The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

If I thought the previous week was a trying one, it was nothing compared to this week. Frankly, chasing terrorists and kidnappers and disarming nuclear bombs wasn’t nearly as stressful as dealing with the bureaucracy involved in the higher echelons of academia. For the fifth day in a row, I stood in a line outside the Ameritech administration building, trying in vain to get my academic credits transferred to the University of Portland, so I could apply to take the test I’d missed here earlier up there instead. It was bad enough running through the usual rigmarole and red tape involved in tying to register for classes, but with my bad luck, I just couldn’t catch a break.

The first day, the computers broke down, and the IT team had to work overtime to get things up and running again. On the second day, the person in charge of the transfers was out sick, shifting his case to one of the assistants. Specifically, the assistant who has only recently transferred to the administration department, and had no idea what she was doing. The third day was spent repairing all the damage, and getting things back to normal. And, of course, on the fourth day, the computer system went back down again.

So, here I was, on the fifth day, still trying to get my credits transferred to another school so I could take a simple test to try for my accreditation as a medical assistant. My mom and sister had returned home long ago, but I was beginning to wonder if I was destined to spend the rest of my life here, in Utah, on this particular campus.

“Frasier, James I. M.”

FINALLY! Standing up from my seat in the hallway, I made me way towards the office yet again, this time hopefully to complete the process and be on my merry way back home. As I walked, a movement from the side caught my eye, and I turned, spying a mane of dark hair slipping into the ladies restroom. Not a big deal in and of itself, since dark haired women were known to use the bathroom just like everyone else. No...the thing that so struck me to my core was the brief glimpse I’d had of the girl’s face just before the door obscured her from view.

It was...her.

My girl. My dream girl, that is. The girl who, until recently, haunted my dreams, communicated with me nightly, the girl that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt to be my soul mate. The girl...who’s name, unfortunately, I could never remember when I was wide awake!

She was here. At this school. Just a few feet away from me. In...the woman’s bathroom.

And I stood there, frozen in indecision, trying to convince myself of all the reasons NOT to go barging in, to see and talk to my woman of destiny finally after all this time. Not that I was overly concerned about the embarrassment I would cause myself if other women happened to be in there as well, I could live with it. Basically, it came down to wanting to make a good first impression on her for our first meeting. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass her.

“Frasier? James Frasier?”

Shit. I nearly forgot. Tearing my eyes away from the bathroom door, I hurried and entered the office, the folder of forms filled out in triplicate clutched tightly in the crook of my arm. “Ah, Mr. Frasier. There you are. I was beginning to think you’d left us,” the clerk, Daphne, said with a smirk. “How are you doing today?”

“Ah, fine, fine,” I said, distractedly, glancing over my shoulder. Dammit. What are the chances that she’s already gone, that she’s slipped out again and is walking out of the building, out of my life, yet again?!? Huh. With my luck, I’d say probably a hundred percent. Dammit...no. Focus on the here and now. She goes to this school, I am bound to run into her again if I look around, once everything here is all settled. Sighing deeply, I handed her my file. “I trust the computers are finally up and running again?“

“Yes, the IT staff is sure they finally fixed the problem,” she stated, bringing up my information on the computer. “So, let’s see. You’re wanting to have all your credits transferred to the University of Portland, is that correct?”

“Yes, please. They’re giving the final exam there next month, and I need to have all the paperwork rushed through so I can take it there.”

“I see,” she murmured softly, nails clacking as she typed steadily. “Well, everything looks good on this end.” Great! Looks like I was finally getting out of here after all. “I just need the signatures from all your instructors to finalize your grades and send them off.”

Huh? But wait. “Signatures? But, ah, um, I don’t actually attend classes here. I did all my studies online.”

“That may be, but every class you took has an actual teacher,” she said patiently, “and for any transfer, you need to get signatures from your instructors to verify your final grades before we can transfer over your credits.”

I sighed, my earlier elation gone. “So...I need to go out and get signatures from all my teachers for all my classes and then come back here...and THEN you can transfer my credits to the University of Portland?”

“Absolutely,” Daphne confirmed. “It’s the last thing we need. Once I have those, it should take about five minutes to transfer over the information to their servers.”

“Okay then,” I replied wearily. “I guess I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“See you then,” she replied, “but do try and hurry. It’s Friday, and we close the office at five pm sharp.”

Yeah. Of course you do. Leaving the office, I gave the women’s bathroom one final long glance before hurrying out of the administration building, and sprinting across the campus.

