The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Daniel sat back in his chair, catching some sun, a large coffee before him. So much for green tea. It’s caffeine time, he reflected. The temperature was a rather normal springtime temperature, giving some hope that while the winter had been unseasonably warm—to the horror of winter sports amateurs—the summer might not follow that trend. As it was, he was nearly alone on the outdoor seating of the Darnell Café, the campus still relatively quiet in the mid-morning hour.

The events of the previous night kept bouncing around in his head: running into Jenn at the diner, fighting with Biff, having sex with Cindy, talking to her afterwards. Amazing how much one can pack into an evening. He had not yet entirely sorted his feelings about it all, swimming instead within a numbness that undoubtedly hid deeper, harsher feelings.

He had run the evening over and over in his head, returning again and again to the post-coital conversation with Cindy that helped explain not only the events earlier in the evening, but also much of what had been happening to him and his friends since the previous autumn. And after the shock of seeing Jenn again after two months—a Jenn almost unrecognizable from the one he had know—what had floored him was that he had been right. Incredibly, he had been right. Jenn was being manipulated. Controlled. Mastered. Early on, he had latched onto the mind-control idea simply to avoid looking at the uglier possibility that she had dumped him because she was scared or confused or simply did not love him. But that idea, as emotionally attractive as it was—Jenn not in control of her action, therefore innocent—he had had to dismiss intellectually as pure science fiction, especially after looking into available techniques for his senior project. And yet, if Cindy was to be believed, it was all true. Somehow, the boys of Delta Iota Kappa had gotten their hands on a frighteningly effective way to control girls, and had used it to ensnare Cindy, Serena, and now Jenn. It was crazy. If not for having seen how Jenn herself had behaved, he would not believe it even now.

And Biff was controlling Jenn—the worst case scenario. Daniel shook his head. He had to get her out of there. Somehow. But what could he do? Go to the police? According to Cindy, they could not be trusted. She had told him that Kevin—the fraternity president—had an in with the chief of police. That same chief we went to see months ago. Did he know even then what was going? If not the police, then what? The University? The fraternity? Maybe he should go confront Kevin again. But to tell him what? Getting angry and venting might do some good to his morale, but would certainly not get the fraternity to stop. In fact, again according to Cindy, Kevin had contemplated getting rid of Daniel—what that meant was unclear, but could not have been good—and only Jackson had stepped in to protect Daniel. What about Jackson—another piece of the puzzle to be figured out. Friend or foe? Cindy said he was a good guy, if confused and needing to be nudged in the right direction. Maybe. Which brought Daniel back to the initial question: what to do about Jenn? Find her and bring her back, using force if necessary? That would require getting her away from Biff and his thugs. To do that, he needed a plan. That was one thing he needed to talk to Radhu about, the one person he truly trusted.

What about Cindy? Was she to be trusted herself? On the one hand, she did admit to having a crush on him, and she did tell him pretty much exactly what he wanted to hear. On the other hand, if she had wanted him to herself, she would have told him that Jenn had left him willingly instead of telling him that Jenn was acting against her will, a move that pretty much ensured that Daniel would seek to rescue his fiancée. So if Cindy was lying, then her motivations were utterly opaque to him.

And what about that whole bit about the medallion and its effect on her? Was it true? She had been much more aggressive than he ever remembered her being last night after she had put the medallion around his neck. The only other time she had ever been so forward was at that NADA party the previous semester, where she had also put the medallion around his neck. Again, he had to take it at face value, since he had no rational explanation for why she would be lying about that.

Thinking about Cindy and her medallion made him think about sex with Cindy. The sex had been amazing—he had not realized how much he missed being close to a warm female body. Granted, he felt guilty as all hell about it this morning—especially after learning that Jenn had not in fact dumped him, at least not willingly. But he could not deny that he had enjoyed it, all of it. The memory of sliding into Cindy’s welcoming pussy made his cock throb. Between that and the arousal he still felt at Jenn’s performance at the diner the previous night, looking like a million dollars and exuding sex from every beautiful pore of her body, well, he was one turned on and confused fellow.

