Chapter Text
“I heard it. I heard it from his lips. Easterman has lost it.” You couldn’t help but shake with the fear onto your shoulders. “He means it, half the staff will be in the trials by the end of next month.”
“And Avellanos?” Mr. Perry paced behind his desk, his gait making each step uneven.
“She’s been under the radar the last few days. Her secretary swears she’s been off site, but to be honest, she transcribes for Easterman on the weekends and covers shifts if one of his girls are sick. I can’t trust her…”
He stopped, looking through his desk for some kind of resolution. “And you’re certain you heard your name?”
You nodded, though not wanting to confirm what you had overheard dropping inter-organizational letters to Easterman’s secretary’s desk while she was at lunch. “I’m certain. Easterman mentioned me by name himself when Scarfiotti questioned the list.”
“That shitbird…” He growled. “Is it one long list?”
No long list, like Easteman’s signature style, they came in waves; in tiers of those who would put up a fight and those who would go without friction. Low level employees, those who cleaned the trial environments and who took the viscera back to biohazard. Then people like you, secretaries, members who worked closely with members of the board.
Dr. Easterman had his own secretary on the list for Christ's sake.
“There’s several lists. I’m one of the last because they know you’d make a fuss. The staff that are under higher ups are being taken last to prevent drawn out retaliation.”
“And it was the trials they spoke about? You have to be certain.” Mr. Perry rested his palms flat on the desk, you sensed his uneasiness despite his best efforts to hide it from you behind his blank exterior.
You waited in front of the desk, fiddling with the woven thread handle of your purse and pastel cotton gloves. “Yes. Easterman talked about a new therapy. The staff newsletters are going out in two weeks time.”
He shook his head to himself. “I need to get you out of here.”
Out of a Murkoff facility when your name was on some fucked up death list, like it was some walk in the park. No one would allow you to leave just like that now that you were destined for something else other than getting coffee, transcribing Mr. Perry’s voice and taking messages for his ears only at the end of the day.
No way he could just walk you out and have you leave.
“How? There’s no way to get me out of here. And what about you? Murkoff will ruin you if they find out you helped me get out.”
Murkoff might kill Mr. Perry. No, they would kill him should he help you escape Easterman’s clutches over his own unravelling sanity and he’d trip right over it if he tried to defy Easterman’s ideals. Everyone said so. Saying the same things over and over about his mind and how thin the line was becoming. The sanity he was losing was wearing away sparser than Mr. Perry’s patience around him.
Since that girl managed to get her voice over the radio, Easterman's grip on reality was loosening. No clue who she was though, Easterman must have known her personally.
“No… there’s a way. But it’s permanent. It’s something you have to see to the end, or they’ll bring you right back.”
“What’s that?”
He sighed, looking more held down than you’d ever seen. “You fall pregnant.”
You almost choked. “How-why did-how do you know that?”
“Remember Mary?”
“I do.”
“She leaves Sinyala every day without fail. And she’s not living on site either. She’ll be immune because someone else is involved. There’s a father that knows she’s working and if she suddenly goes missing? A child that starves in her own house because Mommy isn’t coming back. Murkoff has a loose end. A married woman working longer hours when her husband earns enough to support the family, it’s enough to turn heads already. They won’t get rid of her unless she decides to leave.”
It didn’t make sense. How on earth could you find a man, marry him, fall pregnant and pass enough to skip Easterman’s list in time?
“I-I don’t have a husband, I don’t have anyone who can get me preg-Oh…” It suddenly made plenty of sense.
Mr. Perry rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose to try to lighten his request. “It’s not ideal, but there’s no other way… We have just over a month. It’s now, or never. If they send you to the trials, I can’t get you out.”
Pregnancy was in no stretch worse than the trials. And Mr. Perry had always been kind to you. It just wasn’t exactly something you thought about when stepping inside Sinyala this morning.
There wasn’t any other suggestion you had in mind, not some elaborate scheme to escape and live out the rest of your life away from the trials. You couldn’t pull off anything inside the trials either. As far as you knew, they were inescapable. And you couldn’t just quit your job either, Murkoff would remain behind your eyes as you slept.
