Doctor Abbott

Prelude

Prelude

Two months ago

Ben fumbled with the keys in his hand looking for the one that opened the door to his flat. The frail, drunk woman that had accompanied him home stood slumped against the wall. He didn't really want to have sex tonight but after months in the jungles of Africa his friends and colleagues decided a night out on the town was just what he needed.

He had barely made it off the boat when he was greeted with limo and champagne. All he wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed but instead he was whisked away by his longtime friends to celebrate his return.

Finally getting the door ajar, he stood looking at the woman that had been more than willing to make herself at home with him for the night. She was tall and slender with jet-black hair that was in sharp contrast with her creamy white skin, and a set of perfect, perky, little breasts. His eyes followed the red dress she wore down to her pencil like torso and her matching slender hips.

She had no ass to speak of but tonight it didn't really bother him. Getting her home and getting this over with was the first thing on his mind. That is, unless he wanted to look like a fool at his board meeting tomorrow. He put his arm around her waist and helped the leggy creature to her feet, shoving past the door and stopping to punch out the code on the alarm.

A few minutes later she was curled up on his black Italian leather sofa, completely passed out. He laughed inwardly as he sat trying to figure out the buttons on the TV remote. A lot of good it did to bring her home. She might have fared better in a taxi to her own flat.

Now he realized he was already being made a fool in his own home by the damned remote; this one worked the fireplace. Flicking it on and off a few times, he finally gave up and chucked it across the coffee table before flopping back on the couch and looking over the crumpled mess of a woman passed out there.

He reached over and rubbed her hip to see if there was any life left in her for the possibility of ending the evening with at least a lay, even if it wasn't a decent one. Seeing that she had no clue he was even in the room, he tugged a throw off the ottoman and slung it over her before peeling himself off the couch and making his way over to the kitchen.

He opened the fridge to find it perfectly stocked with all the selections in neat rows. It was as if the fridge had its own librarian. Water was on the top shelf to the left, seated next to it was a fantastic imported lager. Directly below that shelf was his yogurt, and some fresh fruits cut and covered in a fanciful way. Underneath that was what he was looking for-a tray of eggs and wedge of cheddar. He plucked out a couple of the eggs and the cheese along with the bottle of high-end water before closing the door.

The stove-top blended almost seamlessly into white marble counter top. He pushed a single solitary button and the light blue flames whipped up, beckoning for the pan. A few minutes later, he sat on the stool looking over a newspaper the maid had left for him, and eating his late night breakfast.

On the front page was a photo of the medical research team he had just returned with the night before. They were all dressed in suits and smiling, arm in arm. He chuckled at the thought that this team was more like a college fraternity than a bunch of professionals. That very picture he was looking at was taken nearly three months ago, before he left for the last mission.

The group spent that entire evening in the VIP section of London's trendiest nightclub and ended with a morning in jail for at least one of them. None of that was mentioned in the article, however. The story was about the research they had done in Africa and how the work was going to revolutionize medicine in third world countries across the globe.