Laboratory Tested
By Weenie-Arm dbhood@aol.com
A thirty-something lab technician learns a lesson in "physical chemistry" from a younger female associate.  Part I of a series.


I could see the dark cloud hovering over her head as soon as she entered the
Lab. Carol did not bother to say hello to me and I was the only other
technician working that Friday afternoon. It would be just the two of us for
the next couple of hours. I looked forward to being alone with this tall,
slender, attractive brunette and I hoped her mood would improve once she
settled in.

Carol (in her mid-twenties) had been with us only a few months before taking a
better-paying job on the night shift at another pharmaceutical company. She
continued to work here part-time to supplement her income, showing up for two
or three hours whenever she felt like it. Her appearances were as
unpredictable as her moods. But she was an excellent chemist and we were
short-handed, so her erratic behavior was tolerated

I had sort of a crush on Carol, despite (or maybe because of) her stormy
temperament. Because I was ten years her senior, I was hesitant about asking
her out. As far as I knew she was available, probably because her forbidding
demeanor drove away most potential suitors. The other bachelors in the Lab
generally thought of her as a contrary (but good-looking) "bitch" who seemed
to have a bug up her butt about something most of the time.

She gathered her glassware and reagents and set up in the work area next to
mine. Carol began performing a rather difficult assay, and from the curses she
muttered under her breath I could tell it was not going well. She looked even
prettier when she was mad. As I stole glances at her, I noticed a dark,
purplish mark on her throat that looked to me like a hickey. When the other
young ladies in our lab found themselves in this predicament, they resorted to
scarves and turtlenecks to cover up the telltale signs of their indiscretions.
But not Carol. Apparently she didn't give a rat's ass what anyone thought.

I set a test tube rack down on the bench between the two of us. Exasperated,
Carol frowned at me and snapped "Would you PLEASE move that somewhere else!
I'm going to need this space in a few minutes."

Thinking a little humor might lighten things up, I replied "What do you say we
arm wrestle for it?" My proposal stopped her dead in her tracks! She looked at
me and almost smiled . . . almost.

"You know, that's a good idea. I'm tired of trying to be so damn nice to
everybody in here all the time. If we're going to have to fight for every inch
of bench space, then we may as well FIGHT!" she snarled with savage
satisfaction.

"Have you ever arm wrestled before?" I asked, never dreaming she would
actually take me up on my offer.

"Of course!" she replied. "My brother and I used to do it all the time when we
were growing up. I won my share, too!" My God, she sounded confident! What had
I gotten myself into? I didn't really care who won or lost, as long as it
improved her disposition. And it seemed to be working!

We cleared the top of a table in the corner of the lab and positioned our
stools on either side of it. Carol removed her lab coat and as she arched her
back and pulled her arms out of the sleeves, I noticed the nipples on her
small breasts jutting out prominently. Nice, I thought, but what concerned me
most at the moment was the sight of her bare arms. They looked at least as
thick as mine and surprisingly big for a girl with such a slender body. I
didn't know if she worked out with weights, but she certainly appeared strong
and healthy.

As we sat down facing each other, I realized that this was the closest I had
ever been to Carol. Her breath was fresh and she smelled of the slightest dab
of perfume. The short haircut and safety glasses gave her a prim, professional
appearance, but that hickey made her look like a bimbo. We positioned our
right elbows on the table and locked hands. She tightened her grip until it
was painful and gave me a smug look as she bore down on my knuckles. The
flexors in her wrist sprang out at me like steel cables. I squeezed back for
all I was worth, trying to show her that I would not be intimidated. "Ohhhh,
feel that POWER!" she mocked, crushing my hand until my fingers turned red.
"Let me know when you're ready to begin."

"OK, on the count of three. One, two, three" I chanted, and began pushing
against her hand. I was going nowhere. For about twenty seconds we remained
frozen in our starting position with Carol showing no sign of exertion. "When
are you going to start?" she taunted. "I'm getting bored."

"All right, you asked for it!" I grunted, and began straining against her
steady arm. I rose off my seal as I tried to use my weight as leverage. She
started giving ground, then realized what was happening. "Hey, get your ass
back down on that stool!" she commanded. "What's the matter? Afraid you can't
beat me fair and square?"

