Emily had a secret. A discovery both tantalizing and at the same time super creepy and it occupied her every waking thought. For the past week, she had been engaging in a clandestine affair with a lover whose very nature made the relationship a dark perversion she dare not reveal to anyone. It had been an awakening for Emily in both mind and body. A liberation as the vicarious lust she used to derive from romance novels was utterly displaced and cast aside by a material sexual outlet that enticed her flesh like nothing she had ever known. It was on the preceding weekend she had stumbled upon a tremendous sexual discovery in the adjoining greenhouse of her neighbor, Professor Masterson whose house she was asked to watch and maintain while the professor was away. She dared not utter this new secret to anyone because her new sex partner was not a man nor even a beast ... but a vegetable.

An insentient, green, earth-bound, herbal love machine that had chemically aroused her to near delirium and then screwed her to peaceful repose. Quite by accident while innocently reading one of her lady-smut novels she was overcome by the intoxicating fragrance exuded by a towering flower stalk the professor grew in the corner. Within a matter of minutes, Emily was induced to strip naked and masturbate at the base of the large flower. What transpired after that was a slow progression of events that culminated in Emily getting the fuck of her life with orgasms so powerful they eclipsed conscious thought. It was a startling revelation but an experience Emily could not help but to relive every opportunity she could as long as the professor was away. What the plant gained from their exchanges she could only guess. What harm the plant might be doing her she tried not to think about.

Over the period of the following week, profound changes manifested themselves in Emily. Something awoke in her. Something that was always in her, stirring just beneath her calm, quiet demeanor, but dormant and obscured by her professional countenance, was turning her into a sexual being. The change was sensual, strong and tied firmly to her libido. It was discretely personal at first but quickly burst from her in ways that were obvious to everyone about her. The changes started on the morning after that first tryst with her plant lover. She shaved her entire pubic region bare. She did it to give her new paramour simpler access to her pussy. She also did it so she could better feel all of the subtle sensations the plant’s gentle petals and hair-like feelers swathed over her skin.

Her outward appearance also changed over the course of the week, starting with her hair. She usually kept it pinned up and out of her way, but she now let it down to flow over her shoulders and down her back. She found that she loved the feel of it on her neck and indulging her senses was becoming a priority in her life. The reading glasses she always wore now became an item she only donned when necessary. She stopped buttoning her blouse all the way to the top button and forsook her prim cravats and scarves in preference to an exposed neckline. She began wearing those form-fitting slit-skirts her sister was always buying her. She found she liked the way three-inch heals, which she never before wore to work, tensed the muscles in her calves and accentuated their shape. She liked even more the way four-inch heals made her butt pop out, but that was overkill for a work environment. Her voice became softer and she embraced a new skill in making men nervous with just a casual, even gaze.

She was always pretty. She had a round face with mostly small features. Her mouth was narrow, her nose tiny, though her eyes large, brown and innocent-looking. The reliable, bookish brunette was now an undeniable office distraction. She became in all ways a sensual being and she owed it all to her strange new lover.

Today was Friday and Emily sat in her office. Last night was her last meeting with the strange paramour. Tonight her neighbor, Prof. Caroline Masterson, would be returning home from her seminar and stand permanently between Emily and the sex she longed for. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. Every spare moment of her day had been spent on thoughts about the plant and what her next encounter with it would be like. And now her mind struggled with an urge to take the afternoon off and race home for one last encounter in that magical greenhouse. Just one more last passage into that delirious, opiate dream induced by the plant’s overwhelming aphrodisiac cloud. Just one more exposure to the delicately tickling fibers dancing around her entrapped pussy. Just to have a few more minutes of those embracing petals around her ass as that delightful stigma fucked deeply into her. To have one more encounter to remember by and keep forever was calling to her through all her senses. But that was madness. Her neighbor could come home at any moment and she would not recover in time. Desperation leads to horrendous tactical blunders and she needed to control herself no matter how strong the lure.

