The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Adjusters II: The Greek Fiasco

Happy Birthday (1)

The singing was awful, off-key, earbleed-inducing—the way it often was. Jackson yelling to the top of his lungs was simply par for the course. Still, Daniel thought it was sweet. Grossly embarrassing, but sweet. The waitresses carried a small cake, joining in the revelry. Patrons around the restaurant were split between those who laughed earnestly, those who ignored studiously, and those who scorned openly. Next to him, Cindy was singing softly, her voice clearest among the friends at the table, her “Happy Birthday to You!” sounding like raindrops in a lake. Daniel wondered if she had ever sung on stage, and tabled the question for later.

He looked around the booth as the waitresses left. Cindy was sitting next to him, looking lovely as usually. Jackson and Kyra were sitting opposite, their hands clasped together underneath the table. Remnants of their dinner were strewn before them, and wine was still flowing freely. They were on their third bottle. And now they had a small cake to share. A tablet computer was leaning against the wall of the booth, running a video conference application through which the smiling face of Radhu could be seen. Radhu had loaned out the tablet to Daniel—part of a remote learning project he was doing with a doctoral student in the Department of Education—so that he could participate in the festivities without leaving his apartment, something he had not done in more than four months now.

Daniel felt a dissociation come over him; for a second, he was outside the bubble, listening in, watching everyone at the table quibble over which slice of the cake they cared about. He flashed to a similar scene a year earlier, another dinner for his birthday, this time at Serena’s place—Jenn, Radhu, Serena, and him, the three musketeers. In less than a year, everything had changed. Jenn—don’t think about it, he chided, she’s gone. Radhu was still around, and had not really changed aside from his physical withdrawal from the outside world. And Serena...

He had left her a few messages, inviting her to this small dinner celebration, but she had not returned his calls or his text messages. All of which had become fairly typical of Serena this semester. In those rare times when he could pin her down for a drink or even just a quick chat, she kept talking about how incredibly busy the year was turning out to be, between her classes, her work at the paper, her interviews for post-graduation, as well as her continuing investigative reporting of the New American Deal Association, the organization that she had discovered had been involved with the abduction of her friend Marjorie Duquesne the previous semester. All of which made her absences reasonable and understandable, but he missed his friend nonetheless.

He looked over at Cindy, who was sharing a joke with Kyra. In many ways, Cindy had come to play the role that Serena had played for years—friend, sounding board, confidante. After the kiss they had shared at the party back in February—already a month and a half ago—she had respected his wish and did not push any sort of romantic involvement. She had kept her distances, at least emotionally. But they had continued hanging out together.

For one thing, she was helping him with his senior project, Mind-Control Techniques in the Political Forum, in which he wanted to explore, as he stated in a proposal to his undergraduate advisor, “electorate manipulation through mind-control technologies, from linguistic manipulation to pharmaceutical methods.” His advisor had approved the project, once he was convinced that Daniel was not simply going to write a fifty-pages review of The Manchurian Candidate. For Daniel, this project was an excuse to investigate the possibility that indeed foul play had been involved in—well, the events of a few months ago. And the research had been going well. With Cindy, and helped by Radhu’s eclectic knowledge base and contacts in the online world, they were looking at the feasibility of curtailing will power via drugs, neuro-linguistic programming, neuro-cortical stimulation, subliminal channeling, and hypnotic repatterning, to name but a few of the more interesting approaches that had been advocated in the literature. So far, nothing had yielded a workable technique.

It went beyond work, though. With Radhu holed up, Serena unavailable, and Jenn—don’t think about it!—well, he felt alone. He had not realized how isolated he had become. His circle of close friends was small, had always been. But he was not keen on a solitary life, not for long stretches at a time. He liked having someone with whom to hang out, share moments, talk. And being with Cindy felt natural. So whether he wanted to or not, he had grown to genuinely enjoy the company of the short blonde with her sunny disposition and her almost otherworldly positive spin on practically everything.

Looking back at Daniel as if she had sensed he was thinking about her, Cindy eyed him curiously. He shook his head, smiled. She smiled back, somewhat nervously, before downing her glass of wine and refilling it again. She had been drinking a lot, he had noticed, something she did not usually do.