He shook his head to clear it, and finished his coffee. Despite the confusion, there was one thing of which he was sure. He loved Jenn. And he would find a way to snatch her away from that monster. The only thing that kept him from going crazy was Cindy’s assurance that Jenn was unaware of what she was forced to do, and that obeying had the side effect of bringing pleasure. At least, she was not suffering.

And now he had to go to class and then stop by Radhu’s to let him know what he had learned.

He was dropping his used mug in the return bin when he chanced a look inside the café, and stopped. There she was again—the woman that he had noticed a few times around campus already. Deep black hair, leather coat, always alone and silent. She was drinking from a bottle a carbonated water, and seemed to be looking at nothing in particular. And yet he felt she knew perfectly well that he was staring. He hesitated, then opened the door to the café.

The woman did not move when he walked up to her. When he stopped by her table, she finally turned her head and looked at him. She had piercing blue eyes, ice cold. She was utterly calm as she considered him, but part of him—an old, instinctive part of him—wanted to run, fast and far. He remaining standing, suddenly unsure of what to say now that he was there.

“May I help you?” she asked. She had a hint of an accent, very subtle, at the edge of perception. With the sharp angles of her face, he figured she must have had some Eastern European ancestry.

“I should be the one asking you that exact same question. I’ve seen you around a lot. Are you following me?”

There was a hint of a smile creeping at her upper lip. She was striking, he noted. The way the edge of a katana was striking. “Why would I be following you?”

“You tell me. Given how messed up my life’s been lately, I wouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore.”

She looked at him for several seconds, her blue eyes showing no emotion. She reached inside her coat, pulling out a photograph and sliding it across the table towards him. “Do you know this man?”

He looked at the photograph. A man in his early thirties, good looking, wearing a lab coat, his expression carefully neutral. It looked like a picture taken for an identification card. It took him a few seconds to recognize the man, given the different context. This was the man he had seen tackling Marjorie into a limousine the previous semester, the man he had seen with Marjorie at the NADA party. Snowman.

“Who wants to know?”

She flipped open a wallet, showed him a badge. “Agent Eve Shawbank. FBI. This man is a person of interest in a case I’m currently investigating. Doctor Thaddeus Cargyle. I know he’s on campus, and I am trying to locate him. And thus I repeat my question: do you know this man?”

Doctor, thought Daniel. Interesting. “I’ve seen him before. Last semester. With a friend of a friend. Never talked to him. What did he do?”

“I can’t tell you that, Mister Malcolm. But I can tell you that this man is dangerous. Do you happen to know his whereabouts?”

“How do you know my name?”

“It’s my job to know, Mister Malcolm. I am aware of the connection of this man to one Miss Marjorie Duquesne, which I suppose is the friend of a friend you were referring to. Have you seen him recently?”

“No,” replied Daniel, “I haven’t.”

“I would like to emphasize the importance of any information I can glean on this individual, Mister Malcolm. Are you certain?”

“Yes. I have not seen him since late last November. There was a party thrown by the New American Deal Association. I spotted him from afar—he was with Marjorie. Miss Duquesne. But I lost track of him as the evening progressed.” He did not mention the reason—pandemonium erupting as Marjorie collapsed on the makeshift stage.

“Anything else you might want to tell me about this individual?”

“I was told his name was Snowman, and that he might have connections to the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity.” He did not explain what that connection was. He’s likely the guy that steals girls and programs them to be sex slaves.

“Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

Shawbank looked at him cooly for a few more seconds before sliding a business card across the table. “Here’s my card. Please call me if you come across anything else. I would be most grateful.”

“Sure. Mind if I keep the picture? You know, in case I spot him or something? I can keep my eyes open.”

“Of course, Mister Malcolm. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. See you around.”

“Yes, Mister Malcolm. See you around.”

Daniel had a lot to tell Radhu when he saw him that afternoon. Radhu listened attentively as Daniel summarized what he had learned from Cindy the night before regarding the activities of the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity and the programming performed by this doctor—which Daniel now believed was none other than Snowman himself.

