehow she felt more and more like she belonged.


Up on the fourth floor, the lights were dimmed and there was music coming from the small iPod speakers on the table and the couple were slow dancing in time to the music - and in time to the increasingly strong and fast beatings of their own hearts. Doug and Lexie had been doing this for over a year and a half now -every chance they had - ever since their own midbrains had bonded at a meeting their cerebrums had connived to get them to.

Initially the cerebrums had resisted the idea that this was about mating - used euphemisms like 'they needed a little privacy' despite the fact that Lexie and Doug communicated by email at least three times a day - every day - in codes so 'private' the NSA hadn't been able to crack them with a supercomputer without getting the key from Lexie. But the midbrains were winning - even the cerebrums didn't rationalize like that much anymore. They were dancing now - but both Doug and Lexie knew that this would soon devolve into a makeout session - at least some clothes would be shed and skin would touch skin and they would go from there present vertical posture to a horizontal one on the bed.

Their cerebrums still had some resistance - some Byzantine sort of logic that made no sense to their cerebrums - and never had - about their having some sort of advantage in the inevitable confrontation with the parent units if they not take the petting session to it's - in the view of their midbrains - obvious conclusion.

Now the fact of the matter was that Lexie and Dougs midbrains weren't particular horndogs - as midbrains went - though in truth midbrains as a group do go rather far in the horndog direction. Their midbrains had been patient - well that was a lie - but they had at least waited paitiently through a dozen of these sessions - waiting for the obtuse cerebrums to come to grips with reality. Tonight they thought they'd waited long enough.

For no reason Lexie could really think of she felt her hand reach behind Doug - get under his t-shirt - and reach up to the back of his neck. She draggd her fingernails slowly - softly - down his back and his back arched in a sensual response - pushing his chest against hers. Almost immediately his hands were reaching under her blouse - massaging her gently in the small of her back. They kissed and slowly shuffled in the general direction of the bed. Their cerebrums were trying to remember something - but the endorphin flow was getting pretty high and they were starting to go with the flow.

As her hands softly caressed his skin and hers caressed his - both cerebrums gave up on trying to remember - how important could it be, anyway? As both t-shirts came off and the pair sat on the bed caressing the others body, their midbrains would have smiled if they'd been able to. They couldn't - their lips were locked together - life was good.

Jimmy Drevins looked out from the corner of the dining hall that – for the night at least – had been transformed into a dance floor. He watched with amusement as a series of people went over and beat on the thermostat before finally finding a custodian to turn it down. It was warm indeed in here. But what he looked at mostly were two people – a young lady dressed in a black t-shirt with a silver silkscreen of a galaxy of stars complete with rhinestones and sequins who seemed to be having few problems finding dances and a young man who orbited around the periphery of the room doing little but look morose while taking pictures of the girl. He even seemed oblivious to the fact that she was purposely parading all those guys past him – trying to make him jealous.

Drevins shook his head, looking at the seventh-grader – uncertain just why he'd felt buffaloed by the kid last night on the bus. Certainly nothing he'd seen in the last twenty-four hours had indicated the boy was anything but a shy unassertive guy – anything but a threat, and even oblivious to the signals the girl was sending him. Clearly, the girl wanted it – and apparently wanted it pretty desperately if she was going to that much trouble to try to make the Evans kid notice her. Last night he had been attracted to her but actually felt threatened by him – ridiculous as that seemed now.

'The kid's just another seventh grade piss-ant,' he told himself. But the girl – the girl was something else. She was hot, he thought, looking at her body swaying. Nothing more than he deserved, of course – one more notch on his bedpost to brag to his friends about. He eyed the boy again, wishing he'd leave. It was senseless to fear him. He knew he outweighed him by twenty-five or thirty pounds – besides he'd had five years of karate and undoubtedly could kick the kid's ass – but it would be helpful if he just went away. Drevins decided to wait a few more dances – what the hell – he could see the girl start to perspire on the warm dance floor. Every minute that went by made her thirstier – more dehydrated. That all played into his hands. He watched the boy – growing more contemptuous of him as the minutes passed. Yes, soon he'd make his move....

'It's what you want for her...' Max told himself as he sighted through the camera and pushed the button. The focus didn't seem to be working well on the camera – or maybe the heat was causing the sweat from his face to irritate his eyes. Yes, he wanted her to be able to do this – he just wanted her to be happy – but somehow something deep inside him felt such an emptiness when he saw her smiling in the arms of the other guys …. like part of him was missing.

Liz felt the sweat roll down her face as she danced with her fifth partner since Max. That was how she saw them – the xth partner since Max – hardly even as individuals. Several of them she probably couldn't have picked out of the crowd two dances later. They were barely noticeable – certainly not important – merely a means to an end. Except, of course, the end wasn't coming about.

These guys meant nothing to her – and Max meant everything. Why couldn't he see that? Why did she have to go through this charade? Why couldn't he have just accepted her offer last Spring to start dating. She hadn't even expected them to be real dates – just middle school dances. She wasn't asking him to swear his eternal love – just to give her a chance – to give the two of them a chance to let what they felt for each other become what she hoped it someday would become. Was that too much to ask? Why couldn't he just do that much? As she watched him snap another picture, her pain started to become anger. This was unfair. This was so DAMN unfair....


Up on the fourth floor, the dancing had stopped. Two bodies – both naked to the waist – lay on the bed – their lips together – their bodied pressed closely to each other as their hands caressed and fondled the other. Her lips opened and her tongue pressed tentatively against his lips before they opened and his tongue met hers in their own version of caresses. His hands went to her waist and fumbled for her buckle clumsily. She laid her hands on top of his and he stopped instantly and started to withdraw his hands – until he felt her hands grasp her belt and loosen the buckle and the button at the top of her slacks – before moving tentatively to his belt. He felt the pull and the quick release as his belt loosened – felt her hand reach down into his boxers to caress him. Doug looked into Lexie's eyes and kissed her – pulling her hand away gently and struggling free of his levis. He reached for the waist of her slacks and she lifted her hips – allowing him to pull them down – kicking them off to join his on the floor.....


El Huérfano, Chihuaha Mexico

In the darkness the tropical low turned northeastward at 8 miles per hour – toward the Rio Grande and the vast expanse of western Texas and beyond it – south central New Mexico.

It was - Jimmy decided - time to make his move. He wondered - as he moved across the crowded floor - if she was a virgin? It seemed likely. She appeared attracted almost exclusively to Max, as unlikely as that would seem - and the shy seventh grader certainly seemed an unlikely candidate to modify the girl's virgin status. The thought that she was brought a quick smile to his lips.

