The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It took us four days to get back up the coast, only stopping for food and for the drivers to trade off. I may have mentioned earlier, but there are worse things than being locked in a bus with incredibly hot women, especially when your job is to turn them into sex dolls with nothing in their minds except lust. The worst problem was boredom- I had to do the exact same thing to each of them, and have each of them do the exact same thing to me.

It took two days to bring the group past the breaking point. I spent the rest of the time dolling them up with makeup, then fine-tuned their programming, making each of them prissy about t heir looks and a perfect treat for anyone who found women sexually attractive. Since I needed to walk them through the rest areas, they wore orange t-shirts and blue jeans- but no bra or panties, since those would be in the way. We also sent excuses that would keep the heat off our backs, and set up the new phones, each of them with the same voicemail message that had so unnerved me with Ashley, then Alisa.

A nice little variety in our Candy box, if I did say so myself. Thirty beautiful women, all of different races, colors, and sizes. I amused myself on the trip by picking up random purses and trying to match up the faces on their old IDs with how they were now, empty-eyed and slack-jawed. I have to admit, I missed my guess on a couple of them. I did wonder what the rest of the Twelve were doing to the rest of the ones we’d taken, on the first bus. Similar reinforcement, I guessed, though not as sexually oriented- much more based on loyalty and devotion.

The bus pulled into a garage I hadn’t seen before, in the sub-basement near where the Candies... lived, for lack of a better word. Mandy and a few of the other assistants- recognizable by their uniform skirtsuits- awaited our arrival. I got off the bus first, and Mandy greeted me with an embrace as emotional as a microchip. “Welcome home, Miss Cara. All of your duties were taken care of and dealt with in the proper manner,” she informed me.

“Thanks, Mandy,” I said warmly. “All right, girls, out you come. Wait for the one in front of you to take three steps before you go. Numerical order, starting with one, NOW.” The orders worked even more perfectly than they had in the drill we’d done at the last rest stop, as our new Candies emerged from the bus in a neat line and marched towards their assigned chair. Each one had a makeup lady or one of the phone sex operators from the fifth floor standing by her chair to help her undress, put on her bra and panties, and settle her into the chair. As the screen lowered and started bombarding their empty minds with raw sexuality, each one gasped, and each one moved her hand to her warm, waiting slit- and so sealed her fate.

Well, they could take care of themselves from now on. I headed upstairs with Mandy and reached for 22, but she shook her head.

“We have been reassigned,” she told me, but she couldn’t hide her smile as she pressed 24. My eyes popped, and Rosa’s grin as she greeted me suggested that they hadn’t quite gone back into my head by the time we arrived.

“Bienvenidos, Cara! Welcome to the top!” she said. Nancy and Keisha flanked her, both smiling as well.

“We moved some things around, since you made it clear that you belonged here. You’re one of the strongest controllers I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been in this business close to twenty years,” Keisha said.

“Don’t worry about missing your old neighbors,” Nancy added. “You’ll see a lot of them, and you’ll be monitoring our operations as your regular job, making sure nothing out of the ordinary happens.”

“Wow. Wow, thanks. Do I get a little time to rest?” I asked, because while I would have jumped into the work just to avoid showing weakness in front of Nancy, my head was pounding and the only thing that sounded like a good idea was sleep.

“Well, of course,” Keisha replied. “What kind of monsters do you think we are?”

I didn’t miss her sidelong look at Nancy, or Nancy’s narrowed glare in response. That was something I didn’t want to get in the middle of, so I accepted the key Rosa handed me and went into my new room. Well, more like suite. If I’d thought my previous quarters were nice, this plush orange palace blew them out of the water. My bags were on the floor near one of the many closets, but I could also see that there was a whole new wardrobe in there. There was a living room for entertainment, an opulent bathroom with everything I could possibly think of for relaxation and comfort- even a private elevator so that Mandy could come and go as I pleased without having to bother the rest of the hall.

I curled up on the bed- marvelously soft, with orange satin sheets and plump pillows- and flipped on the TV, deciding that for once I could let go and not think of anything much at all. Look at me now! I wanted to scream to the world. I was a B student working part time at Drew’s Discount Den, and now I’m one of the most powerful people in the world!