You guessed this was your only choice.
"Is this really... is it really my only choice-"
"Our only choice. You're the best transcriber here, I don't want you shipped off."
Oh good lord.
“So…how will-I mean, I know how-I just want to know when will we…” You moved your hands awkwardly, still clutching your gloves and purse. The buckle clapped along the side of the leather, putting its two cents into the conversation and expertly making your entire body hyper-aware that there was a man across the desk that had propositioned you like some case study.
“Now.”
“Now?” You choked on air again, approaching the desk to set your things down on top of Mr. Perry’s paperwork. “We really need to do this now?”
“You called in sick last week, didn’t you? I had to run my reports and letters by myself.”
Two days. Yes. Menstrual cramps weren’t exactly a workplace topic. Men could rarely contain themselves over something so ‘vulgar’. “W-Well, that’s a private matter.”
He nodded, slipping off his suit jacket and shrugging the braces from his shoulders. “Good. So I was right, then.”
Swallowing hard, you unconsciously found yourself slipping off your work stilettos. “How did you know that?”
“You’ve been my secretary for over a year now, I’m incredibly observant.” He tugged at his tie to loosen it. “So now is the best time to do this. Anything you need financially comes from my pocket. But this is the only way.”
Your relationship with Mr. Perry was strictly professional, and he never gave you any indication that he was romantically inclined towards you. Now, you weren’t so sure. Still, he was completely chivalrous. It was probably what unsettled you most.
“So, we’re really doing this?” You asked, shakily fiddling with your blouse buttons.
You weren’t married. You were not sexually inclined in the past.
“Don’t be nervous.” Mr. Perry met you around the desk, breaching your personal space for the first time ever. “Think of it as a transaction that’ll save your life and keep you as my secretary.”
I don’t think I can.
“Okay…” You trembled so much you couldn’t breathe.
He noticed immediately. “This your first time.”
A minutely amused laugh was all you could muster. “Is it that obvious?”
Before he touched you, he paced over to the light switch. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, but we don’t have much time. We’ll need to do this over and over as much as we can for the next few weeks.” And the lights went out, no illumination at all in the windowless office.
“This is all too much.” The floor wanted to rip out from under your feet even if you did whisper.
You noticed his cologne first. Musky, earthy in its full body. The electric pressure of his body closed in on you, his footsteps stopped closer than you had ever heard them. “It’s alright.”
Day-in-day-out he trudged past you to his office, sometimes slamming the door behind him as a clear sign to leave him be. He always had the same coffee. Black, three sugars. Nothing extravagant, nothing changed. Mr. Perry was a man of simple tastes and never rocked the boat. He just… existed in his office next to you. He spoke with such softness, like a husband should. A good one. A kind one. One that kept his worries out of the household and left them at the office like most of them should have.
“Mr. Perry-”
“Please. For the next thirty minutes, I’d like you to call me Clyde.” He stepped close enough to touch his chest.
“Okay… y-yes, Clyde.”
His heart hammered under your fingertips. You felt it. It was right there. Was he just as freaked out as you were? It could have been worse. Much worse. Mr. Perry’s neutral demeanour came to you as kindness. Out of everyone in Sinyala, there wasn’t anyone else who could do this with you. Kindness went a long way in this place, even if nobody else saw it. He never shouted, never shortened his patience, never raised his hand. He existed in his own world, you just orbited continuously.
And now, he was pulling you into his atmosphere. It was new, grainy, but overwhelming.
Mr. Perry’s touch was overwhelming, brushing spots over your hips that no man had ever touched before. The curvature of your hips, the dip of your waist, a delicate peck on your cheek.
He kept his voice low. “Trust me, and I’ll get you through this. I need to work you over before I can take you.”
“Will it hurt?”
“That’s what I’m trying to prevent…. Forgive me.” He disappeared, from your top half, his beating chest nowhere near.
Kneeling down, you noticed him fiddling with your skirt, lifting it up enough to do something with it. At first you assumed he was admiring the fabric… in a pitch black room. Okay, that was entirely naive for you to think that, especially as he got underneath the hoop petticoat and tugged at your underwear slightly.
