The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I don’t like it,” whined Barbi Putnam. The glamorous brunette’s beautiful face twisted in an unattractive spoiled-brat pout. “How come you’re taking the kid with you, anyway?”

Her husband Ted frowned in irritation. “I already explained that, Barb,” he snapped. “Steve asked if he could apply for an internship with the company, and I already have to go in to headquarters for this shareholders’ thing, so I agreed to take him along and see if he can get an interview.” Barbi said nothing, but she still didn’t look happy. Ted sighed. “Look, what’ve you got against Steve, anyway? What’s he ever done to you?”

His wife’s lips tightened. She didn’t like Steve for a simple reason: he wasn’t her son. Of course, he wasn’t Ted’s either, but at least they were blood relatives. Having Steve around reminded her that she had only married into the family. Maybe if she and Ted had had a kid, it would have been different, but they hadn’t.

None of this was anything she could say out loud, though. Ted would be royally pissed. He and the kid might not be tight, but they’d been living together for years, and blood was blood. She didn’t need that kind of argument.

It was funny, though, how he’d been taking more of an interest in Steve lately. Since the boy’d gone off to college, they’d barely talked, even when he’d come home on break—but all of a sudden, Ted had started palling around with his foster son. He’d even suggested he might give Steve a block of company stock for his birthday. “After all,” he’d said, “it wasn’t fair of old Hiram to leave his only grandson nothing but some crummy old watch. Was that cheap or what?” Barbi, of course, had figured it was a pretty good deal: it meant there was more for Ted and her. That was another thing, though, that she’d known better than to say.

“All right, go ahead,” she let out at last. “At least if he gets the intern’s job he’ll be making money of his own.” Not much, of course, but that wasn’t her problem.

“So glad you approve.” Barbi winced. The sarcasm in her husband’s voice was unmistakable. Ted levered himself up from the seat he’d been occupying at the kitchen table and headed for the door. “I’ll see you this evening, Barb.” He walked out, leaving his wife fuming.

Steve glanced at his foster dad again. Ted had hardly said a word since the two of them had gotten into the car. Something was clearly bothering him.

The younger man came to a decision. Raising his arm, he tapped the crucial button on the watch he was wearing.

“I’m going to ask you what’s bothering you, Ted,” he said to the suddenly immobile Ted Putnam. “You’re going to tell me all about it. You’re going to tell me the truth, because you know you can trust me.” He tapped the stopwatch button again.

“What’s wrong, Uncle Ted?” Concern edged Steve’s voice. “You’ve hardly said a word since we got in the car.”

Ted Putnam frowned. “It’s Barbi,” he admitted. “She doesn’t like it that I’m taking you along to interview for the internship.” He sighed. “I’m afraid she doesn’t like you very much.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Steve was a good kid; he didn’t need this kind of shit.

“It’s all right, Uncle Ted,” the youth reassured him. “As long as she doesn’t make trouble for me, I don’t care what she thinks.”

Ted Putnam relaxed. “All right then,” he responded.

Steve smiled to himself. Uncle Ted wouldn’t remember, of course, but Steve had had several recent conversations with him while the watch on his wrist was working its magic. He’d told his uncle that the two of them were friends, that Ted could trust him and wanted to help him out. He’d only bothered to give him an extra push just now because Ted had seemed so reluctant to talk about what was bothering him.

He knew enough by now about the power of the stopwatch to realize that if he wanted, he could tell his uncle to dump his flashy, trashy wife, and Ted would do it. He could get Ted to sign over to him everything he owned. He could make him do pretty much anything.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t need his uncle as a slave. And if he started using the watch to grab huge chunks of money and stuff, people would notice. Sooner or later, watch or no watch, he’d end up in the shit—being able to more or less stop time, and to plant suggestions in people’s minds when he did sop, didn’t make him invincible. It just gave him an edge, that was all.