Rose Contreras adjusted her skirt with her free hand, keeping a tight rein on her books with the other. Her long black hair was fluttering slightly in the breeze, slightly obscuring her face, but her deep brown eyes continually scanned her surroundings, missing nothing. A few young boys walked by, nodding at her, giving her soft supple curves the once-over, and she smiled back appreciatively, though the gesture never quite reached her eyes. Yes, she was playing the part of a simple college sophomore, and playing it well, but it was still only a part.

“Hey, Rose!” her roommate Jenny called out as she approached, waving. Forcing down the feeling of aggravation and forcing a smile, she waved back. “Hey, girl! There you are! I was hoping to run into you. My friend May scored tickets to the Deadman concert this weekend, and I was hoping you’d come along with us.”

Rose sighed softly. It was actually a touching gesture. For the past week, the girl had been trying relentlessly to welcome her to the school, to incorporate her into her group of friends and to be a friend to her. She’d even confided in her that she had started off as a transfer student herself the year before, and knew what it was like starting out in a new school with no friends, not knowing anyone. Had she actually been a real college student attending class at this school, meeting someone like Jenny would have definitely made the transition easier.

Unfortunately, she was not a student. She was here on an assignment, and she had a job to do. And her roommate was beginning to become a nuisance.

“Oh, wow...Deadman, huh?” she said, slowly, as if considering her words carefully. “Look, Jenny, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do...but, well, this really isn’t my scene, you know?” Seeing Jenny’s crestfallen look, she added, “Plus, I’m just too busy, I’ve got so much to do, so much to get caught up on—”

“That’s my point!” Jenney exclaimed, shaking her head. “You’re ALWAYS too busy! Too busy to hang out, too busy to go to a movie, too busy to attend any of the wild parties going on! I mean, this is college, Rose, and you’re too busy studying to really enjoy it!”

And I’m guessing you’re not here on a Rhodes Scholarship, are you, kid? Rose thought drily. Glancing over her shoulder, she spied her target leaving the academic administration building in a run. Damn. Need to bring this conversation to a close now.

“Look, Jenny,” she said sincerely, “I really, really appreciate what you’re saying, And yes, I will try and work in some play time with all my work time. We’ll hang out soon, I promise. But right now, I need to run. I’m working part time off campus to help pay my tuition, and I need to get moving.” With that she turned and ran after her target.

“Um... okay...” Jenny said dubiously, nodding. “Alright. But it’s a shame. The concert is gonna be ‘da bomb’.” She sighed. Ah well. Maybe Matt will want to go.

I was kind of starting to freak out a bit.

Either I was hallucinating from sheer wish fulfillment, or i was having near misses with my dream girl everywhere I went! Six different buildings on campus, six different times, and I saw here every time! Of course, I didn’t get to actually meet her, or talk to her, as that would have been too simple and easy. No...instead, I had six near misses, going into a room just as she was leaving through a different door, spying her on an elevator just as the door closed, or her walking down the hallway while I was in the elevator, just as the doors closed.

It was more than a little frustrating. And with me working on a definite time limit, I couldn’t exactly drop everything to go chase her down. It was...almost as if fate were pushing me along, leading me, and preparing me for our eventual meeting. Which, I suppose, I couldn’t discount as a possibility. Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now, I told myself as I made my way up to the third floor office of the math department. I can either stress myself out to the point where I’m a basket case, or I can focus on the task at hand, get my credits transferred, and worry about tracking her down once I’m done. Given the choices, I chose the latter.

“Ah, Mr. Frasier, come right in,” Mr. Evans, my Calculus professor, said, gesturing for me to step inside. “Miss Daphne over at administration said you’d be coming by. She said you were needing my permission to have your grades transferred over to the University of Portland.” He shook his head. “That’s really a pity. I’ve been looking over your grades, and they are exceptional. Why are you wanting to leave us?”

“Um, I’m not leaving, per se, since I don’t actually attend here.” I replied, glancing down at my watch. Four thirty-five. Less than half an hour before closing time, “I took all my classes online.“

“Oh?” he said, glancing over his notes. “Huh...I guess you are. Interesting. Still, whether or not you actually attended classes here, you’re still my student. It’s disappointing to know you’re transferring to a school like U of P. Losing you will drop the entire department’s GPA down.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry about that. But I’m trying for my medical degree, and I missed the final exam held here last week. So it’s either wait around ’til next semester to try again, or transfer my credits to Portland and take the exam there next month.” Speaking of which...tick tock tick tock, “So, um...if you could just sign this form, please?”