Six glorious months passed. Every month, we hit a new city. Showgirl dolls in Las Vegas, tanned beach babes in San Diego, sun-kissed coeds from Phoenix, Midwestern kissing machines in Chicago, sassy exhibitionists in Toronto, southern bells and dime chocolate girls in Atlanta: we ruled the roost wherever we went, claiming the prettiest, the smartest, and the most skilled as our own. The money poured in, though I didn’t know where it was all coming from.

As for our real jobs, I was making money hand over fist. Every cent I earned for Sarah, I plowed back into the stock market, investing in some of the companies we had special partnerships with-Owl Bar, Lucid Studios, Simmons Hotels, and for old times’ sake, Drew’s Discount Den- to drive up the price, then selling off the shares at unbelievable profits. I was supervisor of that part of the operation, and with my guidance and suggestions, the Twelve spread their orange wings further than even Sarah thought we could. My personal favorite? Convincing N-Are to sign his former entourage as the Candyland Cuties, a bubblegum pop act that was as intoxicating as whiskey thanks to Erica’s iconista training, some vocal lessons from Julie, and clever mixing by Martha.

I had it all, but just like in the stories, I felt nothing but emptiness from it. Not the kind of emptiness that came from being overpowered and spread out, but like there was something missing from my life, something I couldn’t put my finger on, something- but there was work to be done as we gathered once again in Sarah’s penthouse.

“A short trip this time, ladies, down to New York City. But this won’t be an easy one. These girls are strong-minded and very resistant. But we need to rotate out some of our higher floors, and there’s no better place than New York City. Take no prisoners, ladies. And strap yourselves in.”

Something wasn’t right here. Her voice was cold, unlike the other times she’d briefed us. She wasn’t looking forward to this at all. Maybe some of the others caught her discomfort, or maybe they knew from experience what was coming, but there was an uncomfortable tension in the air as we boarded the bus, dressed in our sparkling orange best.

“Keep that heart of yours pure,” Keisha murmured. “I can sense it. This is going to be a fight, and not a pretty one.”

“A fight?” My heart jumped up into my throat. I’d never thought about using my powers that way, and the idea... actually got me a little excited. The killer instinct kicking in, I realized. A growing part of me wanted to see an enemy under my power, begging for mercy until they were no longer able to resist my will.

“We used to have them more often, but with our success, other groups have backed off. But I have the very, very bad feeling that we’re not the ones defending this time,” Keisha replied, and I’d never heard her sound so frightened before. I let my first sight of New York distract me, though, as we pulled into Times Square. Everywhere I looked, there was something going on, something to see. The lights were blinding, the screens large, every ad screaming for attention. I was disoriented, but Anya was completely enthralled.

“You never forget where you were, especially when you come from a mind controlling family,” Rosa said, sounding every bit like a proud mother. More than usual, I mean; as the One, Rosa fussed over all of us, even Keisha, like we were her daughters.

“Was lucky, became orange. Is better than Russia any day,” Anya replied with a smile that almost melted me right then and there.

“Wait for my signal,” Sarah ordered as she handed out the purses.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Rosa muttered.

Keisha nodded agreement. “All these lights and spirals- it’s like the damn OK Corral out here.”

We didn’t have to wait long. I could hear the staccato of the stiletto heels as a troupe of women marched out of the subway. All of them wore black leather miniskirts, white blouses, and blue high heels. All of them were bleach blondes, and I was tempted to check IDs on a few of them. Their master, in an electric blue suit better suited to an ‘80s prom, headed up their little group.

“The electric blues? That’s it? Child’s play. Nothing but a horndog and his pet bitches,” Tamara scoffed, reaching into her bag of tricks and pulling out her trusty camera.

“I’m thinking his reins are a little too tight. Making them all that cheap shade of blonde? Someone’s got issues.” All this talk about running into a rival cult, all Keisha’s fear and Rosa’s apprehension, and this was what we had waiting for us? And it wasn’t like they were even attractive blondes. At most, I would have taken three of them as Candies.

But even while I was laughing at the Hobag Legion of Doom, I saw a red bus pulling down Broadway... with a navy blue bulldog on the side.

“Two on one. I like these odds less,” Martha said. The Northern State women’s lacrosse team got off their bus, followed by a stocky man in a navy blue suit and dark red dress shirt.