You’d heard the women talk about it; married ones. The ones who openly discussed it among the other women. The ones some men murmured words to stay away from because of their loose lips and even looser morals despite having a ring to prove they were committed. Vulgar talk of their husbands pulling off their underwear and kissing their private areas in a way that made their knees weak, in honesty you were never sure why a man would want to-
And then Mr. Perry did it. But it wasn't just a kiss, no, he licked you like a popsicle on a summer evening. You stumbled against the desk and tried to hold your own, fighting the weakness in your knees so as to not appear so inexperienced. It was clear Mr. Perry had experience in this part of the bedroom and he carried it out like any other job he had been assigned.
Now you really understood why it was so taboo.
“C-Clyde…” There was a lump, all you could feel was his head under your skirt, a solid bump you tried to grasp at but only scrunched the fabric of your skirt instead. “This feels… oh, goodness.”
If he heard you, he didn’t let on, snaking his fingers around your thighs to off balance your weight onto the desk. It’s then he took your right leg and lifted it over his shoulder. It deepened his kiss, deepened the way his tongue moved around in a way that made your belly tickle. Like there was a ball knotting up between your legs and it grew bigger with each rotation of the muscle.
He gripped your thigh harder, but it did not hurt. Still gentle, but with a firmness you knew he possessed. You clocked on that his other hand trailed up your other leg. One inch at a time it moved up and stopped just shy of where his tongue was. He was feeling around for something, his fingers moved closer, and closer.
“Mr. Per-Clyde… What are you doing? Oh… Oh, that’s good.” It must have been his finger, although tight, nothing teared and nothing shocked you enough to stop it.
Experience. The man had clear experience.
At any other moment after the fact, you might have been cursing yourself for bedding with a man who had been with other women when you had no experience. It must have made you look pathetic being the age you were and no husband, but Mr. Perry never led you to believe he was disappointed. Not when he was doing what he was doing in complete silence while you uttered slurred words now and then when he moved his finger a different way, or sucked instead of licking you.
No, you could scold yourself another time. Unwed, engaging with a man sexually who was your boss. Scandalous.
Yet it didn’t matter right now, not when he was making you feel better than you ever had thought possible. The knotting grew in size, a bigger ball than before and it just kept growing. At first you were certain that you needed to relieve yourself and was about to tell him to stop, but before you could utter a word, the tugging in your belly overflowed and let loose a sensation you had never experienced before.
Your moan was involuntary, and it did indeed make your knees shake, your ankles became unstable. Sex was for reproduction, but this pleasure… you wanted more if this feeling sent electricity down from your head all the way down between your legs. You jolted and jerked, holding on to your skirt while your fingers clenched and stiffened as your breath held.
Mr. Perry pulled away as you struggled to stay upright at the desk. Even though your eyes had adjusted, you simply couldn’t try to see anything until your body normalised.
And once he was close to your face again, you welcomed the tickle of his breath at your lips. So close, the scent of his cologne was overwhelming in your already dazed mind. What you didn’t expect from him was how near he was to your lips, hooking your chin and taking your first kiss too. It was with so much grace, so much effortless effort. He didn’t take you like some man with a lecherous urge might, rather he held you like a husband should. With grace, delicate touches, making the pit of your stomach flip.
He never gave you any indication that he was romantically inclined towards you. Now, you were suspicious.
A man who referred to this as a ‘transaction’ did not kiss a woman like this. A man who claimed the situation was not ideal did not hold a woman as if she were the last person on earth. A man who treated the relationship with strict professionalism did not use his tongue against your bottom lip and make your thighs clench together.
This working relationship was anything but professional.
His lips were softer that you ever thought possible for a working man to possess. And despite the once physical requirements of his job, Mr. Perry’s hands were incredibly soft. It allowed you to melt into him and kiss him back, hold onto his loosened tie and taste the sweet saltiness of your own body on his lips. It began to excite you, to unconsciously open your legs to allow him closer. He was so warm, each finger tip of yours seared with a heat you had never had the privilege of becoming friends with. Even under his shirt, his skin was alight with heat.
