[49] A Killing Kindness

There was something not quite right about Professor Boxall. Melissa Henderson had worked as his laboratory assistant since she left the convent school and had always prided herself in being able to recognise his frequent mood swings. She instinctively knew when to leave him on his own or use her undoubted charms to relieve the stress at the end of a particularly difficult day. The professor had been locked away for long hours in his test and development laboratory every day for the past three months. Melissa noticed that when he did emerge he was unusually tense. She was aware of a haunted look in his eyes and his expression was gaunt and drawn.

Professor Boxall had warned her on her very first day never to enter the test laboratory which was situated in the basement of the Edwardian building which housed the Scientific Research Centre for the university which was located four miles across town. Melissa would take down some lunch to the professor but always left it on the table outside the locked door. She would then press on the warning bell to alert him before returning upstairs to the general laboratory and office area.

Apart from Melissa, two other people worked at the Research Centre. One was Rodney, a junior scientific adviser who tended to work on his own and generally kept himself to himself. Angela acted as receptionist and telephonist and performed a hundred and one other menial tasks. She was just out of school and was constantly talking about boys and pop groups and television soap stars. Melissa often thought how pretty she looked or, more accurately how pretty she could look if she had a modicum of taste. Not that Melissa wasn’t pretty herself. She knew she was reasonably attractive and more importantly, was able to enhance her looks by wearing the right clothes and hairstyle. It angered Melissa to see Angela, who had natural beauty, spoil it through wearing outrageous hairstyles and shocking colours.

As Melissa continued the task of analysing a computer file of DNA results which was already three weeks overdue, she heard the professor call from the basement laboratory. Always security conscious, she carefully clicked on her mouse to close the file before rushing down the steep staircase where the professor stood at the entrance to the laboratory. He looked brighter and more alive than he had been for some time and he greeted her with a smile.

“Could you contact John Surridge at St Mary’s?” he began. “Tell him...” He paused for some moments and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tell him I am ready to give him a demonstration.”

“A demonstration?” replied Melissa.

“He’ll know what you are talking about. Ask him to call round tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. Tell him everything will be ready.”

Melissa knew the professor well enough not to ask any questions. As she turned to climb the steps once again he tightened his grip on her shoulder, forcing her to wait. He looked deep into her eyes and smiled warmly.

“I just want to thank you. I couldn’t have worked without all your help.”

“Don’t mention it professor,” she replied as she felt her cheeks burn.

She watched him move apruptly back into the test laboratory and lock the door behind him. She touched her cheek and stared blankly ahead of her for some moments before turning and hurrying back to the office. She had grown to love Professor Boxall from the first day they met but had never communicated her feelings to him. She feared he would find such attentions to be a touch juvenile and a distraction from his important work.

“Angela. Get me John Surridge.”

She went to the small kitchen area and took a bottle of Coke from the fridge. She removed the top and swallowed a soothing mouthful. She held the icy coldness to her cheek and removed her glasses, closing her eyes as the cool bottle on her skin eased her discomfort.

“John who?” said Angela with a touch of irritation in her voice.

Melissa quickly composed herself and let out an anguished sigh. She marched purposefully towards the desk and took the telephone receiver from the young girl.

“Never mind. I’ll do it myself,” she said, unable to conceal her frustration.

When she had passed on the message she picked up the bottle of coke and swallowed the remaining contents.

“I’m going for lunch,” she announced. “If the professor wants me I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

“Sure,” muttered Angela without interest. “Anything you say,” she said acidly when Melissa was out of earshot.

Melissa raised her head from the lens of the microscope and looked at her watch. The strain of meticulously examining slide after slide of chemical samples had taken its toll and she had to rub her eyes for a few seconds before she could focus on the timepiece which told her it was six forty-five. With a sigh she decided to call it a day as her thoughts turned to a long luxurious bath and a relaxing evening in front of the fire with a good book and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

She spent some moments tidying her work station and recalled the words of Rodney on his first day at the laboratory. “You’ll never be a scientist,” he had chided her. “You are far too tidy.”

She picked up her coat and her Harrods shopping bag and walked to the top of the stairs. She looked down at the entrance to Professor Boxall’s secret laboratory and noticed that the door was open.

“Professor Boxall,” she called down to him. “I’m going now. Goodnight.”