And it was happening again now as she sat at her desk. The hollowness of an idle moment was allowing the recall of her experience with that wonderful plant to float to the top of her consciousness. The narcotic effect of the mysterious plant’s overpowering pheromones replayed in her mind. Along with it, the sensations on her skin replayed. The tingling caused by the plant’s sap drooling over her upturned ass alone was ecstasy. It was a foreplay to the wet, firm grasp of the petals sliding over her butt cheeks and slipping between her upper thighs. And best yet, the pistil with its lightly groping anthers at the tip exploring their way into her delicate folds, making way for the soft push of the pistil gaining her intimate depths. The suck and push of the petals squeezing their grapple about her crotch to impel the firm implement in and out of her.

As her mind kept drifting over the sensuous details of her erotic trips into her neighbor’s greenhouse, her hand strayed under her desk, to her knee, up the inside of her thigh in response to needs she could barely resist. Her other hand cupped under the opposite tit and squeezed as her thumb brushed back and forth over the blouse covered nipple. Lust was calling her to encroach upon that epicenter of pleasure that was even now dampening the gusset of her panties. Her hand moved under her skirt, crept between her thighs, and slid aside her panties to tease her dewy moist crevice.

With all pubic hair gone, her finger easily slid over the bare skin and found her inner labia. She parted them and groped between. She needed the slick secretions to aid her assault on her yearning clit. She pushed her finger into the deep open well of her vagina. Deep to the first joint, deeper to the second joint, pushing hard she plunged he middle finger in almost up to the knuckle and stirred it round. Oh, those were the sensations she craved. She felt her nipples harden against her silky camisole. She curled and twisted her finger to relish the sensation and push her arousal higher.

Her clit was calling for attention. She knew a very nice orgasm was waiting for her and this was the time to seize it. She raked her finger against the roof of her cunt to stroke her G-spot on her withdrawal. Slickly primed, she slowly traced the labial vale upward, circled her urethra a couple of times and then encroached upon her delightful pleasure button. Her finger lightly touched over the ridge of the hood and she braced herself for the avalanche she was about to trigger.

There was the usual abrupt click from the intercom and the voice of her secretary came through, “Mr. Soetoro to see you.”

Emily almost screamed in frustration. Nothing could kill a sensual mood worse than Barry could. Barry was a tall, intrusive dork with a pencil neck and protruding ears. He had a nasal voice and affected a downhome accent with an air of being erudite. Her day shift supervisor had gone out on a date with him once and had commented ‘If he even has a dick, I’ll bet he doesn’t know why.’ Emily already knew what this impromptu meeting was about. “Send him in, please.”

He poked his head through the doorway first, “Catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Emily lied. She felt like throwing something at him but she calmed herself, slowly drew up the finger that she had just been pleasuring herself with and slipped it between her lips. She lackadaisically sucked on it and wrestled her annoyance into submission as she watched the purple-lipped geek settle himself into a chair opposite her desk.

“Aaaah’ll get right to the point,” he started with mortgaged importance. “I was denied a priority advance for my sales projection project. Shannon told me she couldn’t accommodate me ... aaand said I would have to wait until system resources became available.”

As her tongue casually cleaned her finger, Emily showed him a concerned frown and waited for more (there was always more). She took off her glasses, folded them, and hung them through the top of her open blouse. She lowered her chin and gazed evenly at him under her level brow.

“Aaaah told her, those sales numbers are crucial and aaah had to have them uh ... by, by Monday.” He sniffed and paused to let that soak in. “‘ told her I’d take this directly to you and then to Don.”

The threat to go over her head to her boss was not lost on Emily, but contrary to her usual mousey countenance, she did not feel like getting pushed around today. She quickly pushed her skirt down with her other hand and then abruptly rose to her feet and looked him squarely in the eye, startling him. “This isn’t a service station, Barry,” she emphasized her position by slamming her palms on her desk as she leaned over it. “Our resources are limited and priority is assigned by first come, first served basis AFTER all scheduled essential commitments.”