The drug produced a euphoria and that euphoria was often sexual in nature. Even without the alcohol to loosen inhibitions the girl usually saw the fantasy she wanted rather than the reality of what was actually happening to her - the alcohol in fact being more necessary for acting with the GHBA to produce amnesia of the event rather than actually being necessary to get the girl in the mood. But virgins were a little different.

It was because - Jimmy theorized - they'd never really done it. Their bodies didn't quite know how - the lubrication wasn't quite there. You had to be a little more forceful - a little more - well, brutal, actually - and when you popped their cherry the pain broke through the euphoria of the drug - only briefly - only for a few lovely seconds before they became lost again in their fantasy - but in those few seconds you could tell they realized what had just happened - realized what they'd just lost - realized what he - Jimmy Drevins - had taken from them.

Yes, for those few sweet seconds they understood the reality of it all - that they were nothing - just a vehicle for some guy who didn't give a shit about them to get his rocks off. For Jimmy it wasn't even about getting his rocks off, actually. It was that look of pain and shame that was the real turn on. No, they wouldn't remember it after the fact - not after the alcohol and the drugs had worked their magic - but he would. He remembered now the look on the faces of the three virgins he'd already done this to - he could picture them now. They were his - they would always be his - no matter how many other guys made it with them. Jimmy Drevins knew that and he was sure that somewhere deep within their brains that memory remained to torment them - even if they couldn't remember it except in their dreams.

"Miss Parker," said Jimmy, in his most polite voice,"...may I have this dance?"


In the back of his mind Max knew that he had no reason to be here anymore. In years past he might have deluded himself that he should keep taking pictures because the earlier ones might not develop properly - but it was an electronic camera and he could plainly see on the LCD screen that the first pictures were perfectly adequate. And it wasn't, after all, like even Alex Whitman was going to let him put more than one or two pictures in the article to illustrate it. After the first few pictures of guys dancing with Liz, there really wasn't any reason that he hadn't left the dance.

In reality what was happening was that his midbrain's desire to be near Liz was warring with his Cerbral hemispheres desires to be somewhere else - somewhere that the visual evidence of other guys having what had been so wonderful - and what he could never have again - didn't torment him so. Somewhere where he didn't have it rubbed in his face that they were normal and for them there existed at least the possibility that they would one day be her special someone - while he had no chance at all. But eventually the pain got too much as he watched one young man after another dance with her - eventually it became too hard to stay there mindlessly snapping pictures that weren't really needed while remembering those few precious minutes that it had been him there - with Liz in his arms. Yes, he would cherish THAT memory all of his life - but the sight of others dancing with her - eventually the pain of his loss overcame the desire of his midbrain to be near the person that his midbrain had bonded to - the person that at his deepest most primitive level now would always be his mate.

Finally, he put the lens cap on the camera and turned to go. Only at the last moment - just as he was at the exit did he look back one last time. That's when he saw Jimmy Drevins moving toward Liz. The impulse that sent him scurrying through the crowd to her side was a primal one - seeing as how it was from his midbrain, it could scarcely be anything else. Maybe that's why his cerebral hemispheres hadn't quite made sense of this - and weren't operating at their best - when he finally got to Liz.




"Miss Parker,...may I have this dance?" Liz looked up at Jimmy Drevins. She remembered the sort of instinctive dislike she had toward him on the bus - remembered Lexie saying that Max and Doug didn't care for the young man - and remembered Lexie's admonition to not use him as leverage over Max. She was about to politely refuse - to tell him that it had been a long day and she was too warm to dance and her feet were tired and she was going to call it a night - all true but the last, she had promised Lexie to not show her face at the room for another hour and fifteen minutes - when her conversation was interrupted before it even got started.

"Liz, .... I need to talk to you for a moment," said a somewhat anxious Max who was looking at Drevins sort of doubtfully.

Liz smiled innocently at Drevins, and said, "I'm sorry - I need to speak to Max for just a second - I'll be right back," as she pulled Max aside to talk to him privately. She wanted to believe - she wanted so MUCH to believe, that he'd finally come to his senses. She smiled up at him, convinced he was going to ask her to dance and already ready to lie to Blevins that this dance had already been promised to Max - strictly speaking not even a lie, at least as far as their midbrains were concerned. But that wasn't quite what Max had to say.

"Do NOT dance with that guy," said Max. It was sort of a spur of the moment thing for his cerebral cortex to say. The reality was highly complex. The cerebral cortex didn't know just exactly why it felt so strongly about this - that it was getting messages from the midbrain - but it did know that Jimmy had been openly contemptuous of all females and viewed them as nothing but sex objects. That and the vulgar language he used about them made it obvious that Liz wouldn't enjoy his company. Had he taken the time to explain his concern in greater detail she probably would have even agreed - but that wasn't what he'd done.

The hope that he'd come to ask her for this dance was receding rapidly - but an increasingly irritated Liz Parker had to be sure. "Max, are you asking me for this dance?"

The change in the direction of this talk caught him by surprise. The best he could come up with was, "Well, no....." He didn't want to go down that road - that's what the pictures were all about - there was nothing for them down that road but pain for both of them. Mostly he just didn't want her to dance with THAT guy. "... I just don't want you to have anything at all to do with Drevins."

Disappointment, hurt, and rage all seemed to bubble to the top of Liz's mind simultaneously. She fought back tears - she honestly didn't know if they were tears of pain or tears of rage - and faced him squarely, enunciating every word plainly.

"Max, are you my father?"

"Why, no, of course not...," he replied, having not the slightest idea where that question came from.

"So are you maybe my mom?"

"No, Liz, but...." he started, even Max now starting to get the drift.

"Well you DAMN SURE aren't my boyfriend - you've made THAT perfectly clear since last Spring.... so where the HELL do you get off telling me who I can and can't associate with?"

She looked at him - watching him panic - knowing full well he'd be able to think of no response. She wasn't breaking her promise to Lexie - she hadn't tried to make Max jealous with Jimmy Drevins - but if he was - well that was good. She owed him her life - she always would - and she'd always be grateful to him - but he was the one choosing not to share that life with her and if that's the way he was going to be, she would damn well dance a dance with Jimmy Drevins if she wanted to - even if he was sort of an arrogant ass.