Before he could ponder her behavior further, Cindy piped up. “Gifts!” she said, before reaching down under the table for her bag.

Daniel shook his head. “There’s no need for that.”

Cindy emerged with a package wrapped with Christmas paper. “Of course there is. It’s your birthday. Here. Happy Birthday!” She saw him eye the wrapping paper. “Yeah, that. It’s all I had on hand...”

Daniel shook his head. He unwrapped the package and pulled out a book.

“Very twentieth century. Actually, no, wait...”

It was an old book, a nice edition, leather bound and gilt decorated, with green silk markers and red-stained edges. He turned to the title page. Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The Reveries of the Solitary Walker.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s incredibly nice.”

“Glad you like. I was thinking of getting you the latest Eco—I heard great things about it—but Serena told me you’re more into nonfiction and philosophy.”

“Yeah,” he said, turning the book over to admire the spine. “Jenn was the one big on fiction.”

Saying her name out loud broke the spell. Jenn. His fiancee. Or, actually, ex-fiancee. Two months since he had last seen her, after she had told him—at first by proxy, through that detective he had hired to find her, and then through a handwritten letter slipped into his mailbox—that they were through and had returned his engagement ring. He had been in shock. And then she had left with Biff, heading off somewhere in the Caribbean, and as far as he knew, neither had come back. He had toyed with the idea of following them, toyed with it seriously, but he never put the plan into action. Those first few weeks had been a cycle of anger, resolve, and depression—anger at the situation, at Biff, at Jenn; resolve to discover exactly what had happened, how Biff had managed to wrench her away from him; depression at the futility of it all. For those few weeks, he had clung to the hope that somehow all of these events were explained by something other than Jenn leaving him because she wanted to, and had focused all of his efforts on finding some sort of vindication in the research with Cindy.

Radhu had been worried, had forced Daniel to accept his invitation to come sleep on his couch for a few nights. Serena had found some time in her crazy schedule to drop by and try to distract him and cheer him up. She had come right out and suggested he just go out there and get himself a pretty little thing to fuck—just sex, release, venting. A very Serena thing to advocate. She had even said that if it were not for the fact that they had hung out so much these last few years that he was like a brother to her, she would fuck him herself, right then and there. Daniel had looked at her, remembering very clearly what her body looked and felt like the one time they had hooked up at that party long ago in his freshman year, before Jenn, before everything, and he had smiled joylessly. While he did miss the sex, Daniel had told her, it was really the closeness and comfort that he craved. Serena had merely rolled her eyes.

He regained a measure of sanity following his mother’s phone call. She had contacted him after having been alerted by whatever sixth sense mothers had for such things, and when Daniel had explained to her what had happened, she had offered to take a break from her busy life—she was head surgeon at a major hospital in Chicago—to come visit. Daniel had thanked her, profusely, and had told her that that was not necessary, but that he would find a way to visit her before the end of the school year. The call had been inspired, and Daniel did not put it past his mother to have been completely aware of its effect on her son. After all, she had lost her husband—Daniel’s father—after only a few years of marriage, and had survived and kept going despite the pain. There was a lesson there, clearly.

Much more surprising was the call he received from Carole Hansen, Jenn’s mother. She had sounded distraught on the phone, both worried about him, and worried about her daughter. She had told him that Jenn had called her to inform her of what had happened and to let her know that she would be gone for a while, but she had not elaborated on the details. Daniel had found himself in the admittedly odd position of defending Jenn’s actions to her mother. He liked Carole, and had not wanted her to worry. Carole had told him how she went to complain to the police and they said that there was nothing they could do since Jenn had left willingly. Daniel and Carole had talked a long time, and by the end of the conversation Daniel had managed to convince her that Jenn had likely freaked out because of the upcoming wedding and perhaps nursed a fear of commitment, something for which Carole had wasted no time feeling responsible.

