ENTRY 4590-1C
My compliments to your exquisite taste in research assistants, dear Jekyll. I honestly cannot decide which I liked more. Her screams of pleasure as I whipped her ass with my belt, or the feel of her tight pussy clenching around my cock.
It’s a shame you yourself could not experience her delectable delights. After that disastrous attempt at seduction, can you really blame the woman for falling for the charms of a better man?
Take my advice, old chap. Women detest weak men. No woman wants the hesitant caress of a bashful man. They crave the firm hand that comes from arrogant confidence and power. Even more preferable if that firm hand is spanking their backside and pulling their hair.
Regrettably, I neglected to take photos. I will not be so remiss next time.
Sincerely,
From your better self
Mr. Edward Hyde
I staredat Hyde’s now familiar scrawl. With a cry of frustration, I swept my hand across the tabletop, sending the journal and several glass beakers crashing to the floor. My anger not assuaged, I turned and punched the wall, crying out as I clutched my now bruised and cut hand.
Hyde was a demon conjured from the depths of some chemical hallucinatory hell and yet he was living a better life than I could ever imagine. Expensive suits, drinks in swanky clubs… and sex with Catherine.
I ran my other hand through my hair. He was me! But he wasn’t. Dammit.
I closed my eyes, once more reliving the events of last night as if through a lens. The first time I took the formula, I could remember most of what Hyde did. It came back to me in flashes of insight through a headache haze. This time I remembered less butfeltmore. It was strange. It was as if he were taking over more control of my body each time I took the formula. Almost as if he was getting stronger.
I opened then clenched my sore hand. It wasn’t the pain from the wall I was feeling; it was Catherine’s skin, the warm touch of her punished ass.
After the formula had worn off, my senses were overloaded with remembrances of Catherine. The sound of her gasp as Hyde—dammit, as I—entered her. The musky scent of her arousal mixed with her perfume. The feel of her silky hair wrapped around my fist. The sweet taste of her mouth. Even the slight tang of her blood as I kissed her too fiercely and cut her lip on my tooth. It was all there in flashes of light and dark. I had been like an animal, possessed of only one solitary purpose, to claim Catherine.
I could not believe even an alter ego of my own self would be capable of taking a woman so… brutally. I had shown her no mercy, no quarter. I had taken without asking. I had used pleasure as a weapon.
I grimaced at the taste of stale cigar and bourbon in my mouth. Stumbling across the lab, I poured myself a cup of lukewarm coffee and drank. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, but nothing could wipe away the taste of my shame.
The worst part was I wasn’t ashamed of what I’d done to her under the influence of Hyde and the formula. I was ashamed of how much I liked it. And ashamed of how badly I wanted to do it again…
CHAPTER11
JEKYLL
By the time I’d gone home, showered, changed, and returned to the lab, Catherine was already there.
I leaned against the doorjamb as I processed my overwhelming sense of relief. I half-expected her to be halfway to France just to get away from me. Or worse, to have shown up with the police to have me arrested. I stayed where I was, silently watching her.
She must have only just arrived. Her back was turned to me as she unbuttoned her coat. It was another black, vintage-looking garment trimmed in fur around the hem, wrists, and collar. As she shrugged out of her coat, I could see she was wearing another black dress. This one had large purple flowers clustered around the right shoulder. Truthfully, I had never noticed a woman’s wardrobe before. Clothes were just clothes. Not with Catherine. Her wardrobe seemed to be an extension of her personality. Her dresses were vintage with a modern twist, lending to her otherworldly demeanor. There were times, when I was certain she wasn’t looking, that I just stared at her. Wondering if she was real. Her pale, almost translucent skin, full red lips, and thick dark hair were something dreamed up by Shakespeare inA Midsummer Night’s Dream. She was a fairy from the wood come to torment me.
I watched as she retrieved a dustpan from the closet and bent to sweep up the remains of her crushed glasses.
The glasses Hyde thoughtlessly crushed last night.
The glasses I crushed last night.
My instinct was to rush in and take the dustpan from her hand, but I restrained myself. If I did so, she may have felt the need to explain why her glasses were smashed on the floor. I couldn’t face that conversation.
Taking a deep breath, I entered my lab.
“Good morning, Catherine.” I winced. In my effort to sound normal and nonchalant, my voice came off as just the opposite. It sounded hollow and strained to my ears.
She ducked her head and avoided eye contact as she hastily emptied the dustpan into the bin. “Good morning, Henry. Would you like me to start on ordering the inventory items discussed yesterday?”
I nodded as I kept my hands busy by straightening some papers and files on my desk. “Yes, Catherine. That would be very helpful.”