The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

January 1962

“Maybe Lloyd guessed somehow,” hypothesized Susan. The comment came out of left field, interrupting Alexandra’s stilted description of her wedding planning progress. The only other news we had to share was that Dr. Reynolds had talked to Dr. Fredrekksen, with the result that Susan was officially part of our research team now.

I gazed appreciatively at the brunette. The thought was ridiculous, but she’d changed her hair over the break. Susan was no Alexandra, but she was attractive—especially once she’d come out of her shell—and I’d thought more than once letting her hair down would look better—a good guess on my part. I was sure Alexandra spent hours each morning perfecting that professional look before she set foot outside.

“Guessed how they’d answer the survey? Don’t be ridiculous, Susan!” exclaimed the blonde, echoing my thought. “We took people in the order they came in, randomly. And even if that weren’t true, how could he possibly know what they’d think?” She smiled, which was like a laugh for Alexandra. “That perm didn’t get to your brain, did it?”

Susan huffed. “Well, we didn’t think of anything better last year! Besides, it would be easy enough to test, right?”

“No,” Alexandra and I replied in unison. It was scary, sometimes, how similar we could be; if she would just take the chip off her shoulder and thaw out a little bit... “I don’t have any way to guess what people are thinking,” I objected after Alexandra gave me a wave.

“Oh, poo!” Susan dismissed our concerns. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Would you rather be building up calluses with your slide rules? Just try it!” She laughed. “I volunteer to be your test subject.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” cautioned Alexandra, but it looked like she was trying not to laugh. “We’ve all been over this data so many times that I bet all of us could recite answers in our sleep.” Standing, she added, “if you want to do this, I’m going to find a subject—this is my research, after all.”

“Okay,” Susan assented, “but I’ll do the survey, and you’ll watch both me and Lloyd to make sure we aren’t cheating or influencing anything.”

Susan and I spent a few minutes clearing the table and pulling out one of the survey photo decks before Alexandra returned with a student in tow. “Do any of you know each other?” she asked.

All of us, and the student, shook our heads. He sat at the table across from Susan, and I took a seat at Alexandra’s desk where I could see his face and the pictures, but not what he was writing. Alexandra hovered like a parochial school nun, ready to dispense corporal punishment to unruly students.

“Okay,” Susan smiled, and launched into the standard introduction. “This is just an opinion survey—there are no right or wrong answers; what we are interested in is what you, personally, think. I’m going to show you a series of pictures, in pairs. All you need to do is look at each pair, and note which image you prefer.”

I studied the student, Robert, while Susan ran through the introductory demographic questions, and tried to get a feel for him. He just looked like some random undergrad who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and couldn’t say “no” to a beautiful girl. Susan’s suggestion was ridiculous, but I wasn’t going to open myself up for any grief from Alexandra by giving it less than my best effort.

As Alexandra had alluded, I already had the photo decks memorized, so I was free to devote all of my attention to Robert, concentrating on his face, and looking down to note a choice just after he made his. President Kennedy or Reverend King? Ocean waves or a hillside meadow? A kitten or a puppy? A blonde or a brunette? A swath of tartan, or one with polka dots? Alexandra knelt beside me at one point, apparently to make sure I couldn’t see which column he was marking, but remained silent the entire time.

“Darn!” Susan interjected unexpectedly when she reached the end. “Somebody left the deck out of order; number 1 got rotated to the end by mistake. What do we do now?”

“Well, we’re not doing this again,” I voted. Maybe my eyes needed checking, because after 30 minutes of this I had a splitting headache.

“Just make a note on the forms, Susan,” Alexandra decided, “and we can correct the data when we analyze it. Thank you very much for your time, Robert.” After he left, she gave Susan and me a new set of blanks and we quickly copied the two spoiled sheets, moving each answer down one space and pulling the last up to the top so they would correspond to our existing data.

The three of us gathered around the table and stared at the results. I admit I was thinking mostly about where I could get some aspirin.

“Sugar,” a disappointed Susan said, “it’s not even worth running the numbers. I don’t think even half of them matched—are you sure weren’t trying to lose, Lloyd?”

“Unbelievable,” Alexandra breathed in a very different tone of voice. She found a column of data and laid it beside Robert’s survey; even at a cursory glance it was clear they were very similar to each other. “What are the odds?”

I looked more closely and saw the new data was the aggregate data from “my” demographic group. The alignment was as inexplicable as my predictive performance was expected; Alexandra had pulled this guy out of the hallway, but she might just as well have pulled the data from the folder on her desk! “I need a drink,” I moaned, wishing hard for the day to be over.

“I agree,” Alexandra chimed in unexpectedly, and an excited Susan squealed assent and grabbed for her coat before either of us could change our minds.

We ended up in a booth at Nino’s, nursing beers while we waited for our burgers and fries. Apparently, having an unofficial chaperone in Susan was sufficient to get past Alexandra’s defenses. I caught one or two envious glances from guys who saw me with the two girls; if only they’d heard the conversation!