Max just looked at her, tongue-tied, remembering the mess he'd gotten into when he had tried to forbid her to work on her project - the project that she'd eventually conquered. He also remembered what Doug had said about being careful not to hurt Liz - that Doug thought Liz cared for him very much. Perhaps someone more experienced could have found a middle ground - but not Max. All he could think was that Liz was right - he had no business telling her what she could and couldn't do. He wasn't her boyfriend - in fact he was an idiot when it came to this boy-girl stuff. If Liz thought she could handle it, then likely she could. Certainly she knew more about it than he did. Besides, he'd obviously pissed her off enough for one evening.

She looked at him the phrase 'speak for yourself, John' coming hopefully to her mind - but it wasn't to be. Max sputtered a little but finally found his voice.

"You're right, Liz. I'm sorry. I'll just butt out - I shouldn't have said anything."

As Max Evans walked toward the door, Liz turned back toward him, and Jimmy feigned concern. "Is there something wrong with Max? He doesn't seem very happy."

"Neither am I, I'm afraid. About the dance - I really don't think I'd be very good company right now. I really do care about Max and sometimes what we think just doesn't....mesh, you know? I probably need to be alone and think over a few things right now, but I do appreciate the invitation - maybe some other time."

"Look, it's obvious you are upset. It's been a long day and you are probably hot and tired - but sometimes being depressed and alone isn't a good thing. I know a place we can get a cool drink, sit down, and if you want - you can tell me about your problems with Max if you like - or just cool down and relax after a long day. Either way it'll give you a little time to put things in perspective. It's obvious your mad at Max, but in the day I've known him he doesn't seem like a bad guy - mostly just shy. It's easy to tell you care about him too - and from the way he talks about you he is attracted to you quite a bit as well."

"Max said that about me? That he is attracted to me?"

"He sure did. Come on.... let's go get that cool drink and I'll tell you all about it.


On the fourth floor they were down to boxers and briefs. Lexie smiled as his tongue flicked out to massage her right areola and lay back as he kissed her breasts. "Careful down there--- last time you left a hickey - fortunately not in any place my father could see, but I was the butt of a lot of jokes in the shower room in PE for the next three weeks." Lexie wondered if Doug had done that on purpose - kind of an expression of ownership. It actually wouldn't have bothered her all that greatly if he had. She'd left a few marks on him in that session too. Unbeknownst to both of them, that was the petting session where their midbrains had made the same vows and promises that Liz and Max's had done during the dance.

Then Doug's face came up to hers and his lips covered hers. His tongue caressed her tongue and Lexie felt his left hand slide itself slowly under the waistband of her briefs. Moaning softly, Lexie opened her legs slightly to grant his caressing fingers access to what they sought.

Regardless of the angst going on in the cerebrums they are attached to, midbrains tend to remain rather pragmatic types. Even before Max had left the dance area, his midbrain was hard at work. One might think that wasn’t going to work – for cerebrums are inhibitory to the midbrain and because of that definitely have the upper hand. Right now those cerebrums were leaving Liz – partly due to their own pain – partly because they believed it to be ‘for her own good’ (showing perhaps that the so-called ‘higher functions’ were a little less bright than they themselves happened to believe themselves to be) and that inhibition coming down from above was pretty strong. Even so, Max’s midbrain wanted to be back with Liz’s midbrain – after all, promises had been made and pheremones had been exchanged – a little togetherness seemed certainly in order.


But midbrains have been around a lot longer than cerebrums, and as the old saying goes, Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill. The midbrain – not the cerebrums – ran the autonomic nervous system, and through the hypothalamus and pineal gland most of the endocrine system as well. A midbrain could be a real beast to the cerebral hemispheres if it wanted to be, and Max’s midbrain was in no mood right now to take inhibition for an answer.

Almost at once the midbrain kicked in the fight or flight response through the autonomic nervous system and had the adrenal glands start kicking out cortisone in massive quantities. Mulling it over only briefly (midbrains not being real cerebral types obviously) it pumped a few gonadotropins out of the hypothalamus and pineal glands as well. The midbrain had little doubt that things would get interesting very shortly. It was right.

As he walked up the stairs Max felt the hairs stand up on the skin of his body. Something was wrong – something was very wrong – he just had no idea what it was. He was doing the logical thing he told himself – the noble thing even – so why did he feel like crap? It made no sense – no sense at all – but he was edgy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs even before he entered his room and sat down at the desk. He looked at Jimmy’s bunk and thought of all the crude things that the kid had said as his cerebral hemispheres started feeling the first effects of steroid rage.

He had, his cerebral hemispheres decided, been wrong to leave her down there with that jerk. OK, so the two of them couldn’t be a twosome – that didn’t mean that Jimmy Drevins could have her. There were a lot of nice guys in the world – nice normal guys. Drevins wasn’t one of them. It took only four or five minutes for the cerebral hemispheres to start rationalizing – assuming of course that you chose to call it rational. But under the endocrine and autonomic assault, it seemed rational enough to them.

Max wouldn’t bother Liz any – simply go down to the dance floor – tell Jimmy he needed to show him something in the alley behind the dormitory – and then beat the crap out of him. Yep, seemed perfectly logical to the cerebrums right now.

Unfortunately by the time he got back to the dance neither Liz nor Drevins were anyplace to be seen.

“It's down here,” said Drevins as he led her down the hall. The dance had been hot and she was thirsty – but the most important thing to her, Liz knew, was to hear what Max had been saying about her. He had seemed so close in those moments they'd danced together – then practically oblivious to her – except as the object of a photo shoot that seemed designed to determine just how many dances she could dance with people who meant nothing to her while the one she really cared about kept his distance.

There is an old saying in advertising that there is no bad publicity – it had become sort of like that for Liz. Even Max showing up overbearing (again!) like he had been over the catalyzed reaction for the terpenoids – which in fairness she had to admit she had almost blown herself up. But damn it, she could have even put up with that – his getting all macho and giving orders, because it wasn't as if she hadn't tried to help him become more self assertive – if he'd only reciprocated her affection just a little. OK, she knew he'd saved her life – and that more than once – and he wouldn't have done that if he hadn't cared at some level. But dammit, what did it take to attract that boy's attention. Obviously a $40 designer t-shirt and an $85 set of nails hadn't been enough. So that being the case, if having a short drink and a dance with Jimmy Drevins made Max a little jealous – that was OK with Liz Parker. It wasn't like she wanted to be with anyone but Max and if something Jimmy Drevins said gave her a clue how to do that, she wasn't above using it. All's fair in love and war, and this was love – love she hoped would some day be reciprocated.

