A to Zeb
Zeb woke up to find that, once again, Katia had come to bed without waking him. He didn’t blame her for this. They both needed all the sleep they could get these days. He worked late at the office every day, and her night shifts at nursing school were damn near killing her.
He decided not to wake her up to say goodbye, even though they hadn’t had a real conversation since Sunday afternoon.
He tiptoed away from the bed, collected his watch and tie and the suit hanging on the closet door. Then he sighed, tiptoed back to the bed and kissed Katia on the cheek.
The bedroom door made no noise as he slowly eased it shut behind him. Then he checked his watch.
“Fuck a duck!“
He was late. He was so late. Forget showering, he’d have to just stick his head under the tap for a bit and splash some soapy water in his armpits. The deodorant would have to cover the rest.
He ran out of the apartment with his breakfast, a half unwrapped Snickers bar, in his mouth. In one hand he carried his suit jacket and tie, while he used his free hand to lock the door and then finish buttoning up his shirt.
When he got to the bus stop and saw that someone had taped up a sign saying ‘Service suspended due to road works’, that’s when he knew it was going to be one of those days.
Zeb reached his office building one hour and forty seven minutes after he was due to start work, at least according to the big clock on the wall behind the reception desk. Zeb could see the clock through the building’s front door, because he hadn’t yet walked inside. Fuck. His supervisor, Fatima, had been busting his balls for his, quote, “atrocious work ethic”, ever since he had started at the firm late last year. Like fuck it mattered if he showed up on time. He had a master’s degree in Economics, but all day every day they made him do filing and data entry, as if that was in any way a good use of his skills. And it didn’t matter how much he did, nobody was ever satisfied if he left before nine o’clock.
One hour and forty eight minutes late now. Ugh. He’d had to run to another bus stop for the alternate route, and he was now too exhausted, sweaty, hungry, and insufficiently caffeinated to put up with Fatima’s crap right now. There was a Starbuck’s around the corner. Quarter of an hour to get himself together and have a drink was not going to make this any worse than it already was at this point.
The café was like every Starbuck’s the world over, except this one catered almost exclusively to finance professionals in sharp tailored suits. All the men wore tie pins and all the women wore shoulder pads. They all made more money in a month than Zeb made all year, and he’d wager what money he had that none of them had to support a medical student girlfriend with no income of her own. Not that he blamed Katia, he added mentally, but it certainly made things difficult and stretched their finances. How could he possibly dress for the position he wanted when he had to make do with suits off the supermarket racks?
“Usual please, Bill,” said Zeb when he got to the front of the queue.
Bill stared at him for a moment, blinked twice, then put on a fake smile and said, “I’m sorry, what’s your usual?”
Zeb suppressed the desire to reach over and punch the guy. For fuck’s sake, he’d ordered the exact same thing every weekday since he had started his brain-numbing job, sometimes multiple times a day. Instead, Zeb pinched the bridge of his nose and said “A soy venti cappuccino and a chocolate croissant.”
“Oh yeah, you’re that guy! I didn’t recognise you with your tie on.”
By the time Zeb’s name had been called to collect his drink, he’d taken the tie off and shoved it irritably in his pocket.
He took a seat at a small table for two by the wall and started to eat his croissant while the coffee cooled. This Starbuck’s was bang in the middle of the finance district, one of the only coffee shops around, and bankers, analysts and brokers all used it for networking. Plus there were a handful of singletons, like Zeb, who for one reason or another chose not to use the cheaper cafés that every one of their offices had. Zeb leaned back in his chair and glanced around at the suits around him. If they weren’t chatting away about bonds or derivatives or markets, they were reading the financial news in papers or on tablet computers.
Just as Zeb was wondering, not for the first time, whether this Starbuck’s ever served anyone who didn’t work nearby, his attention was suddenly captivated by the woman who walked in the door. She was wearing a black fishnet bodystocking and nothing whatsoever beneath it but a shiny black string bikini. Even her feet were otherwise bare. She was tall and lithe, with exquisitely sculpted calves and thighs, glutes and abs. Her hair was pixie-ish; her lips, fingernails and toenails were painted a brilliant, glossy purple. Her eyes were dark and almond-shaped, deepened with thick black eyeliner and deep, Tyrian eye shadow.