There was no answer. Melissa turned to leave but something stopped her. She could not help feeling that something was not quite as it should be. She was well used to receiving no response to her calling as she knew that when the professor was engrossed in his work, it would take an earthquake to distract him.

But this time she felt uneasy. Before long she found herself being drawn down into the basement. Her steps were slow and deliberate as she descended the staircase. She could hear the sound of her heels against the wooden steps reverberate throughout the cold, dimly lit interior. She heard her own heart pound. Then she heard the sound of her own voice.

“Professor. It’s me. I’m off now. Professor?”

She stood at the entrance to the laboratory. The door was open only a few inches. She pushed her face towards the gap and called out once more.

“Professor Boxall.”

She waited for some moments and wondered if she dared investigate further. She knew that she was strictly forbidden to enter the laboratory, but this was different, she told herself. Almost before she could consider the implications of disobeying the professor’s instructions, she pushed the door and stepped back like a naughty child as it moved easily, swinging wide open to reveal a room full of all manner of computer hardware. On every wall were shelves stacked with computer monitors, boxes overfilled with pieces of microchip boards, scientific and technical manuals, notebooks and many other bits and pieces of discarded gadgetry.

Melissa called the professor’s name once more before stepping into the room. There were several tables and desks, each holding an assortment of Personal Computers, Laser Printers and untidy stacks of computer disks. In the centre of the room was a strange contraption which resembled a kind of spaceship. Not a conventional spaceship. More the type which appear in science fiction picture books and cheap B movies. It was cigar shaped and made of what was clearly part of a light aircraft fuselage, the windows of the cockpit covered with a kind of aluminium foil. There was a door on the near side which had a handle at the bottom, indicating that it opened upwards, rather like a hatch.

Melissa pulled at the handle. For a moment it appeared stuck fast and she gave it an extra tug with both hands. It opened easily once it was released and she had to step back abruptly as it creaked open and stopped just above her head. Melissa stepped forward and called Professor Boxall’s name once more. Silence. The interior was dark and mysterious but as she stepped inside a light came on automatically, which startled her briefly. With one foot inside the craft she paused to take in the scene before her. There was a pilot’s seat which was extended backwards in the form of a reclining chair.

There were straps on either side of the chair and on the pilot’s right hand side was a control panel which contained a number of coloured buttons and levers, each labelled by numbers and letters which formed some sort of indecipherable code.

On the floor in front of the chair was a volume of notes. Melissa picked it up and stepped down from the craft. The interior light went out as she did so. She sat on the edge of a nearby table and flicked through the pages. It was soon obvious to her that she was looking at the User Manual for the mysterious craft. It did not take her long to come to a decision. Quickly she rushed back upstairs to the office and spent the next half hour meticulously photocopying the pages of the manual. All the while her heart was pounding as she knew Professor Boxall might return at any moment.

When she had completed her task she roughly placed the copy in her bag and raced downstairs, replaced the manual back inside the craft and raised her arm to close the hatch. The craft began to move. At first it was a slight vibration and Melissa stood motionless, her arm raised and her hand resting on the open hatch. She thought she had imagined it at first but the vibrations grew in intensity and she could feel them pass through her hand. Then all of a sudden the interior of the craft was lit up with a brilliant flash of white light, accompanied by a momentary whooshing sound. Melissa jumped back from the craft and dropped her bag, the copy pages of the manual spilling out onto the floor. She bent down and picked up the sheets of paper and pushed them into her bag once again. She stood up and looked at the craft. The interior was enveloped in a strange mist which crept out through the open hatch.

She stood transfixed as she watched the outline of a human emerge from the mist. She stepped back until she collided with some shelves, knocking books and sheets of paper noisily to the floor. The human form stepped down from the craft and out of the mist. It was Professor Boxall and he was completely naked. He stood and stared at Melissa. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came. She watched as the professor slowly moved towards her. He had a strange look in his eye and a smile formed on the side of his mouth. She knew it was the professor but she was immediately struck by the fact that he looked younger and more athletic than she remembered him.

As he edged closer she found her eyes move over his body and take in the strong, lithe muscles of a much younger man. She let her eyes linger on his thighs which were rounded and firm. She began to perspire and felt a dryness in her throat.

“What are you doing here?”

His gruff voice startled her and she began to edge sideways towards the door, knocking over more books and discarded hardware as she did so.

“I . . . I was just . . .” she stammered nervously.