As she'd walked by the other dorm rooms more than one was being used for a little liquid refreshment – oftentimes bottles of beer and other alcoholic beverages were clearly obvious, despite the fact that only about a quarter of the dorm residents were of legal age to drink. Still, a lot of guys and gals were just drinking soda and eating the ubiquitous microwave popcorn. Liz wasn't altogether surprised when Drevins went in to the room, even though she knew he was rooming with Max and Doug up on the third floor. As he held the door open for her like a gentleman she nodded politely as she went inside half expecting to see a small crowd of people there. As the door shut behind her she noticed to her surprise it was empty.

“My friends must have stepped out,” said Drevins, “... but don't worry, I know where the drinks are.” He stepped quickly to the refrigerator and pulled out two iced glasses and a lime, rubbing the lime along the edges of the glasses before dipping their rims in a saucer of salt on the desk. “We have,” he said showing her an unopened bottle of commercial marguerita mix, “... the finest combination of high-fructose corn syrup, sugar, citric acid, natural flavors, sodium citrate, sodium benzoate and potassium sorbate (to preserve flavor), cellulose gum, polysorbate 60, gum arabic, glycerol abietate and FD&C yellow no. 5. Now you can have that straight up over ice for my award-winning virgin Marguerita.....or, we do have a totally new bottle of tequila that my friends left in their refrigerator and I can put a shot of that in it for the more sophisticated REAL Marguerita. Which would you prefer?”

Liz looked at him and fought to keep a straight face. Maybe she was only thirteen, but she wasn't born yesterday. “I'll go with the non-alcoholic fructose corn syrup and stuff – heavy on the ice with a little bit of water, too,” she replied picking up the bottle of tequila and shaking her head. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you would be in if the science fair committee caught you with this?”

With his back to Liz he quickly dropped the contents of the two glassine envelopes in to the glass while continuing to talk. “Are you sure? I could just put a capful in your glass? It really does add to the taste.”

“No thanks. If I had wanted tequila I could have had all I wanted. Before I got the enzymatic process going I actually needed to take a still to the fermented agave to get down to the terpenoids. The first thing that came off was tequila. I gave it to my father … he said it wasn't half bad.”

“Well,” said Drevins twisting the cap off the marguerita mix and adding it to Liz's glass with a little tap water from the sink, “... there you are. I believe I'll have a jigger full of the real stuff in mine,” he continued, holding out his hands for the bottle from Liz.

“Your funeral if you get caught – you read the contestant rules they sent us......,"she said as she handed him back the bottle.
“No...no I didn't,” said Blevins, pouring a small amount of tequila into his glass of marguerita mix and ice, “... but Max said that you were the perfect Miss Parker – I was pretty sure you would have read it and can no doubt recite it from memory. That kid sure thinks a lot of you."

Liz took a drink – it was cold and sweet and wet and tasted pretty good, if somewhat saltier than she would have guessed. She decided it must be the salt on the rim and kept sipping as she did her best to find out what else Max had said about her.

“You mentioned Max talking about me. What sort of things did he say?” she asked, nervously taking another gulp of the 'virgin' marguerita.


Up on the fourth floor Lexie's breaths were coming in short pants – roughly correlated with the stroking motion of his fingers in her briefs. She was on her back with her eyes closed – and could feel the warmth and dizziness that preceded what was about to happen.

Although she wasn't thinking about it right now – right now she was barely thinking at all just going with the flow and letting it happen – Liz had asked her last night about after she and Max got to first base – if she got to first base with him – how long before she should take it further. She'd cautioned Liz to take first things first – just worry about that first romantic kiss - but not to push Max into anything. Liz had asked her if she had ever pushed Doug and she'd said, ' well just a little bit.' She'd told Liz that guys like Doug and Max – it wasn't that they didn't want to go farther – but they didn't want to take any chance of making the woman they cared for uncomfortable so sometimes they held themselves back – making sure that the person they cared for was herself comfortable with the increased intimacy.

After talking to Liz Lexie had been a little frightened to tell her the whole truth. Intimacy was a matter of trust. It had taken months of gradually increasing physical intimacy before she had felt comfortable – truly comfortable letting Doug touch her like this. But Lexie knew – knew to the bottom of her soul – that Doug was doing what he was doing to give her pleasure. Oh, he was getting turned on too – and Lexie certainly didn't begrudge him that – but the real turn-on for him was knowing he could make her lose control – as she was about to do. No, it wasn't about counting coup – being able to brag about getting to third base – it was about giving pleasure to someone he cared very much about – as much pleasure as he could until they could actually go all the way. That was the real turn-on for Doug – making her happy – and it was that knowledge that allowed her to be comfortable enough with what he was doing – trusting enough – to allow the total loss of self control that was about to occur to occur. She could do it because Doug was the oen – and she trusted him without question.

The breathing was coming quicker now for Lexie and the motion of his hand quickened as well. It started at her toes – with carpopedal spasm and seemed to race up to where he was touching – her vagina started to spasm and as it ascended into her fallopian tubes her body was rocked almost convulsively and for almost 45 second she forgot to breathe altogether. Finally – still shaking from the adrenalin rush – she felt his arms enfold her and his lips upon hers as - sweating and totally spent - she curled up against him.

“Are you OK?” Doug asked, seeing the tears of joy in her eyes.

“I'm fine, baby.... that was … wonderful,” she managed to get out, as the endorphins permeated her body. She knew she'd need to rest a few minutes – too weak to do much else. Then, she thought, it'd be her turn to bring HIM pleasure.

No, she hadn't told Liz about this – she'd been a little afraid to. Because talking to Liz.... well, it was understandable she guessed. When a guy has spent his whole life saving yours … why wouldn't you have confidence in him? No, Liz was already starting with total confidence in Max – confidence that he'd never harm her – and after hearing the stories Lexie actually believed that Max would never intentionally harm Liz. But Max was immature emotionally, and Liz too certain of Max's good intentions to not realize that he could make mistakes with no malice whatsoever. They needed time for their relationship to mature – even if Liz trusted Max implicitly. She hadn't wanted to do anything that might make Liz try to do anything too aggressive and certainly nothing much past first base.

'No, Liz and Max aren't ready for this, ... not yet...' Lexie told herself as she caught her breath and turned slowly to look at Doug. But as her fingernails softly scratched the inside of his thigh and her hand reached up into his boxers, she smiled as she saw Doug close his eyes and lick his lower lip, '...but I sure am.'