Mr. Evans sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, looking for all the world to be utterly inconvenienced by the act, but he did, finally sign. “Tell me son,” he said holding the signed form, looking it over slowly, drawing things out just a bit longer. “Your scores in this class were just...phenomenal...and you’re not even a math major. You said you’re field of study is pre-med, right? So...why Calculus? Why not something easier?”

I shrugged. “This was an easy course for me. I needed some more electives to fill out my schedule so I picked Calculus.” He gaped at me in disbelief. “Look, my dad is an engineer, and my mom is a physics professor. By the time I was three years old, I knew more numbers than I did words. And I have a pretty good memory, so memorizing my multiplication tables early on made everything else so much easier.“

“Memorized, huh?” the professor replied, dubiously. “So, if I asked you the product of any two numbers, you’d know them without having to use a calculator, is that what you’re telling me?”

I sighed, already seeing where this was heading. “Look, Mr. Evans, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a deadline here. If you could just—”

“What’s thirty-five times seventeen?”

“Five hundred and ninety-five. Look, Mr. Evans—”

“Sixty-three times fifty-seven?”

I sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Three thousand, five hundred and ninety-one. But—”

“What about the square root of five thousand one hundred and eighty-four?” he asked, an awestruck expression on his face.

“Seventy-two!” I growled, planting a hand on his desk. “Now, are we done with the dog and pony show? I have a deadline, and the administration office is closing in twenty minutes!” I forced myself to calm down. “Look...sir. I’m sorry I snapped. But I’ve been here a week trying to get this transfer taken care of, and I’m not looking forward to spending another week here, okay?”

“Yeah...of course,” he said numbly, handing over the paper. “But seriously, son. You should reconsider becoming a math major. With a mind like yours, you would be a great computer analyst or a physicist, or chemist...or any of the sciences!”

I sighed softly as I left his office. There was no need to mention that I already had a degree in computer science and technology and an associate degree in physics. This wasn’t about finding my niche, or getting a nice cushy high paying job. I knew what I wanted to do, and I wanted to help people. I wanted to save lives. Maybe I was naive to think I would be able to pursue anything in the medical field with all I had going against me, but I was damned well willing to try. And if I gave up after just a little bad luck and some minor annoyances, then I wasn’t committed enough for this anyway.

Those were my thoughts as I sprinted down the stairs, heading for the exit, glancing again at my watch. Shit...takes fifteen minutes to cross the campus back to administrations...I’ll be cutting it close. I just hope nothing else happens to make me late—

And then I ran into my dream girl.

Literally.

“HEY! Watch out!” I yelped, colliding with a tall, dark haired, long limbed vision of beauty, coming out of the door to my left. I skidded to a halt, checking my momentum slightly, but not enough to avoid a crash. She yelped in surprise, knocked back and off her feet. She was wearing a dark red blouse and a blue jean skirt with cute little ankle boots. As she toppled back from the collision, I got a startling clear view of the cream colored panties she was wearing as well, as the edge of her skirt caught on the metal edge of the bulletin board behind her, snagging, causing it to ride up high around her waist as she fell. We both sat there on the floor, momentarily dazed, her from the sudden impact, and me from the view.

Not exactly the kind of first meeting I’d envisioned, to say the least. And things downgraded swiftly once she looked up and noticed where I’d fallen, and what I was staring at. “AHHHH! You fucking pervert!” she screeched, crab walking back, pulling at her skirt, trying to bring it back down to cover herself. Red-faced in embarrassment, I regained my feet, trying to help by getting her skirt unstuck, only to have her bat my hands away. “Stop that...get away....don’t touch me...BACK OFF!” she yelled, jerking back hard, freeing her skirt...and pulling the bulletin board free from the wall with a loud crash.

Ah, shit.

A quick glance at my watch reminded me of the time. Wincing, I glanced down at the mess, then up at the angry face of my beloved, and sighed. “Sorry...I’m really sorry about this,” I said backing away, “but I really have to run. I’ll...make this up to you somehow. I promise!” With that I ran, wincing again as she let loose with a loud rant of some kind cut off as the outside door closed behind me.