And now it was a month later, and life had gone on, and a new routine had evolved, and somehow pain had muted into a dull ache, and he had started to contemplate the possibility of life without her. He still did not like thinking about her if he could help it, but he could do it with an onslaught of emotions. And while he still had this deep rooted feeling that Biff was somehow involved, the more time passed, the more this feeling started to feel like a dream, a house of cards he had built to distract himself from the truth, a truth that everyone around him kept telling him he had to accept before he went off the deep end. And the truth was that Jenn was gone, and he was still here, and life asked to be lived.

It’s not giving up, he kept telling himself, it’s just accepting the facts. And when those facts change, I’ll change along with them. It almost worked.

Cindy was looking at him, and he realized that he had remained silent for longer than expected. He smiled warmly. “This is wonderful, Cin. Thanks!” He leaned over and kissed her, softly, on the lips. Daniel heard Kyra giggle.

Cindy blushed slightly—not the reaction Daniel had expected—and reached for her glass of wine.

Just then someone pulled a chair up at the end of the booth near Daniel. “My god—I’m sorry I’m so late!” Serena dropped down on the chair and leaned over to kiss him. “Happy birthday! Hope I didn’t miss too much.”

“You’re just in time for cake.”

“Goodie! Oh, thank you—” she said to the waitress who had just dropped a drinks menu before her.

“Hello Serena,” said Radhu’s voice through the tablet.

“Rad? That’s new. I see you found a way to join us.”

“Indeed. At the very least, as long as the battery survives. May I say, Serena, that you look positively ravishing this evening.”

“Well thank you, kind sir!”

“You okay?” asked Daniel.

“Yeah. Interview ran longer than expected.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow and smiled—she was wearing a form-fitting sleeveless shirt showing a generous amount of cleavage, and a short and tight skirt that exposed her shapely legs. A tall pair of heels completed the picture. “That interviewer must have had a good time.”

Serena looked down, and pulled her skirt down slightly. “Well, sometimes it helps when you flash a bit of leg, you know? Loosens their tongue.”

“I bet it does.”

“So what were you guys up to when I crashed the party?”

Jackson replied. “We had reached the gift phase. Hi Serena.”

Daniel lifted his book. “Rousseau.”

“Very nice. Didn’t know you read French.”

“I don’t. Translation.”

“Slacker,” replied Serena, perusing the drinks menu.

“As for me,” added Jackson, “here.” He pushed a small envelope across the table. Daniel pulled out a gift certificate.

“Shroedinger’s Games—nice! Thanks.”

“Wasn’t quite sure what you wanted, so I went with generic but fun. Obviously.”

“Well, I’m glad I did not come unequipped then,” piped in Serena. She pulled a box out of a bag she had laid at her feet without Daniel noticing. “Happy birthday, Daniel!”

Intrigued, Daniel opened the package. His breath caught when he saw what was inside. He looked up at Serena. “How did you...? Where did you find...?”

“Took some work. Lots of work, actually. But I managed to find someone willing to sell me his.”

Daniel looked at her, a troubled expression on his face. He tried to camouflage by teasing her. “Flashing some legs helped there too, no doubt?”

“Actually, he was a dirty old bastard. He wanted to fondle my tits and then I had to blow him.”

Daniel was not sure she was not telling the truth at that. He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, Ser. I really don’t.”

Kyra’s eyes volleyed between Daniel and Serena, her curiosity peaked. “So what is it?”

Daniel paused before pulling a small-scale car model out of the box. It was a red racing car, maybe eight inches long, in perfect condition.

“Nice,” said Kyra.

“What is it? Ferrari?” asked Jackson.

Daniel shook his head. “This is a Maserati 250F, a perfect reproduction of the car Stirling Moss drove to win the Monaco Grand Prix in 1956.”

“Wow,” said Jackson, “I didn’t peg you as a racing guy.”

“I’m not, not really. But... but my father was. He had this huge collection of models, and this was one of his prized cars. I broke it back... back when I was young.” He could not continue. He remembered so well how he had felt that day, seeing the pieces of the car scuttle across the floor after he had dropped it while showing it off to some of his friends that had dropped by house.

Serena picked up exactly where he had left off. She had been one of those friends. “I remember that day. Your mother was furious. I don’t think I’d ever seen an adult so angry before that.”