He sighed. He was going to have to do something about Aunt Barbi, though. He’d told his uncle he wasn’t worried about her as long as she didn’t make trouble, but sure as anything, sooner or later, she would. Paul Kressler adjusted his tie. The woman leaning over his desk, bracing herself on its polished surface with her long-fingernailed hands, was giving him quite a view of her cleavage. He couldn’t help looking, and he knew he shouldn’t. After all, she was the wife of one of the company’s major stockholders.

“Er,” he said, “just what was it you wanted, Mrs. Putnam?”

The buxom brunette smiled. She knew perfectly well the effect she was having on the middle-aged desk jockey in front of her. She’d dressed for the occasion, after all, in a tight, thin blouse with a plunging neckline. She leaned forward slightly, pressing her arms gently against her sides to push her breasts together, deepening her exposed cleavage, and was gratified to hear a faint male groan. “It’s very simple, Mr. Kressler. I understand you’ve interviewed my stepson Steve for the internship you have open, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, that’s true,” Kressler acknowledged, trying to stay focused on the subject at hand with all that soft flesh in his face.

“Well,” Barbi Putnam purred, “I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d pick somebody else instead.” She leaned in a bit closer. “A . . . personal favor.” She smiled. “I’d be very grateful.”

“I, I, I, I,” Kressler stammered. His pants suddenly felt uncomfortably tight in the crotch.

“Just say yes, that’s a good boy,” Barbi murmured. Keeping one hand planted on the desktop to support her weight, she let the other wander to cup Kressler’s chin.

He couldn’t help himself. “Yes,” he gasped. “Someone else. I’ll do it. Nnh.”

“Thank you ever so,” cooed the curvaceous woman across from him. “It’s really for the best, you’ll see.” After a second’s pause, she added, “Don’t change your mind, now. I’d be very disappointed if you did that.” She pulled her hand away and withdrew into her seat.

“I-I won’t,” promised Kressler. Helpless, he groaned softly again.

Barbi smiled and stood up. “I’ll hold you to that,” she told him. Then, after giving him a last smile and a wink, she left the office.

She was in a good mood as she left the Putnam Enterprises building. She knew how to handle men, all right. You didn’t get far in television, especially if you were a woman, without learning how to manipulate people. Ted might have gotten his nephew an interview, but it wouldn’t do him any good.

Of course, she’d told Ted to go ahead and get Steve the interview in the first place. But afterward, she’d decided she didn’t like having had to back down. This way, she’d keep the kid from getting the job without any more backtalk from her husband. She was the one in charge, by God, and the best way to stay in charge was to keep hubby dearest from realizing that.

“May I ask why, sir?” Steve Putnam was polite as he faced Paul Kressler in Kressler’s office. He’d received the rejection letter yesterday, and had decided he wanted to find out what had gone wrong.

“You’re just not right for the position, that’s all,” Kressler answered. He cursed himself silently for agreeing to this follow-up meeting. He could have just let the letter speak for itself—but after all, it had been Ted Putnam himself who’d brought the kid in. “It’s no reflection on you; we’re just looking for a different mix of skills, that’s all.”

Steve scowled. “Different mix of skills,” bullshit! Kressler shouldn’t try lying; he wasn’t very good at it. His eyes kept darting this way and that, everywhere but in Steve’s direction. I’ll show you some different skills, the younger man thought angrily. He reached for his watch.

“Now,” he said a moment later to a suddenly motionless Paul Kressler, “I need to know why you really turned me down. The next time I ask you, you’re going to tell me the truth. All of it.” He paused, thinking.

He’d wanted to get the internship fair and square. He could do the job, he was sure of it. But it looked as if, for some reason, Kressler didn’t want to give it to him. Should he use the watch to make the recruiter pick him no matter what?

He sighed. Maybe not. Maybe it’d be better to find out why he’d been turned down first. If there were some legitimate reason, using the power of the watch to get the job anyway might be a bad idea. People might ask questions. And besides, it’d be wrong. He felt a brief stab of guilt that he hadn’t thought of its unfairness first.

He tapped the stopwatch button again.