Leaning over her desk forced Barry to choose between looking at her face and looking at her cleavage. Foolishly, he chose her cleavage. When he noticed that she had caught him at it, his eyes began to dart around nervously as he realized he had just handed her a sexual harassment hatchet. “If the folks upstairs don’t have my figures by uh, uh ... Monday ... they, they might have something to say.”

She could have let him off easy with a simple comment about his habitual procrastination, however her blood was up and she had him on the run. “This weekend is not only Month-end, it is Quarter-end,” she stated as she slowly walked around her desk. “These functions are not only crucial for the stockholders but for the IRS, as well.” She stopped in front of him and then pushed her butt up on to the desk. She felt the fabric of her skirt hug her hips and she smoothed it down to accentuate her curves. “Everybody knows that, including ... the folks upstairs.” She crossed her legs enjoying the feel of the stockings climbing her thighs. She began bounced a leg, daring him to stare at them. He did. After she caught him the second time, he began squirming in his seat and desperately searching for anything to look at instead of Emily.

She was obviously intimidating him with some hidden power she never knew she had. This was an awakening for her and she was enjoying it. He had come to browbeat her with threats to go over her head and she had turned it back on him by simply being herself, or at least by being what she had become. She could tell that he did not want to be there anymore.

“Well,” he said in a petulant tone. “If ... uh, uh, if that is your last word.”

“It’s not my word,” she clarified and then pushed her chest outward, pressing her nipples against her blouse. Once they caught his attention, he really began to fidget. He stood up and turned to the door, almost stumbling over the chair. Then she added, “The Month-end is paramount and we all need to plan our work around that schedule.” She did not want him to go away mad, just to go away.

“This will be ... be brought up at the weekly meetin’,” he added before stamping out and slamming the door.

“Maybe he’s not gay,” she said to herself. Emily knew they would just tell him the same thing and if he wanted to call attention to his own procrastination that was his affair too.

‘What kind of asshole puts a padlock on his outhouse?’ her dad used to say about their quirky neighbor up the road. Emily did not know what made assholes tick but since leaving the farm she had become a magnet for them.

The long day wound down and Emily had to work late. By the time she got home, it was 7:30 and she was dog tired. She fixed herself something to eat and tried to turn her mind to anything but her last week’s escapades.

She was craving it again. Her second glass of Scuppernong and a long shower hadn’t helped. She stood in the dark at the sliding glass door to her patio looking longingly over the cedar fence and dark hedge that separated her from her neighbor’s greenhouse. She knew sexual release like she had never known before was waiting there in the dark but now out of reach, probably forever. She felt trapped and wanted that sweet release. Almost of their own volition, her hands went to her nightgown and pulled it open. Buttons tore and snapped as the light garment opened and fell from her shoulders. One hand went to her breast, the other slipped into her mons while her mind relived her nights in that arboretum.

Suddenly, light broke through the roof of the glass structure just over the hedges. Prof. Masterson was home and visiting her garden. Emily’s adventure in horticulture was truly over. A deep sadness fell upon her pining spirit.

She stopped kneading her breast and stirring her pot to throw open the sliding glass door and she stepped nude onto her patio. The stifling, hot, humid air crowded around her and her skin reveled in the boundless sensation. She knew the darkness guarded her from prying eyes but for the moment, she did not care if the whole world were watching her. She drifted silently onward, drawn to the greenhouse and the secret treasure within. She walked until she met the rough cedar fence and pressed herself against it. Her finger went back to her pussy cleft as she relived in her mind the absolute titillating joy she experienced at the touch of her secret lover just a few feet beyond the fence, the hedge, and the glass wall of the greenhouse. She dropped to her knees and pressed the side of her head to the fence while two fingers of her one hand gently rolled her clit between them, three fingers of her other hand plunged deep into her pussy, trying to recreate the wondrous release she had felt with her green lover.

Her hands seemed a poor substitute for the experience shrouded in the darkness a mere few yards away yet they were all she had. She worked her pussy almost convulsively yearning for release. A climax finally struck her and it brought some relief but shy of what she longed for and she bowed her head in frustration. Suddenly, her phone started ringing. ‘Damn,’ she thought. ‘That dweeb Barry had weaseled his sales job in to the month-end batch and locked up an AR file.’ Her wonderful week had truly ended in ruin. The anxious ring urged her to her feet and pulled her zombie-like into her gloomy house to appease its alarm.

