The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My roommate, Jill, was on the track team. Even though she already had lots of friends by the time I moved onto campus because of summer training with the team, she was nice to me and we became friends.

She was from Connecticut, which was on the way to my parent’s house in Rhode Island. We were going to get a ride home for Thanksgiving with some guy she hit at the last track meet; like she says, guys are so easy once they’re in the sack. So we went to the meet. She ran, I cheered. Everyone was in a good mood that day. I noticed her flirting with some guy on the sidelines, and I thought he was probably the guy she had got to drive us home. I grimaced indulgently, realizing that I would be sitting in the back, listening to them flirt all 12 hours home. I would have to keep her in my bed that night to make sure I got some sleep. My bed. Maybe if he was a real sound sleeper, we would...but no, that was out of the question. Snap out of it Shelley, stop fantasizing.

I picked up my stuff and walked down to the field after the meet was over and she gave me a hug, and introduced me to a guy.

“Ok, so Shel, this is--”

“Richard?”

“Huh?”

“We, uh, went to high school together.”

There was a short pause.

“Well girls, I’m going to go shower and the like and I’ll meet you back here in about a half hour.”

“Ok.”

After he left, I turned to Jill. “Jill, how could you?”

“How could I what?”

“How could you get Richard to drive us home? I can’t be in a car for 12 hours with him, he’s so, so...I mean, I repulse him! Once last year I was heading over to a library table where my friend was, to sit with her, and I saw him sit down there a few seconds before I got there. I sat down, and he stood right back up, got his stuff, and left the library! He hates me, Jill.”

“Well then, um, you guys obviously have some issues to work through and I think that this would be a good opportunity for you guys to do that. And it’s not like there’s any other ride we could get at this point.”

“What about that guy you were flirting with the whole meet?”

“Oh, Hugo? He’s really nice and cute and all, but he’s headed to Montana and even he wouldn’t take a detour that big. Richard...there’s just something about him. I can’t stay away, or something. I go all dreamy around him.”

That made two of us. I bit my lip in frustration.

“Pleeeease?”

“Ok,” I sighed, “fine. But you don’t know how weird he is. He was in my history class last year and he was just so...bizarre!”

“Oh, who cares, this is wonderful!”

She squealed, hugged me, and ran off to get her bags. What was with her? She didn’t get dreamy over one night stands. My Jill had a much more cavalier attitude.

Rocking, rocking gently...

“So, are you guys ready to go? Where’s Jill?”

I snapped back to reality. “Uh, she uh, left.”

“Oh.” He was definitely disappointed. Jill was gorgeous, with her muscular body and long, runners legs. Her hair flashed in the sun like gold when she was running out in front of the pack.

I’m not so shabby myself, I just don’t choose to show it. I’m shorter, with long, black hair. I have bigger breasts than Jill does, but I wear big sweatshirts. I swim a few times a week so I’m toned, but I wear jeans a size too big. I want friends before I want lovers. But there’s a loophole; I’m the weather appropriate girl. As soon as the thermometer hits 90, out come the skimpy skirts and tight baby-tees. I’d shown how hot I was back last June when the weather was hot; he knew and he still wasn’t attracted to me. Still hated me. He never talked to me, when we were in a room together he would skirt around me and talk to every other girl. Thank god he never knew what I was thinking when I was around him.

“Um, I mean, she left to get her stuff.”

“Oh, ok.”

We talked very politely about the weather until Jill showed, her ponytail swinging across her back like a pendulum.

“Hey again Richie!” she squealed, and fell into his arms. He gave a little smile.

Now tell me that wasn’t a daydream. Jill is not some helpless little girl to fall into some guy’s arms, even his. I followed her ponytail out to his car.

I grimaced impatiently while I did my work. Every once in a while I would look up from my laptop and see Jill batting her eyes. They took flirting to marathon heights. I chipped into the conversation every once in a while, but mostly I provided a nice background noise of fingers on keys.

“Oh,” I heard her say, “and thanks for the lovely present last time.”

“You mean the card I gave you? Have you been looking at it?”