Alexandra started out worrying over the practical impossibility we’d just encountered, then loosened up enough to start worrying about whether she’d be able to keep ahead of the wedding preparations and live up to her family’s and fiancee’s expectations for it.

The guy sounded like a pompous prick, frankly, which might make him a good match for Alexandra Sullivan the Ice Queen but not somebody I’d want to marry. Luckily, all I needed to do was maintain a noncommittal expression while Susan made sympathetic noises and Alexandra spilled more personal information in an hour than she had in weeks.

We didn’t resolve anything, but I stumped back to my room feeling better than I had—at least I didn’t have Alexandra’s problems! I told Mrs. Hudson I’d already had dinner and went up to flip through the professor’s notes for my class the next day before going to sleep.

I tromped through an inch of fresh snow the next morning, determined to take another look at Robert’s survey with a clear head before heading off to my first class. I remembered that Alexandra had a lecture that hour, but it appeared that Susan had decided to come in early, too.

“Ha!” she exclaimed when I appeared in the office doorway. “I knew it!”

“Knew what?” I asked, hanging up my coat and hat. The radiator wouldn’t catch up enough for me to remove the sweater until much later in the day.

“I knew you were sandbagging,” Susan laughed, “look!” She gestured at the paperwork spread out on the table.

I sat down heavily. Susan had matched up my original response sheet with Robert’s and our aggregate data. “Matched up” was the right term—my results were exactly on the baseline, and Robert was in the 99th percentile.

“Why didn’t we see this before?” she crowed. “When we consider the pictures you thought you were looking at, you’re an exact match! I mean, exact!”

“I never actually took the survey myself, before yesterday,” I said weakly, and looked up again. “How is this even possible?” I couldn’t dispute the facts, even if I couldn’t explain them.

“Maybe it’s mind control!” giggled Susan, and she made vaguely threatening gestures with her arms.

“Oh, come on!” My headache felt like it was coming back again. “I really wish you wouldn’t mention that to anybody,” I told her, dreading the thought of Alexandra hearing that hypothesis.

“Let’s find out! Let’s do the survey again!” Susan was like some kid who’d had too much sugar to eat.

I shook my head. “That won’t work. Alexandra’s right; we both know the survey data too well.” I could help laughing faintly as I poked my response sheet, which proved the point.

“Well, make me do something,” Susan suggested.

“Bark like a dog,” I offered.

“I’m serious!” she snapped at me.

I sighed and considered her. She really did look much better with her hair down, although the bulky sweater she was wearing didn’t do her figure any favors. It was a pretty nice figure, when I thought about it. What I did next I chalked up solely to being a man who’d gone too long without getting any satisfaction.

“Show me your tits,” I commanded, trying on my best vampire-like hypnotic gaze.

“Lloyd!”

I think we both blushed as I stammered an apology. “I’m really sorry, Susan; I shouldn’t have said that.” At least she wasn’t running out of the room or screaming. “I guess I just let my hormones get the better of me.” Just for good luck, I added, “I wanted to try something you wouldn’t do normally, just for a test.”

Susan looked only slightly mollified, but she nodded.

I was thankful that Susan didn’t say anything about the incident to Alexandra, but it was curious that she didn’t bring up her research breakthrough either. More curiously, I didn’t mention it, although my original survey was buried in my briefcase now. I told myself I just wanted to think things over before getting Alexandra all excited, but I wasn’t really sure that was it. There was no way Susan’s wild suggestion could be true, right?

That night, I jerked off before going to sleep, trying my best to keep the squeaking of the old bedsprings to a minimum. The mental picture of a tranced Susan slowly unfastening her nightgown had me cumming like a fire hose.

Wednesday started off bright and early with a status conference with Dr. Reynolds, which maybe boosted his spirits but nobody else’s. After that, we went our own ways for the rest of the morning. Following lunch, I finally gathered my courage and pulled out my survey sheet.

“Hey,” I told Alexandra, “you should see what Susan found.” I figured it wouldn’t hurt to skip over the delay in sharing the information, and I was giving credit where it was due.

“My gosh, Susan,” gasped the blonde, but she wasn’t looking at the paper. “Are you going out somewhere?”

The brunette had just removed her sweater, revealing a very tight top that showcased all of her curves and was cut low enough that it really should have been left for summer. I wouldn’t have complained in any circumstances, but just then my mind was racing. Did I have anything to do with this? That it was just coincidence seemed extremely unlikely, but the alternative was totally unbelievable.

“No, why?” Susan asked. “But, Alexandra, look!” she continued, bending over the table to point. Alexandra’s eyes followed the finger; mine followed the breasts that swayed to reveal even more cleavage between them. If she hadn’t been wearing a bra, I don’t know what would have happened.

“I don’t believe it!” Alexandra gasped, as quick on the uptake as I had been. She turned accusing eyes on me. “How did you do this, Lloyd?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered, thinking I was starting to sound like a broken record. “Honestly! You were right beside me the entire time.” I could see the wheels turning in her mind.

