Adelaide stared up at the huge complex, her luggage on the sidewalk around her, the boat that had taken her to this godforsaken place leaving the dock some 200 yards away. She still had time to chicken out, she could turn tail and run, yelling at the top of her lungs to the captain to take her back to America, please, don’t leave me here!
A shaky breath and she berated herself for even thinking of bailing. This was her big chance. Fresh out of school with a Doctorate in Biology from a mediocre school, no experience, an okay transcript and a thesis that barely made sense, even to her, she had a researcher position. At a prestigious facility owned by the US government. She was a goddamned scientist. And the pay wasn’t bad either. And she was on a tropical island. Hell, the facility was practically a resort, if the brochures the recruiter had given her were to be believed.
It’s just that she was getting a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was on an island with little to no contact to the outside world. It was off US soil for a reason, too. She didn’t know exactly what the research here entailed besides “human sexuality,” but the pay and perks and security were all way too good for some pop psych project.
Besides, wasn’t sexuality a private sector thing? The hell was her cushy government job even about?
“Doctor Snow?”
Adelaide snapped to attention from her haze of thought, swelling with pride at the title. She had worked damn hard for this.
A severe-looking black woman of indeterminate age was frowning down at her. She wore no-nonsense flats and a lab coat over a sensible navy dress, glasses perched on her nose and her dark hair pulled back into a clip. Despite all this, or perhaps because of it, she was stunning. Even under the lab coat the curve of her breasts and hips was obvious, and Adelaide blushed as she realized she was undressing the woman in her mind. She coughed.
“Yeah, um—yes, that’s me.”
The woman looked at her for a long moment before extending a hand to be shook. “Doctor Burberry.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, taking the hand automatically. She then started to kneel down to pick up her bags, but Doctor Burberry stopped her with a hand.
“Your luggage will be brought to your rooms, no need for that. I’m going to be your supervisor here at Windcrest, so I’m here to greet you and get you acquainted with our facility. Your job for the first month is going to be basic maintenance of projects in all the different departments, so you’ll gain a working knowledge of everything that goes on here. After that period, you’ll be assigned to a department and further trained on the specifics of their work. If you do well, you could be designing experiments and writing papers within six months.”
Adelaide perked up at that. Getting published. Like a real scientist. In a real job. This place was way too good to be true. “May I inquire, um, what exactly the research is?”
Doctor Burberry waved her hand. “We have many different disciplines here. It’s far too numerous to list, you’ll see all of that in your paperwork, and you’ll be given a tour later today by a fellow recent graduate who’s been here a month already. He’ll be your peer mentor through all this. Now, if you’ll follow me, we must get out of this heat—“ Doctor Burberry was turning to lead her down the path to the double doors at the entrance, but a tall Indian man wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans under his lab coat ran out and towards them, raising a hand in greeting.
“You didn’t tell me there was a new girl, Ursula!” He yelled, grinning at the two of them as he stopped in front of them. He had an accent that wavered somewhere between British and Indian, and was tightly muscled under his t-shirt. His hair was a bit unkempt, and he also wore glasses, but these ones were thick-framed hipster glasses, not the no-nonsense ones that her supervisor sported.
The corner of Doctor Burberry’s mouth twitched downward at the use of her given name. “This is Ravindra Bhattahiri, your mentor.”
“Ravi,” he said, thrusting his hand out to be shook.
“Adelaide Snow,” she said, smiling a bit despite her supervisor’s obvious distaste for her new mentor.
He whistled. “Damn, you did good this time, Ursula. Red hair, freckles, and a cute name to boot. Hope you brought lots of sunscreen, Adelaide. The sun here roasts you white girls quick.”
She was saved from having to think of a response to that by Doctor Burberry. “Doctor Bhattahiri, you are still on duty, are you not? I do hope your observation logs are accurate.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. But I get to take her on her tour, right? I bet she turns redder than her hair.”
“Doctor Bhattahiri.”