(“Yes,” she would say. He would pull the car off the highway and onto a closed weigh station and behind some trees. Jill would be grinning at him and glancing up at the rear view mirror and smiling at me. She would wink, just for me. He would turn off the engine and lean his seat back. Jill would smile and touch her shoulder to her cheek, playing the shy girl, just for him. He would nod and beckon her over with one finger. She would take off her seatbelt and clamber over the gearshift, flashing me some thigh. I would breathe in sharply at the same time as she would when she saw the hard-on tenting his pants. He would nod again and tell her to take it out. She would sit crosswise in his lap and comply, fishing it reverently out through his boxers and jeans and then bend down to lick the head. He would breathe deeply and stick a hand up her skirt. She would start to moan, and he would pull her up and move his arm. Her violet panties would sweep away like a curtain from over a window, and I would see the light; her dripping cunt. She would guide herself down on him, her leg muscles straining. He would smack her ass and tell her to bounce, hard. He would lie back, his hands folded behind his head as she fucked herself on his cock. She would cum and he would sit up, slap her ass again, tell her to suck it. She would clamber back to her seat and lean over to him, showing her cleavage to him and showing her ass and dripping cunt to anyone who looked in the passenger’s side door. She would giggle and look him in the eye as she took the head into her mouth. She would bop up and down furiously, willing him to cum. I would be able to see her cheeks caving in around his cock and her tongue working. He would clamp a hand down on her head and lift his hips, thrusting his cock down her throat while he came. She would cough and sputter, but she would swallow it all. When it was all over, he would smile, pat her on the back, and start the car again. They would fix their seats and their clothes and put their seatbelts on. We would head back out onto the highway.)

He twisted around in his seat. I hadn’t even noticed the car stop.

“Want some dinner?” My computer was on screensaver. I must have fallen asleep. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“Sure.”

I looked at my watch as we trekked across the parking lot to the central rest area. Shit, had it only been two hours? And I really shouldn’t have any more fantasies like that, about them. What if I moaned in my sleep? Oh no, the hotel tonight. What would happen? I would really need to keep her in my bed now, just so I wouldn’t be plagued by any more visions. I could just reach over and touch her, and maybe knowing that it was not happening would help quiet my mind. But how disappointed would I be when it didn’t happen? Why could I see his face every time I shut my eyes? His brown, blank irises burned into my skull, just like they always used to do.

We waited out the lines and then commenced to scarf down our fast food. Halfway through my meal I stopped, fixated on one fry as the idea hit me. I turned it over and over in my hands, wondering why these heavy fantasies only happened around Richard. Why was he so fixating? I knew why. It was how cute he was, how easily athletic and obviously agile. How he took notes with his head almost touching the page. How he punctuated his sentences with raised eyebrows like little exclamation marks. How he quoted random passages from the textbook and supplementary materials.

“Are you going to eat that?” I looked up hurriedly; he was making exclamations with his eyebrows. Just like old times.

“No, I guess not.”

Jill and I took a bathroom trip. Man, was I wet. I was really going to have to watch this. Looking at the map in the lobby, the “you are here” star sticker said that we weren’t nearly far enough along after two hours of driving. Maybe there was some traffic I had missed when I was absorbed in my work. Or fantasizing, mayhaps.

We decided to switch it up a little, so I was in the front seat next to him and Jill was in the back. The car felt empty because of the cold, and we both warmed our hands on the heaters as soon as they started spouting hot air.

Friction. Skin on skin...

Our hands touched by accident in front of the middle heater. We both pulled the offending digits back immediately into our separate spheres. The clock ticked from 9:01 pm to 9:02 pm. He stared intently at the darkening roadway, and I looked fixedly out my window.

Jill took notes from a thick textbook.

I thought about last year, our senior year together. We had done a major history project together, but we never really pulled it together. We ended up with a C and some bad words were exchanged. But, as if to make up for it, he gave me a card come Christmas time. It was hand-drawn, and he told me to make sure I took a look at it. When I opened it that night, I found it full of little doodles and incomprehensible squiggles leading everywhere at once.

