Play dumb and stall

"Lot what? What are you talking about?" you mumble. You hope that, if nothing else, your grogginess from the stun gun jolt might make your ignorance more believable.

"The cans of body spray. The AXE, that you found in the storerooms, you oaf! I know what you've been up to, though it took me too long to put it together," she frowns. In spite of the circumstances, or perhaps, in a kinky way, because of them, you can't help but notice how gorgeous she is. Her features are classically beautiful and her skin flawless. She's not wearing her glasses, giving an unobstructed view of her large, dark, violet-hued eyes. Her body, more visible through the open coat than it has been previously, is as breathtakingly hot as you'd imagined -- the long, lean, toned limbs of a dancer, but with curvier hips and a chest up in the rarified trans-double D end of the scale. Apparently noting where your eyes have settled, she smirks and jams the stun gun into your leg, blasting the room into another whiteout.

As your senses refocus, her voice returns, sharp and precise and wickedly sexy as ever. "I can do that all night if need be. And I can think of less enjoyable ways to spend an evening. Now, where is the AXE?"

"I thought that was trash... from the previous tenants," you groan, your muscles aching from convulsing against the handcuffs.

"Perhaps you did, at first, but I've overheard the gossip, and there's only one way I know for a janitor to get that much action," she snaps, a bit of amusement beginning to creep into her voice.

"And how do you know..."

"I worked for the previous tenants," she interrupts. "Pheregen Research. I assisted Dr. Nils Pangborn in his research on pheremones in animal sexual attraction, and their application to humans. Lot #7 was his triumph, and those cans are all that remains."

"What do you mean? The box said 'Failed pretesting'," you ask, as you feel sensation returning to your muscles. Not only are you kind of interested in what the hell is behind all of this, but maybe if you can get her "monologing" you might see some kind of opening to escape.

"Officially it did. There are numerous protocols that govern human testing. Smother it, in fact... So Nils and I bypassed many of them. Our subjects, for instance, didn't know anything of the nature of what we were testing, lest it influence their psychological responses, or their attraction to other subjects. There were cumbersome safety questions as well."

"Which you also bypassed?"

"Of course. And given the mere handful of deaths in the test groups, I'd say we were fully justified."

"Deaths?"

"Mostly heart failures. Men and women. Due to undetected preexisting conditions, I'm sure. Generally there was nothing worse than fatigue and the flu-like symptoms you've probably already witnessed. We believe the spray tends to depress women's immune systems, among its other effects... Which I'm sure you've noticed."

In spite of your discomfort, you can't help but smile.

"Yes, don't go thinking you share any of the credit," she continues condescendingly. "The spray has the direct effect of inducing intense arousal in female subjects, secondarily diminishing social inhibitions. It also synergizes with the body chemistry of the male to whom it is applied, tending to focus the woman's attentions on him specifically... We believe that even women of primarily lesbian preferences would be drawn to him, though they might hate themselves in the morning. And, technically, any port will do in a storm."

"I happened to notice it didn't seem to impress any of the guys around me."

"Disappointed?" she smirks. "The effects were vastly diminished on male subjects, whatever their sexual orientation. Direct skin application produced moderate arousal of extended duration. Fortunate for them that it provided that benefit, given the needs of their partners."

"Any other after effects?" you ask, thinking you might just about be able to walk again.

"Largely outside the scope of our study, though there seemed to be a lasting psychological bond between many subjects. I believe there were also a few suicides among female subjects, post trials."

"Suicides?"

"Again, probably a predisposition aggravated by the intense psychological effects produced by the spray. Either disgusted with themselves, or unable to handle subsequent rejection by their partner," she explains coldly, before hastening to add with a smile, "I believe there were a number of marriages, as well."

"So if this was such a success, how come the cans were in the trash, and why aren't you and Dr. Pangborn millionaires?"

"Pheregen's board were sanctimonious idiots, who didn't want to look beyond our violations of protocol. Even though the company was failing they ordered the experiments shut down. Nils reacted rashly. He had invested a lot of his own money in the company, and here he was being disciplined by and kicked out of it. He destroyed his notes, and took his own life, before I could salvage the situation."

"Salvage?"

"I had a prior relationship with Alan Fanshaw..." she pauses, "...with his company, Biogenetech. I had been supplying them with research data for some years, to their benefit and Pheregen's detriment. I believe it was concern about industrial espionage that led to Nils' secrecy with his notes. I wish I'd been able to explain... Anyway, it was a simple enough matter for Biogenetech to move in and acquire Pheregen. And with that, I hoped that enough of Nils' research could be recovered to recreate his achievement. Until you came along, that is."

You try to move slowly into a position from where you might spring to your feet without McKenzie realizing what you're up to, but it's awkward, and she seems to be favoring the hand with the gun, rather than the stunner, as she speaks. Unfortunately, if she'd been at all uncertain before, her monologue may have confirmed for her that she doesn't want you talking to anyone after tonight.

"Guess you should have looked for the cans yourself."

"I suppose I should," she frowns, "But I wasn't keen to expose myself to whatever else was back there, and I didn't want to arouse suspicion among other members of the staff. This project was to be Alan's and my little secret."

"And now just yours."

"Yes," a flash of dismay crosses her face, perhaps the first sign of vulnerability you've ever seen from her. "When no notes turned up, and then no cans, Alan became quite angry. He accused me of either making the whole thing up, and causing him to piss away millions on the acquisition, or of recovering the formula myself and selling it to someone else. Meanwhile, I thought that he might have recovered something, and was trying to freeze me out."

"Of course," you suggest, "a guy who had that spray at his disposal might figure he didn't need to be tied down to just one woman."

Anger burns in McKenzie's eyes, "We argued, and he threatened to fire me. He said he could find other women just as bright, and a small investment in current technology could whip up even better 'packaging'. I searched his home and office after I shot him, and realized that he didn't have the formula, but I don't think I could have forgiven him for that crack anyway." She snaps out of her reverie -- "But since you're the cause of all this, you can understand why my patience is frayed. I've searched your little hovel, and found nothing. You're going to tell me where the cans are now, or I'm at least going to have the satisfaction of watching your blood drain from where your balls used to be!"

You grasp at a way to stall further. "Fanshaw dead, and then me? Isn't that going to have a lot of cops snooping around the office?"

"Easy enough to pin it on, say, Scruffy? Perhaps he'll even decide to end it all before the police catch up with him. Enough talk. Where are the cans?!"

Your eyes race around the room. The coat rack is right by the door to your bathroom. You blurt out "The medicine cabinet!"

McKenzie raises an eyebrow, "ALL of them? I didn't even see any dental floss in there." You see her finger tighten on the trigger.

"NO! Behind it! There's a space behind it, in the wall!"

She squints a bit, trying to read you. She turns for an instant to head for the bathroom, but turns back before you can get a leg under yourself. "Alright. You're going to show me. But try anything funny," she pockets the stunner and takes out the key to the handcuffs, gesturing with the gun, "and I'll point out your most sensitive nerve clusters."