 |
| (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
Physio-psychological studies show time and again that we have survived as a species because when we are faced with dire situations, we humans tend to get busy. Yeah - that kind of busy ;)
Here, I'm going to let Lexi Sobado explain it to you as she's explaining it to her fiance, Striker Rheas, in CUFF LYNX
“Vine offered the contract," Striker said. "The contingency being that I work as her partner. And I told you how desperate things are getting at Iniquus. Spencer knew what he was doing when he signed the contract. He trusted that you and I could work through any problems. Iniquus needs to succeed here for its reputation’s sake, and Iniquus needs the money.” Striker took a drink from his bottle. “If this mission is successful, you’ll be pleased with the data we’re producing.”
“Shoot, now I want to ask why I’ll be pleased.” I scratched frustrated fingers through my hair. I understood need-to-know, intellectually. Didn’t mean I enjoyed it. “I won’t pester you. But I am going to go back to this whole Scarlet Vine thing. I want you to know that I love you. I trust you. And I also believe in evolution and science.”
Striker’s lips quirked up into a lopsided smile, his “this is going to be good” expression. “I’m not following you, Chica.”
“Your ancestors were once cavemen, and though you’ve evolved into a less hairy—thank goodness—specimen with better posture, you still owe much of your survival to the biology of your distant forefathers.”
"I think I’m going to need another beer for this one.” He looked at his empty bottle, tucked it behind the sofa leg, then slunk down into the comfort of the cushions with his knees wide and his arms crossed over his chest.
“Okay, seriously,” I said. "We can both agree that the main forces in a human are the need to stay alive and to protect the human DNA chain. In order to protect the human DNA chain, we have to make babies. In order to make babies, we have to copulate.”
Striker smiled. “We have to copulate? I’m beginning to like this conversation.”
I ignored him. “Imagine, if you will, an ancient cave of people getting ready for the men to go on a hunt. All these guys had in the way of weaponry were the spears in their hands, and yet they must find enough meat and animal parts to keep the cave healthy. As the men were preparing their travel gear, their bodies were preparing, too, by secreting survival hormones. What are those hormones? Cortisol, testosterone, and adrenaline.”I pushed farther back on the couch and hugged one of my knees to my chest. “Now, the caveman brain says, ‘Heeeeey, I’m about to go fight a saber toothed tiger with a stick in my hand. It’s very likely this isn’t gonna go well for me. I very well might die and never come back to this cave, so it would probably be a great idea if I left some semen behind with some willing woman, so that way, my DNA can continue even if I don’t.'”
The light in Striker’s eyes was dancing; he tried to tamp down his smile by rubbing a hand back and forth over his mouth.
"Now here’s the thing. What if the caveman didn’t have a mate? What if he did have a mate but she wasn’t handy at that particular moment? Do you know what the caveman’s hormones would insist he do?”
“Find a willing fertile ground to plant his seeds?”
“Exactly. Survival hormones give us an incredible sexual drive. There was a war correspondent who wrote articles from different countries about people in combat zones. He described a ‘frenetic lust’ that permeated the conditions. He said that even normally very conservative people were out there desperately screwing around. ‘Frenetic lust,’ Striker, those are the words he used. And there’s more.”
“Of course,” he deadpanned.
“It’s not just survival of the fittest; it’s also survival by community. In ancient days, one of the worst punishments available was ostracizing someone from the group. There was little chance of survival on one’s own. So imagine a life or death situation. It’s imperative that the cavemen and women came to each other’s rescue and find solutions in community. We wouldn’t be here today had the cave-people believed in every cave-person for himself and had they not received a huge charge of dopamine hormones, making it pleasurable to help each other.”
“This is more about fun with human chemistry?” Striker’s chest vibrated with his attempt to compress his laughter.
“Yes. Hush.” I held up a hand, and sighed out some of my mounting frustration. “I don’t want you just listening to me right now. I need you to hear me. This is serious.”
Striker affected his best combat face, but he couldn’t mask the twinkle in his eye.
“So anyway, they’ve done these psychological tests to see if this is true, if people, who already find each other attractive, are in a situation where they could replicate a sudden secretion of these specific survival hormones, would the people increase the attraction and the likelihood of them becoming a couple?”
“And they did this how?” Striker asked.
“The psychologists sent the subjects out over a visibly swaying pedestrian suspension bridge, which crossed over a two-hundred-thirty foot drop to the base of the river canyon, and asked them to hang out in the middle.”
“That could do it.” He nodded.
“Could and did. The experiment showed that secreting these hormones make people horny and mate-able.”
“Mate-able?”
“You know what I mean. Wanting to form a pair bond, become a couple. . .”
Laughter bubbled out between his words as he said, “And you’re telling me this because you think that if I’m in the field with Vine, that someone might shoot at me, and I’ll lose control and have wild monkey sex with her right there and then, and afterwards we’d dance off into the sunset hand in hand?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” I frowned. “This isn’t ridiculous, Striker, it’s science.” And honestly, not all about Scarlet Vine or any other female operative whom he might be in a close contact situations with. This all kind of blended and mixed with my own personal insecurities about why Striker was with me. Might as well lay it out on the table. This wasn’t going to fix itself. “To tell the truth, sometimes when I think about us, it even makes me wonder about all the situations we've been in.” I stopped, pressed my lips together, and shook my head.
Striker’s eyes crinkled at the corner as he gave me that slow simmering smile that makes me melt inside. “Are you afraid I love you because I secreted adrenaline around you?”
I pointed a stern finger. “Don’t make me sound like that.”
He pushed himself over closer to me, and touched his nose to mine. “Like what?” he grinned.
“I don’t know. . .irrational, I guess.”
Striker pulled me into his lap and full-body hugged me. He moved to hold my head so we were looking into each other’s eyes. “Not for one millisecond in any of those scenarios did I have the tiniest thought about sex. All I could think was: I need to keep her safe.”
I curled myself into his lap. “Your heart is beating faster than normal,” I said with my ear pressed against his chest.
“I’m experiencing an adrenaline, cortisol, testosterone surge right now.”
“Yeah?” I tipped my head back to see him.
“Yeah.”“Scientists say you'd feel better if you took me to bed.”
“Oh, Chica,” he chuckled. “I don’t think I could possibly make it that far.” He flipped me down on the couch and settled between my legs.
As always, a big thank you ThrillWriters and readers for stopping by. Thank you, too, for your support. When you buy my books, you make it possible for me to continue to bring you helpful articles and keep ThrillWriting free and accessible to all.