“ANTON! He dares?” Anya shrieked, and she started snarling hair-raising things. I didn’t have to know Russian to guess that this wasn’t a friendly exchange of hellos. Her fists clenched, and Rosa put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw four black low-riders, each with someone dressed in black on them, and following them was a group of twenty or so in silver skintight bodysuits.

“Mother of God, four cults against us! Who did we piss off that badly?” Daphne asked, hurriedly unscrewing her flask.

“I knew none of those losers could face us alone,” Julie snapped.

“Look on the bright side- you’re no one unless you’re hated, and right now we’re the biggest thing in town,” Erica said, but I could hear the fear under her bravado.

“Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, so this is the new future mistress you showed off in Chicago. What do you think will happen to this one? Will she go soft like Patricia did and move to the south? Will she be your little sooka like the rest of these pendant swingers you have?” Anya hissed at him, and Rosa held her tighter. “Or will you suck even that out of her so that she never wants to leave? Those can be very useful. They make wonderful assistant coaches. One of them is even a tenured professor at Northern State. Can you believe they actually made mind control and manipulation a major?”

“We have no fight, Anton,” Sarah said with quiet intensity. “I kept my people away from your sheep. Don’t you have more important things to worry about? A college to run? A new rival in your conference?”

“Not all Pats who wear orange kick your ass because of us!” I yelled, figuring that was what he was trying to refer to. “What kind of coward are you? Can’t face us down by yourself, so you drag a few other cults into your fight?”

“Drag? We came willingly!” one of the crew in all black yelled. “You don’t know the half of what’s going on, just what you’ve been told! You’ll just end up another slut in tight shorts at the Owl Bar!”

The man in the electric blue suit smirked. “And unlike you, none of us need cheap drugs to enforce our will.”

“Cheap? Cheap? Oh, it’s on now. Bottoms up, you slimy son of a bitch, see how cheap my drugs are!” Daphne screamed. She took a deep swig out of her flask and spat it at him, but two of his blue belles pulled him back, and Daphne’s-whatever-it-was splashed on the sidewalk.

“At least none of us control just for profit and greed. All you care about is money, and what you can control to make money. Greedy, selfish whores, making a bunch of dolls to sell to companies who just want dolls,” the leader of the bodysuit brigade said bitterly.

“Sonya Morrison, subliminalist,” Keisha whispered at my right. “Best we ever had in the Twelve at that. But she only stayed three years because she could never get over what she felt in her heart. I think we’re the only people she would fight- most of the time, she’s a hermit with an amateur bodysuit cult.”

“And what you do is so much better? How moral and ethical is it to stick women in ski suits wired with thousands of microchips so you can control their every move? You never did make any sense,” Sarah shot back.

Daphne snickered. “Those morons, those little morons. They’re wide open. C’mon, time to make the first move. Bishop takes the pawn,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

“Mind against mind, thrall against thrall, one controller overrides the other. Look at those lacrosse players, with their water bottles wide open because they don’t have the sense left to close them.” She held up her flask meaningfully, and I understood what she had in mind. Keisha put a hand on my shoulder and made a sign language C, keeping her eye on the girl behind Anton as she did so. Yes, that would throw them off a little. Or more than a little, even. While Daphne, Keisha, and Tamara provided a diversion, I grabbed Daphne’s flask and splashed some of the whatever-it-was into the captain’s water bottle.

The skirmish ended, and the thirsty lacrosse players picked up their water bottles and swigged in unison. But only the captain hesitated putting her bottle back down, and only she reached for her head. “First move,” I told Anton with a smile.

“You think you are so very clever, don’t you? Any horndog in a club could do the same to any bimbo on the street. Answer me this, Cara Jones: how great do you think you are? Are you greater than I? Greater than my colleagues?”

“Yeah, okay. I read your course manual, and I didn’t see the point of it. I’m done with school- being self-taught is more fun,” I replied. I’d read enough about Northern State to know what their trigger was, and how they implanted it. But as I prepared my next attack, I felt a sharp sting in the back of my arm, and saw a blurry black hand sliding away from me. My mind started to spin in a kaleidoscope of colors: black, electric blue, blood red, orange and pink and dark blue- Rosa and Keisha, and I tried to yell for help, but either my mouth wasn’t working or they were too busy fighting, and then the world really got weird-

Blue! I cringed in fear of what was to come, but as the blue drew me in, I realized it wasn’t electric blue, but ice blue, whirling and shifting in patterns that seemed familiar. “Focus, Cara,” Nancy’s voice whispered to me, and I let her eyes cut through the chemical fog to wake me up. We were sitting in a subway car- well, she was sitting, I was draped over her like a blanket- and most of the passengers were staring at us with various degrees of disapproval or interest.