“You were just what?” he continued, his voice both mocking and challenging.

Melissa was unnerved by his coldness as he moved closer to her. She made a sudden dash for the door but the professor was too quick for her. He slammed the door shut and held his arm outstretched behind her, his hand resting against the door as he leaned forward slightly, his face close to hers.

“I asked you a question?” he was whispering now, which alarmed her further.

“The door was open. I . . . I called your name. You didn’t answer and I thought . . .”

“You thought what?”

“I thought you might have been ill or something.”

She began to gradually edge along the wall away from him but he raised his left arm now and placed the palm of his hand against the door, leaving her no escape route.

She could smell his breath as he closed in on her, and she found his demeanour menacing yet strangely intoxicating.

“You know you are not allowed to enter here under any circumstances.”

“Yes I did. I do. I simply wanted to be sure you were all right. When I didn’t get an answer I was really worried. Anything could have happened.”

She was smiling now as she pleaded her case, trying hard to defuse the situation.

“Don’t be alarmed Miss Henderson,” the professor was smiling now. “I find your concern for my welfare rather touching.”

Melissa was not used to him addressing her as Miss Henderson and she found the sarcasm in his voice somewhat disturbing. She began to wonder if he was indeed Professor Boxall.

“How much did you see?”

His tone had changed to a more serious manner.

“I just came into the room and saw a flash of light,” she replied, careful to tell him only what was already obvious. “Then there was some mist and you came out from that . . . that thing.”

“Were you frightened?”

He had resumed his teasing manner once again.

“Well at first I was. Then when I realised it was you I felt relieved.”

“So what do you think?”

“Professor, what I have seen today will go no further. You have my word on that. You do not have to tell me anything and I won’t ask questions. I promise you I . . .”

“That is not what I meant.”

His right arm moved slowly down to his side.

“I know you have always liked me Miss Henderson.”

His voice was a whisper again and she noticed a strange mistiness in his eyes. She jumped as she felt his hand firmly clasp her left thigh.

“Professor Boxall . . .”

“Please. Call me Jim.” His hand was caressing her through her skirt. “All my friends call me Jim. You are my friend Miss Henderson are you not? Shall I call you Melissa?”

“If you wish.”

Her breathing was heavy now with a mixture of fear and excitement. She felt his body press against her as his hand moved down to raise her skirt. He ran his fingers along the soft flesh of her uncovered thigh and felt the soft material of her panties. His mouth was close to hers and she looked into his eyes.

“Professor . . .”

She let out a muffled cry as he violently ripped the panties from her body and threw them to the floor. At that point their lips met and he kissed her passionately. At first she resisted and her arms remained by her side. Then she felt him grab her with both hands and he pushed himself violently against her. His tongue was darting in and out of her mouth and before she knew it she was forcing her tongue into his. Her arms were round his neck and she raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist. As he was about to enter her he suddenly released her and moved away abruptly, holding his head and swaying from side to side. Melissa grabbed hold of his arms to steady him.

“Professor. Are you all right?” she spoke breathlessly.

“Melissa,” he looked at her as though he had seen a ghost. “I . . . I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s all right professor,” she moved towards him but he retreated quickly and moved behind the craft where he started to get dressed.

“But professor, I . . .”

“You must go now Melissa,” he commanded her. “I will speak to you in the morning.”

She picked up the discarded panties and placed them in her bag. She then opened the door and ran up the stairs towards the office and out into the street. When she closed the door behind her she stood for several minutes and let the cold air soothe her burning skin. After a while she sighed at length before walking along the busy street and hailing a taxi. On the journey home she began to read the copy of the manual. She was so engrossed that the taxi driver had to twice tell her they had arrived. When she got into her flat ahe didn’t even remove her coat. She poured a glass of Brandy and sat down and continued to read, occasionally highlighting text with a pencil as she went.

It was some sort of Time Machine. But it didn’t transport the time traveller back to another time. It merely took the traveller on a journey through time but always arriving back to the present. Her understanding from the manual was that the purpose of the machine was to reverse the ageing process by transporting the body through space and time, thereby attaining great speeds and thus making the body younger.

She studied diagrams explaining the controls. These indicated that the machine could indeed transport the user to the past, but only by a matter of minutes, ten at the most. She read on and realised that a user could program the machine to go back ten minutes, any number of times, and the traveller would return having appeared to have been gone for only ten minutes.

