The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

John Harris tried not to fidget as he stood there in the director’s office. He didn’t like the fact that he was standing, waiting for Sir Nyman Fob-smythe to acknowledge his presence, he was fully aware of the power game the director was playing. It was an outdated technique, John told himself, as old fashioned as the man sitting before him, balding head bent over some trivial paperwork as he made his subordinate wait. Yet knowing all this didn’t make it any less intimidating, John decided.

The director forcefully signed the document in front of him and putting the cap on his fountain pen before laying it down on his desk, he looked up to meet John’s eyes. “John Harris, isn’t it? Of the human resources department.”

“Yes sir,” John acknowledged. There was no real doubt to his identity, it had been announced by the director’s personal assistant when John had arrived for his appointment. Just another office game, John told himself.

“An interesting matter was raised at the last board meeting, Harris,” the director stated, failing to offer John the chance to sit down and make this a conversation. “One particular department, headed up by Claire Russet I believe, has shown a thirty percent increase in productivity in the last period.”

John just nodded. He wasn’t privy to the finer details of the company but he did know that Claire’s department was humming, morale was at an all time high and Claire was showing a level of competence that surprised even him.

“I remember Miss Russet’s presentation when she applied for her promotion,” Sir Nyman carried on with a hint of a lecherous smile, “Most impressive. Excellent ... presentation. Wouldn’t mind seeing her move on to my section, after a suitable period in her current position of course.” The director shook himself out of the day dream he had begun to slip in to and turned his attention back to John.

“However I have here a memorandum from you saying that there were difficulties in finding a personal assistant for her?”

“Yes sir,” John stepped in to prevent the director from dominating the meeting. “At the time there was a shortage of suitable candidates, Miss Monroe showed up out of the ... blue.” John winced inwardly at that image but apparently the director had not met her.

“I have had excellent reports on her from the senior staff,” Sir Nyman took over the conversation again. “She also appears to be very compatible with Miss Russet.”

“Yes, I believe Miss Russet and Miss Monroe are ... quite close ...”

“No implication of nepotism I trust?”

“Not the ‘ism’ I would associate with the ladies,” John said quietly, then added in response to the director’s bemused expression, “No sir.”

“Just one other thing then, Harris,” Sir Nyman said, a stern note creeping in to his voice as he let it be known that if he didn’t like the answer to his next question he could well be reprimanding John with his next statement. “I believe that when we advised you of the vacancy to be filled that we clearly indicated that there were ... equal opportunity ... considerations, that the company was concerned that we might be subject to government attention for failing to meet certain guidelines ...?”

“Yes sir. And I can assure you that Miss Monroe fulfils the criteria of at least one of the target groups, if not more.” John amazed himself at his ability to keep a straight face.

“Splendid, then don’t let me keep you,” Sir Nyman concluded the meeting and went back to his paperwork without another word. John resisted the temptation to salute but kept a very stiff posture until he was well clear of the director’s office. In the hallway he let his shoulders slump and breathed a sigh of relief as he hurried back towards his office.

He had almost made it when Sulla appeared around a nearby corner and by the smile that sprung to her face as she recognised him, he knew he was her target. He toyed with the idea of fleeing in to his office and locking the door behind him.

“John, darling,” Sulla said as she strode up to him, the tight white satin sleeveless top she was wearing emphasised both the swell of her breasts and the exotic red gem choker she was wearing. “So glad I caught you. Claire and I are heading out clubbing tonight and I think Claire would love to have you come as well.”

John flushed a deep red and his stomach knotted to the point that he was glad he had emptied his bladder before his meeting with Sir Nyman. Sulla had a feigned look of innocence that John could see straight through.

“I, uh, I, ahem,” John coughed to clear his throat and give himself more time to think. “Thank you for the offer but I was planning to spend the evening with my wife.” He put as much emphasis as he could on wife to project his point.

“Not a problem,” Sulla said with a sultry smile and a coy adjustment of her posture to let her short skirt ride up and reveal her stocking top. “She can come to.”

John swallowed hard, “No, really, I don’t think we’ll be able to make it.”

“We’ll pop by your place at seven,” Sulla went on without paying any attention, “Just in case you change your mind. Bye.” And she was gone before John could get another word in.

Dead on seven o’clock and John heard the door bell ring. He remained seated in the lounge, his newspaper spread out in front of him. Did he dare answer the door? It might not even be them, or they might go away without making a scene. Or they could push their way in and cause Catherine to have a heart attack.