Radhu listened with an eye on one of the larger monitors he had mounted on the wall of his apartment and to which he was streaming some random science-fiction movie. Daniel resisted the urge to snap at his friend to pay more attention, knowing that Radhu was in fact paying attention. Somehow, Radhu’s enforced isolation had exacerbated his need to multitask, as if his excess physical energy needed an outlet, and he had been taking advantage of this turn of event to indulge his love of cheap sci-fi fare. Daniel had a flash that perhaps he should talk to Cindy about setting up her roommate with his friend.

“And you believe what Cindy has recounted?” where the first words out of Radhu’s mouth once he had digested the information.

“I lean towards it, yes. I mean, why would she lie? I can’t figure out an angle.”

“Mmm. It is true that her own selfish motives would steer her away from those exact revelations, which will only serve to make you more determined to get back your ex-fiancée. Then again, I am always the first to be utterly surprised by the lack of rationality exhibited by human beings, so who really knows what she is thinking. Here is another hypothesis: what if she is being controlled to tell you what she has told you?”

“Huh, okay. But again, why? Whoever did that would have wanted to direct me away from looking more deeply into Delta Iota Kappa, no?”

“You are assuming that whoever hypothetically controlled Cindy into making those revelations wishes to hide the activity of the fraternity. What if their goal is to expose them, and making you their vanguard in that endeavor is their approach?”

“That’s a whole lot of speculation heaping up there. What is it that you often tell me, Occam’s razor?”

“Lex parsimoniae—the simplest explanation is often the right one. I accept your argument. Although there remains the puzzle of exactly how that doctor managed to program those women.”

“No clue. Cindy doesn’t know either. That’s why she was doing that project with me—trying to figure that out herself. She guesses a combination of drugs, and something called neuro-cortical stimulation.” Radhu nodded at that, not surprised. “But nothing we’ve covered, including some of the links you gave us, really matches the effects that she described.”

“I second that assessment. Even the classified results of some of the post-MKUltra projects do not report anything even remotely like the kind of control that Cindy described.”

“I’m not going to even ask you how you have access to classified results.”

“It is assuredly appropriate that you do not inquire.”

“Anyway! Our best bet then seems to be finding that doctor, and getting him to tell us how to deprogram those girls. And then we find Jenn and get her out of there. In either order.”

“I have not been able to locate Jennifer or Biff on campus since the last observation at the Student Center that I replayed for you, but I will attempt to narrow down likely locations for them based on credit card activity and other flags. The approach did not yield results when Jennifer first disappeared, but conceivably Biff is now less vigilant. As far as the doctor is concerned, my software has been unable to locate him at all, but whether that is because he is not around campus or anywhere covered by a networked wireless camera, or because we do not have a description of him that the software can effectively use, I cannot venture a guess.”

“This may help, then.” Daniel handed Radhu the photograph he had taken from Agent Shawbank earlier.

“That it would,” replied Radhu after looking at the photograph. “Where did you acquire this?”

Daniel told him about his encounter with the FBI agent earlier that morning. Radhu listened, while looking at a Saturday-morning villain attempting to reanimate a corpse on the large screen.

“Why did you not apprise her of the information Cindy imparted?”

“Honestly? Because I want to find this doctor before anyone else does. I want him to tell me how to reverse what was done to Jenn—”

“If anything was done to Jennifer—”

“That doctor will be able to tell me either way.”

“That is risky. We are talking about federal law enforcement here. I would not be surprised that charges of obstruction of justice are applicable in this instance. ”

“Well, if I do find him, I will call this agent. But not before I have a chat with him. Are you still with me?”

Radhu nodded. “Of course. You should know that. I was just voicing a devil’s advocate opinion. I will scan this photograph and input it into my facial recognition algorithm. That should most definitely speed up the search.”

Daniel thought for a second. “Do you keep past feeds from the camera?”

“Yes. Everything that has been coming in I have archived in a bank of hard drives that I purchased a year ago and had no thought regarding its potential utility. I was going to re-execute the recognition software over those past feeds, although it will take a nontrivial amount of time. There is a lot of data.”

“I have an idea. Cindy told me that before the doctor disappeared, he had been running an experiment on Serena, one that seemed to enthuse him quite a bit.”

“Intriguing. What sort of experiment?”

