Chapter 17: Chapter 15: Connie and Karen

With New Year's Eve just around the corner, the center stage is brightly lit in the BBC Channel 4 News studio. With three massive camcorders zeroed in from juxtaposing angles and the accompanying sound equipment in full gear, 25-year-old Karen Hesson sits upon the stage, smartly dressed in a white blouse and short black skirt, long wavy golden locks flowing over her shoulders, her bright blue eyes attentivelyth fixed on the older man in a long white laboratory coat sitting across from her, gabbling away.

“So you see, Miss Hesson, the purpose of NeroGene’s research is to produce new biotechnological innovations that only exist to improve the quality of human life, and making them accessible to everyone through mass production, thus increasing supplies and making them affordable at a lower cost.”

“That sounds fantastic, Dr. Von Kriegen. But I must ask for the sake of viewers who are still hesitant on the benefit of these products…is there any concerns that they will put the animals used for these research purposes in unnecessary pain and duress? How do you respond to the allegations of excessive animal rights violations in the research facilities of NeroGene?”

In a dimly lit area of the recording studio, another newswoman of similar age perches in a chair with a stack of notes in her hands. Connie Sinclaire is due to deliver the next news segment after her colleague concludes her on-air interview with this elderly biotech researcher. And anyone would be forgiven to have mistaken her and the aforementioned Miss Hesson for sisters upon first encounter. For aside from the similarity in age and their common white blouse and black skirt attire, they also seem to have similar taste in hairstyle: long wavy natural blonde locks that makes them almost indistinguishable from behind. Only things that set them apart are Connie’s emerald green eyes that contrast Karen’s watery blue and a sharp opposition in Connie’s playful personality to the more timid Karen, whose reserved innocence is hinted at with a blush-colored flower hairpin.

At the moment, Connie should be looking over her notes in preparation for her upcoming segment, but instead she is using the stack as a cooling device. She pulls her long golden locks aside and fans at her nape. She is also distracted by her dampened white cotton panties that have clumped against her libia to form an uncomfortable wedgie. She shuffles her thighs wrapped in nude-colored sheer hosiery together in an attempt to dislodge the moistened cotton lump but to no avail. Finally, looking around to make sure no eyes were on her, she slightly parts her legs and discretely reaches one hand under her skirt to tug it loose, biting her lower lip softly to stifle a moan as her fingertip rubs up against her slit. Having done the deed, she squares herself and holds her notes up studiously, throwing a final sheepish side glance to ensure that nobody saw, not realizing the small glimmer from a lens behind the black curtains that has observed every detail of her mischievous activity.

Back on center stage, Dr. Von Kriegen seems slightly annoyed by the inquiry. He makes a show of it by leaning forward and pushing up his spectacle from the bridge of his long, sharp nose with a slight snort and scowl, his white bushy eyebrows furl together beneath his wrinkly forehead.

“Animal rights? You’re speaking of Animal rights when the heart and soul of our research is geared towards the enrichment of human rights?”

Karen Hesson, obviously discomfited by his response, crosses her legs tightly and slightly parts her lips with a soft utterance.

“I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t mean to question the importance of your work. What I meant was…”

“Oh, it’s quite alright.”

The elderly doctor quickly cuts her off and just as quickly unfurls his brow and reclines comfortably into his seat.

“I am actually well aware of our critics. How they use animal rights to discredit the validity of our research. But let me assure you, Miss Hesson, that our research facilities, though they do use live specimens, as all good research must, do it in a way that causes the specimens the least amount of pain and distress possible. Any suggestion otherwise is merely propaganda being used by our biotech rival companies to lower interest in our product.”

“I see, that is quite insightful, and very reassuring. I appreciate your candid response, doctor.”

As she concludes her segment, she exchanges formalities with her guest who was not at all displeased to depart as soon as possible. Karen steps out of the literal limelight and flashes a disappointed half-grin at her best friend and colleague.

“I fear I may have offended him.”

“Oh, come now. You were just doing your job. And you totally rocked it!”

Connie playfully extends her palm for a high five, Karen hesitantly obliges with a bashful chuckle.

“Now it’s your turn to rock it.”

“You got it, love. And by the way, Martin my dear…”

Connie turns to one of the producers as she prepares to settle into the anchor’s chair.

“Can we get some ventilation in here? It’s so hot and stuffy!”

“No can’t do, Connie. Drafty air messes with the equipment, you know that.”