His indecision was his undoing, Catherine had also heard the bell and as her husband hadn’t answered it yet she assumed that he was indisposed and unable to. John’s stomach lurched downward as he heard his wife saying, ‘just a moment’ and then open the door. He lost the feeling in his legs when he heard Claire’s voice. Hearing three sets of footsteps coming towards the lounge John found himself trying to sink in to the couch.

“John,” his wife announced as she stepped in to the lounge, “Its Claire and Sulla from work.”

John got to his feet, his body was running on automatic at the moment, responding as was appropriate to women entering the room. John’s mind, in direct contrast, was trying to flee in both terror and embarrassment—his wife Catherine was wearing a corduroy bath robe and had her hair in curlers! The banal housewife appearance contrasted so dramatically with Claire and Sulla, so elegant in their evening dresses and more than a little sexual. He could also see that Sulla was amused and very close to laughing out loud.

“Hello, John. We just came by in case you had changed your mind about dinner,” Claire said, it was hard for her to keep a straight face with Sulla giggling in her head, ‘Curlers! I bet she puts on an apron to do the dishes.’

“Oh that won’t be possible,” Catherine put in before John could even start to think of a reply. “We don’t go out on week nights. Besides, we’ve agreed as a couple to forgo restaurants until we’ve saved up enough to put a sun room on the house.”

Claire sensed Sulla’s amusement turning to disbelief and she used that to focus her young companions mind back on why they were there. “Don’t worry about that, its Sulla’s treat for getting her job.”

“That’s most kind of you,” Catherine replied, “But it is still a week night. Perhaps next Spring when John and I have a bit more free time?”

Sulla wanted to tell this woman to unbend but she was checked as she opened her mouth and found herself instead saying, “Surely you can make an exception, just this once?”

From his quiet spot across the room John suddenly felt on safer ground. His wife didn’t make exceptions, she stuck to her routine against all outside influences. The visit was as good as over and the two women would soon be on their way, leaving John and Catherine to their peace and quiet, however boring it might be.

“Well,” Catherine wavered, “No, really. Thank you but we’re really not up to it. Perhaps with a bit more notice we might have been able to make some time.”

“Please, it will do you good to get out for an evening and it would mean so much for us to be able to repay John’s kindness.” Claire tried to put just a touch of guilt-inducing disappointment into her voice.

“I ... we would like to, but we’re not dressed for it.” Catherine’s excuses were beginning to sound lame even to herself and she couldn’t deny that now she did feel like an evening out.

“That’s okay,” Sulla said as she slipped in beside Catherine and linked arms with her. “The reservations aren’t until eight, that gives us plenty of time to dig through your wardrobe for something suitable. I’m sure John can change into something more formal while we’re at it.”

“All right,” Catherine submitted, “I keep my good clothes in the spare room.”

John could only stare in disbelief as the three women left the room, and he didn’t want to think that the giggle he heard was from his wife.

John felt distinctly underdressed, even in his tuxedo. That was the least of his discomforts though because across the table from him were three beautiful women in the most elegant, and revealing, evening dresses that he had ever seen. In fact the maitre’d had asked him if he was doing a fashion shoot in the restaurant. Compounding this was that his wife was visibly happy. It was only after years of marriage that John was able to tell when Catherine was feeling good or bad, a faint difference in her reserved demeanour. Now she was making small talk with two strangers and smiling.

The dress was another matter. It wasn’t hers of course, she would never own anything that glamorous, at least not before tonight. John had shaved, washed and changed long before his wife had been ready, nothing unusual in that for any woman. And when the three woman had rejoined him he was astounded to see that Catherine was wearing her best outfit, the one normally reserved for their annual trip to the opera. More shocks were to come when Sulla had calmly announced that they couldn’t find anything suitable for Catherine to wear and that they would have to do a bit of shopping, and Catherine had agreed!

Now he was in the most exclusive restaurant in town with three beautiful women and he wasn’t sure if he should be scared or thanking his lucky stars. His reverie was broken as Sulla and his wife stood up.

“Catherine and me are just going to powder our noses,” Sulla volunteered as she picked up her purse.

“Please, call me Cathy,” John heard his wife say as the pair disappeared amongst the tables. He was so stunned that it took Claire three attempts before she got his attention.

“Sorry to talk ‘shop’,” Claire said once he responded, “but while we’ve got some peace could you tell me how much our director gets paid?”