“You know,” Alexandra mused, “if you accept this is happening at all, it’s a lot more likely they’re somehow being influenced than it is that all these people just coincidentally have nearly identical opinions.”

“That’s just what I think!” burst out Susan, as if hearing the words had released something inside her.

For my part, I wanted to pound my head against the wall. Even if any of this was true, the last thing I wanted was to be poked and studied and commented on like some exotic bug in a jar. “Look,” I said heavily, “I don’t know what’s going on, either. But can we please not go talking to people about this; at least until we understand what’s really happening?” I put on my best pleading, hangdog expression and strained to convey my sincerity and desire. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” Susan asked, while Alexandra eyed me warily.

“A headache,” I explained. “Do either of you have any aspirin? I think this entire line of conversation is hurting my brain.” I’d always seemed to be prone to stress headaches, and this qualified as a stressful situation in my book. Susan turned and started rummaging in her desk.

Alexandra sighed. “Believe me; it’s hurting my brain, too. We’ll stay quiet, for now.” Susan nodded her agreement and handed me a few pills, which I gulped dry. “This is still my research project, and I have no greater desire to become a laughingstock than do you. The question is, what do we do now?”

We all stared at each other silently. “Can you put on your sweater, Susan?” Alexandra asked after watching my eyes slide sideways for the second or third time.

Susan shrugged, delightfully, and pulled on the cardigan. She didn’t say anything, but I had the impression she knew I was watching and liked it. I wasn’t a dork or anything, but it had been awhile since a girl had flirted with me. “What now, indeed?”

“Don’t look at me!” Alexandra held her head in her hands. “I’m supposed to be writing a psychology dissertation, not...”

“Science Fiction?” I suggested, wryly.

“Um. Human physiology or neurology might be better, but we’re all equally unqualified for any of them, anyway. This is really stupid, you know— what are we going to do, test on each other?”

In retrospect, of course, it was amazing we were even having the conversation. We were all suspicious I was somehow influencing people, and Alexandra at least had to be wondering why Susan had decided to wear that top. If I were some coed, the last thing I’d do was invite some boy to experiment on me, no matter how well-behaved he’d been up to that point.

I could only hypothesize that I’d always tried to be a trustworthy person, and that without knowing I was even doing anything, I’d influenced people to trust me rather than simply demonstrating I was trustworthy, as I’d thought. It hurt to think about, but I wasn’t thinking about it then. My cock was thinking about all the things I could do, and my conscience was thinking about all the things I shouldn’t even be thinking about.

“Well, if we’re keeping it private, we don’t have too many options,” opined Susan, heedless of my private musings. “If you’re the principal investigator, Alexandra, and obviously Lloyd can’t be the subject, then I guess that leaves me.” She turned her attention to me. “We just need to be methodical and only try things we all agree to.”

“Of course,” Alexandra agreed, ignorant of the subtext of Susan’s warning. “But first, Lloyd, I’d like to know everything that was going through your head on Monday.”

The remainder of the afternoon was rather dull, as the girls peppered me with questions I couldn’t answer about things I’d never even thought about before. I had to admire the way Alexandra’s mind worked; several of her questions were extremely insightful and bore thinking on, even when I couldn’t answer them satisfactorily.

I did some of that thinking later that evening, between stroke sessions. Apparently, my track record as an upstanding young man was due to lack of opportunity rather than moral character. I would tell myself I shouldn’t be doing this, feel guilty for a minute, and then resume working the angles while my cock got hard again. It got even harder when I remembered that I’d be alone with Susan the next morning.

Feeling remarkably chipper, and glad my coat concealed my erection as well as keeping me warm, I took the stairs two at a time the next morning, speeding past slower or less awake students. The office door was closed, but I could see the light was on inside, suggesting Susan was there before me.

“Hi, Lloyd,” Susan greeted me. “Does it seem like the radiator is working better today?” She’d already taken off her sweater and turned around as I closed the door behind me. The radiator definitely wasn’t any warmer than usual, but Susan was looking pretty hot. Her top was as tight as the previous day, but she’d obviously gone without a bra and her nipples were threatening to poke holes in the knit fabric.

I swallowed twice before answering. “I don’t think it’s that warm, Susan; you should put your sweater on before you catch cold.” Or somebody else saw her, I thought to myself.

One thing we’d all agreed on was that whatever I did, it didn’t have anything to do with verbalization; I’d never said a single word beyond “hello” and “goodbye” to Robert. So, while I fumbled with my coat and Susan reluctantly pulled on her cardigan, I thought furiously about how great her breasts looked, how much I wanted to see them, and how much my aching penis needed relief.

“I think I’m having trouble with this button,” Susan announced with a crooked smile. The cardigan was fastened up to the bottom of her bust, but gaped at the top—emphasizing rather than obscuring her breasts. “Can you look at it for me?”