He made a gesture Adelaide was sure wasn’t polite and headed back inside.
Adelaide stared at the door as it swung shut, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into.
A shaky breath and she berated herself for even thinking of bailing. This was her big chance. Fresh out of school with a Doctorate in Biology from a mediocre school, no experience, an okay transcript and a thesis that barely made sense, even to her, she had a researcher position. At a prestigious facility owned by the US government. She was a goddamned scientist. And the pay wasn’t bad either. And she was on a tropical island. Hell, the facility was practically a resort, if the brochures the recruiter had given her were to be believed.
It’s just that she was getting a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was on an island with little to no contact to the outside world. It was off US soil for a reason, too. She didn’t know exactly what the research here entailed besides “human sexuality,” but the pay and perks and security were all way too good for some pop psych project.
Besides, wasn’t sexuality a private sector thing? The hell was her cushy government job even about?
“Doctor Snow?”
Adelaide snapped to attention from her haze of thought, swelling with pride at the title. She had worked damn hard for this.
A severe-looking black woman of indeterminate age was frowning down at her. She wore no-nonsense flats and a lab coat over a sensible navy dress, glasses perched on her nose and her dark hair pulled back into a clip. Despite all this, or perhaps because of it, she was stunning. Even under the lab coat the curve of her breasts and hips was obvious, and Adelaide blushed as she realized she was undressing the woman in her mind. She coughed.
“Yeah, um—yes, that’s me.”
The woman looked at her for a long moment before extending a hand to be shook. “Doctor Burberry.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, taking the hand automatically. She then started to kneel down to pick up her bags, but Doctor Burberry stopped her with a hand.
“Your luggage will be brought to your rooms, no need for that. I’m going to be your supervisor here at Windcrest, so I’m here to greet you and get you acquainted with our facility. Your job for the first month is going to be basic maintenance of projects in all the different departments, so you’ll gain a working knowledge of everything that goes on here. After that period, you’ll be assigned to a department and further trained on the specifics of their work. If you do well, you could be designing experiments and writing papers within six months.”
Adelaide perked up at that. Getting published. Like a real scientist. In a real job. This place was way too good to be true. “May I inquire, um, what exactly the research is?”
Doctor Burberry waved her hand. “We have many different disciplines here. It’s far too numerous to list, you’ll see all of that in your paperwork, and you’ll be given a tour later today by a fellow recent graduate who’s been here a month already. He’ll be your peer mentor through all this. Now, if you’ll follow me, we must get out of this heat—“ Doctor Burberry was turning to lead her down the path to the double doors at the entrance, but a tall Indian man wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans under his lab coat ran out and towards them, raising a hand in greeting.
“You didn’t tell me there was a new girl, Ursula!” He yelled, grinning at the two of them as he stopped in front of them. He had an accent that wavered somewhere between British and Indian, and was tightly muscled under his t-shirt. His hair was a bit unkempt, and he also wore glasses, but these ones were thick-framed hipster glasses, not the no-nonsense ones that her supervisor sported.
The corner of Doctor Burberry’s mouth twitched downward at the use of her given name. “This is Ravindra Bhattahiri, your mentor.”
“Ravi,” he said, thrusting his hand out to be shook.
“Adelaide Snow,” she said, smiling a bit despite her supervisor’s obvious distaste for her new mentor.
He whistled. “Damn, you did good this time, Ursula. Red hair, freckles, and a cute name to boot. Hope you brought lots of sunscreen, Adelaide. The sun here roasts you white girls quick.”
She was saved from having to think of a response to that by Doctor Burberry. “Doctor Bhattahiri, you are still on duty, are you not? I do hope your observation logs are accurate.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. But I get to take her on her tour, right? I bet she turns redder than her hair.”
“Doctor Bhattahiri.”
He made a gesture Adelaide was sure wasn’t polite and headed back inside.
Adelaide stared at the door as it swung shut, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into.