“That she was.” His father’s collection was one of the few things that she had left of him, and she had protected it like a hawk would its progeny. She had remained angry for almost a week after the incident.

“This means a lot, Ser. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He hugged her. At that moment, Daniel felt bad about the distance that he had let grow between them over the last few months.

“Things are going to calm down some for you by the end of the semester, yes?” He asked her. “I’m worried you’re pushing too hard.”

Serena shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

There was a pause in the conversation, everyone at the table falling silent. Then Kyra broke the silence. “Huh, I have something for you too, Daniel.”

She reached under the table and pulled out a large wrapped rectangle. He ripped off the paper carefully. It was a painting—an alpine scene, showing a valley between two tall mountains, the one on the left rocky and strewn with lichen, the one on the right blanketed in snow and a monument to quiescence. A pair of mountain goats were caught sauntering up the slopes of the rocky outcrop, as if unwilling to disturb the whiteness the snowy ledge. In the background, the mountain range continued, majestic, unperturbed. aloof.

“Kyra... it’s... it’s beautiful.”

Everyone at the table agreed. Kyra flushed, pride mixing in with not a little bit of embarrassment. “It’s nothing,” she said.

“How did you know?”

“Cin. She told me you liked mountains. And I was looking for something to paint, and I wanted to do something for you because—well, because of the rough patch you’re going through—so something soothing, rejuvenating, replenishing. It’s not much, but it’s honest. Plus, it’s a nice change from drawing cutouts of body parts.”

“Wow... this is so incredibly sweet. Thanks! Jackson, kiss your girlfriend for me.”

“With pleasure!” And Jackson leaned over to kiss Kyra’s rosy lips, and lingered there long enough for Kyra to gently hit his shoulder to get him to stop.

“Jackson! There are people around!” she half-laughed, half-frowned.

“That’s what makes it fun, no?”

Kyra blushed furiously.

Meanwhile, Daniel had turned the painting around to show Radhu through the tablet.

Serena was getting impatient at the waitress for not stopping to take her drink order, and excused herself to go and try to find her or anyone willing to serve her something. Her heels clacked on the restaurant floor as she hurried down the aisle.

“So Kyra, when are you going to decide to expose some of your work?” Cindy asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s very good. I doubt a gallery’d be interested.”

“Oh come on, it’s great. People love it. I’m sure you could start small.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I gotta say, I kind of like just painting for myself for fun—or for friends.”

“There’s a University-wide little expo every spring where they showcase artwork from students and faculty,” mused Daniel. “Maybe you could put up a couple of pieces. Anonymously. So as to not compromise your artistic integrity.”

“You think I’m silly, don’t you?”

“No. But I think you have talent, and you should parade it.”

“I second that,” chimed Jackson.

“Third,” added Cindy.

“I would fourth if not for the fact that it would sound utterly redundant,” said Radhu, from the tablet. Behind him, something beeped. He made a face, and he disappeared from the frame, momentarily. He was frowning when he returned.

“Everything okay there, Rad?” asked Daniel.

“Yes, everything is under control. I do find myself having to investigate a recent development. I will see you later, yes? Are you still expecting to visit me later this evening?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Perfect. I will therefore see you later. And please do not forget the tablet. Happy birthday once more. Radhu out.”

“Bye.” Everyone waved.

Kyra turned to Cindy. “So, Cindy, have you figured out what you were going to do after leaving here? You’re still graduating, aren’t you?”

“Kindda. I’ve applied a few places, but I’m really looking at grad schools. I just got a few acceptances this week, so it’s really a matter of choosing.”

“Where?”

“Oh, nowhere, really.”

“Come on, spill it.”

“Stanford. Princeton. Columbia.”

“Holy fuck,” piped Jackson. “That’s some high-class list there. What did you do, suck off the deans to get in?”

Cindy smiled patiently. “Wish it were that easy. No, no—I did it the hard way.”

“What for, master’s, or doctorate?” asked Daniel.

“Doctorate. Probably economics, although the interaction with game theory and computer science is also intriguing.”