“Cindy didn’t know. But she did say that he kept a close eye on Serena. What I’m thinking is that perhaps the good doctor has been keeping an eye out for Serena even after going into hiding, to see how is experiment is going. If he’s even half the scientist you are, he would not have dropped a running experiment without at least attempting to see it through.”

“Indeed. So you are thinking perhaps of isolating footage we have of Serena and cross-referencing with this photograph to see if she has met with the doctor at any point?”

“Pretty much. Is that possible? Then again, scanning through for footage of Serena in the stored feeds is probably just as difficult as scanning through for footage of the doctor directly, so maybe there’s no gain...”

Daniel’s voice lingered when he saw how red Radhu had become. The tall Indian was blushing furiously, and seemed to be studiously concentrating on the movement of a badly-coordinated reanimated creature lumbering towards a wailing woman on the large monitor. Daniel could not help smile.

“Don’t tell me—you’ve already isolated all of Serena’s footage, haven’t you?”

Radhu did not even bothering answering, and only blushed harder.

“Good, that should make it easier, then,” continued Daniel, still smiling.

Radhu nodded, riveted on the scene on the big screen.

“For the record, Radhu my friend, you are sick. You’re just lucky I know you’re utterly inoffensive.”

Radhu’s redness did not fade, but he smiled weakly at this jab.

Daniel grasped his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been so caught up in my stuff that I didn’t think how it might affect you. Of course, Serena’s also part of this mess. How are you feeling?”

Radhu took a moment before turning to look at Daniel. “I have been observing Serena these last few months, as you accurately inferred, and notwithstanding an increased sexual proclivity, she has not appeared harmed or unhappy, and therefore I am not negatively impacted by what is going on. Especially, if we are to believe Cindy, if Serena is not aware of her actions. My assumption is that whatever you discover that might help Jennifer can effectively be used to help Serena.”

“Still, knowing that those Delta Iota Kappa guys... I mean... you must have seen her with them. Can’t be easy.”

Radhu shrugged. “Daniel, Serena has been sexually active for the whole period of time I have known her, as you are well aware, and has not been shy about regaling us with accounts of her adventures. These last few months have been no different in that respect. I have grown accustomed to these developments, and have so far been capable of—shall I say—take them in stride.”

“I’d argue the situation’s a bit different now.”

“If we are not careful, we shall soon devolve into a discussion about the concept of free will, and while such a dialogue might be bracing for the soul, we are unlikely to resolve an issue that has led to both Erasmus and Luther producing some of their most intriguing work while disagreeing until the end. Instead, while we are on the topic of risky behavior involving circumventing legal pronouncements, I should ask you—do you still want me to proceed with my surreptitious attempts at exploring the fraternity’s computer network?”

“What? Oh, right, that. I don’t know. Perhaps we should put that on hold for the time behind. I mean, we already found out much of what we need to know from Cindy. We don’t need to risk it. Maybe if we don’t find the doctor, or if whatever Cindy told me turns out to be wrong, then we can go back to that plan.” Daniel stopped when he saw Radhu’s expression. “But clearly you seem to think differently.”

“You make good points, but I advocate that I continue my attempts at electronic infiltration. Part of the reason is that if we table the plan and decide to return to it later, important information might have been deleted. As a contingency, we should proceed, and in the worst possible case, we obtain redundant information that simply confirms what we already have knowledge of.”

“Rad, in the worst possible case, we get caught and end up in a heap of trouble.”

“Then it behooves me to ensure that we do not get caught, does it not?”

Daniel smiled and shook his head. There was no reasoning with his clever friend, sometimes. Then he looked at him with a small suspicion. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Whatever might you mean?”

“Why are you so gung-ho to go and hack into Delta Iota Kappa?”

“As I told you, I simply am implementing a contingency plan. You are becoming paranoid.” He paused and looked at Daniel. “Between that and my nascent agoraphobia, we make a rather dysfunctional pair of heroic figures, do we not?”

“Yeah. Yay us.”

Radhu stood. “I suggest, therefore, that you scan this photograph, so that I can proceed with searching the archival footage for this doctor.”