Today was Angela’s regular visit to the GrimTech biotech plant. The Senior VP was making the rounds, playing mother hen to her researchers. It was late afternoon, and she had talked to all the research directors now, looking out for stressers and bureaucratic bullshit and other types of subtle blockers that prevented creative people from doing their best work. She liked this part of the work, but sometimes it was hard to convince some of her senior managers that “less is more” when it comes to managing scientists. She was tired, and happy to be done.

Now it was time for fun. Ajay Banerjee always seemed to be working on something fascinating, so she knocked on the open door of his lab to get his attention. It was a good thing too because he was so intently focused on...something, that the sudden noise made him flinch in his chair. If she had walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder, or worse, just started talking, he probably would have ruined several thousand dollars worth of expensive lab equipment. He rounded on her with a look of annoyance on his face, and, seeing who it was, transmuted his expression into a big friendly grin.

“Angela! Great to see you!” he said, rising to give his friend and boss a hug, “Is it Friday already?”

“Oooo, whatever you’re working on there must be first rate! You’re losing track of days again. C’mon, give. What is it?”

“Yesterday we found something...unexpected...in a blood sample that came to us from LHC Labs for secondary analysis.”

LHC was one of several standard medical processing labs that had a special arrangement with GrimTech for analysis of “unusual” specimens.

“Okay,” said Angela, pulling out her reading glasses, “What did you find?”

“Well, if I didn’t know better,” said the small dark man, “I would say that someone out there had produced a variant of our Artifact Q41-b.”

Angela gasped, “That’s impossible, It never left the lab until earlier this week, and it took us 8 months to synthesize THAT.”

“Right. That’s why I say ‘if I didn’t know better’. If this were an outgrowth of our work, the person who did it would have to have time travel, and probably four or five other ridiculously impossible technologies.”

“So, a psychoactive proto-virus? DNA-altering? Is it virulent?”

“Whoa, Angela, one at a time, please!” Ticking off on his fingers he answered her questions, “One—Yes—Psychoactive, but also active in lots of other organs. Two—No—It works mostly through RNA, not DNA. And Three—No—It reproduces just enough to saturate the body, but not enough to become infectious. Here, let me show you.”

He turned his computer monitor to give her a better view and entered lecture mode. What she saw was a roughly spherical microscopic object covered with knobby protuberances. “Notice the steady outflow from the virus. The knobs seem to be surface enzymes that are capturing the outflowing chemical, whatever it is, and converting it.”

“Converting it into what?” asked Angela.

“That’s the thing. It’s mostly messenger RNA, but it’s different RNA depending on where it is. The virus seems to know not only what kind of tissue it’s in, but if it’s BRAIN tissue, it even knows what part of the brain it’s in.”

“WHAT?!?” shouted Angela, “How the fuck does it know THAT?”

“I’m just beginning to get a handle on that right now. Notice how the virus is attached right up against the cell wall?”

“Yeah...”

“It’s sending out a steady stream of encoded RNA through the cell wall out into the surrounding environment.”

“Okaaaaay...”

“And here’s the kicker! It’s also RECEIVING encoded RNA from other viruses through that same cell wall interface.”

“NO!”

“YES!”

“Oh my God! It’s the fucking descolada!!“

“The what?”

“’Speaker for the Dead’. Orson Scott Card,” said Angela, “Homophobic asshole but a brilliant writer. He posited a disease germ called the descolada that was intelligent and communicated through marker molecules. Although I don’t think the intelligent part was in the first book though; that reveal was in one of the sequels.“

“I see. Well, this isn’t quite that good. The communication isn’t anything like natural language, it’s more like networking protocols, like the virus is following some sort of programming, and it’s networking with the other viruses to figure out which programming path to take.”

Angela’s expression suddenly grew deadly serious. “I concur, Dr. Banerjee.”

Ajay’s expression now mirrors his boss’s. “Thank you, Dr. Prentiss. A profound insight.”

Angela could no longer keep a straight face. They both broke down into helpless laughter. They were two big kids, playing with amazing toys, having the most fun they’ve ever had in their lives. And everyone thinks we science geeks are all such stiff robots, thought Angela, God, if they only knew the half of it!

Eventually they regained a modicum of self-control and were able to continue. “Okay,” said Angela, “So now we know how it knows where it is. Then what?”

“It seems to be focusing mostly on the language centers, the pleasure center, the cerebellum and the frontal lobe.”

“Okay, language, fun, motor control, and will power. Seems like there’s a lot that could be done with that combination.”