“You all right?” she asked. “Never would have thought someone as arrogant as Anton would serve as a goddamn distraction. Cheap acid, not even control grade, but just enough to throw you off and make us short-handed for a while. If I hadn’t gotten you uptown, we’d both have been sitting ducks, you with your fried brain and me working on you.”

“The fight? Oh God, what’s happening? Is everyone all right?”

Nancy laughed. “For someone as strong as you are, you’re afraid of too much. We might be locked in a four-on-one battle that other cults might abandon or surrender in, but not the Tangerine Twelve. But we’re two down, and Morgan and Martha aren’t cut out for this kind of fight. Damn, your eyes are still huge. I’ll go back to the battle-take this to the St. James Theater. Morgan managed to dig up one of our sleepers here, and if we give Erica an icon to use, we gain back all the strength we lost. That, and maybe your eyes will be back to normal by then.”

I nodded, and as we got off the train, I headed for the address she gave me. A chorus girl in an orange belt was waiting by the stage door, starting to look puzzled. I yelled, “Blue October finds Red November finds Orange December!” She looked at me oddly, but her memories were starting to return, and by the time I thought she might need a hand recognizing the trigger, she didn’t anymore. “C’mon, Mistress is in trouble,” I said to her, grabbing her hand. I got a closer look at her and realized that this was no chorus girl. She dragged me into the costume room and dug through the outfits until she found an orange dress. “We don’t have time for this!” I protested.

“Trust me, it’s worth the wait,” she replied, her voice muffled as she put on the dress. As soon as we were out the door, I texted Erica, who told me to get the woman into position over a nearby subway grate.

“Hey, look! Marilyn Monroe lives, right here on Broadway!” Erica shrieked, and sure enough there went the woman’s skirt, setting off flashbulbs and a lot of whistles. The rest of the Twelve extricated themselves from their fights and dove down the subway entrance.

“I knew ol’ C would come in handy someday,” Morgan said with a shy smile as we boarded the train.

“Good job keeping your head,” Sarah agreed. She looked at me with concern in her eyes. “Glad to have you back safe, Cara. But no more mushrooms on your pizza, is that clear?”

I offered a weak smile. “Ha. Is everyone okay?”

“We’re fine, but it was a close thing. Anton and Sonya are too strong for any of us to handle- we need you in the fight to take on one of them!” Tamara said.

“You can do it. Think of the consequences otherwise,” Keisha said.

“Anton and Sonya are the keys,” Sarah agreed. “The rest of his girls are window dressing- unlike Chicago, he didn’t bring his stars. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to fight him. I think it would be appropriate for Nancy to handle the electric blues- nothing like beating them with their own color. The all blacks shouldn’t be a concern for any of you, especially since you outnumber them two to one.”

“And that leaves me with Sonya and the chipheads. I’ll be glad to do it,” I said fiercely.

“We’re almost to Columbus Circle. The walk back would only take ten minutes, and it will allow us to gather reinforcements. I know Anton. He won’t have moved an inch.”

We got off at Columbus Circle, but as I went through the subway doors, a hand pulled me back into the train. I tried to fight back, but I saw the gray silk gloves on the woman’s hands and realized that my fight was staring me in the face.

“Sell any candy yet, Cara? Or are you still stuck selling junk out of a telemarketing house?” Sonya asked before I could say anything.

“Why did you betray Sarah?” I asked, focusing on her, trying for the first time to lock horns with someone who was ready for me and had defenses up.

She patted the seat next to her. A strangely friendly gesture, but it would allow me to focus more on knocking her out and less on keeping myself upright, so I sat down. In an almost friendly tone of voice, she continued, “Did I really betray her? Or did she betray me first. I know exactly where you’re coming from, because I was the IT girl before you were. Stop me if you’ve heard this before: you’re working somewhere not worthy of your skills when some weird chick who sounds like a zombie shows up, charms the local bitch, then tells you you’re the one she’s really after, and seduces you into joining her. You travel the world to hone your skills and get high off cheap champagne and cheaper pussy. When you’re not doing that, you’re selling junk and running pump-and-dump schemes to line Sarah’s pockets, and you’re more of a slave than the Candies are. Did I miss anything?”