Without exception, every pair of eyes in the café was fixed on her as she waltzed up to the counter and ordered her drink (hazelnut latte, grande, with sprinkles). When Bill went off to make it for her, sneaking glances back all the while, she turned to face the room, leaning back on the counter while she waited, arching her back to enhance her pert tits. Zeb imagined her arching so much that the fishnet bodystocking was pulled tight… tighter… tighter over her flesh… the mesh suddenly snapped and the bodystocking exploded, exposing her lean body. In his mind, she blew him a kiss and whipped off her latex bikini top, revealing nipples the same glossy purple as her lips and nails.
The girl was surveying the room, peering at each customer in turn. Was she joining someone? Zeb had a sudden hatred for whoever she was looking for. Bad enough that they were probably richer and more successful than him, they didn’t deserve a girl like this as well. Zeb had Katia of course, and she was beautiful and he loved her, but in terms of raw sexuality this girl beat her hands down.
The girl turned her dark piercing eyes on him, and Zeb quickly looked down at his coffee. Fuck, had she noticed him staring? Fuck! Zeb didn’t see her eyes light up as she stood examining him, but when he looked up again from his cup she was sitting in the chair across from him and her coffee was on his table. He took a sip of his cappuccino so that he didn’t have to say anything.
“Hey. I’m Alyona.” Her voice was deep and rich. “I understand you’re into mind control porn.”
If Zeb hadn’t already swallowed his sip of coffee, he’d have spit it out. Instead, he merely choked as it went down. “What?” he spluttered. “What makes you think…?” Her eyes were following him, twinkling mischievously. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “How do you know that?”
She smirked. “I read your mind just now.”
“Ha, ha. That’s not funny. I’m serious. Nobody knows that.”
“I am serious. What’s your name?”
“I—”
“Zebra? Cute name!”
Zeb didn’t think he could get more embarrassed than he already was. “That’s just a… pet name. My name’s Zebediah. Or Zeb.”
“Those names are less cute. No, I’ll call you Zebra.”
She leaned forward to rest her elbow on the table, her chin on her hand, and made a show of lifting her latte to her purple lips, blowing gently over it, taking a sip. Zeb scooted his own chair in closer.
“What did you mean you read my mind?”
“Yours and everyone else’s. I like talking to people when I drink, so I look for things they like or want to talk about. Those things tend to be just below the surface thoughts pretty much constantly, so it only takes a little concentration. And since erotic mind control is a subject close to my heart, I decided to talk to you.”
“This is insane.”
“So? Just go with it. When most straight guys are approached by a hot babe they just agree with her on everything because they think it’ll help them get in her panties.” She dragged a finger along the waistband of her latex bikini bottoms.
“I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“It’s not, and believe me I know that you’re not gay. I really should look into getting some purple nipple paint or something, by the way. That’s kind of a cool idea.“
“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it. Hey, how many of the people in this café do you think fantasised about fucking me when I came in? Really fucking me, I mean.”
Zeb sat with his head in his hands, not quite believing that this conversation was really happening and without any idea what to do about it. “I don’t know… All of them?”
“That’s a stupid answer. You didn’t. No, just three. Crazy, huh? Only three of all these people thought about fucking me, and two of those three were women.” Zeb’s mind conjured up an image of Alyona, locked at the lips with the haughty blonde on the sofa. Alyona gave a short, low laugh. “Not that one, but she’s a fox, right? Anyway, pretty much everyone—including you—just imagined me naked or stripping. Some pictured kissing me in all sorts of places. A couple imagined themselves fucking my tits, which they are so not built for.”
Zeb stopped himself from saying that he thought her tits were very nice.
“Aw, you’re sweet,” said Alyona. “What else? Three unpleasant people imagined me being beaten up or arrested for indecency. And half a dozen guys imagined me giving them head, which I wouldn’t at all mind if they’re as well-endowed as they think they are. They’re probably not. How big is your cock anyway?”