“Please, Mr. Kressler,” Steve said, “I really need to know why I didn’t get the internship. Please tell me. If it’s anything I can fix, I’ll do it.”

Paul Kressler opened his mouth to give the younger man a polite brushoff. To his horror, he heard himself say, “Your uncle’s wife dropped by and insisted that I hire someone else.” His eyes widened in disbelief at the words spilling from his lips, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Steve scowled. I might have known, he snarled silently.

But Kressler wasn’t done. As Steve listened with widening eyes, the Putnam Enterprises personnel manager blurted out a blow-by-blow account of what has happened between Barbi Putnam and him.

Finally he ran down. “So you see,” he finished weakly, “I had to do it.”

“I understand,” answered Steve. And it was true. He did understand. The question was what to do about it. “Have you actually chosen anyone?”

“Er, no,” Kressler admitted. “Not yet.”

“Why don’t you wait, then?” Steve smiled. “Just for a few days. Maybe if I talk with Bar, er, my aunt, I can get her to change her mind.” In fact, I’m sure I can, he added to himself.

“I guess I can do that,” Kressler yielded.

“Okay,” Steve answered. A thought occurred to him, and he tacked on, “If Mrs. Putnam comes to see you again, maybe it’d be better if you didn’t mention talking to me today.”

“All right,” the executive agreed.

Steve nodded, and with that, the two of them concluded the interview. As Steve left Kressler’s office, he smiled at the man’s secretary, who smiled back.

Inside the office, Paul Kressler shook his head. No matter what he’d promised Barbi Putnam in the heat of lust, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just shut young Steve Putnam out as a candidate for the internship position. Maybe he should just wait a few more days, interview some more people. With any luck, someone would come who was enough better qualified than Steve that he could hire that person without feeling guilty.

Yes, he told himself, that was the ticket. Wait a few days. He had time.

He was going to have to deal with Aunt Barbi. Things had definitely escalated between the two of them. The episode with Kressler had proved she’d do just about anything to stick it to him.

Too bad for her that he could stick it right back.

He sighed. Hiram Putnam’s invention was a modern miracle. It seemed a shame to have to use it for petty personal payback. If he didn’t, though, he had nothing. Uncle Ted would never believe him if he told his guardian what Barbi had done—especially since he couldn’t tell Ted how he’d found out about it without blowing his secret. That would ruin everything. Right now, he was in charge of things—and the best way for him to stay in charge was to keep anybody from realizing that.

It was Tuesday. That meant Aunt Barbi would be spending most of the afternoon at her favorite beauty parlor. She should be home by five, though, well before his uncle got back from the office. Steve had already blown off his classes for the day to go in and speak to Kressler; there was no harm in staying home to meet the brunette beast when she got in.

He grinned. He had a few ideas already about what he’d be “suggesting” to her. One of the more embarrassing things about dealing with Uncle Ted’s second wife had always been how sexy he found her. He’d done everything he could to keep his feelings secret, since his aunt could have made his life a living hell if she’d ever found out. Well, now he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. All he had top do was say the right things to her while Hiram’s stopwatch was running, and she’d belong to him, luscious body and soul. And if Uncle Ted found out, he could handle that, too.

As had happened a few times before, a twinge of concern went through him. He liked to think of himself as a good person, and surely a good person wouldn’t use such an incredible gift this way: spying on the girls’ shower room, reprogramming Candy Patterson’s and Uncle Ted’s feelings toward him, stacking the deck in his favor in a job interview, and now planning to turn his aunt into his personal sex slave, for God’s sake!

But as had also happened before, after a few seconds of guilt, reason intervened. Nobody was getting hurt, he told himself—not really. Candy and the other girls had never even known he was there in the shower room, and all he’d done to Candy afterward (except for that goofy “call me Master” bit, which he’d rescinded) was make her find him attractive. So maybe it wasn’t the most honest way to get a girl to like him—so what? And where was the harm in making Uncle Ted more friendly, or in undoing Aunt Barbi’s nasty attempt to screw him out of a job didn’t hurt anyone either.