“Oh, alright.”

Connie pouts for a second and then quickly straightens herself out as another man cues her take.

“This is Connie Sinclaire with BBC Channel 4 News, live from West London. Good evening, everyone. And what an outstanding segment we’ve just seen from our talented colleague Karen Hesson and her interview with NeroGene senior biotech researcher Doctor Klaus Von Kriegen. Next up: I will be face-to-face with the hottest young entrepreneur from the cosmetics industry. That’s right, ladies and gentleman, please welcome Dr. Hugh Hoskins, also known as “Dr. Hot Skin”!”

As the guest appears from off-stage at the sound of his cue, Connie can’t help but find this man’s appearance quite dapper. Seemingly in his late 20s, he sports dark wavy brown locks that are neatly trimmed to medium length and combed over, which matches magnificently with his glimmering russet eyes. A set of finely chiseled cheekbone is highlighted by a charming grin that radiates from the young pharmacist’s suntanned face as his eyes lock intensely with Connie’s, his overall air of a rugged sophistication eliciting a blushing smile from his female host.

“Welcome, Dr. Hoskins. Please, sit. Thank you for coming on the program this afternoon. It is our tremendous pleasure to have you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, to be face-to-face with the ever so lovely and fabulous Miss Sinclaire.” The smile never left his face and his eyes remains transfixed on Connie’s as he gently brings her hand to his lip and takes his seat.

“And please, call me Hugh.”

“Oh! Well, that was quite…charming.” Connie quips lightheartedly in an effort to seem nonchalant, but feels a hot flash across her cheeks in the presence of this dashing wealthy entrepreneur. Connie has heard of this handsome bachelor's notoriety as a womanizer, but find herself unable to resist his gentlemanly enchantment. She brushes a blonde strand away from her face and squares herself in an effort to maintain poise. She softly clears her throat and glances down at her notes and glance up again to meet his enrapturing gaze.

“Dr. Hoskins, our viewers are curious to hear more about this brand new product you’re promoting- 'Captivating Cosmos'. With the success of all your recent products, we’re all dying to find out what this one does.”

“Well, Miss Sinclaire…and again, I must insist you call me Hugh. ‘Doctor’ sounds so…distant. I don’t like the idea of people recognizing me only by my profession.”

He slowly glides one hand across the small coffee table that separates them and softly touch Connie at the fingertips, all the time never breaking his entrancing eye contact and smile.

“Anyways, to indulge our viewers’ and potential clients’ curiosity. I’ve prepared a brief visual aid.”

He leans back and gestures to an off-stage personnel, signaling for the lights to be dimmed. An image flashes across the curtains behind them, showing a middle-aged woman with badly disfigured facial feature.

“This is one of my clients, she came to me 3 months ago with an abnormal muscle condition in her face, hoping for my prescription of a cosmetic that would simply mask these deficiencies. Of course, I’ve obtained her permission to use her image as a demonstration of my product at work, though her identity must remain confidential.”

He gestures again, the image changes to another woman, seemingly in her early 30s. All her facial features could only be described as flawless: with bright cheery eyes, an alluring smile, and glistening skin.

“This is the same woman recently, after applying the ‘Captivating Cosmos’ every day for 3 months.”

“That’s quite a spectacular change in 3 months time.” Connie looks up at the screen, visibly impressed.

“And to be clear, no facial reconstruction?”

“No reconstruction, no plastic surgery of any kind. No artificial alteration by human hands. This is all done by stimulating the innate regenerative ability of her own skin, muscle, and bone cells in the face.”

“So these changes are permanent?”

“Permanent. Not a temporary concealment of facial deficiencies. What you’re seeing here is the natural ability of her own body magnifying a hidden beauty that was there all along.”

“No side effects?”

“None that I’ve observed thus far, out of my 20 or so clinical trial clients. 10 of them have agreed to make their testimonial and contact information available on my website so the public may be able to ask them about it directly. They are all quite satisfied with the results and are eager to let others know about how ‘Captivating Cosmos’ have changed their lives.”

The young pharmacist smiles angelically, seemingly content with the impression that he is doing God’s work on earth.

“Oh my, this product sounds simply magnificent! Perhaps I should order mine early before stocks run out?”

Connie chuckles playfully, drawing a magnanimous laughter from her guest.