“Right. So I sent some questions back down the line. I wanted to find out what the symptoms were that prompted the doctor to take the blood sample.”

“And? Don’t leave me hanging, Ajay!”

“Obsession with sex. Reflexive sexual aggression. Speech tics. Inability to concentrate. And, um, stupidity. And those are just the initial symptoms.”

“What? Bimbofication?”

“It seems that way, but unlike the typical fetish trope it also seems to affect men the same way.”

“Oh, SHIT!”

“You haven’t heard the worst yet. LHC sent us 20 more samples today with the same markers. And five other affiliated labs have started sending us samples with these markers.”

“And think, Ajay, THAT’s just the people with the presence of mind to go to the doctor!”

“Oh, God no!” said Ajay, “I didn’t even think about that! This city is going to be hip deep in brainless satyrs and nymphos in DAYS!”

“Not if we can help it. There’s got to be a way. What about this base chemical that the virus secretes, the one that it transmutes into RNA? Is there a way to co-opt it? Disrupt it? Neutralize it?”

“Angela, we don’t even know what it is! It’s highly volatile, the portions that aren’t transmuted decay almost immediately. But I agree, whatever that secretion is, it’s probably the key to the whole thing. If we could get a sample of that, we’d be home free.”

“Okay, then. This is your department’s ONLY priority. Pull in whatever resources you need. If anyone argues, send them to me. We’re running on negative time, Ajay, don’t let ANYTHING to get in your way.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m on it.”

As Angela left Ajay’s lab, her mind was spinning in a million different directions at once. But at the top of her heap was her duty as a corporate officer and a loyal harem slave. Nigel’s got to know about this. RIGHT NOW. she pulled out her cell phone.

“Constance? Hi honey, Code Red...No, absolutely immediately...I can be there in,” She’s checked the time. The last thing I need now is to get caught in rush hour traffic!, “thirty minutes. Or if Barney can meet me on the roof with the chopper, I can be there five minutes after that...He’s free? Great, I’m heading up now. Thanks, Constance. Whatever we’re paying you, we should double it...Orgasms?” A goofy grin spread across Angela’s face. “Well, if you insist! Love you. See you soon.“

As she got off of the elevator, a thin pale man got in. Angela was in a hurry so it took her a minute to realize something was off. I didn’t recognize him at all, but I should know anybody with that color badge. And was he carrying a silver clarinet? No, he must be one of mine. That’s just too, too strange a thing for anyone but a researcher to be carrying around with him. Too bad Richard Feynman isn’t around anymore; he could accompany the guy on bongos. Still with that badge I really ought to know him. Maybe my memory is finally starting to go. It’s about time. I gave up the Tear a decade ago; I should be showing SOME signs of aging.

As Angela climbed the stairs, she resolved to say something about it to the helipad guard when she got to the roof, just to be on the safe side. But when she opened the door she saw that Barney was already landing. Well, he hurried for me; I shouldn’t keep him waiting. It’s probably nothing anyway.

And so the end of another wonderful day in the city of Provo.

As expected, I made it back to the administration building at a minute past five o’clock. Mr. Evans, and my little accident had cost me precious time, and made me late. Daphne, sweet blessed soul that she was, knew of my plight, however, and met me at the door when I arrived. She’d stayed behind to finish getting the transfer done, so I wouldn’t have to go through another week with it hanging over my head. Once the final grade was submitted and sent over, and confirmed at U of P, I was so happy I picked her up, spun her around like a rag doll, and kissed her on the cheek.

Afterwards, blushing, she asked me if I had any plans for the weekend, and slipped her address and phone number into my pocket.

Nevertheless, I was a happy man as I made my way across campus to the Student Union Building, or SUB, as they called it. I’d parked Jenny there, as it was the central location of all my running around, and it was easier than trying to drive her back and forth around all the twisty half-roads and avenues to get from one class to another. Back at my car, I paused, placing a hand against my rumbling stomach. In my hurry to get things taken care of before the close of the business day, I’d neglected to eat lunch. Turning on my heel, I decided to stop in and grab a quick bite on campus rather than driving across the city to dine at a restaurant.