As for Aunt Barbi herself—okay, maybe what he had in mind for her was a little over the top. But somehow, after all the grief she’d given him ever since she and Uncle Ted had started dating (never mind since their marriage), he couldn’t bring himself to care. She had it coming.

Steve wondered if his grandfather Hiram had been plagued by similar pangs of conscience over how he’d used the watch. There was no way to tell just what Hiram had done with it, what liberties he’d taken. That was the most insidious thing about the power he’d had, the power he’d willed to Steve: with it, you could control people without anyone ever catching you at it.

Barbi Putnam shut the door behind her. She was steaming. She’d just had a phone conversation with her husband, who had apparently called that twerp Kressler about the internship. From what Ted had told her, Kressler was stalling on making a final decision, but Steve was still in the running.

Nobody double-crosses me, she silently fumed. Manipulation wasn’t the only survival skill she’d learned in show business. She’d mastered the art of payback, too. If Steve Putnam ended up getting that job, she intended to make Kressler’s life hell. Maybe she could even talk Ted into firing him.

An evil smile flitted across her features. Yeah, she told herself, she just bet she could. All she had to do was say the guy had been chasing her. He’d deny it, of course—after all, it wasn’t true—but who was Ted more likely to believe, some company flunky or his wife?

Engrossed in her scheming, the brunette almost bumped into her stepson as she entered the kitchen. Startled, she snarled, “Watch where you’re going, kid!”

Steve sputtered a reflex apology as he stepped away from Barbi. After a moment, though, he scolded himself: Hey, wait—what the hell am I apologizing for? She ran into me!

He’d had enough. He’d been telling himself he needed to take care of Aunt Barbi. Why wait any longer?

He reached for his wrist and tapped the button.

Steve inspected he motionless Barbi Putnam and grinned. “Auntie dearest, things are going to be different between us from now on,” he informed her. “Just for a start, you’re going to apologize to me for bumping into me, and for being rude to me afterward. When you do, it will seem perfectly natural to you, because you like me.”

The college student paused for thought before continuing. “In fact, you’ve been having these secret fantasies about me, these secret naughty fantasies about having sex with me, cheating on Uncle Ted with me. They’ve been getting stronger and stronger, harder and harder to resist acting out.” Actually, he was pretty sure nothing of the sort had been happening—but if the watch worked on Aunt Barbi the way it had on Candy, from now on she’d “remember” having all sorts of steamy urges and fantasies about him.

He was on a roll now. “All you need is to be alone with me, without Uncle Ted around, and you won’t be able to fight it any more. You’ll throw yourself at me, Aunt Barbi; you’ll do anything to have sex with me when we’re alone together. Nothing else will matter, and if I say no, it’ll just make you hornier.” He paused again before finishing: “But when we’re not together, even though you’ll still be hot for me, you’ll feel terribly guilty about those feelings and about what you do with me. You’ll be ashamed, but you won’t be able to help yourself.”

He supposed he ought to feel a bit guilty himself. He was taking this way past getting even for his aunt’s snotty attitude toward him. Somehow, though, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He hesitated. There was one more thing to take care of, he decided.

“Oh, by the way, Auntie dearest,” he instructed, “you’re going to do me a favor tomorrow. You’ve changed your mind about my getting that intern slot at Putnam Enterprises. Tomorrow morning, you’re going to drop by Mr. Kressler’s office again and tell him you want me to get the job. If he seems to have decided on someone else, you’ll—insist—by any means necessary. If he’s not there when you drop by, you’ll keep trying until you find him in his office, because it’s very important to you that I get that job.”

There, he told himself, satisfied. That ought to do it.

He pressed the stopwatch button again. . . .

Barbi blinked. How could she have been so rude? “Sorry, Steve,” she said. “I guess it was my fault. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“That’s all right,” Steve answered. A smile played across his lips. “No harm done.”

The dark-haired vixen smiled back. A warm feeling stole through her. Steve was such a nice kid.