The day after that, that was when they started; the fantasies. Oh, I fantasize all the time anyway, but I’d never had any trouble pulling out of them. These seemed to run themselves, and they always felt so real. I’d had to frig myself in the bathroom more than once after they happened.

The next day, I wanted to thank him for the card. So I wandered around the school during lunch, until someone pointed me towards the theater. I entered in the back, through the stage left door, and peeked around the curtain. He was sitting in the first row, his dark head turned down intently into a book.

“Rich?”

He looked up, his dark eyes flashing. “Yes?”

“I um, wanted to thank you for the card.”

“Have you been looking at it?”

“Yes, it’s-

(“It’s beautiful,” I would say. He would smile, ecstatic with the compliment and something more and get up from his seat, take two long steps and leap onto the stage like he was flying. He would run over to me and sweep me up in a passionate kiss and sweep the backpack off my shoulders. He would cup my face in his hand and look into my eyes shining with excitement, and he would kiss me again. He would pull back, his hair following, and then rush back to me like a wave to the shore. He would kiss me deeply, kiss me well, and wrap his hands around my body. His hands would slide around as we turned our heads back and forth like in the movies. They would come to rest on my ass. He would give my butt a quick squeeze and I would jump and moan into his mouth.)

“It’s beautiful.” I blushed at the thought of what I had just been thinking.

He was standing in front of his seat, looking uncomfortable. He must have been weirded out that had been looking for him. Or that I had been staring into space for the last five minutes. I should go.

So I thanked him again and left. I could hear him settling back into his seat as I headed directly for the bathroom across the hallway...

The miles passed. After that first time in the theater, I started writing the fantasies down. I didn’t want to forget a single thing we did, a single detail of the way they made me feel.

Slick and moaning...

The next day in History class, I tried to bring on another fantasy, seeing as I didn’t have anything interesting to do for that particular hour. I zoned out and stared at the back of Richard’s head. Nothing. Maybe I had to be able to see his face, I thought. I got up and sharpened my pencil. I made eye contact on the way back to my seat, a risky move. He would stand, and leap across three rows of desks to get to...nope, it wasn’t working. Thirteen girls were glaring at me.

Jill asked me if she could borrow my laptop. I gave her permission and slipped back into another memory. That time in the lab...

A couple days after that time in the theater, I was in the computer lab after school trying to finish an essay. This was before the laptop. I was typing away industriously as the last few people left, and a new someone walked in. Whoever it was came and stood right behind me. I whipped my head around in a moment of panic, and then sighed with relief. It was Richard.

“Hey Rich.”

“Hey Shelley. What are you working on?”

“English essay.”

“Fun. Hey, have you been looking at that card I gave you?”

“Yeah.”

(He would smile. He would touch my shoulder and I would stand up. We would kiss briefly and I would nuzzle into his neck and nibble the soft skin of his ear lobe. He would tell me to wait and he would go over and close the door of the lab. I would walk over to the lab monitors’ table and perch on the edge. He would come over and lean down and kiss me sweetly, and then strongly. He would push me down so that I was lying on the table with my legs hanging off of it. He would get on top of me and grab my hair in his fists and mash his lips into mine. We would make out hungrily and I would wrap my arms around him, feeling his face and gripping his back and arms. I would grab his shoulder blades with the tips of my fingers. He would sit me up, and we would laugh and touch each other, and then we would get under the table. I would lean against one table leg, my own legs stretched out, the only thing visible from the door. He would kneel in front of me and place a hand on my breast. He would ask my permission, which I would give, and then he would slide his hand under my shirt and bra. He would cup my tit in his hand and start rolling the nipple between his fingers. He would grin as I squirmed and tossed my head back.)

“What’s your paper on?” he asked, bringing me back to reality.

“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest compared to On the Road. It’s very deep.”

“Cool.” His phone rang and he picked up, moving out into the room. I turned back to my computer as he opened the door and drifted out into the hallway...

“Thanks for letting me use the ‘top,” said Jill, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Uh, no problem.” I blushed.