He did not say a word, not yet at least. But he did tug at your skirt until he found the bottom and trailed his fingers along your thigh again. Was he going to kiss you there again? To use his finger like a sexual aide and make that heated sensation tickle your belly again?
Well, he used his finger, but not in the way he did before. It was higher, the pad of his finger rubbing you where he licked you, sucked the sensation right from your abdomen. He moved in circles, bringing that building urge to grow again. But as quickly as he started, he stopped and moved his fingers down, pushing one inside of you again. You made an involuntary noise, jerking away from him until he chased your lips to kiss you with the firmness he held you will like before. His finger moved in and out of you, slowly, with a delicate nature of yearning lover you had read about in books.
“I have to do this. Otherwise it’ll hurt. I won’t fit and I’ll have to push harder to get inside you. Trust me.” He waited to kiss you for confirmation.
A nod, a verbal yes that came broken. Anything to tell him to keep going.“Y-Yes Clyde-“
It was all he needed, clearly, slipping his finger inside you and claiming your lips like he owned them with softness. He caressed the back of your head, keeping you where he wanted, exploring your body like he had been waiting to touch you for the year.
Mr. Perry was an incredibly good actor. Because this was just acting, wasn’t it? You couldn’t distinguish anymore. Your suspicion grew and grew, each time questioning his actions. And when you dwelled on it too much, he stretched you and added another finger. Your breaths grew shallow, fighting the teetering point between the temporary burning sting and pleasure you never realised you could experience.
“That’s two fingers… just one more after. Can you finish again?” Finish. So that’s what the sensation was.
You nodded in a daze, not really getting what he was asking initially until his thumb rubbed you again. How on earth could he multitask like that and appear like it wasn’t a hard task while you barely gripped the desk to stay upright.
“Finish?...” You said, kissing him when you could while trying to focus. “I think I-“
“You can do it.” His fingers paced quicker, but still gentle.
The sting had eased off, it left wet slopping sounds in temporary silence until the urge to ‘finish’ again washed over you like drowning. The silence was replaced by your involuntary squeal behind his pressed lips. Muffled, yet very present. Mr. Perry inserted one more finger inside you as you let go. You gripped onto his shirt, creasing it as you did. Your lips vibrated against his and made your whole body shiver and jolt about. If he hadn’t held you the way he did, you would have collapsed on the floor.
He pulled his fingers away but still kissed you. You backed up against the desk until you sat on it how he directed you. His fingers slipped into your mouth with such fluidity, you almost didn’t realise that you were tasting yourself in a more concentrated fashion.
It was to take up empty space while he flickered on his desk lamp and fiddled with his slacks while you rode off of your high. And there it was, his hardened erection pointing up at you. The first time you’d seen one besides those in science books.
“I’ll be gentle.” He said, kissing you again just as gentle.
You felt it, the poking hardness between your legs that made you withdraw ever so slightly. Mr. Perry never pulled you back, he didn’t force you, he just waited. The lamp light highlighted his cheekbones, his mismatched eyes glistened in the electrical glow that seemed to mesmerise your mind enough to hiss only when he pushed himself inside of you slightly.
It hurt, but not nearly as much as you were told.
Growing up, your mother had drummed into you, that this moment, was the moment of all moments. Your first time with your future husband, on your wedding night. ‘It’s supposed to hurt.’ She always said, ‘Your father hurt me on our wedding night, and your husband will hurt you too. It’s just what we have to go through to become mothers and wives and do our duties.’ The sensation inside you wasn’t anything you had imagined growing up, nothing you assumed as soon as you started taking a liking to boys who may be your future husband.
And it turned out to be your boss. Well, not your husband, but a man who took your virginity. Something so special, yet you were giving it away to him to save your life. No one could consider you a loose woman if it was to save your life, could they? Your morals were not loose. Self-preservation came with its consequences.
Mr. Perry edged himself inside you further, each inch stinging, but soon clenching around him as if your body wanted this, that it craved his touch despite being a man you did not look twice at. He was your boss first and foremost. A relationship, or just impure thoughts were most unprofessional.