“Hey! I do it by the book! I only take down the stupidest! And that ‘zombie’ is my dearest friend now, and the one who showed me who I really am. I think you’re hiding something, Sonya. Under that silver, you still bleed orange, don’t you?” That one hit her hard. I kept pushing. “You screwed up. You miss her, don’t you? She’ll welcome you home, and she won’t even punish you that much.”

She sat upright and her eyes focused on me, boring in as she concentrated. “I’m not some sweet little thing, and I don’t melt that easily.” She jabbed at me. I dodged, but her other hand slid under my shirt and paused over my heart. “No, not frozen, just a little cool, and beating fast from all the stimulation.”

“Don’t mock Keisha like that! She only wants the best for us- all of us!” I countered, trying to get back into Sonya’s mind.

“I can feel you, you know. Anyone can, especially when you’re working on them. Tell me, are those Candies you pick up really airheaded bimbos, or are they bimbos because you expect them to be bimbos as soon as you target them?” she fired back.

“Oh no you don’t!” I yelled, because thinking about what she’d just said meant I wasn’t concentrating on her, and she was slipping out of my control.

“They do it whatever you want, and you don’t even know it. There’s a reason your assistant gave in so easily.” While I was trying to figure out how she knew about Mandy, she leaned in close, overwhelming me with power and presence and something else I couldn’t put my finger on. “I know there’s good in you. I can see it. Let me ask you one question.” Her breath was warm against my ear, almost seductive. “How’s Alisa these days?”

I sat stunned just long enough to hear the announcement for 72nd Street. Sonya smiled and got off the train, and I followed her back to the downtown express train. We got off at Times Square, not saying a word to each other, and much to my surprise, she and her group left the scene.

“Cut the head off a snake, and the body dies,” Nancy said with a smirk. “Nice work defanging their leader there.” Keisha looked a little disturbed, though, and she wasn’t the only one. Had Keisha been Sonya’s informant?

No time to worry about that in the middle of a fight, though. The nearest target was one of the electric blues, and I focused on her, drawing her closer and closer to me with focus points and a slow, deliberate induction. She’d been pretty badly broken before I ever laid a hand on her, so by the time I was done with her, she was empty again, gone and ready to bleed orange. I let her fall to the sidewalk, still spasming, and looked for someone else to take on. But the Twelve were the last ones standing. Somehow, though, that didn’t curb the killer instinct; part of my mind was assessing who would be weakest to my form of control.

“Damn, girl, I have got to stop letting you do the mixing!” Daphne said, breaking my focus. “How much brain acid did you give that lacrosse girl? She’s so out of it Anton left her for dead!”

“Just another drunken jock story for SportsCenter, I guess.”

Julie shook her head. “Oh, she’s not going to be on those cable channels,” she said, licking her lips with a hunger I recognized.

“Looks like you turned one of the blues orange,” Tamara added, pointing at my conquest.

“Oh, man, two war trophies! How much do we rock?” Daphne shrieked.

“We’d need Morgan to calculate how much, I suppose,” Sarah said with an indulgent smile. “I believe we’ll skip the usual spots and head straight home.” So we loaded the two insensate conquests into the bus and headed back up to Syracuse. I didn’t do it, but some of the others worked their wiles on the two trophies.

Rosa looked very pale and drawn, and she slept most of the way home. As soon as we arrived, she and Sarah went upstairs separately while the rest of us gathered in the penthouse.

Keisha shook her head and bit her lip. “I don’t think Rosa will be joining us... at all. She barely made it through that battle- I’ll eat my hat if she doesn’t retire. She was hinting around it to Sarah before, and it’s more than time. She’s older than I am, and she’s been doing this even longer. I think she’s given all she can give without giving all, and she won’t let that happen. If she liked total control, she would have challenged Sarah years ago and started her own cult, but Rosa’s much like me in that. Everyone wants to rule the world, but how big is the world, really?”

“I—”

“Don’t think about it tonight. I’ll see you later. I’m not a party girl. Stay to feel what victory is like, so you’ll be able to judge what it’s really worth.” She snapped her fingers, summoning her assistant to her, and she leaned on the girl for support as she took the elevator down.