“Ladies?”

“Yes, Richie?” Jill answered for both of us.

“It’s about eleven, how about we stop for the night?”

“Sure, Richie, sounds good. You must be tired, driving all that way.”

“He’s only driven four hours,” I mumbled to the door.

We got a room in a little Motel 6 right off I-90. Jill had gone in and gotten the room. She had flirted her way into a nonsmoking room with two queen beds while somehow only paying for one person. Richard and I sat in the car staring into the bright hotel lobby. Jill came bounding back out (bounding? that wasn’t like Jill, what was with her lately?) and we drove around to the other side of the hotel, grabbed some toiletries and clothes for the next day out of the trunk and filed into the room. We blinked when I hit the lights. We didn’t speak as we traded off for the bathroom. I made sure Jill got into my bed.

I stared at a spot on the ceiling. Richard, with his wild gesticulations and quotations, he split the girls of the school right in half. No, not that way. At least not that anyone knew of. He never had girlfriends, I think he carried around a bible or something. He always managed to have us clutching our stomachs with laughter at least once a class. After class, at lunch, the girls would split into two chattering groups. One group thought that he was so cute he was beyond reproach. The other thought he was cute but recognized that he was human. I rolled over and faced Jill’s back.

As soon as I was sure he was asleep, I put my arms around her. She sighed and snuggled into me. Her ass brushed up against my mound and I started feeling wicked. I reached up slowly, so as not to disturb her, and grabbed two handfuls of Jill-tit. She squealed and I shushed her. I warned her to be quiet or Rich would hear. We could have some fun, but we musn’t be too naughty with him here.

She turned over under the covers to face me, wrapped her arms around me, and gave me a delicious little squeeze. I kissed her soft lips. She rolled over on top of me and we we started feeling each other with our fingertips, light and rushing, sending little sparks to our respective clits. Someone let out a soft sigh.

“Oh, come on,” she whispered. “Here, look.” She reached a hand down and came up with a wet finger. “Smell how wet I am. Taste.”

I took her finger into my mouth and sucked all the way up, getting all of her tangy juices. She moaned and lay back down on me, our breasts tingling as they collided. I reached my hand down to her crotch, feeling all the way.

“Ohhh...”

I felt eyes on me. I pulled my face out from under Jill’s and flicked my eyes over to Richard’s bed. I saw a pair of bright eyes twinkling at me out of the darkness.

“Oh my god, Jill!”

“Ohh, shit!” We clutched each other’s arms like we were falling off a cliff.

“Shit shit shit!”

“Don’t stop on my account girls.” I could hear his smirk through the darkness.

“Oh, shut up you perv,” retorted Jill. We turned our backs to him and spooned each other. I think we all had trouble getting to sleep, but it was a quiet night.

We woke up too late for the continental breakfast, so we grabbed some pancakes and bacon at a Denny’s and headed out.

Whatever spell Richard had Jill under seemed to have broken after his little voyeuristic adventure and she refused to sit next to him, which put me in the hot seat again. She crossed her arms and wouldn’t even look at him. He tried to speak to her a few times, but she just took out her cd player and plugged herself in. She had the thing up so loud we could hear every lyric.

He tried to make small talk, but I was having none of it. He started channel-surfing the radio and I stared out the windshield.

Those fantasies last year, they had been so powerful, so real. I could almost feel his hands on my flesh like afterimages when they were over. But it always seemed curious afterwards, like there was something slightly wrong...but no...

One day I was in the gym, shooting baskets. I had a free period, so I’d changed and picked up a basketball from under the bleachers. I stood on the free-throw line in my soccer shorts and sports bra, shooting jump shots.

I had been putting them up left and swishing them right when I heard a creak and missed my shot, my focus broken. I looked in the direction the ball was now bouncing. My ponytail swung around after my head, brushing the bare skin below my bra.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

“Me neither. But I have a free, and no car today, so, here I am.” I made a small fatalistic gesture, and then my hand flopped limply towards my leg. Our conversations always had this sort of awkward tone that tended to end them quickly. No matter how much I tried not to be sketchy, tried not to stare at him in History class or tried not to find the routes to all my classes that would intersect his routes, I still never managed to be quite casual in my real-life dealings with him. You didn’t think I could stare so much and fantasize so deeply without starting to like him, did you?