So what were you doing right now?
You tried not to think about it, and only focused on the necessity of it. Dr. Easterman wanted to put certain staff inside the trials, to put them in some sick new therapy to distinguish between reagents who didn’t know, and those who did. Which types were harder to break and which fell in line smoothly before trialing a new psychosis gas.
The thought was terrifying. You didn’t know much about the trials yourself, being Mr. Perry’s secretary. But you were incredibly aware of the prime assets. Especially Coyle and Franco. You were aware of the damage they did to his body, you accompanied him to the hospital for Christ's sake. You drove the fifteen hour drive to get there, concerned and distraught at the sight of him when you arrived.
Facing those prime assets ignited every tingling never down your spine.
Mr. Perry’s touch sent the right shivers down your neck, the better kind, the kind to make you a whining mess when he stopped pushing himself inside you. His hips were flush against you, your petticoat between your clothed bodies as though it could stop you tumbling through emotions you weren’t quite ready to experience.
“Are you ready?”
The pad of his thumb brushed over your cheek. His lips caught yours just once. Foreheads pressed to the other like some pact of understanding what happened next. This could very well get you pregnant. It would get you pregnant. A man and a woman, the birds and the bees. It was meant to get you pregnant, that’s what sex was for.
“Yes…” You nodded just to be sure.
As Mr. Perry pulled out slowly and pushed back in, you understood now why the lady from your old little town had so many children swinging off of her dress. The woman was always pregnant. Now you knew. Now you got why her husband was always so exhausted.
You held on to him to stop him from disappearing, to keep the newfound pleasure overtaking the uncomfortable tightness that loosened by the second. Listening to Mr. Perry curse under his breath as he held you, tickled your stomach as though he had a direct link to it. Each time he withdrew himself and pushed back, your toes curled in the silence.
It was easier to lean back onto the desk, wrapping your legs around his waist in support each time he leant in to kiss you. It was a repetitive circle. A loving thrust, a kiss, exchanged spit in the form of each other’s tongue meeting the at the tip each time he got close.
After what felt like minutes, but also mere seconds, Mr. Perry’s door knocked. It wasn’t certain that he locked the door after he turned the light off, you never heard the usual click that became second nature to you now. So, you froze, pulling away from him to watch the door dripping in darkness.
Having an audience might reveal the reason. If someone found out with no time to soak in the truth, the names you’d earn around the facility were endless. Trollop. Jezebel. Roundheel. Tramp.
“We should stop-”
“Just ignore it. It’ll go away.” He said, catching your attention to steal a kiss.
You didn’t want to stop, but the person at the door knocking a second time might step inside and see. But you continued kissing him, trying to push the ‘what if’ to the back of your mind and concentrate.
They knocked again. “Mr. Perry? Can I come in?!”
He cleared his throat and spoke with authority while your body silently writhed against his. “Come back later.”
The voice hesitated, unknown of what waited within, but their words were urgent. “Please sir, it’s important. I don’t know where your secretary is to give these to her-“
“She’s on lunch. Come back in an hour.” Mr. Perry took your lips for himself, moving his hips with a little spur in his pace.
“But sir-“
“I said come back later, I’m busy!” You’d heard that tone before, but never towards you. “Goddammit.”
It was best to remain quiet. In honesty it was getting harder to communicate with him and use words when the rapidly spinning ball in your belly had slowly been growing to reach that peak again. You babbled, clinging to him while chasing it like a cat with yarn. His movements were starting to loosen up and ignore the loving sharpness they had before. They were getting rather sloppy, your arms began to lose their strength when his thumb wandered between your legs to rub you again.
“C-Clyde.” After that, no words came out.
Even he was struggling to talk about a whisper that wasn’t a curse word. “I’m close. I’m gonna-be ready. Be still.”
It triggered your body first, the erratic rubs of his thumb. Your whole body seized up, lips hard against his to keep you quiet though you wanted to scream. If he wasn’t holding you in his arm, you would have fallen off of the desk for sure.
His hips sharply jolted against you, welcoming a sharp sting and warmth you’d never experienced. You were hyper-aware, even in your state of euphoria. A warmth, it must have been his load filling inside you. It was how babies came about, the main reason you and he entwined your body with his.