Daniel nodded, happy to be doing something. After this, he would be left again with nothing to do but wait. He was getting tired of it.

Kevin Cusker, president of Delta Iota Kappa, fidgeted in his chair. The meeting had been scheduled for ten minutes earlier, and he knew full well that he was kept waiting on purpose, which angered him and worried him equally.

The administrative assistant to the President of Darnell University, a beautiful dark-skinned brunette sitting at a desk across from Kevin and guarding the door to the president’s office, smiled at the young man.

“President Calhoun should not be too long, sir.”

Kevin struggled to respond to the glorified secretary with a relaxed smile. He really wanted to wring her neck. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Jeez, Kev, what’s the matter with you? Where should he even begin to answer that question? Two months had elapsed since Biff going solo and snatching a girl he had no business snatching, and Bernie ending up dead in the fraternity’s own basement. Two months during which nothing happened—which was part of the problem. Doctor Cargyle was still incommunicado somewhere—maybe even dead himself, for all Kevin knew, the thought too worrying to contemplate—and Kevin’s brothers were getting restless at the lack of fresh girls. Ungrateful fucks.

And now rumor had it that Biff was back in town, with his little pet, two weeks before this year’s DIK-Bash, when fraternity alumni came back to campus to party with the current members, networking and recruiting and generally having a lot of fun. Unless Biff decided to cause waves. And now, the university president himself wanted to see him.

Five minutes later, the assistant’s phone rang, and after a brief exchange, she stood up. “The president is ready to see you now, Mister Cusker.”

She opened the door for him. Kevin entered the lavishly decorated office of the university president. The president himself, a towering man even when he was not standing, was sitting behind his desk. President James Calhoun, the first African-American president of Darnell University, had climbed the administration ranks from Professor of Political Science to Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences to jump to the presidency in record time in the university’s history. The president acknowledged Kevin with a look, then his eyes lingered for a moment too long over his administrative assistant. “Thank you, Cassie.”

“You’re welcome, Mister President. I need to remind you about your three-thirty meet-and-greet over at Barley Hall.”

“Of course. Can you get me a cheat sheet of who’s going to be there and why I should care about them?”

“Already done, sir. You can pick it whenever you are ready.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Cassie.”

Cassie simply nodded, then closed the door behind her. Calhoun kept staring at the door for a few seconds before turning his attention to Kevin, who had sat down on one of the two chairs available to visitors in front of the large oak desk.

The two men stared at each other. After a minute of tense silence, Kevin lowered his eyes. Calhoun spoke up three seconds later. “Mister Cusker. Nice of you to pay a social call.”

“How are you, Mister President?”

“Same old, same old. Students want this, faculty wants that, and no one thinks about how much it costs—they want, want, want, and I am to be the golden goose that keeps delivering the goods with might and magic.”

Kevin nodded, knowing better than to interrupt the president on his usual rant.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes. Yes I did. I wanted to make sure you and I were on the same page.”

“About what?”

“I seem to recall that soon you will be hosting a gathering of current and previous members of your fraternity.”

“That’s correct.” This was all pure formality, as far as Kevin was concerned. The president was of course well aware of the weekend-long party that the fraternity threw every year for the alumni and as a matter of fact had asked to be kept up to date at all stages of the planning to ensure that the weekend was free and to ensure that communication between the fraternity and the Office of Alumni Affairs flowed freely. The president had also secured an invitation to the private by-invitation-only gathering that opened the weekend festivities.

“I want to emphasize that your fraternity will be entertaining some of our more successful alumni,” continued Calhoun. “Alumni on which this University counts to maintain our endowment, especially in this difficult economy. It is of the utmost importance that they be treated like royalty, Mister Cusker. Are we together?”

“Like royalty. Yes sir.”

“I want them to leave the campus Sunday night flushed with how wonderful their Alma Mater is, and ready to give generously to maintain that wonderfulness. This is my priority, Mister Cusker, which makes it your priority.”

“Our priority. Yes sir. I trust we can make them happy, sir. It is in the frat’s own interests for them to have as good a time as possible.”