An image rose unbidden in Zeb’s mind, of him pumping his dick in his left hand, spraying semen into the bottom of a pint glass.
“Hmm,” said Alyona. “Not bad.”
“Come on, we need some boundaries! That’s a… private memory.”
“Jeez, calm down. Hang on and, since I saw yours, I’ll show you mine.” She closed her eyes; her forehead creased in concentration.
Then, suddenly, Zeb was looking down on Alyona’s hard naked body through her own eyes. She was on her back—no, in a crab position, facing upwards with her body lifted off the ground by her legs and right arm. Her left arm was vigorously slamming a thick pearly-white dildo into her cunt, while another girl lying beneath her writhed and moaned. Alyona tensed. In a single motion she whipped out the whole length of the dildo and tossed it out of sight, and then she was squirting like a water fountain onto the other girl’s face.
“Holy fucking crap!” said Zeb, recoiling backwards in his chair.
“I know, right! My nipples really aren’t that colour.”
“Fucking holy fucking fuck crap!”
“Zebra, you really need to lower your voice.”
“How did you do that?”
“I’m not sure I can describe it. It’s not easy, though. It’s always more effort sending thoughts the other way.”
“Shit. It’s actually true. You really can…”
“Duh. The mind reading didn’t convince you?”
Zeb shook his head slowly. “Not completely. I thought… maybe it was a trick? Wow. Fuck. We’re both lefties, did you notice?”
“Nuh uh. I’m ambidextrous.” She made a gesture with both hands, imitating jacking off two guys at head height.
“Damn. Here I was thinking we had something in common.”
“We do have something in common: erotic mind control, remember? But, unfortunately, I’ve just finished my coffee.” She downed the last foamy dregs of her latte. “So, if you would like to continue this conversation—and I dearly would—we’ll have to do it elsewhere.“
“Whoa whoa whoa,” he said, grabbing his jacket and running after her into the street. “I can’t just go with you. I’ve got to get to work.”
“So? Fuck ’em. Call in sick if you really have to.” Suddenly she stopped walking and turned to face him. “Zebra, to be really clear, the sexiest girl around is inviting you back to her place. In a million years, you are not going to be offered the same by anyone who is as hot as I am, who shares your unusual sexual fetish, who has the power to make that fetish come to life, and who is as into you as I am right now. So man the fuck up and take me home.“
She was right. This really was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Besides, Fatima was a bitch and he hated his job.
“Besides,” said Alyona with a sly smile, “your supervisor is a bitch and you hate your job.”
What about Katia? “I have a girlfriend.”
“Ooh, yeah, so I can see. She’s a cutie! That is totally not a deal breaker for me. Why don’t you bring her too? She can be part of the fun.”
“Hold on, wait. Can… can you put other things into someone’s mind? Other than images of your memories?”
In his mind, Katia’s face. Laughing, loving, full of life. Behind her, Alyona rubbing Katia’s shoulders and whispering in her ear, and Katia’s head nodding… falling… Her eyes glassing over, her mouth hanging slack. Katia, stripped of her thoughts, her will, her very identity, then in a halting monotone begging him, Zeb, to make her his eternal slave.
“Fuck, I love the way your mind works,” hissed Alyona, back in reality. He realised that she was pressing her body against him. Her real hand was caressing his very real erection through his trousers. “I’ll do it if you want me to. I want you to want me to.“
She licked her purple lips with her pink tongue, inches from his face. Then in his mind they were elsewhere, and she was on her knees in front of him, her mouth like a vacuum seal on his cock, leaving purple rings on the base, her hot tongue coiling impossibly around the whole length of the shaft, moist and pulsating and squeezing… Zeb knew they were both standing fully clothed in the street, but all he could feel was the pleasure.
“What do you say?” she whispered into his ear, as he shot an imaginary mouthful of cum into her imaginary mouth.
He said nothing. He didn’t need to.
“Attaboy!”