“Hello,” she spoke into the receiver.

“Hello, my dear,” replied the voice of her neighbor, Professor Caroline Masterson. It was a clear steady voice with an elegant British accent, always formal and prompting respect. “I am so glad to catch you at home. I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“Oh, not at all. I’m so glad you made it home safely. How was your conference?”

“Splendid, my dear, thank you for asking. I trust you had no difficulties while I was away.”

“None at all. It was a breeze.” Emily was desperate to remain the most obvious choice for house sitter for the professor. It was the only way she would ever have to get back into that greenhouse and enjoy that wonderful flower again.

“Thank you again for looking after things for me. You were such a dear. Are you sure, nothing happened? Nothing ... extraordinary ... in the arboretum, per se?”

A jolt ran through Emily. ‘She knew.’ she thought. ‘How? I was so careful.’ Her heart pounded and adrenaline dosed blood surged through her head. Shame was unavoidable, but she needed to keep her cool. Fear stabbed her and her mind poured over her daily adventures in the arboretum. Did she put everything back correctly? Did she cover all the evidence? “No, nothing at all. It was so easy it barely made a bump in my day.” Emily’s heart jumped at the persistence of her neighbor’s concern. It meant that she knew. In spite of Emily’s careful precautions to cover up all evidence, the professor knew she had interactions with that plant.

“My dear Emily,” spoke the professor in a much graver tone than before. “I dare to say ... you had an encounter. A..., I apologize ... a sexual one.” She took a long pause that was like molten lead on Emily’s heart. “An encounter ... that I greatly fear may have caused you serious bodily harm.”

Emily’s heart pounded, her vision clouded over and she felt faint. Not only was her naughty encounter laid bare but her sex with the plant had, indeed, dire health consequences as well. It was no use trying to deny it. The professor certainly knew about the sexual nature of the plant and what effect its blossoms had on a woman. Emily needed to confront this new revelation. “I ... I don’t feel ... ill in any way,” she forced out of her suddenly dry, contracted throat.

“If you’re sure. Just the same, I would like to see you as soon as possible. I ... I have a concern about ... your exposure and I believe it is crucial that I see you right away.”

Dread was nearly curdling Emily’s blood. She remembered wondering at what the plant gained from their exchanges and now fantastic horrors filled her mind at what she might have foolishly subjected herself to. She was about to be confronted with the most embarrassing indiscretion of her life. “Well, it is kind of late right now. Would tomorrow morning be okay?”

“We may not have time.” The professor paused, which amplified the gravity of the situation. “I’m afraid I will need to see you immediately.”

“I’ll come right over,” Emily said very flatly, trying hard not to sob. She was terrified. She thought the plant must be toxic and her excursions into absolute delight would now be the death of her. Almost in tears, she quickly got dressed, left her house to stand at her neighbor’s door. Before she could ring the bell, the door opened and she found Prof. Masterson standing before her and looking very concerned.

Emily’s brows knitted, her chin knurled, her lip protruded in a pout, and her knees got weak.

The professor put a comforting arm around Emily and ushered her in before closing the door. Emily broke down. Dr. Masterson hugged her and guided her to a seat. Kneeling before Emily, she offered a tissue and in a soothing voice said, “It’s not too late, my dear. I fear you may have been implanted and if we can get you into surgery, there may still be time.”

“Surgery?” Emily cried as loud sobs consumed her. “What happened to me?”

“If my assumptions are correct, that you were penetrated, a seedling may have been deposited in you. It would be fatal if not removed in time. But we have time. You will be alright my dear.”

“I’m sorry,” sobbed Emily in her distress. “I ... just wanted to read,,, and ... and ... then ... something just happened to ... to me ... and I never knew ... I’m so ashamed. Please ... please don’t tell anybody ... how I died.”