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“Oh, I assure you, Miss Sinclaire, I’ve anticipated great interest and intend to restock often, and besides…”

He gazes into her eyes again with an enticing grin.

“One as beautiful and flawless such as yourself really has little need for it. I see nature has done masterfully with your features.”

Connie finds herself softly biting her lower lips, a throb rise up in her cervix as she rubs her thighs together subconsciously. She clears her throat again and shift her gaze to camera one.

“I believe that is all the time we have for this segment. Thank you again so much for coming in, ‘Dr. Hot Skin’. We look forward to seeing all the lives this new products will change for the better. This has been Connie Sinclaire, BBC Channel 4 News at 5pm. Good evening, everyone.”

As the interview concludes and Connie rises with her guest to exchange pleasantries, he takes her hand and leans forward.

“I hope I was not too direct in my compliments as to make you uncomfortable, Miss Sinclaire.”

“Oh, no. Not at all, Dr. Hoskins. It was quite flattering coming from you.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He smiles that irresistible grin once again.

“On another note, there will be a New Year’s Eve dinner party at the Grand Majesty’s Hotel this evening. Many elite medical professionals and business investors will be there, mostly with their wives and dates. I’m afraid I mustn’t show up empty-handed.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are many women lining out the door to be your arm candy, Dr. Hoskins.”

“Oh, but I’d rather it be you, Miss Sinclaire.”

“You don’t say. But why me, my good doctor?”

“Simply put, I’ve taken a fancy to your spirited approach during our interview. I’m sure you’ll make a most exciting conversation partner in the event that old crone Doctor Von Kriegen decides to make a scene and bemuse us with the lack of layman appreciation for his research. And besides, as a newswoman surely you don’t intend to miss out on the opportunity to procure more social connections within the elites?”

Connie giggles impishly. The prospect of being the personal guest of this wealthy and handsome bachelor was simply too rich to pass up.

“Well, since you put it that way, how can I say no? As for the opportunity to procure social connections, I think I’ve got more than I can handle with this one.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll pick you up this evening at 8pm. But under one condition: You must call me by my first name.”

“If you insist, Hugh, but then ‘Miss Sinclaire’ doesn’t sound quite right either does it?”

“Shall I call you ‘Connie’ then?”

“That would be delightful. Oh, and one more thing: Would it be alright to invite my colleague along?”

Connie looks back and sees Karen in the distance speaking with a producer.

“A colleague? And here I thought you were sisters!”

“Haha, we get that quite a bit. But you can say we are like sisters.”

“Well, if she haven’t got a date, perhaps I can introduce her to one of the young business bachelors at the party.”

“Oh, that would be swell. I’ll make certain she comes along!”

Connie coos delectably. She gives her address to the man who then bids her good evening with a soft peck on the hand. As they part, Karen finishes her affairs with the producer and the two natural blondes meet.

“That was a great interview, Connie. Well done!”

“That’s only half of the great news, love.”

Connie’s emerald eyes light up excitedly.

“You and me are invited to attend a dinner party for the elites at the Grand Majesty’s Hotel this evening.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! And this evening…well…”

“Oh, come now! I know you’ve got no plans for New Year’s Eve. You told me last week you were staying in to watch the fireworks on TV.”

“That’s true.”

The more reserved Karen smiles sheepishly. Connie knows full well that her best friend has an aversion for social gatherings which makes it hard for her to meet a man.

“Dr. Hosk…er, Hugh said he would like to introduce you to some of the business bachelors at the party. Imagine if one of these dishy wealthy chaps takes a liking to you.”

“These parties are not really my cup of tea.”

“Oh I know, love. But you might enjoy it. And besides, I need somebody to keep me out of trouble, right?”

“Haha, alright, I’ll think about it. Give me a call tonight.”

The two women pack their things and head out of the studio, bidding each other farewell as they go their separate ways. The clock on the street corner strikes 5:30pm as the sun begins to descend behind the urban setting. A muscular figure stands just around the corner inside a red telephone box, just out of the two women's sight.

“They’ve just left, Doctor.”

“You know which one?”

“The one with the flower hairpin, right? I was watching your interview with her on the news.”

“Is it to your liking?”

“Absolutely.”

The man in the box licks his lips with a sneer while leering at Karen’s hips from afar.

“Then happy hunting, chap. Make her regret questioning the validity of my research live on air.”

The mystery man hangs up the phone and exits the box, heading in the same direction as the unsuspecting newswoman.

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