“Well, look at the time,” he said, glancing at a silver, chunky watch, the kind so in fashion in middle school, “I should get out to the store; I forgot to get my mom a card for her birthday, how bad a son am I?”

(“Not that bad,” I would say. I would tilt my head to the side and let my ponytail brush my back, let it touch and tingle. I would take sexy steps towards him, make his eyes follow every sway of my hips. Lately, I found that I had been able to control my own destiny in these fantasies. If you think I could fantasize for months about one guy without being able to make them go the way I wanted, you’re not thinking. I’m even sexier than usual in my dreams. I would walk over, basketball forgotten, and smile, grab his shoulder, and lean in for a kiss. He would bend his head down at an angle, his hair swishing over his forehead, and he would purse his lips. I would grab the back of his head and pull him down. We would cascade to the floor like two dominoes possessed of consciousness. But not conscience, that would be gone. I would pull his backpack off his back and free us of its weight. His books would spill out because the zipper wouldn’t have been closed all the way. All those books, seriously, how much time did he spend on homework? He would look at it for a second, and then he would forget his remorse and lust would come into his eyes. We would writhe around like fish out of water, pressing our yearning bodies against each other. Then he would reel back and haul me up with an outstretched hand, and we would laugh, knowing how wicked we were about to be. We would scamper under the bleachers and he would push me against the wall and lift my leg around his waist. He would slip a hand under the elastic both up and down and play with my taught nipple with his left hand, and tease circles around my pussy-lips with his right. His right hand would become the focus of my being and I would squirm under it, yearning for some hard contact. He would slip a finger inside and I would gasp in pleasure, and he would slip another finger in and then his fingers would be everywhere inside of me, cleverly pushing and then pistoning, making me groan. I would feel the heat of my own juices flowing down his hand. This would go on interminably, and I would reach a shaking hand down to massage his cock through his pants. He would moan, and I would pant, and we would look into each other’s flashing eyes. He would keep pushing and pushing and pushing and then I would arch my back, sending my head backwards, sliding over the wall. His hand would be the only thing holding me in this reality while pushing me out of it at the same time, the same way my muscles would be pushing him out with the force of their contractions. We would be breathing heavily, sitting on the dirty gym floor, and then we would break out into gales of shaking laughter.)

I grinned nervously as I trotted over to retrieve the basketball that was sitting motionless in the far corner. How long had I been standing there slackjawed? Out of chivalry or something, he also started towards the ball, and we kind of collided somewhere in the middle. We separated immediately, nervously. Had he known what I had been thinking? How could he? He couldn’t have. Why did I feel something brush my leg then? Shit, I must have flashed him or something when we collided, when we were too close. But I still felt a flush of pride that I had given the school heartthrob a hard-on with no more than a sports bra...

I had been thrust into these more-real-than-life daydreams every week, and then every few days. There was a point when they were coming thick and fast, when it was almost every day. They were so wonderful that I never wanted them to end. It was almost every time I saw Richard. Well, no, wait, it never happened in history class. Sure I had daydreams about him, but I always knew that I was sitting at my desk. I always knew that I was taking notes, and the clock followed its orderly progression of second after second and minute after minute.

Then, suddenly, they stopped. I remembered the last one...

It was after school again, late. These dreams happened after school a lot; Rich seemed to wander the halls after hours, so I had started arranging to get picked up from school later and later. This afternoon I was sitting on a window-ledge in the sunlight, writing. There was a slam somewhere down the hallway and I looked up to see Rich coming out of a math room, heading my way. I turned back to my notebook and pretended to scribble something. He would probably pass right by. My stomach flipped over when I heard footsteps stop in front of me. I heard breathing. I took a breath. I looked up, pushing a strand of hair off my face.

“Hi Rich, what’s up?”