Her smile broadened. He was more than that. She wondered how he’d feel if she told him about the fantasies she’d been having about the two of them, these past few months. All at once, they were flooding into her mind, stronger than ever. Her breathing quickened and sweat popped out on her forehead.

Watching, Steve asked, “Are you all right, Aunt Barbi? You look . . . flushed.”

“I, I, I,” Barbi blabbered. What was wrong with her? The sexy images pulsed through her mind, smothering her thoughts. She moved closer to Steve, hips swaying. She wanted him! “I’m mar-ried,” she protested weakly. One hand went up to run through her thick black hair, causing the light to bring out the red highlights she paid her stylist so much to maintain.

“I know,” responded Steve. “I was at the wedding, remember?”

“But I want—I want you, Steve,” moaned his aunt. “I don’t want to cheat on, on my husband, on—whatever the fuck his name is!—but—!” She pressed herself against Steve and twined her arms around him.

Playing innocent, Steve said, “Aunt Barbi! What’s gotten into you?” As if he didn’t know. “What if Uncle Ted came home right now?”

“Oh, God, Steve baby, just shut up and kiss me,” gasped Barbi. She clutched at him and pressed her lips to his, pushing her tongue between his teeth. Her hand found his and guided it up until it was resting on her warm, ample bosom, then moved to his shirt to work at its top button. Steve’s hand stayed where Barbi had put it for a few seconds before sliding over to slip inside the revealing neckline of her blouse.

Barbi whimpered at the contact, nipples instantly going erect. “Oh, God, Steve, honey,” she gasped. She pulled away from him just enough to let her pull her blouse off over her head. Then she was on him again, wriggling in the grip of images and sensations both real and imagined. Her lips covered his once more, burning into him as she clutched at his body, helpless in the grip of the feelings and fantasies his suggestions had programmed her brain to produce.

They sank to the floor, continuing their attack on each other’s clothing. Finally they were both naked—except, in Steve’s case, for his watch, which he’d retained just enough sense amid the fog of lust to keep on. Their bodies moved together, building to a final, shattering shared ecstasy.

Afterward, lying amid their discarded garments, they dozed, lazing in the afterglow. At last Barbi stirred and sighed. “Steve darling, I suppose we should get up.”

“I suppose so,” came grudging agreement. Steve pulled away from Barbi Putnam’s warm flesh and began to draw himself back to reality. He scrounged around for his clothes and dressed hastily, aware of his aunt doing the same.

He smiled smugly. It had been every bit as good as he’d hoped. And it’d be even better, even though he wouldn’t see it, when the two of them parted and the rest of his instructions to her kicked in.

Barbi Putnam couldn’t believe what had happened. The streams of water sluicing over her in the shower couldn’t wash away her memories of what she and Steve had done together, or of how she’d felt. She didn’t feel the same now; she felt dirty, in a way bathing couldn’t help.

What the hell had happened to her, anyway? One moment she’d been telling the kid off for bumping into her; the next, she’d been apologizing to him —and then . . . !

Yes. And then. Bad enough she’d been having these sick fantasies about her husband’s nephew, her nephew now. God, if Ted had ever known! When the hell had that started, anyway? She remembered that it had been going on for a while, but somehow she couldn’t recall when it had begun. And today, all of a sudden, it was as if she’d lost her mind—all she could think about was screwing the kid. She’d practically raped him, for God’s sake!

The bewildered brunette blanched. And she’d been worrying what Ted would’ve done if he’d ever learned about her fantasies! If he found out about this, he’d go ballistic! She’d be lucky if he didn’t just throw her out!

She swore softly. The damn kid had her by the short ones. All he had to do was tell his uncle, and she was done.

After a moment, though, she calmed down a bit. Sure, Steve could squeal. But if he did, what were the odds Ted would believe him? Especially if she denied everything? And even if Ted did believe it, Steve’d be putting himself in the shit right along with her.