Normally John would have told her that that was confidential information but in his current state of confusion he yielded. “Sir Nyman is on about three quarters of a million, plus another hundred thousand annual bonus and with up to a half million performance bonus.”

“Performance bonus?” Claire queried.

“If productivity and profit are up.”

“What happens if profits are down?”

“Then he might not get all of his performance bonus,” John replied uneasily. He could tell Claire was leading up to something.

“So if Sir Nyman’s performance bonus was evenly divided amongst the junior staff, how much would each get?” Claire’s voice was absolutely calm as though she was discussing the colour of the drapes but John could sense the intent behind it.

“About ten thousand ...” John was saved from any further questions by the return of his wife and Sulla, their happy demeanour seemed to infect Claire as well and from being so intense she was soon chatting along with the other two. They seemed content to leave John to actually eat his meal, only occasionally involving him in the conversation.

The only other matter to concern him was that someone’s stocking clad foot was stroking his leg under the table and he really didn’t want to find out whose as he wasn’t sure whether it was better or worse for it to be his wife.

Two courses and a lot more wine than he had ever drunk and they were on their way back to his place. Any vague hope that Claire and Sulla would bid them goodnight and retire were dashed as Cathy invited them in for coffee. John found himself guided on to the couch by Claire and Sulla as his wife disappeared in to the kitchen. The two women quickly moved in on each side of him, pressing their bodies against him and he jumped when they began to caress his chest.

John twitched as he felt Sulla’s stud brush against his ear and somewhat ashamedly he knew he was only trying to struggle free because his wife was nearby. It didn’t matter, between them Sulla and Claire were easily able to hold him down as they continued to tease him with kisses and fondling.

The sound of his wife’s voice made him jerk open his eyes in panic.

“I’m so sorry,” Cathy was saying as she came back from the kitchen. “I forgot we don’t have any coffee.”

John waited for the scream, for his wife to either attack him or stride out of the room threatening divorce. Instead her mouth formed a surprised O as she took in the scene and then she reached up to undo her dress. The silky material slid down her body like water, leaving her naked except for her panties and stockings. John didn’t even have time to wonder at how little she had been wearing under the dress as she got down on all fours and crawled towards him with a predatory smile. Sulla’s hand joined in the sexual choreography by unzipping his trousers and releasing his erect penis.

John almost fainted as his wife wrapped her lips around his cock.

Claire and Sulla looked somewhat incongruous as they moved around the expensive boutique, clad as they were in stockings, heels and over sized sweaters they had borrowed from Cathy. But the only other clothing they had with them was their evening gowns which were soiled and torn by the over enthusiastic attention of Cathy last night. Even John had put in a good showing once he got into the swing of things. Now John and Cathy were sleeping in and Sulla had talked Claire in to a bit of shopping before work.

“I’m still not sure,” Claire said as she pulled a dark skirt off the rack, sized it up and put it back with a thought of ‘too long’, “That we should be doing this.”

Sulla was inspecting a woman’s waist coat from a matched suit, “This will do, on its own and with the back belt tightened a bit,” she muttered as she put it to one side and discarded the pants and blouse that had been with it. “Claire, love, we haven’t got time to go back to your place, change and make it to work. Besides, we agreed that we should pick out a few things for Cathy to help her get started on a new wardrobe. We know her size, and we can definitely come up with a better style.”

“I don’t know,” Claire continued to object even as she discarded a twin set and shorts combo, “Seducing her and John is one thing, but ...”

“That was your idea!” Sulla exclaimed with some annoyance.

“Well, yes. Or at least John.” Claire responded loud enough that it caught the attention of the boutique staff and she quickly hushed her voice, “I would never have acted on it if it wasn’t for you.”

Sulla looked unabashed. “Hard to keep secrets from each other. That reminds me, we’re going to have to visit The stop again.”

“Mmmn, nn.” Claire mumbled in reply with a look of distaste.

“Yes we do, the old woman might know something about the necklaces. You’re just going to have to screw up your courage.”

“Not today,” Claire stated as she selected her work clothes for the day, the lavender sheath was intended for evening wear but Claire felt she could get away with it at the office if she combined it with a shoulder scarf.

“Okay,” Sulla conceded. “Not today.”

“Good Morning Harold. / Hiya Harry.”