“Hello Shelley. Not much. But look, did you see that? Mr. Floath is such a card.”

(“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t had him,” I would say.

“You’re missing a lot,” he would say, putting down his bag and hopping up onto the ledge next to me.

These fantasies weren’t all sexual. I wouldn’t have a fantasy boyfriend and not have lengthy imaginary conversations with him. If you think otherwise, you’re not thinking clearly. So anyway, he would hop up next to me and put his arm around my shoulder, all nice and protective. We would talk about school. I would tell him jokingly that we would have to stop meeting like this; maybe we should go to his house. I would cozy into him and then he would turn my chin sideways with one hand and kiss me. We would start alternating sentences and kisses.

“So really, my house?”

Kiss.

“Oh yeah. Or mine.”

Kiss.

“What’s wrong with school?”

Kiss.

“Well, I don’t like the fact that someone could catch us.”

Kiss.

“Maybe I like that.”

Kiss.

“Maybe I don’t.”

Kiss.

“Why not?”

Kiss.

“Well, for one thing, everyone would hate me if someone found us.”

Kiss.

“Why?”

“Well, I guess, it’s the way...the way people see you.”

He would sit back, scott back, put his legs up and bend them and put his hands around his knees.

“How do people see me? Well, actually,” he would say, “how do you see me. You’re the important one, what do you think of me?”

I would lean forwards and put folded arms on his knees and lay my head on my arms so that I would be looking up at him. Since this was just a fantasy, I would be completely honest. I would be brutally honest.

“Well, you’re kind of like the guy in The 40 Year Old Virgin. You remember how they all thought he was a serial killer? Well, not really like that. Or maybe, I don’t know. So you’re like him, only more likely to be a virgin because of religion than shyness.” He would look devastated, so I would rush on. “But you’re really cute!” Even imaginary boyfriends need their ego’s stroked, go figure. “That’s the real reason everyone would hate me if they found out; because they think you’re cute. Maybe a little weird, but cute.”

“Weird? How?” He would swallow hard.

“Um, well, bizarre. Like, not quite all there. Prone to weird fits of fitting in and then strange shouting episodes. I mean, you must have noticed, they all talk about you at lunch. Or, um, I guess you wouldn’t know about that. But maybe, like, well, you stop conversations with comments that, to you, I’m sure, are perfectly ordinary. But no one really knows how your mind works. Part of the mystique, I guess. But you’re a really good kisser!” I would look back up at him as I finished and I would realize my error.

I would lean forwards and try to kiss him, but he would lean back, he would leap off the window, sending my head careening forwards, and he would run off down the hallway.)

My chin hurt, and I tasted blood. Richard was gone; he must have left while I was still lost in my own little world. I checked my watch; it was almost a good thing that fall had woken me up; my mom was supposed to be out back in three minutes. It was just like me to be late when I had been doing nothing...

It was also just like me to have a fight with my fantasy boyfriend, too. It was also just like me to be depressed by it, when I still had the real one to attend to. But the fantasies never came back. After a graduation ceremony during which I tried not to stare at him but couldn’t manage it, I lost track of Richard as well as most of my graduating class. I expected to see him (and some of them) next at some distant reunion. But here we were, sitting next to each other.

And how do you work through relationship problems with your fantasy boyfriend when the real guy is sitting next to you and doesn’t even know that you had a thing for each other--in your mind. How twisted is that?

I fell asleep for a few hours; I hadn’t had enough the night before. When I woke up, the clock said 10:46 pm and the car was sitting in front of a house all lit up with faerie lights; Jill’s family liked to get a jump on the holiday season. Blurry shapes moved around between the falling snow. I rubbed my eyes.

“Jill?”

One of the blurry shapes opened my door. “You’re awake. Finally! This is my stop.” In a lower voice, she continued “I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to spend another night with the creep. He got a headache earlier so we had to stop for a few hours. I didn’t want to wake you. We barely made it here in one piece with the snow, so you guys can’t get home tonight. The little creep, it’s like he planned it or something.” Resuming a normal tone, she said “But anyway Shelley, I’ll see you next week! Have a great Thanksgiving!” She leaned down into the car and gave me a squeeze.