“Damn right it is in your frat’s interests to make them happy. Because if I hear even a single complaint, get just one whiff of an incident, you will not only find yourself without the benefit of my benevolent support, Mister Cusker, but I may well judge that a thorough investigation into your activities is in order. Are we together, Mister Cusker?”

“Like velcro, sir.”

Calhoun stared at Kevin as if trying to ascertain whether the younger man was mocking him. “I do not need to remind you, I am sure, that my intervention was necessary a few months ago to help quell that nasty little business of a disappearing coed? One Miss Hansen, who happens to be the fiancée of a student in my own department?”

“I have not forgotten, sir. Your help was invaluable.”

“Damn right it was. And before that, there was that whole NADA fiasco. Again, my intervention was helpful.”

“Yes sir, it was.” Kevin elected not to point out that getting rid of the New American Deal Association had been in the interest of the University as a whole.

“I sincerely hope that none of this suggests that you are unable to control your fraternity, Mister Cusker. A general that cannot command his troops is a poor general. Historical precedents are numerous. I am drawing your attention to these events to emphasize two points. The first is that you seem to have become careless, and I will unfortunately not be able to continue smoothing your path if you decided to keep to this trajectory. The second is that you are in my debt, Mister Cusker, and I seek to collect.”

Here we go, thought Kevin. Took long enough. “I can assure you that the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity is at your disposal should you require its services.”

Calhoun looked at Kevin steadily for a long moment, this time trying to judge the extent to which the student’s flattery was purely for show.

“Very well,” said Calhoun at last. “I have a request to make of you. I would like you to—what should the correct term be here?—turn a certain person around with your fraternity’s... powers of persuasion.”

Kevin groaned inside, working hard to hide his reaction from Calhoun. In other words, he wants us to program someone. Not entirely unexpected, but shitty timing nonetheless. Nils guessed it right. I’m going to have to thank him. His vice-president, who had been the main go-between with President Calhoun, had predicted that the president would soon ask for their services, and had gone so far as predicting the intended victim.

“And who do you have in mind, if I may be so bold to ask?”

Calhoun looked at him in silence once more, and narrowed his eyes. “You understand that none of what I’m to say must leave this room?”

Kevin nodded. “I dearly hope this entire conversation never leaves this room, sir.”

Calhoun barked a laugh, almost making Kevin jump in surprise. I’m a nervous wreck, he thought. I gotta take it easy.

“Good point, Mister Cusker. Very well. You have met her.” He lowered his voice. “Miss Cassandra Reynolds, my young and utterly adorable administrative assistant. I’m sure you noticed how lovely dearest Cassie is?”

Two for two, Nils. Well done. “She is indeed beautiful. And I am sure an efficient assistant to boot.”

Calhoun did not bite. “How soon can you... take care of her?”

What does he want me to do, kill her? Egg-walking time, Kev. “Unfortunately, Sir, the technician in charge of... taking care of people under our charge has had to take a leave of absence from our fraternity—a family emergency called him away, cancer of a parent. Terrible business. Terrible.”

“And you have no one else who can perform such a... such an operation? I find that difficult to believe.”

“The process is extremely delicate and complex. I barely understand the high-level idea myself. To be brutally honest, I do not trust the rest of my brothers not to botch such an operation. Not for someone as important as you, sir. No offense, of course, to the undergraduate training this fine institution provides.”

Another silent look from Calhoun. “I see.” His tone had become noticeably colder. “And when do expect your technician to be able to resume his duties, Mister Cusker?”

“The sooner the better, sir. I shall inform you as soon as he returns. But surely,” and here Kevin was well aware that he was sounding like a sycophant in a second-tier movie, “someone as powerful and masculine as yourself need not rely on my services to seduce an administrative assistant. I have it from good sources that you are quite the ladies man.”

Calhoun snorted. “Of course I do not need your help to seduce Cassie. I’ve been sleeping with her for six months now. That’s not the issue. But while she is a phenomenal lover, she has started to become—shall I say—clingy. She recently mentioned that she was looking forward to making our liaison more official once I divorced my wife. I do not need to tell you, Mister Cusker, that I have absolutely no intention of leaving my wife. Cassie is getting ideas and attitudes that are annoying today and will be problematic tomorrow. I want to continue my tryst with her, but have no patience with the attendant baggage. I trust you understand what I mean?”