“Good morning Miss Russet, Miss Monroe,” the middle aged entry-way officer returned their greetings with sincerity. He had been the security guard and doorman back when that meant being the first person everyone saw when they entered the building. Then when the corporate culture had shifted he had found himself in a windowless room on the third floor with just the security monitors for company. Now, thanks to Claire, he was back where he wanted to be, the friendly face everyone said hello to.

And Mavis, who had been the receptionist, got the peace and quiet to write her novel while monitoring the cameras and alarms. If she ever needed a big burly guy to scare off crooks or trouble makers she could always call on Harry, and when it came right down to it, he was already where most of the problems happened. Between them they had already caught the stair dancer who had been plaguing the company for months.

Harry didn’t comment on how smart Claire and Sulla looked, they already knew it and he reserved the compliments for the people who needed a bit of a boost. He didn’t even mind that they were a couple, not anymore. At first he had had that irrational annoyance that two beautiful women would be interested in each other rather than him, but he knew neither of them would have been interested in him romantically in any event. So he got to admire them, for their beauty and their poise, and he didn’t loose anything in the deal.

Claire and Sulla stepped in to the elevator, the stairs would have been treacherous to navigate with the heels they had chosen to wear that day, and pushed the button for their floor. It ascended smoothly as far as the third floor where it stopped and the doors opened to admit a slightly plump young woman carrying a box full of printer cartridges.

“Hello Amy. You’re in early today.”

“Oh, hi Miss Russet, Sulla. I wanted to go out to the evening cabaret so I’m using the flexible hours you arranged for me.” Amy replied, still a bit nervous at sharing the elevator with someone as senior as Claire. “Um, and thank you for getting Bryan from accounts to ask me out. I would have dithered forever without working up the nerve.”

“Sometimes it just takes someone to get things moving along,” Claire replied with quiet humility.

“And remember, Amy,” Sulla put in with an exuberance that caused Amy to blush, “If you have to wear a long skirt, make sure its slit goes all the way up.”

With some relief Amy got off two floors later and left Claire and Sulla to themselves once again. Sulla took the opportunity to press a point.

“Claire, honey. Its been two weeks now and we still haven’t gone back to The shop.”

“Later perhaps, when John comes back to work. We’re a bit short staffed with him on leave.” Claire said weakly.

“You sent Cathy a vibrator and a corset yesterday!” Sulla exclaimed, “We’re not going to see John any time soon.”

“Okay, tomorrow maybe.”

“Today, after lunch!”

“Well ...”

“Today! After! Lunch!”

“Sulla, please. Be senssggas ... senzzzrle, I still can’t say it!”

“So we’re agreed, the itinerary for today is the boring work type stuff, lunch at the cafe and then a certain old shop?” Sulla said with a precise and serious voice, the effect totally spoiled by the huge grin on her face and by squeezing Claire’s bum just as the doors opened.

“Okay, all right,” Claire conceded with poor grace. “But only if you have the reports done by lunch time.”

“Uh huh.”

“And we have to convince Greg in accounts and Jill in IS that they can use some of their raise to buy nicer clothes, I can’t stand the tatty old cardigans they both wear.”

“Mmm, maybe leather hotpants and fishnet tights and a see through blouse ...?” Sulla suggested, stopping Claire before they entered the outer office so they could have a quick kiss in private. Claire responded with as much passion as she dared, they had already learnt that it wasn’t safe for both of them to get aroused in public.

“Jill is a widow in her fifties, there is such a thing as decorum.”

“How about Greg then?” Sulla asked impishly.

“Only if he wants to be hit upon by Michael. Now, office mode if you please Sulla.” Claire stated as she opened the door and stepped through in to the work area. An agitated looking George leapt to his feet as the women came in.

“Miss Russet!” he hissed, “Its Sir Nyman! He’s waiting for you in your office.”

A month ago Claire would have been as panic stricken as George. Now she just thanked him, told Sulla to get on with the reports and strode in to her personal office.

The director was seated comfortably, it was an air he affected to imply that he had been waiting a while. Claire just greeted him by name and took her own seat behind her desk, pushing a small pile of correspondence to one side to show she was going to give him her full attention.