No, she reassured herself, she was safe. The kid wasn’t going to tell anyone, and it was never—she vowed—never going to happen again! Steve had no handle on her, after all.

In his room, Steve smiled. Grandpa Hiram’s legacy was worth more than all the stocks or bank accounts he could possibly have been given in the old man’s will.

If Aunt Barbi thought this was the end of things, she had another think coming. She’d been dumping on him for years, and he’d long since realized she meant to freeze him out of the family fortune altogether if she could get away with it. Well, thanks to the watch, she couldn’t play those games anymore.

“We’re playing by my rules now, Auntie dearest,” he murmured.

Ted Putnam didn’t know what to make of it. When he’d come home that evening, his wife had been oddly subdued. When he’d asked her about it, though, she’d insisted there was nothing wrong.

He’d actually gone so far as to ask Steve, too. His nephew had seemed amused that he’d bothered. “You know Aunt Barbi and I don’t get along,” the kid had said. “How would I know what might be bugging her?”

Ted had had to admit that made sense. And somehow, before he quite knew what had happened, the subject had changed.

“You’re right,” Ted heard himself saying. “You’re part of the family, as much as anyone. It doesn’t seem fair that all you got out of Dad’s will was an antique watch.”

Steve nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment,” he told his uncle. “Just the same . . . !” He let his voice trail off.

Ted nodded. “I’ll have to clear it, of course, but I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t have a block of stock of your own.” It made perfect sense, now that his nephew had brought up the idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“Just a small block,” cautioned the younger man. “I’m not asking for a seat on the board or anything.” Not yet, anyway. “Just a stake in the firm. After all, I’m still only going to be an intern.”

His uncle nodded again. Then he frowned. Where was he going to get the stock, anyway? He didn’t want to give the kid any of his own. That would dilute his voting power.

Of course! When you thought about it, the answer was obvious. “I gave Barbi my proxy on some of my shares. I can just transfer it to you on some of them.” He paused. “She won’t like it, but I’m sure I can bring her around.”

“I’m sure you can,” agreed Steve. And if you can’t, I can.

Everything was going great, Steve thought. Ted thought giving him control of some of the shares his aunt held proxies on was all his own idea. He had no clue that his nephew had put the whole notion into his head just now. It was one more way of getting back at Barbi—and one which could bring him some real money, too.

He had to keep reminding himself to be careful, though. He couldn’t move too fast, or too openly, or people might start asking questions. His new . . . relationship with his aunt was one thing; he could keep that secret, he was sure, especially since he’d fixed it so Barbi wouldn’t blab. But shares of stock were something else: his ownership had to be recorded in order to exist. And eyebrows might be raised—to say the least—if all of a sudden he had tons of stock and a voice on the company’s board.

Fortunately, he had a better way. He could just move up the ladder in a seemingly ordinary way (okay, maybe a bit faster than ordinary; he didn’t want to wait forever), starting with this internship deal, while secretly using the watch to make “suggestions.” Yeah, he thought, laughing softly, the power behind the throne, that’s me.

“What?” It came out as a screech. “You can’t do that to me!” Furious, Barbi Putnam stamped her foot. “Those shares are mine, dammit! Mine! You promised! You gave them to me!” At some level, she was aware she was being childish. She didn’t care.

Her husband raised his hands, whether in remonstrance or self-defense he couldn’t have said at that moment. “Now, Barb,” he chided, “I’m not asking for all of them, after all, just some. Maybe half.”

That didn’t go over. “Maybe zip!” his wife snarled. “You can’t just give me stuff and take it back again! Nobody screws me like that, buster!”

Now Ted felt himself getting angry. Barbi took too much for granted. “Actually,” he pointed out, “I never gave you the stocks. I just gave you my voting proxy on them. I can revoke it at any time.” Fighting not to raise his voice, he drew a long breath. “If you don’t want Steve to have any, that’s something the two of you need to iron out.” He felt a little cowardly for passing the buck like that, but he’d never been good at arguing with his wife. She knew too many ways to win. “If he’s not interested, there’s no point in my making the change—but if he is, maybe it’s time we brought him into the business. In case you’ve forgotten, he’s as much a member of this family as you are.”