“Bye bye, Jill. You have a great Thanksgiving too.” I leaned back and promptly fell asleep again, but not before a little tingle went through me. Had he really planned for us to spend a night in the hotel alone? What did that mean? Did he like me or something? Because if he did, that would be a huge, stinking pile, wouldn’t it? It would mean that this whole year of yearning was useless because I could have just reached out and kissed him the whole time. But no, he couldn’t like me. Remember, it’s all in your head.

He got back in the car and told me most of what Jill just told me. I nodded. We drove for about a half hour, listening to the radio. He said he was feeling like the road was getting dangerous and we should stop now. I nodded. When we pulled up to the Best Western I told him to go on in and get the room. I waited in the car. I didn’t want the desk clerk to think we were involved or anything.

We trade off for the bathroom and then get into our separate beds. He tries to make conversation, but I’m having none of it. Finally, he says “Hey, look, I’m sorry about all that last night. Don’t ignore me. We’ll just go to sleep, and then, see, look, they even left this card out with local restaurants on it and we’ll go have breakfast and then get you home, I promise.”

Not again, not now, please not now! (I would look over at him, at his dark eyes burning into me from across the night. He would be sitting up, shirtless. I would sigh.

“I guess I can’t fight this,” I would say. “I’ve never been able to before. I don’t know how this happens, but I guess, fantasy Richard, if you’re ready to come back to me...” I would motion him to come hither to me.

“Aww,” he would say, “I knew you liked me. I knew you wouldn’t hold a grudge.”

“Like I can help it,” I would say, “You get me trapped in these fantasies and I can’t get out of them until you let me. But you know all this.” I would smile. “So you like me again? Last time we were together you ran away awful fast.”

He would smile and mumble something about bygones being bygones and something about how I was too sexy to resist and he would slide into my bed. He would slide his hands down and soon we would be naked, skin on skin, face to face. He would be inside me and we would rock gently back and forth, burning exquisitely. I would turn away from his blank eyes and nuzzle into his smooth neck. He would have his hand on the small of my back and bring it up, lightly, sweeping from side to side and then playing it lightly over the area between my shoulder blades. His hand would caress my neck and then sweep back over my shoulders. I would gasp, tense, and start to pulse, leaning back into his hand, knowing that the soft touch was what brought pleasure but still craving the pressure, the finality of a real grasp. I would arch my chest, and he would take one of my nipples into his mouth. My climax would reach a crescendo and I would chop the air into my lungs, gasping and mewling, writhing and squirming on him. The wave would take me forwards again and I would bite his neck between the ear and the jaw and wrap my arms around his warm, wide back. His mouth would pull away from my breast as he starts his own climax and I twist my head up and kiss him full on the lips, bringing him down to the foot of the bed. He would groan and I would be able to feel his pulses start as mine die away. I would pull back for air and he would suddenly grab me around the middle and mash me down into him for another intense kiss. Finally, my hair spread out like a dark angel’s halo, I would fall asleep. He would be half in me and I would be half on him, and we would clutch each other tightly.)

I yawned, stretched, and screamed.

“Richard, Richard what the FUCK?” He woke up smiling and then choked, feeling his morning hardness inside of me. “What the fuck is going on?” I hit his chest.

“Shelley? Shit shit shit! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Supposed? You’re fucking inside me and you tell me this is an accident, a whoops? You KNOW how this happened, I know you do, now tell me!”

“I really don’t know Shelley, I--” I saw him staring at my chest. I slugged him one, a right hook across that pretty face of his.

He moaned in pain and clutched at his face and I leaped off him, scampering for clothes.

“Look, Shelley--”

I cut him off when it dawned on me. “Oh God. Oh god, this isn’t the first time, is it?”

“Shelley, I really don’t think--”

“No, it’s not. You’ve done something to me. This is all real, isn’t it? There never were any fantasies, you just made me think they were. You screwed around with me all last year and...fucking hell, Richard, I liked you, too. You could have just fucking asked me and I probably would have done all that with you anyway. But fuck that, forget that, what the fuck did you think you were doing?”