Yes! I was in over my head. She seemed too strong for me to handle. I sat down
and our stalemate resumed. Feeling the first signs of fatigue, I decided to
try distracting her.

"How did you get that mark on your neck?" I asked innocently, between gasps of
breath. Maybe that provocative remark would break her concentration.

"None of your fucking business!" she growled through clenched teeth. She
cranked up the pressure on my arm and I felt my hand being pushed relentlessly
toward the table. I looked at her powerful right arm as it flexed and noticed
her biceps for the first time. It looked pumped and stood out proudly, showing
real definition. Though not vascular, her muscle swelled to impressive size as
she forced my limb to bend to her will.

"Are you going to let a GIRL beat you so easily?" Carol teased. I made a last
ditch effort to save my pride and slowly forced her hand back, inch by inch.
Maybe she was beginning to wear down. But the smirk on her face told me
otherwise. I was sweating and straining while she looked fresh as a daisy, as
if she could keep this up all day long. My adversary began working my arm like
the stick shift in her sports sedan. She toyed with me, savoring her
domination and prolonging my agony. I was now seriously tired and feeling the
"burn". The end was near and I knew it.

We heard the Lab door open. As I turned to look, Carol slammed my hand down on
the table. We quickly rose to our feet and pretended to be busy as Lynn, the
redheaded Lab Supervisor, made her way across the room. She had a suspicious
look on her face as she watched me rub my sore right arm and wiggle my fingers
to restore circulation. She just knew she had caught us in the middle of
something, but wasn't quite sure what it was. Lynn was the same age as Carol,
but she was six inches shorter and outweighed my svelte opponent by at least
60 pounds. It was no secret that she envied her part-time employee!

"How are you two coming along with your assignments?" she inquired haughtily.
I knew she was wondering why I looked flushed and spent.

Carol spoke up. "I was having trouble getting the hood exhaust fan to work,
but Dave climbed up there and fixed it for me. Thanks, Dave!" she cooed,
giving me a conspiratorial wink. How she loved putting one over on "Big Red"!

"He looks like he's been working hard" Lynn observed sarcastically, her fat
face scowling. It was obvious she didn't believe that story but decided not to
pursue the matter. Lynn picked up a stack of analysis sheets and went back to
her office to review them.

"No fair!" I yelled as soon Lynn left the room. "You took advantage of that
interruption to win!"

"Bullshit!" Carol sneered. "It was over long before Lynn showed up. I thought
you would put up more of a fight than that, you Weenie-Arm! I guess my Girl
Power was just too much for you!" she boasted, flexing her biceps in front of
my face.

"Wow, that's big!" I said admiringly, placing my hand on the solid muscle that
had defeated me just minutes ago. It felt hard as a rock and seemed to come
alive at my touch, swelling even larger. Carol pumped it a couple of times for
my benefit, making the warm flesh rise up in my hand like a gigantic egg. Her
bulging mass of sinew put my own underdeveloped arm to shame. It looked
shapely and sexy. "May I kiss it?" I begged.

Carol lowered her arm. "Maybe some other time. I'll be glad to give you a
rematch if you think my victory was tainted!"

"You're on! But let's forget about arm wrestling and have a real free- style
wrestling match. Then we'll see who's stronger!" She gave me a dirty look (as
if she could read my mind!) and then stopped . . . reconsidered, and slowly
began to smile.

"I think we already KNOW who's stronger. But wrestling might be fun, if you
don't mind getting your ass kicked!" She wrote her phone number on a notepad,
tore it off and handed it to me. "Call me. I'm off next weekend. We'll set up
a match, if you don't chicken out!"

With that, Carol returned to her work, making good use of the bench space she
had won by combat. As for me, I was in "Seventh Heaven"! This enigmatic young
lady had just given me her number and the promise of a "date" (such as it was)
next weekend. Our little contest had melted the ice and established a bond
between us. Where it would lead? Perhaps I was setting myself up for a major
disappointment. After all, someone else had already placed his mark on her.
But I would be crazy not to pursue this opportunity as far as it would go.

(To be continued . . .)