I nodded breathlessly. Fantasizing about it was one thing, but I guess subconsciously I still didn’t believe any of this was real, and I hadn’t thought ahead to what would happen if my suggestions worked. It looked like I’d have to approach it like any other normal guy, and just make things up as I went along.

Susan walked over to me, although it wasn’t exactly a normal walk, until her chest was nearly touching mine. “See?”

I certainly did. My hands were trembling slightly as I reached out and pulled the top of the sweater tight against the swell of her breasts. The button looked okay, but surprisingly the sweater looked too small to reach. I could feel Susan’s body moving slightly as she breathed. My cock was pressing hard against my slacks, but we were so close together there was no way she could see it, even if she hadn’t been looking at my hands.

Holding my breath, I made another attempt to tug the cardigan into place. Not only did I fail again, the change in tension apparently popped the second button on her top—when it came loose, the buttons on either side did too, suddenly revealing a scandalous amount of pale skin.

“Oh!” Susan shrieked. Her hands flew up to cover herself, but bounced off mine and failed to catch the edges of the top. She ended up pressing her tits together, revealing dark nipples peeking out between spread fingers.

“Jesus, Susan!” It had all happened so quickly I was still frozen in position, hands grasping at thin air. I might have had a heart attack, except I could see the safely closed office door over her shoulder.

She giggled softly. “They’re kind of a handful, aren’t they?” Susan leaned forward into me, dropping her hands, until I could feel her nubs pressing against my chest. “So are you,” she sighed, her voice husky, and I jumped as she suddenly squeezed my rigid organ through my trousers.

I reached for her wrist, but Susan intercepted my hand and routed it to her tit. It was warm and silky smooth beneath my fingers, and she moaned entrancingly when I caressed it. I kissed her, both to muffle the moan and because I could. Unlike my fantasies, we groped each other for only a minute or two before her firm grip coaxed me into firing a big load in my underwear.

We grinned at each other. I hadn’t made it to home base today, but I was pretty confident I’d be getting there sooner rather than later, and enjoying the trip. What Susan was thinking I didn’t know, but it was clear she’d enjoyed the experience, too.

“I think I ruined Yelena’s blouse,” Susan said, looking at the button dangling literally by a thread and apparently uncaring of her exposed state.

She was a sight worth looking at, but I was more worried about my trousers. “I don’t think I’ve ruined my pants, yet. I’m going to go visit the restroom and clean up, okay?”

“You can’t open the door while I’m like this—people might see!” exclaimed Susan, wide-eyed.

I couldn’t help laughing. “What about me?”

“It’s not funny, Lloyd. I wanted to show off for you, not the whole world.”

“I appreciate the thought,” I said, suddenly distracted. “But what made you decide to show me today? You seemed a little angry about it a couple days ago.”

“You didn’t ask very nicely. I’m a lady, not some piece of meat you just order around.” Susan shrugged, making her breasts jiggle in interesting ways. “I thought about it, and it seemed exciting, especially since I knew you’d be receptive and I could trust you not to handle it badly.”

Part of me didn’t want to ask the next question, but Susan was a nice girl, and I was genuinely curious to hear her answer. “Do you think I— you know—made you do it?”

She considered it. “I don’t think so.” Susan pursed her lips. “I know I thought about it last night, and planned what I was going to do. I didn’t feel compelled, or anything like that.” Her face showed a faint blush, which was interesting. “But really, how would I know for sure?”

Susan continued, more thoughtfully. “I’ve never done anything like this before”—she laughed—“but a girl can’t be prim and proper all the time. Except maybe Alexandra! If you did have something to do with it, you wouldn’t make me do anything bad, would you?”

I tried for a poker face and hoped the heat I felt wasn’t showing. “Alexandra said yesterday we’d only try things we all agreed to,” I answered, and then changed the subject. “I really need to clean up.”

“Oh, just a minute.” She showed me a devilish grin, and Susan’s suddenly dexterous fingers quickly unfastened the remaining buttons. She removed her top, giving me a full-frontal view of her body from the waist up, and pulled on her cardigan. “You can’t see anything now, can you?” she asked, as she fastened the sweater.

“Well, no,” I admitted, “but my imagination is running wild.”

“That’s the idea. Now go run along so we can get back to work.”

My briefs were a sticky mess. After some internal debate, I finally ended up removing them in one of the bathroom stalls. I wasn’t really comfortable going bare beneath my trousers, but I didn’t want to risk the moisture soaking through. I made a mental note to start packing a spare pair, too.

I made my way back to the office, only to discover Susan was talking with a student. I belatedly remembered she had office hours, and suffered a panic attack thinking of what could have happened if the guy had showed up earlier. I quickly changed my plans, and wandered down the hallway to dump my paper towel-wrapped underwear discreetly in a trash can before returning. There had to be a better way of handling this.

It took Susan a few more minutes to sooth her student’s angst regarding expected workload for the semester while I doodled on a notepad and thought. Afterwards, we had time to agree that we couldn’t afford to get caught messing around in the office, but nothing else of interest occurred before Alexandra arrived.