“Don’t let her get you down. This is going to be so completely awesome, you have no idea,” Julie shrilled from behind me.

Martha tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Why aren’t you back there? You brought one of them down- well, two, since you poured Daphne’s acid- you should be helping bring them out.”

“Pose ‘em nice for me!” Tamara yelled as I walked back. I could hear her soliciting suggestions on which she should do first and what she should do with them. But that all turned to silence as one of the side doors opened up and two of Sarah’s gardeners came in, rolling the two trophies in on tables decked with orange tablecloths. Each was lying spread eagle, eyes open but staring at nothing, still wearing their original clothing. Tamara started snapping away amidst the din of insults tossed at the two. Nancy guided me over to the blue belle and deliberately put my hands on the woman’s breasts.

“Make them ours. Make us proud,” she said, staring at me just long enough to daze me a little. I didn’t understand what she meant until I saw Daphne stripping the Northern State player and tossing her clothes into the group. I undressed the blue belle, starting with the blue high heels and working my way up- not a natural blonde. Everyone got a little something as a memento. I claimed the black leather skirt for Mandy, since it was her size, and made a production of putting it on her. It was a little too tight, but somehow, neither of us objected.

Once our prizes were naked, the gardeners handed each of us a paper cup of orange juice, and following everyone else’s lead, I hurled it at the prisoners with a mocking toast as the gardeners impassively rolled the tables over to Sarah.

“So we have before us a blue tramp and a jock bitch. What was this one’s name?” Sarah asked, pointing at the lacrosse player.

Morgan picked up the trading card that had been the only thing in the woman’s wallet. “Long Stick Sally? They get goofier with their nicknames every year.”

“How about Sally Sherbet, then?” Sarah suggested with a grin. She snapped her fingers, and the gardeners rolled out giant drums of sherbet, which they piled all down the former lacrosse player’s body, building little mounds on her breasts and between her legs until she was a human orange sundae. Daphne stuck the goggles on her and put the stick in her hand, and we started laughing. Something nagged at me, though I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“As for our other friend here, well, she was part of the electric blues. Julie, why don’t you sing her some of our music?” To a beat that would make Patti LaBelle wince, the former blue belle was made into a lady marmalade, and then we had at both of them, in more ways than one. Maybe Julie’s song had put me to sleep a little, or maybe it was the thrill of the hunt, but I was exhilarated by the whole thing, and went back for seconds on the sherbet. Daphne even let me have the lacrosse stick.

I did have to ask, though. “So what do we do with the trophies once we’re done with them up here?” I asked battle-tested Nancy.

“It’s the only time we showcase BDSM at Candyporn.com. After that, since most fighters are strong enough to be a little more than fuckpuppets, we reassign them accordingly. Never anywhere important, of course,” Nancy said proudly.

At least they’d be better off than they were then and there. That comforted me until I tried to go to sleep and kept picturing Ashley’s face between the globs of sherbet. It was an easy association for me to make- orange, lacrosse, brunette, spacey.

After that restless night, I woke up to my phone ringing. “You’ve earned a day off. You have free reign. Summon anyone- you’ve earned it,” Sarah said. Perfect. I woke Mandy and had her put on her soccer uniform, as I normally did when I didn’t just want her to be my clone.

“Thought you’d appreciate the rest,” I explained, and she smiled her bright, beautiful smile. At least that was still there, even if her mind had been completely erased. That reminded me of what Sonya had said during our confrontation, and I dialed Alisa’s number.

The message wasn’t the same one I remembered. It was worse. “Heyyyyyyyy, this is Alisa, of your neighborhood Owl Bar of Chicago. I can’t take your call right now, ‘cause I’m either at 542 West Kinsey Street, downtown, or I’m out on the town. Call me for a great time, anytime, anywhere... just tell me what you want to do to me, baby.” Her voice was breathy and giggly; she sounded like a girl with nothing but sex on her mind. Like a Candy. Like the only thing on her mind was keeping her customers happy, no matter what.

A lot of things came together, and I didn’t like the feel of any of them. There was only one way to see if I was right, and if I could do something about it. I sent Mandy downstairs, then started tapping out a text to the one person I thought I could trust.

“Room service, 244. Bring boards for us,” it read.