The fight or flight reaction had slowly morphed into terror as Max had searched for her – and the terror had increased as he'd gone frm foor to floor – peering in every open room – in every lounge – even in the laundry room – and seen nothing of a certain young girl in a black t-shirt with silver french nails. Logically, he had no idea why he was so frightened for her – sure Drevins was a jerk but Liz was more socially adept than he was. Nonetheless, nothing he could do seemed to stem his fears.

As he came to the room at the end of the hall it was his last hope – but the door was closed and as he tried the doorknob he found it to be locked. Locked or not – his terror for her wouldn't let him stop looking. All the rooms with open doors he had already tried. This one was as good as any he told himself and better than some. He reached out to knock – and heard some quiet talking inside. At least there would be someone inside, he thought, to answer his kncoking.


The human brain is – arguably – one of the most complex mechanisms s on Earth. Unlike most human made computers, it is an electrochemical calculator composed not just of on and off switches like a computer, but switches driven by any – and sometimes several – of a variety of neurotransmitters. These relatively low molecular weight compounds provide the brain with capabilities and subtleties impossible to produce with even a supercomputer.
Some of these transmitters are little more than on-off switches themselves. Acetylcholine serves such a function- it is widespread throughout the cerebral cortex, hippocampus and brain stem.
Others, such as Norepinephrine, Dopamine, Serotonin, Histamine, ATP, Andenosine, GABA, Glutamate, Glycine, Endorphines, Tachykinins, Somatostatin, Nitric Oxide, and more, all play their part in making the human brain function. One such neurotransmitter - gamma amino butyric acid or GABA is used extensively by the cerebral hemispheres for memory formation and other functions. One of these functions it to produce neural impulses to inhibit other neural structures.

[url=http://www.pherobase.com/pherobase/gif/gamma-hydroxybutyric%20acid.GIF]Gamma Hydroxy Butyric Acid is a close chemical cousin to GABA. What's more, it has a molecule whose structure looks very much like GABA to the receptors in the brain that are built to handle GABA. But it doen't WORK like GABA. GHBA doesn't work as well when iut comes to allowing memory formationn – as a matter of fact if it is combined with only a little bit of alcohol it generally stops memory formation altogether. Someone intoxicated by a mixture of GHBA and alcohol generally will not be able to recall anything that wasn't already transcribed to long term memory from the time the combination is taken for at least several hours – long enough for the effects of the GHBA and some of the effects of the alcohol to have worn off. That's why GHBA is outlawed in many countries and highlu restricted in most others. In combination with alcohol, it is a near ideal drug for causing antegrade and retrograde amnesia of the attack. Unfortunately the drug has other properties that also leads to it being used as a date rape drug. The drug produces euphoria and a release of inhibitions by shutting down feedback to the midbrain.

It was once said that the midbrain has a one track mind and a dirt track at that – but that's probably a little unfair. It was said, after all, by a cerebrum. But certainly midbrains are very interested in procreation – it's one of their major functions biologically – and t he path to that tracks pretty squarely through the process of making whoppee, and so there you have it. The GHBA causes the cerebrums to have distorted, euphoric, and generally erotic dreams, causes the inhibition to the midbrain to go away and the victim generally is unresisting and frequently quite cooperative. Then they forget the whole thing. I suppose one could blame the midbrain as well – it does sort of act as a fifth column in the whole process, but I did say that midbrains were kind of earthy, didn't I? Blaming them for this would be sort of like blaming a cat for chasing mice – that's just what a cat does. Anyway, back to our story....

Despite the salty taste, the 'virgin' marguerita really did help her thirst, and Liz poured more of the marguerita mix from the bottle into her glass and added a little bit more tap water as she listened to Drevins tell her about how much Max talked about her. As she sipped the second glass she found herself visualizing Max – she could visualize him so well – then he startted to change. So did the whole world.

Had her cerebral hemispheres not been intoxicated by the double-strength dose of GHBA, the world fading away would have seemed frightening to Liz – but in her euphoria she just sort of took it in stride that the world now came down to her and Max – a Max who had aged – and a bedroom. As she peered into the mirror it was obvious that she had aged as well. She saw the guilty look on his face – knew that he'd spent the last twenty minutes down in the nursery with their daughter on the first night after her delivery when the obstetrician had officially cleared her to resume whoopee. But what could you do but smile? He loved her and loved their daughter – and that was great with the new mother. They'd finally started their family. Still, it had been a LONG time since they'd last played around.....

“Max, come here....,” she said seductively.

'Finally,' thought Jimmy Blevins. GHBA – being a weak organic acid – was absorbed in the stomach rather than the small intestine – one of the few drugs other than alcohol to have that property. Even so, without the alcohol to potentiate it, almost eight minutes had passed from the time of her first drink until she started having hallucinations – and that with a smaller than average subject and a double dose. He'd have to remember that double dose. He'd have to have the girl drink some alcohol – that was necessary to give her amnesia rather than hallucinations she would remember – but he couldn't give her too much. With the higher dose of GHBA, the usual amount of alcohol could be quickly fatal. He thought briefly about giving her the smaller amount now – while she was suggestible – and decided against it. He wanted that brief moment when the pain of his entering her woke her up – let her realize what he had done to her, In a way that was the most satisfying part of the experience.

Liz's cerebrums were hallucinating vividly now. Yes, it had been a long time since they'd actually done it.... but with the OK from the obstetrician nothing was going to hold her back now. Not Max's fears that she might still be too tender, and certainly not any qualms about propriety. She wasn't the perfect Miss Parker anymore – she was the proud Mrs. Evans. She was proud that he was her special someone and determined tonight to let Max know how very special he was.

As Liz approached Jimmy Drevins he reached down and loosened her belt, unsnapping the pants and unzipping them – letting them fall to her ankles. Her hands went to his shirt and pulled it out his pants, smiling at him and seeing Max's face looking back at her. She reached under his shirt and let her fingernails trickle up along his back and her mind saw only Max as Jimmy arched his back in a reflexive response to the sensuous action. At that point the level of GHBA in her bloodstream finally became enough that all inhibitory impulses to Liz's midbrain were stopped. Liz's midbrain wasn't a hoirndog as midbrains went, but they do go rather far in that direction.

Max's hand came down rapping against the door.

“Who is it?” asked Lexie, sounding a little irritated.

“Max – is Liz in there by any chance?”

“No, I thioght she was with you at the dance...?”