“My dear,” said the professor. “I would truly be the vilest of hypocrites if I were to let you flounder in shame.” She leaned forward and clasped Emily’s hands in her own. “Many are the times that I myself succumbed to the delights of those wonderful blooms. I have already contacted my associate. She is a medical doctor and she will extract the seedlings before they penetrate beyond your uterus. No one will need to know.”

“But I don’t have a uterus,” bawled Emily. “Please don’t let my mom know I got pervy with a plant.”

There was a long pause and the empathic tone dropped from the professor’s voice when she said, “You don’t have a uterus?”

“They took it out a year ago when I got cancer,” Emily replied in stark counter to her previous devastation. “Why?”

Prof Masterson melted into a relieved smile and hugged Emily to her. “Good child, if you have no viable uterus then we have nothing to fear.” Still bracing Emily’s shoulders, she looked into Emily’s eyes and continued with a smile. “If you have no pre-menopausal uterus, he could not have implanted you.”

An ocean of dread withdrew from over Emily and she asked in relief, “Who is ‘he’?”

“We call the specimen Caelibem Istud. It means Stalking Bachelor,” she continued. “It caused quite a stir when we first announced our find. That was until we discovered its lethal potential. It cost the life of a brave and brilliant young colleague.” She paused a long time as if recalling something from long ago. “We kept our discovery tightly under wraps after that, I assure you.”

“Are you sure?” Emily sputtered. “We got it o ... He did m ... uh ... We were quite prolific in our devotions.” She was still wiping away her tears and desperate for affirmation of her safety.

“Prolific, my dear?”

“Uh..., “ Emily began. She felt reluctant to admit the whole truth: that she and Prof. Masterson’s Schtupping Butler had bonked the hell out of each other, but she would probably find out anyway. “It was a bit more than once.” Emily bit her lip when the professor’s eyebrows raised, then let her have it in a whisper, “Every day.”

“Every day?” the professor asked in unrestrained shock.

Emily felt a twinge of shame again about her excessive urges and if she might have slut-mobbed the poor thing. “Twice on Sunday,” she admitted with a bit of a grimace.

“Twice on Sunday?” Prof. Masterson intoned with even deeper astonishment. When she saw Emily look downward in embarrassment, she added assuringly, “And why not? My, you are a healthy girl, aren’t you though?” She patted Emily on the wrist, “We should make sure. I should like to take you to the university in the morning for an examination.” She saw Emily blanch. “I know, my dear, an intrusive inconvenience. But it would put my mind at rest to know you have not suffered any ill effects.”

“Well, I didn’t have anything planned exactly,” Emily admitted, still sniffing and swallowing goofballs. “I guess it would be okay.”

“Right. Well then, I will make arrangements with my colleague, Docor Ernholm, and we will see about that examination in the morning. She has a medical degree, you know. Nothing to worry about, my girl, just to make sure. You’ll be right as rain.”

“Can we...” Emily started. “I’d like to keep news about my ... little adventure ... to as few people as possible.”

“Now, don’t you be ashamed,” the professor assured her with a smile. “She has had her own encounters with the Caelibem ... in the name of science, I assure you. We are all alike in that respect. I’ll have you know, our experiments with this species is privy to my colleague and I alone.”

“Twice on Sunday?” said Dr. Gretchen Ernholm with a frown of consternation and a trace of Swedish accent. Her eyes were wide and brow furrowed. The scholar’s shocked silence was for awe of Emily’s stamina more than contempt for her unquenchable libido.

Emily’s eyes strayed away and she felt embarrassed. It was Saturday morning and they were at the university in the office of Prof. Masterson’s associate Dr. Ernholm in the Hall of Botanical Science. Emily sat on a chair before the two botanists fidgeting with the hem of her blouse and her feet tying her ankles in knots. It was hard to face an inquisition on her sex life even if she knew good and well that both women had engaged in the self-same herbal debauchery. “Well...” she offered, “He kind of sweeps a girl off her feet.” The comment garnered a chuckle from Prof. Masterson.