Stepping inside, I found myself actually smiling a bit. Ahhh... college life. The SUB was pretty much the nexus of student living on campus, with loud music blaring, students or all ages and backgrounds sitting together, talking, eating, playing on their laptops or Kindles, or whatever, just hanging out together. I took a moment to soak it all in, feeling a momentary pang that I’d pretty much missed this entire experience, having taken all of my classes at home, online. I wasn’t much of a social animal, but even so I wasn’t the introverted loner I used to be. Shaking off the momentary melancholy I’d felt, I walked over to the cafeteria and slipped into line, ordering a simple double-burger with fries. Waiting, humming softly to myself, I had a moment to ponder this strange—well, strange for me, anyway—feeling of happiness and contentment.

“—don’t fucking believe this guy. You just would not believe!” a familiar young female voice sounded behind me as the door to the SUB opened. I turned, and gaped in surprise as my dream girl entered, talking to two other girls, a tall willowy redhead in glasses, and a statuesque blonde whose bangs hung down, slightly covering her left eye. “Talk about grody! And a fucking pervert to boot! I mean, he just bowls me over, and squats there, staring at my panties, THEN starts groping at me, trying to feel me up!”

Oh. Good feeling gone. It probably wasn’t possible to blush any hotter than I currently was without spontaneously combusting. The girl I’d waited my whole life to meet thought I was some kind of disgusting pervert. Worse, she didn’t even seem to know me, as if her memory of my identity and face is as blocked as my memory of her name. I wanted nothing more than to slink away, find a rock somewhere and burrow underneath it. Apparently, my little imps felt the disappointed as well, and expressed their displeasure in the usual way as the vintage jukebox over in the far corner shorted out for no reason, shooting out sparks.

Great. Guess I’ll be paying for that, too.

“Whoa! What in the...” she exclaimed, jerking back, her movement turning her to face me directly. Our eyes met, and her went wide, then narrowed in suspicion. “It...it’s him! The pervert!” And the blush I thought couldn’t possibly burn any hotter went supernova as every eye on the place turned on me. “What...did you follow me here, or something? I know where I’ve seen you now—you’ve been following me all over the campus! Is that it? You’re not just a pervert but a stalker as well?”

“He...hey! I’m not a pervert,” I protested, sounding particularly lame even to my own ears. “And...I’m not a stalker, either. I was here before you were.”

“Huh. You probably heard me talking about coming here with my friends,” she sneered, flipping her hair. “Or are you trying to tell me you just happened to be everywhere I was all day today? That it was all just a coincidence?”

There are no such thing as coincidences. “No, not a coincidence,” I said, feeling bold, taking advantage of the situation. “Only destiny.” I reached out and took her hand, staring into her eyes, willing her to remember me. “And I believe we are each other’s destin—ooooffff!”

The crowd let out a loud ‘ooooohhh’ in sympathy as I slid slowly to the ground, my face no longer flushed, but suddenly pale, my breath stuck in my lungs as my entire body seized up. Now, I’m pretty tough. I’ve taken bullets, laser blasts, and explosions and not been knocked off my feet. But let me tell you something: I don’t care if you’re Moltrin, Steel Man, or Stonewall bleeping Jackson, if you have any feeling there whatsoever, getting kicked in the nuts will floor you. Period. As I fell over onto my side, curling into the fetal position amidst the laughter and hooting of the crowd of onlookers, I wondered idly what god or deity, Big or small, I must have pissed off to have something like this happen.

And there, in the depths of my despair, a voice called out, like an angel’s laugh, the sound of happiness and joy, and goodness, and everything right in the world.

“Oh my god, Dee, what on Earth have you done?!?”

I glanced up then, my vision blurred slightly through tears of pain and...embarrassment...to see an impossible sight. It was her...again. The same lustrous black hair, soft dusky skin, hazel green eyes, beautiful lips, and incredible body...but somehow more. Slimmer, trimmer, more sexy and beautiful and alluring....compared to the other girl—her sister? Maybe—it was now like night and day. And as she turned, and our eyes met—

spark

—and suddenly I knew why the other girl and I hadn’t connected. Devon. Her name, pealing inside my head like every bell in the Sistine Chapels ringing at once. This was the girl I’d dreamed of for nearly all my life, the one I’d been searching for. The missing piece of my soul.

“Jimmy...” she said, breathless, dropping down onto one knee. “It’s you, isn’t it? It’s really you? You’re here?”

I nodded, breaking out into a wide smile despite my current condition. Suddenly, a lifetime of failures and disappointments no longer mattered. This...this one moment, being able to be with Devon like this, in the flesh...this balanced the scales. I was here with her. After a lifetime apart, we were together. Even though I was hundreds of miles away from River City, I felt like I’d finally come home.