“Uh, I had to leave for a minute, and when I got back she was gone,” said Max through the closed door.

“She might have been in the bathroom – Lexie lost her there once,” said Doug.

Max realized he certainly hadn't checked the women's bathrooms – or waited long enough to make sure she wasn't in there. His cerebrum told him that Doug was probably right – that Liz was probably back down on the dance floor. He wasn't sure why he was so frightened for her or why he was over-reacting like this.

"OK," he said, "I'll go back down and look for her there."

Cerebrums can be so stupid sometimes....

There are a lot of differences between cerebrums and midbrains. One of these is how they handle conflict. Midbrains came along real early in evolution and they tend to be concrete thinkers – even if they date back to a time before cerebrums discovered concrete. Cerebrums believe that midbrains concept of conflict pretty much boils down to this: Hit it with a stick or rock and kill it. Then eat it. That belief is not entirely inaccurate.
.
Part of the reason for this is simply what the world was like when midbrains evolved. There weren't a lot of weapons back then – in fact until the neolithic period when the cerebrums started inventing tools, there really weren't much in the way of weapons but rocks and sticks. Cerebrums are great at inventing weapons. By the bronze age, they had all sorts of gadgets. Even today if you want to go to war on a mass scale, cerebrums are the ones with the big guns – both figuratively and literally. If you want, for example, a thermonuclear bomb to go toe to toe with the Rooskies, some cerebrums are going to have to build it for you. They are very clever that way. If on the other hand you really want that thermonuclear weapon employed, you are going to have to find someone with a pretty assertive midbrain to do that – someone like Major King Kong.

Cerebrums – at least in the opinion of midbrains – tend to be wusses in a fight. They overintellectualize. Take the US attack on Iraq. The secretary of state – a very cerebral guy – warned everybody, 'you break it, you buy it.' All the other cerebrums believed him and the cerebrums are still trying to make everyone in the country play nice with each other – at great expense and bother. A midbrain would have never thought iof anything like that. A midbrain feeling threatened would have gone in there and broke and killed anything that seemed threatening to its survival – then would have gone home to do what you do after you survive – you reproduce. A midbrain would have never felt the responsibility to stick around and rebuild the country and make all the cerebrums that hated each other play nice., The midbrain would have gone in – kicked butt – and left the mess for the locals to clean up. It wasn't the midbrain's fault the locals had put the wrong guy in power – it was the locals fault. The midbrain would have figured that they were helping out the locals by getting rid of the bad guy and that it was up to them to learn from the experience and do better the next time. If there was a little collateral damage, that'd give them added incentive. And what was more, if the locals screwed up again, they could expect the same thing to them all over again – as many times as it took. Midbrains are somewhat lacking in empathy.

That's why midbrains think cerebrums are such wusses. No midbrain would have ever come up with the Marquise of Queensbury rules, much less the Geneva convention. They just aren't cerebral enough. They think they are being more than fair just not eating their opponents.

And take the situation Liz is in – about to be raped. Cerebrums have an ongoing debate about what to do in such a situation – they actually have doubts. Probably not Liz's cerebrums – her subconscious mind actually spent a fair amount of its time slumming with the midbrain – but a lot of other cerebrums. One theory – here's a wussy one for you – was that you should object firmly but not 'escalate the situation' by offering physical resistance since that would antagonize your assailant – you know, piss off that nice guy who's getting ready to rape you. It was 'only' rape after all – the guy was bigger – stronger – it was going to happen and you risked further physical injury if you resisted, so you should go along to get along and the emergency room could give you a morning after pill, treat your gonorrhea and syphilis, and – except in the unlikely event that you got AIDS, you'd soon be living happily ever after. Is it any wonder that midbrains think cerebrums are wusses? Or here's another theory. Talk to the intended rapist. Explain to them that you are a human being and would find rape demeaning – remind him that he had a mother and may have a sister and that you are a vulnerable human being like them and he'll take pity on you – or so the theory goes – and let you go. After all, we are all fellow travelers on the road of life.

That's just the way it is. Cerebrums like to say Kumbaya. When midbrains hear it they say gesundheit. The two organs barely speak the same language – which brings us back to the story.

As Liz's cerebrums went to La-la land, the inhibitory impulses from them ceased. That meant the midbrain was on its own. No big deal – midbrains had been the whole shooting match for much of history. The tyrannosaurus pretty much made do with little more than a midbrain, and it ruled the roost for three million years. Like Liz's midbrain – the Tyrannosaurus did not use GABA, it used serotonin, a neurotransmitter that was ancient even before the dinosaurs came around. GHBA doesn't affect serotonin at all, so with the loss of the inhibitory impulses from the cerebral hemispheres it might have been whoopee-city. In fact, an hour ago that certainly would have happened.

But about forty-five minutes ago promises were made out on that dance floor and pheromones were exchanged and Liz's midbrain was now sort of bonded to Max's midbrain. That didn't altogether eliminate Liz's desire to make whoopee – midbrain's are rather fond of doing that – but it slowed things down since this particular guy didn't happen to be the one her midbrain was expecting. That allowed her midbrain – untainted by the effects of GHBA – to look long and hard at the pheromones that Drevins was producing. Hell, they weren't even whoopee pheromones. The guy wasn't really interested in procreation – even the sex was only secondary. This was about status. Drevins was seeking to force Liz to have sex just so he'd feel good about himself. The simple fact of the matter to Liz's midbrain was that Drevins was trying to become an alpha male – like Max – when he was at best a beta – more likely a gamma. A cerebrum might have debated what to do – Liz's midbrain didn't have any doubt. She was going to fight – even though she knew she would lose.

Liz's midbrain may not have had the intellectual horsepower of her cerebral hemispheres, but it wasn't stupid either. The cerebellum was almost as fouled up as the cerebral hemispheres which meant her coordination wouldn't be all that good – Drevins outweighed her by a good sixty pounds and guys had more upper body strength than gals and she knew going in that if she fought she was going to lose - but it didn't matter - she was going to fight.

Drevins got a real turn-on as Liz's fingernails gently raked his skin as they went up his back. This was going even better than he'd expected. In fact, had Liz had a rock or a stick he'd have probably been a dead man. She didn't have a rock or a stick but that didn't mean she was defenseless – midbrains had been around since all anyone had was tooth and fang - and experience counts too.

Drevins eyes went wide as his back exploded with pain.