“So Claire, I may call you Claire?” He asked as he sized her up. He could vaguely remember the Claire Russet who came in to work fifteen minutes early every day, who made a point of being among the last to leave, of wearing the skirts with the sensible hems, the neutral coloured jackets with the shoulder pads, the meticulously applied makeup. And he could remember the Claire Russet who gave the presentation when applying for her current position, the one with the cleavage and the confidence of a tipsy table dancer who had left every man in the room with an erection. Now he was facing a Claire Russet with bold makeup, crimson tints through her loose hair, a leather halter top and miniskirt and knee boots with five inch heels. She was every bit as sexual but she was no longer displaying herself to the men in the board room, she was displaying herself for herself. He still had the erection but he also respected her.

“Of course, Sir Nyman.” Claire replied without batting an eye.

“Well, Claire then. I felt I had to drop by and see you in person. I believe you have been making some changes around the company?”

“I have, sir.”

Sir Nyman could tell the ‘sir’ was purely an honorific, yet Claire wasn’t being hostile or cold, she was merely adopting a neutral stance until he got to the point.

“Including a hefty pay rise for the junior staff.” He paused and Claire let him sit in his own silence so he went on, “I was curious where you found the money for this.”

This was the hard bit Claire knew and she reached out to Sulla for the confidence and assurance to brazen on. “I reassigned the part of the budget that was set aside for your performance bonus. I reasoned that it was intended to promote productivity and the best way to do that was to increase staff morale. Many of the junior staff were barely subsisting on their wages, that led to tiredness, irritability, staff turnover. You’d be surprised how much a new dress, or outfit I should say, can change your entire perspective of the work day.”

“I see,” Sir Nyman mused. Claire hadn’t panicked on being confronted, he hadn’t expected her to even when he had noticed that his performance bonus had been redirected. So he had to make a decision, did he have Claire Russet up on fraud charges while the company was surging to new strengths under her management, or ...

“This would explain,” he said after a moment, a wry smile creasing his normally stern face, “Why the maintenance department now have their lunch at my club on Fridays. Stylishly dressed too, I might add. The major domo assumed they were my brokers when they mentioned they worked for me. Poor old Sir Hubert had an aneurism when one of the cleaning ladies bent over to pick up her purse.”

Claire couldn’t help but smile herself, she knew Sulla had picked out the skirt Janice would have been wearing and it wasn’t the type you should bend over in.

“Well, Claire,” Sir Nyman said as he got to his feet and made ready to leave. “There’s only one other thing I can say to you.” He paused at that point for dramatic effect. It was a boost to his confidence that it worked and Claire looked slightly concerned.

“I was wondering if you could speak to Jill Hung on my behalf. I have tickets to the ballet and I was hoping she might accompany me.”

“I’ll ask her when I next see her, sir,” Claire responded with a smile and got to her feet to escort the director out of her office. By this time the outer office had filled up and Rachel, Harram, the two Michaels, George, Howard, and Tracy were all waiting to see how Claire’s meeting with Sir Nyman had gone. All of them visibly relaxed as he gave them a warm smile and greeting before leaving. Claire walked with him as far as the elevator and then hurried back to the office.

“Sulla!” she called out both physically and mentally.

“You rang, ma’am?” Sulla responded cheekily a moment later.

“We’re going to the shop now,” Claire stated, and then at a level only Sulla could hear, ‘before my nerve goes.’

Claire hesitated at the door, she had half expected the shop would no longer be there, that it was one of those magical places that appeared only briefly and then vanished without a trace. But it was still where she had gone to escape after her first encounter with Sulla, or at least the foul mouthed punk that had collided with her that day. The window display was the same, apart from a notable gap where the necklace (necklaces?) had been.

Growing impatient, Sulla pushed herself in to Claire and made her open the door. Ignoring the annoyed scowl this provoked in her lover, Sulla sauntered in to the dimly lit shop. It annoyed Claire all the more that this wasn’t put on bravado on the girl’s part, she really was just curious without any trepidation whatsoever.

Inside the two women stood side by side in one of the few clear areas, surrounded by old furniture and decades worth of collected ornaments. Sulla probably would have wandered further in but Claire needed her close at the moment and that need was enough to overcome Sulla’s normal tendency to explore. A movement and rustle of heavy material from the back of the shop announced the presence of the shop keeper and a moment later the old woman appeared from down a narrow aisle of cabinets.

“Hello dears, something I can help you with?” The woman’s face was calm with a hint of a friendly smile but both Claire and Sulla could read much more in it. In fact they found that they could read the woman’s emotions quite well, and the underlying thought of the questions they were here to ask.