Barbi winced. She wished her husband hadn’t put it that way. It sounded too much like an ultimatum.

Still, he’d opened a door. If she could talk the kid into agreeing, maybe she could sink this whole idea. She was good at talking guys into things, after all. And even if she couldn’t get him to turn down Ted’s offer . . . maybe there were ways of handling that, too. She might be able to “convince” the kid to let her “guide” him in using Ted’s proxy. That would be almost as good as having it herself, as long as Ted didn’t find out.

The former sex-bomb starlet smirked. One way or another, she was going to come out on top.

The news came a few days later. Steve had gotten the internship job, just as he’d expected.

School, fortunately, wouldn’t be a problem. Spring semester would be over in a month, and the internship was scheduled to begin a week after finals ended. Putnam had offered internships like this one before, and had geared their timing to the schedules of the local colleges from which they recruited.

He didn’t know just what Aunt Barbi had done to seal the deal, and didn’t feel like asking. It was enough to know that he’d made her undo her own earlier sabotage. Sure, maybe she’d done a bit more than that, but so what? He deserved this position, dammit!

Yeah, maybe, a treacherous voice whispered in the back of his mind. But nobody else had anything like Hiram’s watch to stack the deck for them.

Shut up, he told the voice, and it did. Silencing such twinges of guilt was getting easier.

Barbi Putnam shook her head. Steve had gotten the internship.

In a way, she wasn’t surprised. After all, once she’d decided she wanted him to have it after all, persuading Paul Kressler to give the slot to her nephew hadn’t been any more difficult than, ah, talking him into the opposite decision had been.

But it still seemed weird how she’d changed her mind. She could remember wanting to keep Steve from getting the internship, and she could remember later wanting him to get it, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what had turned her around.

It wasn’t the sex, she insisted to herself. She wasn’t some bubble-brained bimbo who let her glands do her thinking.

She shook her head. The intern thing didn’t matter right now. What counted was getting Steve under control. She needed to either convince him to give those proxies back to her free and clear, or persuade him to let her “help” him decide how to vote them.

Barbi smiled. Poor boy. He didn’t have a chance.

“You want me to do what?” Steve sounded genuinely baffled.

“I want you to give me back the voting proxies your uncle gave you,” Barbi repeated. “What do you need them for, anyway? You’re not on the board or anything.” Her voice turned warm and honey-smooth as she glided closer to her prey: “C’mon, let your Auntie Barbi have ‘em back.”

“But I don’t want to, Auntie dearest,” Steve replied. “Uncle Ted gave them to me because he trusted me.”

“But I . . . I . . . !” Barbi Putnam faltered. The images were back, the images and sensations of herself and Steve. She shook her head to clear it. It didn’t help. “But, but I want . . . !“ She couldn’t go on; the words wouldn’t come, not when she felt as if she needed to come more than anything.

Steve smiled at her indulgently. “What is it you want, Aunt Barbi?”

I—oh, God, Steve,” the woman moaned, “I want you! Please, Steve darling. Please!“

“What about the proxies?” Steve teased.

“The what?” The lust-fogged brunette facing him needed a few moments to remember why she’d come to see Steve in the first place. “Oh, fuck ‘em, Steve sweetie!” She gasped, “Fuck me!“

“You mean you don’t want them back after all?”

Lashed by the lascivious pictures and feelings pulsing through her brain, Barbi Putnam could barely focus on Steve’s words. It took a supreme effort to answer: “N-no. Don’t . . . oh God, Steve, please, keep ‘em, anything, just fuck me, please, right now!” Her hands tore desperately at her clothes, peeling them away until all she had on were her sheer stockings and glossy high-heeled shoes. Years of experience had taught her men liked to see her that way, and she wanted, needed, Steve to want her.