“Please Shelley!” He slid off the bed, falling to his knees. “I like you, a lot. I didn’t at first, but then I did, and then I didn’t know how to stop, I thought you would think I was weird if I just asked you out, and this was easy.”

“Men and their easy ways out! Oh,” I moaned, falling to my knees with an armful of mismatched clothes, “Why do I still like you?”

He crawled over to me and tried to put an arm around me but I hauled off and punched him again through my tears. “All real...it’s all real...all real...”

I pretended to fall asleep after a while because I had no idea how to deal with this situation. He had dressed me, put me and the stuff in his car, checked out, and started driving us home. Goddamn, why did he have to be so tender? I think I fell asleep for real after a few minutes in the car, because I woke around noon and we were entering Rhode Island.

He smiled nervously at me. I was still mad at him. I wouldn’t speak to him. We sat in silence, until he cleared his throat. He spoke.

“Look, I’m really sorry. You were pretty awful to me on that project and I wanted revenge, so I gave you that card. It didn’t do anything major to you, just gave you some triggers. It made you think you were in a daydream every time I said it, it didn’t do anything else. You lowered your own inhibitions, I guess, because you thought you were just fantasizing. But I was new at the whole thing, and I fell for you. I’m sorry, I should have told you then. But we had built this whole relationship already, in your dreams, we were together. We had jokes, we had signs, little things...it was a perfect relationship and I just, I didn’t want to have to start over because it might not be perfect. I knew it couldn’t be the same, and I also didn’t know how much you actually remembered afterwards.”

“Everything,” I said, “Always.”

He looked at me for a long minute, and continued. “Well, it would have been pretty strange for everything from your dreams to suddenly start happening in real life.”

“It would have been wonderfully fucking magical, Richard.”

“I fucked up. I really fucked up, ok? I mean, you see why I couldn’t tell you. The best thing would have been to tell you though; tell you and hope that you would forgive me and really like me and then we could keep everything we had, everything we already shared. I’m just, so, so sorry.” The tears started pouring out of his one good eye and dripping out of the shiner I gave his other one. “I mean, I should never even have done it. But it brought us together, right? And then when you told me you thought I was a serial killer? That really hurt me. I couldn’t face you anymore, knowing what you really thought of me. So I started giving the cards to other people. I gave one to Jill after I slept with her. Hers also made her slightly more compliant. Most of the others I gave out did that, after the first one at college kind of backfired. I never knew what went wrong. I guess I do now...it was because you really liked me, wasn’t it? Oh god, you’re so beautiful and I, I just, oh god I’m so sorry!” he wailed.

I took a deep breath, and put my hand on his shoulder. He swung his head around and a sharp intake of breath when he felt my touch. “Richard. You, you still like me?”

“Yes, more than anything. A lot.”

“Well, I still like you. And I know I’ll never be able to forget how perfect that all was. So I want to be with you. As long as you’re honest, as long as we always know. You’ll take back those other cards, not use them ever again. I hate that I can’t hate you, but I’m not gonna be stupid about it. And the serial killer thing? I wasn’t very eloquent that day, but I never thought you were a serial killer. Just strange. Which means different, which is good. All those high school guys are all the same, but you were different. It was mysterious.” He sniffed and looked a lot better. I offered him a tissue. “I want you,” I said, a rush going through my body.

He grinned, and said, “Look over there! That billboard is like a giant Christmas card!”

(I would look over and laugh because there was no billboard. He would pull over into the runaway truck lane and stop the car. He would unclick my seatbelt with one hand and reach the other around my neck and he would pull me to him. Before he would kiss me, I would realize, I would say, “Hey! You’re doing it to me again, aren’t you?”)

He smiled and nuzzled my neck.

“You don’t need it anymore,” I said. “My fantasy boyfriend was great, but I have a feeling that my reality boyfriend is going to be much more...substantial.” I grinned and reached down for something very important. He gasped.