“You have a necklace too!” Sulla burst out, her hand flying up to her own neck in a moment of panic that hers might have somehow mysteriously jumped across to the shop keeper. The old woman nodded and then undid the collar of her high necked blouse to reveal a deep blue gem inset on a black corded choker. From behind her a second old woman stepped into view, pulling open the top of her blouse to expose her matching necklace.

With the women standing side by side and with the benefit of shared memory, Sulla and Claire realised they had been served by different women. Several moments of stunned silence followed, the shop keepers allowing time for Sulla and Claire to come to terms with the revelation. Then Sulla said the only thing she could think of.

“Your’s are blue?”

“Yes,” replied the old woman on the left with an amused smile, “There are three pairs of necklaces, red, blue and green. April and I have had ours for almost sixty years now, they were gifted to us by our grandmothers who were apparently ... very close.”

“I’m sure,” her companion followed on, “you know what my darling Rachel means by close. Yes I can tell by Claire’s blushing that you do. But I believe you are more interested in the history of your necklaces than our ancestor’s proclivities.”

“It was about four years ago,” Rachel took over smoothly, “We have travelled widely, being able to pool our resources and expertise allowed us to become quite wealthy early in the piece. It was at a church fete in Christchurch that I found the necklace that Sulla now wears, they assumed it to be costume jewellery not believing that it could be a real gem. With some discrete inquiries we managed to discover that it had been donated by a local family and from them that it was a family heirloom that had been handed down for several generations without ever being worn. Being of a somewhat presbyterial leaning they didn’t hold with such vanities.”

“A year later,” it was April speaking now, “we found it’s companion in an antique store in Montreal. It was from the estate of a miser who had owned it his entire life but had kept it hidden away with the rest of his riches. Truly astounded by finding a second pair of necklaces we dedicated the next six months to intensive research. I won’t tell you all the places we looked, some were less than pleasant. But the upshot of it all was that we learnt that the necklaces seem to date from the 1700s and originate in France.”

Rachel took over again, “Apparently a nobleman who was more than a little involved in the occult had, amongst his many children, three sets of twins. Extremely rare even in a large family. We assume they were all girls, the twins at least. Anyway this gentleman created the pairs of necklaces to enhance the natural, or supernatural, bond between twins with the intent, by all indications, of using it to control them. The few records that exist are not clear on what purpose he had in mind but we can take an educated guess.”

“However,” April said quickly as she noticed the colour rising in Claire’s face, “the necklaces did not have the desired effect, at least not as far as he was concerned. As you have already experienced, the necklaces do indeed form a bond far beyond the mundane world, but instead of weakening the will they effectively increase it four fold. As such his daughters rebelled against him and he disappeared under less than mysterious circumstances. Shortly thereafter the twins fled France to avoid the repercussions of their actions.”

“You said there were three pairs of necklaces,” Claire said as curiosity overwhelmed her revulsion of a moment before, “What happened to the green pair?”

“We don’t know,” April replied, “Rachel and I have been trying to track them down but we suspect that they have been separated by time, much as yours were. We’re not sure if our necklaces somehow lead us to the red pair, or if it was just coincidence.”

“Another thing,” Sulla spoke up for the first time, her patience more characteristic of Claire than herself, “Why did you choose us for the red chokers?”

“Oh we didn’t choose you,” Rachel laughed, “There’s no sinister plot here. You chose the necklaces.”

“You see,” April added, “We experimented shortly after we found the second red necklace, tried wearing them instead of our blue ones, in addition to ours and even tried mis-matching them. It made no difference.”

“Does that mean,” Claire interrupted, “That we can take ours off and still ...?”

“Of course, dear,” April’s tone was that of an aunt reassuring her young niece, “It makes no difference to your rapport with Sulla, that’s bonded now and will never go away.”

“Although you will feel more comfortable when you’re wearing them, it feels a bit like something is missing when you aren’t.” Rachel said as she self-consciously touched the blue gem over her throat. “But the bond is permanent.”

“So where do we go from here?” Claire wondered out loud.

“Why plan?” Sulla countered, “We’ve got each other, in ways that few people could ever hope to imagine. Go on with work until your changes are cemented in, they might even spread to some of the other companies. Then why not travel? I want to do Paris.” Sulla hugged Claire and added with an impish tone, “You can learn to speak French for us!”

Claire liked the idea. It was sharing with her lover, this year for making the changes she wanted, next year for Sulla. She also knew she was going to see places in France that the tourists never made it to. And it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye out for the green necklaces as a present for Grace and Hannah.