“So that’s how he does it,” she spoke out loud.

He sets the controls to take him back ten minutes, and repeats it ten times, twice a day. After all these months he has come to look younger and fitter and stronger.

“But why did he get careless?” she asked herself, staring into space and chewing on her pencil.

She wondered why he had left the door to his laboratory open. Why had he become aggressive after emerging from the machine? It was as though he had taken on a completely new personality. The telephone rang. It was the professor. He wanted her to return immediately to the laboratory.

“Are you okay professor?” she pressed him.

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” he replied. “I need your help. Now that you have seen my work. Could you come round as soon as possible?”

“I’ll be there in one hour.”

“Thank you Melissa.”

She undressed and went into the shower. As she rubbed the soap over her body she began to think of what the professor had done to her. He had stopped too abruptly and her body began to tingle. Slowly and carefully she dressed. She put on her black silk stockings and navy blue skirt which revealed an ample amount of thigh. She sprayed her wrists and her neck with expensive scent and pulled on a silky white blouse.

She looked at herself in the mirror and brushed her long auburn hair as she examined her body. She was certainly dressed to kill and she knew it. Finally she stepped into her high-heeled shoes and pulled on her long blue coat. She stepped out into the street and quickly stopped a taxi. As she travelled to the Research Centre she was suddenly conscious of not wearing underwear and she felt her legs part slightly. Her coat fell away to expose her stocking clad leg. She felt daringly mischievous and had uncharacteristically elected to sit in the front, next to the driver.

With a swift movement she crossed her legs, revealing an expanse of thigh as the driver’s eyes darted between her legs and the road. Now she was playing a game with herself and her whole body was tingling. She decided she was going to have Professor Boxall tonight. She would seduce him and he would be unable to resist. He had taken fright earlier and thought she wasn’t willing. Now she will make it easy for him. She will give herself to him and make him love her.

Melissa removed her coat as she entered the Research Centre. As she descended the steps to the laboratory she felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement. She paused at the door which was once again left open. The machine sat majestically in the middle of the room. Slowly she moved towards it and her hand reached out to pull the hatch. She heard a noise from within, a kind of muffled groan. She hesitated for some moments before finally pulling the hatch away from the machine. It rose obediently and Melissa looked down on the naked body of Professor Boxall. But he was not alone. Beneath him lay Angela, the receptionist.

“Professor . . .” cried Melissa as her mind raced.

The professor looked round and seemed startled at first. Then he smiled and turned towards Angela and his lovemaking became more frantic, which caused the young girl to cry out.

She looked up at Melissa and gave her a look which was the product of wanton lust and unbridled desire. Melissa returned the look and she stood for several minutes, watching the two lovers give their all. She felt a burning rage rise up in her. She felt betrayed. She had given many years of loyal service to the professor and there he was, screwing a teenager who has just come out of school.

She turned away and ran towards the door, tears welling in her eyes. She suddenly stopped as the idea came to her in a flash. She was very calm now as she composed herself for the task ahead. She moved round to the other side of the machine. The two lovers were lost in each others arms now, having both enjoyed simultaneous orgasms. Melissa quietly pushed the buttons on the control panel. She carefully set the reverse time to ten minutes, to be repeated one hundred times. Then she calmly walked to the far side of the room and sat down on a chair. She watched as the professor and the young girl gradually moved apart and sat up inside the machine. The professor wiped beads of perspiration from his face and let out a sigh. Then suddenly he grabbed hold of the girl and they looked at each other with crazed eyes for a few moments before he pushed her back onto the chair and mounted her once again. Melissa watched the scene unfold several times before she became bored. She got a taxi back to her flat and propositioned the driver.

As she lay in bed with a strange man whose name she didn’t even know, she thought about the professor and the receptionist. She smiled as she pictured them feeling that same desire every ten minutes. She knew they would not be able to stop themselves.

It was John Surridge who discovered their bodies the next morning. The professor and the young girl were found inside the machine, their bodies entwined in a gruesome embrace. According to the coroner they both died of heart failure.

The police at first could not accept such a coincidence and were suspicious. Everyone was interrogated, including Melissa. But the forensic evidence soon put their minds at rest. Both had died of natural causes. Only Melissa Henderson knew that the couple had actually screwed themselves to death.