Coming off her early recitation section, she looked more frazzled than usual as she dumped a stack of homework assignments on her desk and collapsed in her chair. “I think this wedding is going to kill me,” she moaned, pushing a stray blonde tendril back behind her ear.

“What’s wrong?” asked Susan, who was always ready to hear details.

“What isn’t?” Alexandra asked the ceiling. “There’s some problem with the invitations, the hall wants a bigger deposit than we can really afford, and the outfits for the groomsmen are still up in the air.” She sighed and looked down again. “At least Jonathan is coming up this weekend and we’ll hopefully get everything squared away.”

I knew Jonathan—never just “Jon,” Heaven forbid—was her fiance. “That’s nice, but wouldn’t it be easier for you to go home instead?” I asked, trying to sound helpful.

Both women turned disdainful looks upon me. “With Connie and Danny both here too?” Susan asked, demonstrating she was on top of things.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, feeling like an idiot. Connie, Alexandra’s best friend and her maid of honor, was also enrolled in the graduate program. Her younger brother, Danny, was in his senior year and one of the groomsmen. Obviously I hadn’t been paying enough attention to their earlier conversations; that would have to change. “Sorry for putting my foot in it.”

Alexandra waved off the apology. “Don’t worry. I hear stupider questions in class, from people that are paying to ask them.” She shook her head and leaned back. “So—let’s talk about our other interesting problem, shall we?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I replied. I was thinking about it then, in fact; I was concentrating hard about trusting me. It was difficult, trying to do that and talk at the same time, but I hoped the women would just think I was choosing my words carefully.

I continued, “I see several issues with the experimental protocol. First, Susan and I were discussing this and there’s a fundamental problem with measuring impact, if any, on a knowing subject. It’ll be hard enough to figure out if there’s any influence in the first place, right?” The girls nodded, but Alexandra was frowning. “If we tell Susan what we’re going to try, how do any of us really know if she’s responding to what we told her instead of, um, other influences?”

Alexandra spoke up immediately. “Granted. But, Lloyd, testing on unsuspecting subjects is completely unethical—that’s why we’re not going to try anything all of us—especially Susan—haven’t agreed to!”

“I know,” I said, holding up my hands, “I know. I didn’t mean going behind her back. I just think that telling her exactly what I’m supposed to be trying to do will be counterproductive.”

“I have a suggestion,” Susan chimed in. “We can all agree on some general areas that are okay to explore, but I’ll give Alexandra my proxy to approve specific tests. That way I won’t know what exactly is supposed to happen.”

“That could work,” nodded Alexandra.

“I suppose I should start keeping a journal,” Susan mused. “That might make it easier to see if anything is happening, too.” I mumbled something approving.

“Excellent!” Alexandra smiled, and loosened up enough to attempt a small joke. “Where shall we start first? I swear, Susan, if you had worn that top again, I would have asked Lloyd to make you take it off—Yelena can wear what she likes, but I think it made you look cheap.” All of us smiled, and Alexandra, ignorant of the real joke, looked pleased at her success.

We spent the rest of the morning debating strategy and blocking out the high level steps we’d pursue next. All of us exerted a significant amount of intellectual effort and I found the session surprisingly engaging. We were reluctant to break up at lunchtime, but agreed Alexandra and I would meet privately the next day to plan our first experiment. It was disconcerting to feel the unexpected freedom of my penis when I stood up and recalled how the morning had started.

I was far from satisfied, but decided it made a lot of sense to stick largely to the plan we’d devised together until I knew more. A misstep would be embarrassing at best, and possibly far worse. Besides, I was in it for the long haul, not just a short-term fling.

It was about that point I realized, somewhat to my surprise, that I wanted Alexandra and intended to get her—even if I had to cheat. Sure, she was drop-dead gorgeous, but looks weren’t everything and she had that ice queen personality going on. Somewhere in the last month she’d kind of snuck up on me and I realized there was a first-class mind beneath those blonde locks, and an engaging personality if you got past her defenses.

Normally, the fact she was engaged to a guy who, judging by her ring, was a heck of a lot richer than I’d ever be would be considered an insurmountable obstacle. I told myself that women had changed their minds before, even without the sort of help I intended to provide. The trick would be to not screw up a good thing with a stupid mistake.

If there was anything to our guesses and it came to light, I could see myself locked up in some government lab for the rest of my life. If Alexandra realized anything like what I planned was happening, she’d leave and I’d be out of luck. Bumbling might leave me with a compliant body, bereft of the mind I admired. I could see already this wouldn’t just be science; it would be art, too. My cock lengthened in anticipation.

Dr. Reynolds was all smiles Friday morning after Alexandra told him, in suitably vague terms, that she was following some promising leads. I said little but tried different approaches to convey disinterest in Alexandra’s project; I didn’t want any more oversight if I could help it.