The fact of the matter is that a thirteen year-old who spends her summers digging in the dirt doing paleontology can't afford long fingernails. She hadn't been able to grow them out much with all the lab work she was doing either. Worse yet, worry over her relationship with Max had led to Liz chewing her nails. The manicurist had taken one look at Liz's fingernails and given up. You couldn't do a French manicure on those nails. But... the dorms were free and the food in the dining hall was as well, and it was only going to be a couple of days and she had $150 that she'd taken out of the advance that she'd gotten by the company that wanted to use her patent.... so she'd done what Lexie said and blown $85 of the $110 she had left over after she bought the t-shirt on the nails. Ten three-quarter inch pieces of fiberglass were glued to her fingernails with acrylic epoxy and covered with a silvery acrylic polish. Eight of those pieces of fiberglass were now digging deep grooves in the skin of Blevins back like small semicircular wood chisels. The real damage though, was being done by the thumbs – their nails aligned with the track of the motion were going all the way through the dermis.

Blevins opened his mouth to scream – and then screamed even louder as that cute little overbite chomped down on his lower lip. But Liz's legs were hobbled by the levis at her ankles, blunting the effect of the knee her midbrain drove to his gonads. Cursing under his breath he pushed her to the ground – a karate chop to her midsection drove the breath from her – and Blevins managed to get her turned over on her stomach on the bed. His weight drove her face into the mattress keeping her screams from being heard as he managed to pinion her arms behind her and secure them with the duct tape he brought from his science exhibit supplies. Then he flipped her over holding his hand over her mouth – sustaining only a minor bite to the hand in the process – and shoving yet another piece of duct tape over her mouth.

Minutes later he was cursing as he looked in the mirror at the deep scratches on his back and the cut from the bite on his lower lip. Her arms were bound behind her as she lay on the bed – her mouth gagged – her legs still hobbled by the levis at her ankles – but her brown eyes glared up at him as Liz's midbrain looked out. Unfortunately he was more angered than intimidated.

“For that, bitch,...” he said, blotting his bleeding lip with a handful of tissues, “... I am going to make you hurt. Tomorrow you may not remember how your insides got torn up, but tonight is going to be the most painful night of your life. That'll teach you.”

The midbrain looked out through those brown eyes without a shred of remorse. If she had the last two minutes to live over, Liz's midbrain wouldn't have done anything a damn bit different. That's just how midbrains are....

Remorse, you see, is a creation of the cerebral hemispheres. Midbrains don’t feel that remorse – their decision trees are too uncomplicated for that. They can feel anger or joy or fear or – well all the non-cerebral sort of emotions – but they seldom feel anything approaching remorse. They just do what they do and damn the consequences.

Right now as he went down the stairwell – hitting only about every third step – Max’s cerebral cortex was feeling all sorts of remorse. ‘Why was I so stupid? The whole purpose of being here was to be there to protect her… How could I have done something so stupid as to let my feelings about her drive me away so I wasn’t there for her?’

No, that sort of remorse just wasn’t a midbrain's way. What the midbrain was thinking was, ‘ Damn that cerebral cortex is stupid. The whole purpose of being here was to be there to protect her. How could it have done something as stupid as letting it’s wallowing in self-pity drive us away so I wasn’t there for her.’

No, anger and concern it was capable of – remorse was a whole different issue.


Up on the fourth floor there was remorse going on. Remorse that Max had interrupted something that had been going quite well, thank you.

That something itself had originally started out as remorse – the first time Doug had caressed her to that awesome plane of post orgasmic endorphin rush she’d cuddled up against him and fallen asleep, as happy as a well-fed kitten. The remorse had come a half hour later when Doug had to go back to his own room and he’d moved like he was crippled. Lexie had read up on ‘blue-balls’ in a sex manual and the remorse had been overwhelming. She had decided that very night that she’d never leave him like that again.

The manual had suggested a couple of different methods. The one she had chosen involved rubbing her chest on his groin. The effect the first time she'd had the opportunity to try it had been - to Lexie - both rapid and gratifying - even though both of them had been somewhat surprised by the volume of material that had wound up hitting her upper chest and neck. He'd been embarrassed by that - she hadn't. She'd reassured him that she too got real hot and bothered from their petting sessions -even if it wasn't quite so obvious. To Lexie it had been about giving him pleasure - the slight mess could be managed with a shower - but she knew he hadn't totally accepted that. Of course, he hadn't totally accepted that three times before tonight, so she'd thought it couldn't be bothering him all THAT bad, which was why he was laying on the bed stark naked and she had nothing but her panties on - and she decided to resume what they were about to do.

"I have a condom..." he said. "It might be a little less messy that way..."

"I get messy too, you don't complain," she chided him.

"You contain your messiness better than I do," said Doug, reaching for the foil envelope .

The statement crystallized a thought that had been going around all day in Lexie's head. For once her cerebral cortex and her midbrain seemed to be in accord.

"Indeed I do," she said, taking the foil package from his hand and throwing it in to the trash can. She peeled off her panties and leaned back onto the bed, holding her arms up toward him and opening her legs. "But since I am the cause of your messiness too - maybe I ought to contain it as well."

Doug looked at her and swallowed several times. "We've talked about this quite a bit. I thought we decided that the smart thing in dealing with our folks was to put this off until 5 months from now."

"My brain may think that's the smart thing, Doug, but my heart wants something else." More correctly her cerebrums had thought it was the smart thing and her midbrain wanted something else, but the way she said it sounded a little more poetic. "... sometimes you just have to follow your heart," she continued.

As he came toward her she shut her eyes and opened her legs wider waiting for him to enter. She felt the soft kiss on her mouth, the gentle caresses, and she realized what he was doing. For Doug this wasn't about just satisfying himself - he wanted her to enjoy this too - for it to be a gift from both of them to both of them - not a gift from her to him. He wanted her body to want this as much as his did.

He was, Lexie knew, going to get his wish - and the way her body was starting to respond to his - it wouldn't be long at all. She opened her eyes and saw his looking at her - the love in them plain to see.

"Are you sure about this Lexie? Really sure?"

"Yes, I'm really sure. There won't be any remorse when I wake up tomorrow - don't worry. I'll wish your head was on the pillow next to mine, of course, but I do that anyway. We've waited long enough."

Still, as she closed her eyes and felt his hands caress her body - she knew it wouldn't be long before the waiting was over.



"Bitch," said Drevins as he pulled the levis down from around her legs," .... now you are going to get yours."