“I do,” replied Kevin. Like you didn’t see it coming, you old lecher. Why I should be the one to dig you out of your own mess I don’t know. Kevin sighed. He did owe one to the president, and the president was collecting. Time to see if the plan he and Nils had developed will prove satisfactory. Nils had seemed certain of it. “May I offer an alternative, Sir?”

“What do you mean?”

“While we cannot quite have your assistant—Cassie—taken care of until our technician returns, perhaps I can offer you a surrogate of sorts?”

“A surrogate? You mean—”

“A young woman to take care of your needs, no questions asked, and especially, no strings attached, no risks of emotional commitment, no going Fatal Attraction on you. We have one such woman that I believe will suit you perfectly, and that I would be happy to make available to you on a daily basis if you so wish, at a regular time we can arrange later, and complete with a bullet-proof reason to be in your presence.”

Calhoun looked at him silently. Well, at least I got his attention, Kevin thought. Perhaps this will work after all. Of course, I’ll have to to figure out which brother I can send every day to trigger the girl, because there’s no way in hell I’m giving this guy a fraternity ring. The police chief had managed to get Kevin to give him a ring, but Kevin in return had convinced the chief that the trigger sentence only worked on his little pet, Officer Gonzales. The police chief had not pushed further. Plausible deniability, he had said—the less he knew, the better.

“Who do you have in mind?” asked Calhoun. Hooked, thought Kevin. Now pull him in slowly.

“She should already be in your waiting room, sir.”

Calhoun frowned, then reached for his intercom. “Cassie, is there anyone out there waiting for me?”

“Yes, Mister President. A Miss Banks, says she’s here for the interview.”

Kevin stood. Thanks again, Nils. He did not know how his vice-president had managed to convince Serena that the president was willing to give her a series of exclusive interviews, and he did not care. She was here, that was the important thing. Calhoun was looking at him with a question in his eyes. Kevin shrugged as though the answer was obvious. “Your cover story. An extended interview for an in-depth article about your long and fruitful presidency. An interview that will require daily meetings. I’ll go get her. I’ll be right back.”

Without hurrying, but without waiting for an acknowledgment, Kevin went to the door and opened it. Serena was indeed sitting in the waiting room, a high-heeled pump dancing at the tip of a nervously bouncing crossed leg.

Smiling at the lovely Cassie Reynolds, who was looking at him with a small frown wondering what was going on—she was clearly used to being in control of the comings and goings in her little world—Kevin headed towards Serena. Once again, he was struck by the beauty of the reporter, beauty emphasized by the clothes she was wearing. Kevin was not quite sure what the doctor had done to her beyond the usual programming, but it had affected her sense of fashion. While remaining perfectly tasteful, her clothes nevertheless highlighted the remarkable body she possessed. And today was a perfect example; while the grey jacket and skirt ensemble over a pale blue blouse was elegant, the jacket was form fitting and the pencil skirt was short and featured a long slit on the side that exposed a delectable nude thigh. With a tall pair of heels and her hair in a high ponytail, Serena was the very picture of professionalism, with a significant gloss of sexual energy liberally applied.

She seemed surprised to see him emerge from the president’s office, but recovered nicely. Kevin smiled widely, gesturing towards the door he had walked through. “Serena Banks! President Calhoun was just telling me about you. Something about an interview?”

Serena stood up, flashing a good amount of leg, forcing Kevin to work hard not to get distracted. “Kevin Cusker, president of Delta Iota Kappa. A presidents’ meeting, then? Anything interesting came up?” Ever the journalist, thought Kevin.

“You might say that. Listen,” and he leaned over after glancing around as if he were about to impart a great secret to the reporter. “I am your DIK brother,” he whispered, low enough that the administrative assistant would not hear.

Serena’s eyes shot down to the fraternity ring on Kevin’s hand, and she gave a small shiver as if the temperature in the room had dropped suddenly. Before she could say anything, Kevin whispered again. “Don’t say a word. Act normally. Follow my lead.”