After our meeting was over, the two of us bundled up and trudged around the quad to the new annex, and then downstairs to the basement. “You live in a cave,” Alexandra commented when I showed her into my office and turned on the light.

“Yes, but it’s a warm cave,” I rejoined, hanging my coat and jacket on the rack appropriated from an office upstairs. The ceiling was a little low and there were no windows, but it was a little larger than her office and I didn’t have to share it with anybody. “I like it.” Brushing off my manners, I helped Alexandra remove her coat and hung it up, too. As usual, she was tastefully, if conservatively, dressed.

“Well, it might be more comfortable to work here during the winter,” admitted Alexandra, “but you conducted all the surveys in the Evans Building, right? I don’t want to introduce any more variables, at least at first.”

I nodded agreement. Alexandra’s original study was focused on basically emotional response—“do you like this more or less than that?”—and we strongly suspected I’d been able to affect those responses. What we didn’t know, and wanted to find out, was whether that was the limit of my alleged capabilities or not.

Consequently, we’d decided to try a sequence of trials to test my capability for emotional influence, intellectual influence, and physical influence. Susan wouldn’t know the specific tests, which Alexandra and I were about to discuss, or even the order in which I’d try them. When we met this afternoon, I’d try each for 10 minutes or until it was clear something had happened.

“Well, easy stuff first,” I said. “Write a word on a piece of paper, show it to me, and put it in your purse. I’ll try to communicate it to Susan.”

Alexandra grinned. “Easy?”

“Well, easy to think about and confirm,” I countered.

She produced a small address book, thought a moment, wrote something, and tore out the page to hand to me.

“Cyan?” I asked, returning it to her.

“It’s short and abstract,” said Alexandra, as she folded the paper and slipped it back into the address book. “You can’t cheat by sending a mental image of an object, and if you manage to project the color, Susan’s as likely to say ‘teal’ or ‘turquoise’—which would tell us something, too.”

I was impressed again, and said so. “Do you have any equally clever suggestions for the other tests?”

“Of course,” she replied. I had enough familiarity now to recognize her extremely dry and understated sense of humor, rather than confusing it for self-superiority. “I thought we’d go out to Nino’s again tonight— Jonathan wants to meet my school friends.”

I’m sure I looked blank as I processed the non-sequitur, my apparent promotion to “friend,” and Alexandra’s unconscious assumption that of course we’d be free on a Friday night. Not that she wasn’t right, at least in my case, but it was a little annoying.

“You remember the fry conversation from last time?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I answered, smiling now. Susan had been mock-horrified when Alexandra and I had “tainted” our fries by putting ketchup on them. She’d steadfastly refused to put anything on hers, insisting that ketchup was solely for burgers and meatloaf.

“Well, try to convince her she likes ketchup on French fries, and we’ll see what happens.”

I matched her wicked grin. “And Susan agreed to this?”

“In principle. It’s harmless—she likes fries, and she likes ketchup; just not together. Besides, she won’t be expecting it then, and it will be interesting to see both if she puts any ketchup on them in the first place, and what she does if she eats one.”

There was no question Alexandra had a twisty mind, and I reminded myself to tread extremely carefully before trying anything with her. “Won’t Susan be expecting something this afternoon?”

“I brought in some new lipsticks. I’ll ask her which one she likes best. It doesn’t matter which one she picks; just look disappointed and tell her it didn’t work. We can tell her about the real test after dinner.”

“I can do that,” I agreed. “You’re going to try them on, right?”

“Well, of course. How else would anybody know what the color really looks like?”

“Excuse me, I’m a guy.” I smiled. “How about if you have Susan try them on too, and I’ll see if I can make her hand jerk while she’s applying one? That should be easy to spot, and easy to clean up, too.”

“Great thought, Lloyd!” Alexandra flashed a brief smile that would have warmed me even if we’d been in her office rather than mine. “Now we just have to choose an order.”

“No problem,” I assured her, and fished a penny out of my pocket. “Heads, we do the lipstick first; tails, we try the word first.” I flipped it and it came up tails. “Anything else?”

“Just that it will be really important for you to note anything you can think of about what you try or any sensations you have.”

I nodded again. “Certainly. I think I’ll start keeping a journal, too.”

“We’ll see you about 4:00, then.” Alexandra rose and pulled on her coat before I could get there to help, and exited without any further conversation.

I know I did useful things that day, and even attended a lecture, but nothing stuck in my mind. All I could think of was my afternoon appointment.

Exactly on time, I strolled into their office and hung up my coat. Both of the girls looked a little nervous, but I couldn’t blame them because I felt the same way, too. “Hey, calm down, ladies. I think I’m the one on trial here.”

“Right,” Alexandra said, and settled herself in her chair.

Susan followed suit. She was looking good in another cardigan, more form-fitting than others I remembered but not tight. What, if anything, might be beneath it I couldn’t tell.

“If you’re ready, Lloyd?”