He gulped. His aunt had a gorgeous body, and knew how to use it. As she posed before him, hands locked behind her dark head, face tilted, ample breasts thrown forward, he felt himself growing hard. Without his consciously willing it, his hands went to his shirt and began unbuttoning it.

Barbi giggled and moved to help him undress. She reached for his pants, unfastening them and tugging them firmly down. When his trousers fell, one long-nailed hand slid inside his briefs, caressing; at his helpless, shuddering response, she smiled. She was in control, her instincts told her. “In control,” she gasped as she groped at her nephew’s clothes. “I’m in control. I’m in control. . . .”

Later, as the two of them lay on the floor, Steve murmured, “You’re sure you don’t want those proxies back?”

Barbi Putnam giggled sleepily. “’Course not,” she mumbled. You c’n have ‘em.” Her defenses down, she went on, “You’ll let your Aunt Barbi tell you how to vote ‘em, won’t you, sweetie?” One long index finger lazily traced Steve’s cheekbone. “’Course you will.” Even now, she hadn’t forgotten her backup plan.

“Of course,” Steve murmured in response. “Why not?” In the lazy aftermath of sex with the gorgeous dark-haired woman whose body was still entwined with his, he more than half meant it. Others before him had been ensnared that way, maneuvered into making foolish promises; his aunt knew how to use pleasure to get what she wanted.

But Steve Putnam had something those others hadn’t had. After a little while, the two of them disentangled themselves from each other. As the two of them were dressing, he turned toward Barbi. She noted with amusement that he’d put his watch on before bothering with his pants.

He pressed the stopwatch button.

Standing there half-clad in shirt, underwear and socks, he addressed the living statue his aunt seemed to have become. “How stupid do you think I am?” he asked. As he’d expected, there was no response.

“You’re never going to tell me how to vote my proxies, Auntie dearest,” he informed her. “You’re not even going to try. You trust my judgment, and anyway you know Uncle Ted would be furious if he found out you were doing anything like that.” Again there was no answer.

That, he thought smugly, should take care of that.

After a moment, though, he frowned. He’d have to watch out. There were more ways to manipulate people than through the power of a magic stopwatch. And apart from the watch, after all, he was just a guy—and his aunt knew how to handle guys.

The watch was his one edge. If anyone found out about it . . . ! He shook his head. He’d just have to be sure nobody did.

He pressed the stopwatch button again.

Barbi Putnam, alone in the bedroom she shared with her husband, cursed herself silently.

It had happened again! She’d gone to Steve to try to persuade him to hand over the voting proxies Ted had transferred to him. He’d said no, and then . . . somehow she’d ended up throwing herself at him and, afterward, agreeing he could keep the proxies. She’d had enough sense to try to push him into agreeing to let her tell him how to use them, at least, and at first he’d seemed to agree. He’d changed his mind almost immediately, though.

She pouted. The funny thing was, it didn’t even seem to matter. She was upset that she hadn’t been able to keep from jumping Steve’s bones again, sure, but the stuff about the shares somehow didn’t bother her anymore. It wasn’t as if she’d gotten that much use out of them, after all. And Steve was sharp; she could trust him not to vote them in any way that might hurt the company. Besides, if Ted ever found out she was pulling Steve’s strings, he’d be pissed—worse than that, if that discovery led to his learning what else she was doing with his nephew.

Maybe she’d better leave well enough alone.

Steve lay on his bed, relaxed and smiling.

Grandpa Hiram’s watch was a gift that just kept on giving. As long as he was careful, he could have anything he wanted.

Of course, he did have to be careful. He couldn’t let anyone know he had it, or everyone under the sun would be after it, and sooner or later someone would manage to steal it from him. And he had to remember that when he wasn’t wearing it, or if he couldn’t reach the button in time, he was as vulnerable as anyone else. That meant he’d be smart not to grab for everything at once. At Putnam Enterprises, for instance, it would make sense to work his way up, no faster than any other boss’s nephew (he snickered at that thought), rather than trying to vault to the top overnight.

But then, he could afford to wait. After all, he had time on his side.