He stepped back, and continued in his normal voice. “The president and I were waiting for you, Miss Banks. We are looking forward to chatting about the great opportunities that lie ahead in this new era of partnership between this University and the Greek community on campus.”

Serena merely nodded, and Kevin had to force down a smile. This sort of crap talk would have probably have made her burst out laughing and replying something snarky, if not for her being under. Man, she’s hot. Okay, Kev, focus. Remember, this is important.

“After you,” he told her, laying a hand on her back. Serena glided across the waiting room towards the president’s office, and Kevin raised his eyebrows at Cassie—“what can you do?” the look said, “when the boss says jump, you jump”. Cassie stared at Serena with the look of a woman seeing a rival enter the arena, and her eyes followed the reporter across the room while a slight sneer tugged at her lips. Kevin almost laughed, and thought that it was a shame that the doctor was indeed unavailable because the image of the two beautiful black women locked in a steamy sixty-nine, tongues lapping wildly at each other’s pussies, fingers penetrating every orifice, dark bodies shiny with sweat, well, it was an image charged with much erotic potential. He shook his head, and followed Serena into the president’s office, closing the door behind him

Calhoun stared transfixed at Serena, who stood in the middle of his office, a pleasant smile on her face. Kevin made the introductions. “Serena, I believe you know President James Calhoun. President Calhoun, meet Serena Banks, reporter for the Darnell Daily.”

Calhoun started to say something, but had to clear his throat. “I... I have met Miss Banks before. At some official University function or other. A pleasure, Miss Banks.” He circled his desk, hand extended.

Kevin rapidly leaned over to whisper in Serena’s ear. “Serena, I want you to treat President Calhoun like you would treat me, understood?”

Serena flashed him a look that highlighted exactly how well she understood; the hunger in her eyes made him smile. She turned to Calhoun. “The pleasure is all mine, sir. Definitely all mine.” She shook his hand, holding on a fraction of a second longer than proper. Her emphasis on the word pleasure was not missed by the president.

“Serena,” continued Kevin, “you are here today to interview President Calhoun. I expect you will do your usual thorough job. The article you will be writing,” and here Kevin had a stroke of inspiration, “is about university presidents and their sexual fetishes. By the time the hour is up, I expect you to know everything that makes President Calhoun click.”

President Calhoun started at Kevin’s words, but Serena spoke before he could say anything.

“Of course,” replied Serena, turned her hungry gaze towards Calhoun, her lips parted slightly, her breath short. “I’m so happy that you agreed to answer my questions, Mister President. I’m so looking forward to learning what turns on a man as strong and powerful as you are.” She glanced down meaningfully at his crotch.

The president’s eyes had widened slightly, and they were now traveling up and down Serena’s body, taking in every curve and every square inch of exposed flesh.

Good job, Nils, thought Kevin. You were right, he likes her. I guess it’s three for three now. You deserve a reward for that.

Serena took off her jacket, the movement thrusting her breasts against her blouse, and the president seemed entranced by the sight. Kevin shook his head, thinking that perhaps this would go even better than he had hoped. Serena looked at the couch lining the wall of the large office. “Shall we sit down? We should make ourselves comfortable for the interview.”

“Of course,” replied Calhoun, snapping out of his reverie. “Please,” he gestured. He then looked askance at Kevin, probably wondering whether the fraternity president would remain in their company, and undoubtedly somewhat worried about it.

Kevin had no intention of staying. Besides, he suspected, Serena would probably work much more effectively by herself. “I believe I should let you two go on. If today’s interview is satisfactory, Mister President, I trust we will be able to arrange a daily continuation of this interview.”

Calhoun nodded.

Kevin continued. “Wonderful. Serena, remember what I told you: you treat President Calhoun as you would treat me. I would also suggest,” he turned to Calhoun, “that you tell your administrative assistant that you wish not to be interrupted during this interview.”

Calhoun’s eyes widened when he realized what Kevin was saying, and he was on the intercom telling Cassie that he was not to be bothered for any reason for the next hour when Kevin left his office and closed the door behind him.

Cassie, the beautiful administrative assistant, frowned at Kevin as he walked through the outer office. Kevin smiled sweetly, pleased with himself.