I pulled a composition book and pen out of my briefcase, and leaned back in my chair. I was tenser than I’d expected, and took a deep breath to try and calm myself. “Go ahead.”

Alexandra briefly consulted the notes in front of her. I saw the folded page torn from her address book sitting on the tabletop, but she didn’t refer to it or glance at it. “Okay, Susan, we’re going to start now.”

That was the last thing any of us said for ten minutes. We all looked at each other, occasionally scribbling a brief note, while I thought “CYAN” as hard as I could and stared at Susan.

“Time,” Alexandra spoke softly into the silence. I had a bit of a headache from concentrating so hard, but nothing seemed to have happened. Susan opened her mouth, but Alexandra cut her off, saying, “Afterwards.”

I rocked back and forth in my chair a few times, and cracked my knuckles, then nodded.

“This should be a little more entertaining,” Alexandra smiled. “I have a few new shades of lipstick, and I thought we might try them on.” She leaned back to her desk and grabbed first a box of tissues, and then several tubes. A compact mirror came out of a drawer.

Susan started by looking at the color chips on the ends of the tubes and writing a few notes. She and Alexandra then began alternating, each girl wiping off her current color and applying a new one while the other watched.

I focused on Susan, dutifully concentrating on how great fries with ketchup tasted while Alexandra was applying lipstick, and trying to make Susan’s hand bounce when she was doing her own lips. I generally ignored the lipstick, until they came to a deep vivid red. It was the sort of thing a girl might wear to a party, vibrant and eye-catching, and too flashy for regular clothes. It made me think of sex.

Without really thinking about the merits or my earlier caution, I concentrated on that color, and how beautiful and attractive and sexy lips that shade were. I still had no idea what I was doing, but I focused hard on each girl as she examined herself in the mirror.

Whether by chance or planning—I would have bet on the latter—the last color was pretty close to the muted rose that Alexandra normally wore. As had been the case with each application before it, Susan’s hand never wavered.

Alexandra called time and everybody scribbled a few more notes in their logs. My headache had diminished slightly; I didn’t know if it was because I had been alternating between two different things, or due to the first attempt being harder than the others. I duly recorded those thoughts without mentioning my unplanned detour.

“Well?” Alexandra asked, providing only the bare minimum prompting.

“Midnight Siren, obviously,” answered Susan with a wide smile.

I worked at maintaining a neutral expression. I was surprised, not so much that she’d identified the red that I liked, but at her level of confidence.

Alexandra looked a little startled, too. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, come on,” Susan laughed. “I had Autumn Rose down on my initial list; Midnight Siren was maybe number three. Now I just love it!” Both girls looked at me.

Clearly Susan was no idiot, either. “I was concentrating on that browny-looking one,” I protested, trying to look disappointed. “That red did look nice, though—speaking off the clock, if you will.”

Susan suddenly looked uncertain. “Drat! I was so sure.” She sighed and continued, “I guess that’s why we don’t just go by the colors on the tubes.”

Alexandra was studying the lipsticks again. “Yes, it did look better than I expected. Although you couldn’t wear it with just anything...” She visibly shook herself and refocused her attention on Susan. “Anything else?” I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“What? That’s it?” Susan asked.

“We doubled up,” I broke in. “I was trying to make you smear yourself, but your hand was steady as a rock the whole time. I didn’t have the slightest sense anything was happening.”

Susan stuck out her tongue at me. “What about the third test? Or the first, I guess?”

“Does this mean anything to you?” Alexandra asked, holding up the folded slip of paper.

“Noooo,” Susan answered hesitantly. She paused a moment longer and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” Alexandra handed over the paper; Susan unfolded and read it. “Cyan? Honestly, it’s still drawing a blank.”

“I was trying to communicate that word to you,” I explained. “It gave me more of a headache than anything else did, for whatever that’s worth.”

Alexandra jotted down a few more thoughts in her log before closing it. “Well; zero for three on our first try. Just remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day—we’ll try again next week. In the meantime, if you’d care to accompany me to Nino’s?”

All of us were happy to abandon the gloom of the office for the warmer and more convivial atmosphere of the pub. Once inside, Alexandra made straight for one of the large round tables, which was occupied by a mismatched couple. They rose as we approached.

Introductions were made all around, and I found myself sitting between Susan on one side and Alexandra’s friend, Connie, on the other. Beyond Susan, Alexandra’s brother, Danny, was holding forth on his final undergrad semester. We had an empty chair, presumably for Jonathan, between Connie and Alexandra.

“What’s he majoring in?” I leaned over to ask Connie. Danny was clearly the youngest of us, and also the most voluble. He was talking to Susan too quickly for me to follow.

“Women,” she said with a laugh, and corrected herself. “I think the diploma will say ‘Business’ but it’s a minor miracle if he graduates in four years without getting expelled first.” Connie winked at me. “If you were a girl, I’d tell you to watch yourself around him, but you aren’t his type.” She waited a beat, and continued, “no offense, but I wouldn’t have thought you were Alexandra’s type, either.”