Daniel nodded, lifted his glass. “Well, kudos. To smarts and beauty!”

“Cheers!”

“Where’s Serena?” asked Daniel, after the toast. He turned around, looking for her.

He saw her further down the aisle, by the wall, speaking to a young man. With her heels, she was as tall as he was. He had a hand on her arm. She was looking at him, her head tilted, her chest thrust out, one leg forward pressing against the man’s own. He was running a hand up and down the side of her body, finally settling down on her thigh, after having raised the hem of her short skirt even higher. Serena seemed not to mind, and in fact leaned forward to offer her lips to the young man, who accepted them eagerly, and they enlaced and kissed in their corner of the restaurant. The young man pulled Serena close against him, the hand on her thigh now squarely on her ass, pushing her groin against his.

“Looks like she made a friend,” commented Kyra, who had leaned out into the aisle to catch the action.

“Yeah, that was fast,” said Daniel. He knew his friend did not waste time making romantic connections—or breaking them, for that matter—but this was fast even for her. Unless the young man was her current flame and Daniel simply had not kept up with Serena’s love life.

“Hey, isn’t that Nathan from your frat?” Kyra was asking Jackson.

Jackson made a face, and took a moment to answer. “Looks like him, for sure.” He smiled nervously. “I didn’t know he knew Serena.”

The kissing couple, after breaking their enlace, headed to the exit of the restaurant, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. The birthday party watched them go.

“Did she really take off like that, ditching us?” asked Daniel.

“Looks like,” replied Cindy, reaching for her wine.

Daniel frowned. Serena had always been abrupt and could be downright rude in pursuit of a story, but she usually did not treat her friends that callously, not for a boy. That the boy in question was a member of Delta Iota Kappa was not overlooked. He eyed Jackson, speculatively.

“You okay?” whispered Cindy.

He nodded. “Yeah.” He felt her eyes on him, but was suddenly too tired to deal anymore. “Just feeling a bit out of it. Give me a minute to recharge.” He picked up his book and opened it up. I am now alone on earth, no longer having any brother, neighbor, friend, or society other than myself. The most sociable and the most loving of humans has been proscribed from society by a unanimous agreement. In the refinements of their hatred, they have sought the torment which would be cruelest to my sensitive soul and have violently broken all the ties which attached me to them. I would have loved men in spite of themselves. Only by ceasing to be humane, have they been able to slip away from my affection.

He did not pay much attention to the discussion around the table—Cindy, Jackson, and Kyra were arguing about the university plan to build a new set of dorms further out on West Campus—and thumbed mindlessly through the book. The waitress stopped by and the check was settled.

“You guys up for going to grab a drink somewhere?” finally asked Cindy. She looked at Daniel. “Our treat, birthday boy.” Jackson and Kyra nodded.

They were about to leave when a beautiful blonde in a tall pair of boots and jeans so tight they looked painted on approached them. “Hey guys, I just wanted to drop this off for you before you left.” She distributed four postcard-sized thick and glossy announcements. Daniel glanced at it. It was a typical university announcement card, the likes of which he had seen countless times on tables all over campus proclaiming upcoming shows and special events. This one showed a montage of several feminine body parts—mostly legs and asses—surrounding the well-known logo of the Spirited Flesh, the popular local strip club. The Spring Amateur Show, advertised the card, Saturday April 10 @ 9PM.

“You guys definitely have to come,” said the blonde, making sure to make eye contact with each of them, but lingering especially on Daniel and Jackson. “It’s going to be huge. Lots of sexy girls putting on a show.” She looked at Cindy and Kyra. “You two should consider entering the competition. Trust me, your boyfriends will love it.” She glanced meaningfully at Kyra. “And you—redheads are usually a huge hit. Especially one put together like you are.” To make sure her meaning was not misunderstood, she let her gaze travel down and back up Kyra’s tight body, making the redhead blush. “See you there,” she grinned, strolling down the aisle to approach the next booth.

“She’s right you know,” teased Jackson, earning himself a punch in the shoulder.

They left the restaurant and found a bar to continue the birthday celebration. Serena never came back.