That got him a quick kick in the face - smearing the blood trickling from his lip and hurting like hell - but doing no real damage. Blevins threw himself across her legs cursing and finally managed to straddle her below the knees immobilizing her feet.

"The panties..." said Drevins with a sneer that with the puffy lip looked less threatening than it otherwise would of,"... I can just rip off."

As he reached for the panties the brown eyes looked up at him without fear - the eyes of a really pissed off midbrain.


Max had begged a girl to check every ladies' room for him, scoured the dance floor, looked again in every lounge area and room that was open. His cerebral hemispheres and midbrain were in the rare state of complete and total agreement - ie, he was a total idiot. It was at that point that the midbrain's concrete thinking came to the fore. It was royally pissed, it was throwing a hissy fit - and it wasn't going to take it anymore.

A midbrain wants what it wants -Max's midbrain actually wanted what it had last night - a fire bell had rung and the next thing the midbrain knew Max had been cuddled up in a blanket with a warm Liz. It wanted that again and it wanted that now.

The cerebrums undoubtedly thought that sounded a little Pavlovian to them - confirming their bias that a midbrain tended to just react to stimulus rather than actually thinking things through. Still, they didn't have a better plan, so with sort of a mental equivalent of a shrug of their shoulders they gave the OK for the cerebellum to stick Max's hand out and pull down the fire alarm lever.


BRAAAAAAA.
It wasn't just the annoying horn, but the darkened advisers room on the fourth floor had a strobe unit too. It lit the whole place with a garish annoying bluish light.

"This is NOT happening....," said Lexie.

"Yes it is," said Doug, chuckling despite his own frustration."...and we might as well resign ourselves to that. The safety people will be checking this building very shortly and they are not going to find me and my future wife here in flagrant delicto, as much as I would have loved for it to happen. Nothing is going to change our love - it'll just have to wait another five months. Now get dressed before we get caught and there is hell to pay with our fathers. This wasn't exactly the honeymoon I'd envisioned anyway."

"OK you're right, said Lexie, struggling into bra and panties, "... but what about you?"

"An ice pack I imagine. It definitely won't be the same, but I'll survive."

"I love you Doug..."

"I know, Lexie, I love you too....."

BBRRRRAAAA!!!!

Contrary to the opinions of many people, sociopaths are not crazy – they simply make sociopathic choices. They can be quite intelligent, even if they make decisions no moral person would countenance.

Only inches from their goal – Jimmy Drevins hands froze when he heard the fire alarm horn. He was sociopathic – but not stupid. No, it wasn't any sudden attack of remorse – or any empathy for the thirteen year old girl. He hadn't suddenly decided that what he was doing was morally unacceptable. In point of fact, to his previous contempt for the girl was now added a good deal of anger that she had not only frustrated him but injured him.

No, his hesitation was due to self-interest. With the sounding of the alarm he was quickly running out of time. He wasted a moment to berate himself for not having gotten the alcohol into her earlier – had he done that he might have mellowed out the euphoria that had led her to act like she had. Of course, he knew why he had made that choice – he had really wanted to see the look of understanding and horror in her eyes when the pain had cleared the euphoria from her mind enough to understand what he had done to her. He had taken a calculated risk – knowing that such a high dosage of GHBA in her small body would make the manic portion of her drug induced euphoria unpredictable – a risk which he knew from personal experience favored him. It had been bad luck – but denying the reality of it would have been crazy and he wasn't crazy – he was sociopathic. He was sane enough to realize that he wasn't going to be able to rape Liz Parker tonight – not rape her and escape uncaught at least.

No, Jimmy Drevins knew that he couldn't leave the girl in her current state – she'd almost certainly remember way too much that could incriminate him. He needed to get alcohol in her – and quickly and the few minutes he would have before he must leave this room – or risk being discovered with the girl – precluded him taking the time for the activities he would h ave preferred. In point of fact, the short time span he had made his original plan of titrating the alcohol in to her – of putting it in gradually until he could see evidence of early respiratory depression that would tell him she had all the alcohol aboard she could tolerate – and enough to insure her amnesia – pretty hazardous as well.

Jimmy's decision wasn't crazy and wasn't illogical – it was merely sociopathic. As he looked at the girl he decided that he'd taken enough risks for the night. Liz getting enough alcohol in her to be at least amnesic was necessary. Her survival certainly wasn't.

In fact, considering the pain she'd given him tonight, Jimmy decided he'd be just as happy if she didn't survive.

About 5% of alcohol that is ingested is eliminated unchanged through the lungs. That's why breath alcohol tests work. The overwhelming majority of the alcohol is metabolized in the body a group of enzymes known as alcohol dehydrogenases. The difference between Gamma amino butyric acid and Gamma hydroxy butyric acid is that an amine group has been replaced by a hydroxyl – or alcohol group. In fact, the tail end of GHBA – the last two carbons and the hydroxyl group – are the same as ethanol – or grain alcohol. The GHBA itself is detoxified by alcohol dehydrogenase – but in doing so it ties up the enzyme. It's called potentiation – GHBA makes alcohol more toxic – much more toxic.

Perhaps Blevins didn't know the exact enzyme effects of mixing alcohol and GHBA, but he certainly knew that GHBA made alcohol much more toxic - that mixing the two could easily cause the girl's death – and as he looked at Liz Parker, the fire alarm horn continuing to blare – Jimmy Drevins decided that Liz Parker dying was alright with him.

Teenagers die of alcohol poisoning all the time. All he really had to do, Drevins decided, was to get this bottle down her – take off the tape – and leave her here until she stopped breathing. As far as the world would know that would make Liz Parker – just another teenager who got hold of alcohol and didn't know her limit,. With her death this sticky little situation he was in right now would all go away.

Drevins acted with brutal efficiency – reaching for the bottle and opening it while still straddling the knees of the helpless girl. A quick karate jab to her lower abdomen brought a gasp of pain that kept her from screaming as he ripped the duct tape from her mouth and inserted the open bottle while his free hand held her nostrils closed. Then he just let the tequila pour in. Whether she drank it or aspirated it into her lungs made little difference to Drevins. Teenagers dying from alcohol poisoning aspirated their stomach contents into their lungs all the time. It would make no difference at the autopsy.

Midbrains can be quite pragmatic. Her arms bound, unable to move away from the bottle Liz's midbrain had two choices – swallow the alcohol or drown in it. In the hierarchy of choices in the midbrain universe dying later is generally better than dying now. Liz's midbrain quickly made the decision and Liz swallowed the tequila.