“None taken,” I assured her. “Dr. Reynolds assigned me and Susan to help Alexandra with her research.” I started projecting a reassuring sense of trustworthiness and likeability.

“Oh, no!” she laughed. “You’re that ham-handed idiot?” Connie put a hand on my arm before I could take offense. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said that. Really, Alexandra has had nothing but good things to say about you, Lloyd. The ‘ham-handed’ comment was from last year when she was feeling frustrated; I’m sure she didn’t mean it then, and she surely doesn’t mean it now.”

We talked easily for a few minutes more until Jonathan arrived. I might have been tempted to ask for her phone number if I hadn’t already had my sights set on Alexandra. If Danny stood out from the rest of us because of his relative youth, Jonathan did too. He looked like an up-and-coming executive, and we looked like rumpled academics. Danny and I did, anyway; the girls probably would have looked attractive, no matter what.

Jonathan greeted his fiancee with a kiss, and she introduced him around. I smiled through a bone-crushing handshake and did my usual best to appear trustworthy and nonthreatening.

After ordering, Jonathan produced a proof of the wedding invitations and showed it to Alexandra. Naturally, everybody else wanted to see it too, and it ended up getting passed around the table. It looked fine to me, properly elegant, but apparently I lacked the discernment to note that the wrong typeface had been used and that the vertical spacing wasn’t perfectly balanced.

I guessed Alexandra was upset, less by the expression on her face than by Connie’s. All of us praised the invitation, and Alexandra finally said it would be good enough, if nobody else could tell the difference.

Just the same, when Jonathan announced, “I thought you’d say that, so I told them to go ahead, and print and mail them,” I caught a glimpse of white knuckles before she put her hands in her lap. I thought hard about how irritating Jonathan was.

Alexandra might have said something, but the waitress chose that time to return with our food—Nino’s wasn’t fancy, but service wasn’t slow, either. I met Alexandra’s gaze, and we both covertly watched Susan as the waitress deposited a plate in front of her.

Once we’d all been served, Alexandra was quick to snatch the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and pour some on her fries and another dollop on her burger. She passed the bottle to Danny, who followed suit and then handed it on to Susan. I watched carefully, trying to hide my excitement, as she hesitated after putting some on her cheeseburger, but after a moment she passed it on to me without doing anything more.

The remainder of the meal passed with casual conversation. Alexandra groused about her thesis in general terms, without impressing Jonathan much as far as I could see. The wedding seemed a more popular topic, as everybody except Susan and I were more involved in it and Jonathan could intimate how great a catch he was. His attitude annoyed me, so I retaliated, to unknown effect, with a general broadcast of my negative impressions.

Our plates were nearly cleared when Susan surprised me by stabbing her last fry into the puddle of ketchup on my plate. She stuck it in her mouth, then made a face, but ate it anyway. It wasn’t out of line with some of the other joking and clowning around that had been going on, so only Alexandra and I froze momentarily.

A few minutes later, the ladies made one of those group pilgrimages to the restroom. “Can’t we do the penguin suit thing tomorrow?” Danny asked Jonathan as soon as the others were out of hearing distance. “This is prime time for window shopping!” The hourglass he sketched in the air made it clear what he meant.

Jonathan looked intrigued but sighed. “No such luck, kid. The shop already arranged to stay open late just for us, and officially I’m off the market.” He could have just been playing to Danny, who’d been eying all of the women in the room all evening, but it didn’t exactly feel that way to me; he’d put an unusual stress on “officially.” “How about you, Lloyd? Are you off the market?”

A little surprised, I replied, “I guess I’d say not so much off the market, as not really in it to begin with. I’m here to get my doctorate, not have a good time.”

“What a waste!” exclaimed Danny. “I bet Susan would show you a good time, if you know what I mean,” he added speculatively.

I stifled a cringe, uncertain if he was just making an inflammatory barb, or had sensed something from her, or just made a lucky guess. Luckily for me, the girls made a prompt return and saved me from having to continue the conversation.

Unless I was hallucinating, they’d redone their lipstick and the ruby red of Midnight Siren now graced two pairs of lips. It was a bit over the top, but I still thought it looked very becoming, especially in the softer light of the pub. Susan was giving me a calculating look that was, frankly, unnerving.

“We should be going,” Alexandra said. The comment was punctuated by the snap of Jonathan’s fingers as he got the waitress’ attention and gestured for the bill. “Lloyd, you can see Susan home, can’t you?”

“Certainly, I’d be delighted,” I assured her. Even if there’d been no ulterior motive, as the two odd people out, I would have offered if she hadn’t asked first. Perhaps I was no social butterfly, but my parents hadn’t raised a complete idiot.

Jonathan dispensed with the bill almost negligently, hugely overtipping the waitress. It wasn’t that she didn’t deserve a tip, but I sensed the point was more to make sure we all knew it didn’t bother him to spend money like water than because of any real sense of largess.