You were certain to get pregnant now.
And as you and Mr. Perry eased off of the expulsion of the other’s desperation, he remained where he was and kissed you one last time. Despite the reason you and he just did that, it was actually sort of romantic.
“Stay where you are.” He said out of breath. “Don’t move yet.”
“What… what do we do now?” You weren’t sure why you were even trying to fix your hair without a mirror.
God forbid what your make-up looked like.
“Lay down.”
“On the desk?”
“Yeah, lay down and bring your legs up, don't let any leak out.”
You did as you were told, but frowned. “How do you know that?”
It was something you had heard the married women discuss privately in the staffroom away from the male staff. Laying on your back could improve the chances of pregnancy, but it didn’t explain how Mr. Perry knew that.
“Don’t ask.” He adjusted his slacks and returned to his usual professional exterior.
Quite the whiplash after seeing him so vulnerable.
“We’ll announce marriage in the next week or so. It should keep Avellanos off your back at least. It’ll give me time to figure out what’s going on in Easterman’s head. Do you think you can act while I investigate?”
Of course you and he had to marry before the news of a baby. Even those who didn’t practice religion publicly would curse you for having a baby out of wedlock. You and Mr. Perry had to marry now.
My husband by… professional procreation.
Now while the idea of an investigation was most likely a good one, it wasn’t entirely foolproof. “Isn’t it better that I do the investigating? The board members involved will see you coming a mile away. I usually go by unnoticed because I’m just a secretary.”
“You have a point.” He rested his hand on your left knee close to your chest, his fingers absentmindedly traced little shapes you couldn’t decipher.
It was rather confusing.
Remaining professional after doing such an intimate thing had to remain behind the line drawn and crossed. If crossed too many times, it had no chance of halting and reversing the damage. Damage was already done. Your boss had attempted to knock you up. And you let him.
It’s to save my life. We had no choice.
“Dr. Easterman is dangerous, I know that. But I did work at his desk for a few weeks when I started at Murkoff. I know how he operates, the man is predictable for the most part. From what his secretary tells me, he’s doing the same things these days. I might be able to get more information than you can. I’m on closer terms with the other secretaries on that list too.”
Mr. Perry stood there, you couldn’t tell if he was watching you or not. “Are you sure about this? Things will get ugly.”
“It’s either do it, or get put in the trials. I don’t really have a choice.”
“Then we move forward with this.” He let go of your leg and helped you back up. “There will be questions, and there will probably be tests. They’ll put us under a microscope.”
Tests were easy, you knew most things about Mr. Clyde Perry than most people did. You were his secretary, it was your job to know.
“I’ll ace them.”
His misplaced sigh warned you. “I know this isn’t how you saw your life going, but I promise that I won’t be a shitty husband. It’s only for show, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. But we gotta go the full nine yards to make it believable.”
That meant moving into his on-site accommodation. Sharing his bed and sharing his name. You wouldn’t keep your maiden name anymore. You’d be officially referred to as Mrs. Perry. And that meant never calling him Mr. Perry in public anymore.
Just Clyde.
“Yes, Mr. Perry. I can do it. Put your trust in me." With a deep swallow in your throat, you smoothed down your skirt. "I want this to succeed as much as you do.”
“Alright then. For now, we keep face and announce it when I say.”
“Okay.” You slid off the desk and adjusted hair, already feeling the leaking between your legs.
“Don’t clean yourself up, keep it there as long as you can to increase the chances. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning of your skirt.”
“Thank you Mr. Perry.” You didn’t quite know what to say.
“Let’s get back to work.” There was his professional side again. “Find out what that asshole wanted that was so urgent, I’m guessing he left whatever was so important on your desk.”
“On it, Sir.”
And that’s how it went for the next week. Professionalism. Procreation. Professionalism. No one was the wiser to it. No suspicion, and no questions. It was a start.
The difficult part was waiting.
Just waiting until you could test for pregnancy.
But how the hell were you going to get a hold of a few toads to smuggle into the facility unnoticed?