The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


by Julian Coreto

Chapter 27

London Stalling at the Top of the Dial

Alan paused at the door before entering the room, so unused was he to seeing Michiko fully dressed and upright, not to mention outside of Jack’s townhouse. She’d just returned from three months in Japan, and the last time he’d seen her she was being wheeled down a jetway for her flight out. She looked amazingly fit, poised for battle.

The chill given off by the conference room’s air conditioning caused the sweat on the back of his neck to quickly evaporate. Months had passed since he and Jack had agreed to combine efforts with the Japanese order, and to their collective frustration, neither hide nor hair had been seen of their target.

Karick tapped a few keys on the laptop, and after a scant second his presentation started. He narrated as the subsequent images filled the screen.

“The London apartment is a bad choice for this operation, for the following reasons,” he began

Karick’s presentation went on a good hour, with plenty of discussion and debate, breaking up just before five o’clock. Jack wanted Alan to hang around for a private discussion, but Alan begged off.

“Between summer school and coming here every day, with the commute time from the ‘burbs tacked on, I’m stretched a little,” he explained to his mentor, apologetically. “I pretty much promised my folks I’d be home for dinner five nights a week this summer.”

Since the next day was Friday, the only weekday on which Alan didn’t have classes he would be able to come in for most of the day. He rode the train home with his dad, talking about the Mets game they were planning on watching on the tube that night.

* * *

It was just a day short of a week later that Lord Thornbow was first spotted. Well, spotted was not quite the right verb. Alistair Thornbow had been playing in a casino in Monte Carlo. Credit for the catch was shared equally by Jack and his assistant Anne-Marie. Jack had told her of his stepbrother’s propensity for the occasional flutter, and Anne-Marie had used her contacts in the gaming industry to have any activity on Lord Thornbow’s line of credit captured, and the information forwarded to New York. Within an hour of receipt Karick and three of his team were on route to Monaco.

The next morning Alan, Jack, Anne-Marie, Stanley Wilkins (their attorney, and fellow board member), and Peter Gant (Karick’s number two, a former Army Ranger) huddled in the conference room around the speakerphone listening to Karick’s report.

Monte Carlo, they agreed, was far too urban for the operation the had planned. They had already discarded London as a battleground due to its density, and Monaco was even less suited for this reason.

“So we’re still on the same page?” Karick asked near the end of the call. “We wait until he returns to Bankington Hall, his country estate.”

“Agreed,” Jack concurred, Alan nodding beside him. “We will stick to the plan you already detailed. An urban confrontation is to be avoided.”

“Why don’t we double the watch on his country estate?” Alan suggested.

“That will be difficult,” Karick answered, “He seems to have upped security there, with roving patrols every hour in the day, and every two hours in dark.”

“Well,” Jack noted, “That is good news!”

“How so?” Alan asked.

“Simple, dear boy. He would not increase security unless he was planning to return. His London flat is hard to reconnoiter because it is so proximate to various embassies and whatnot. With these constant changes in terror alerts that neighborhood is too secure for us to keep close tabs on him there. We are lucky in that he probably doesn’t realize he is safer in the hurly-burly of London, than in what he believes is his much-more-secure country retreat. The time to move against him will soon be at hand.”

Karick thought about what Jack had to offer for a moment, and then agreed fully. “Right then, I’ll put Peter in charge of the mobile team, and I’ll go on to England to lead the static team in at Bankington Hall. Peter will call me at the first sign of movement in this direction, and I’ll get in touch with you.”

“We’ll have a jet fueled and standing by at Teterboro.”

Another week went by, and still Thornbow hadn’t returned to England. Peter’s team was trailing him, now in Spain, and Michiko and the abbot had gone ahead to case the country estate. She liked to be very familiar with the terrain before any operation, and the satellite pictures Jack had secured for her study only revealed so much. Cyaxares had just opened a London branch office with two employees transferred from Rome, and Jack was able to pre-ship their swords and other weapons to it.

* * *

When he spoke to Kate that night she seemed a little bummed when he told her he was probably going to have to go off again to Europe, but he had assured her that it was only going to be for a very short while. Either way, if just for an inspection visit, or a confrontation with Thornbow, he wouldn’t be away for more than seven days. It wasn’t even that she was around to miss him. This summer she was supervising her troubled teen program again, though not actually going on the canoe trips as she had last year. The foundation had rented her a small office in Portland for the summer, and her dad had rented a small apartment there. Most of her days were filled with the logistics of shuffling over two hundred teens and ten counselors through five week-long sessions. Alan had come up every other weekend to visit.

As he was watching the Met game with his dad that night something Kate had said during their past weekend together came back to him. Just as he was about to board his flight to Boston to catch the shuttle she had made him promise something, something he hadn’t yet done for her.

“Promise me you’ll call Pauline, and meet her for lunch in the city. She’s having a miserable summer, with Brian dumping her and my dad insisting on her working for Uncle Edward instead of doing what she wants.”

He had agreed, and then almost instantly it had slipped his mind.

Pauline had figured that she would end up working in town, at the foundation’s summer camp. However, she had gotten a prized summer internship with the new NFL network, which sadly she had to refuse when her dad had informed her that she would be working this summer at the bank. Her Uncle Edward was head of the family concern, Van Devanter & Sons, one of the largest privately-held investment banks in the world. She had protested vigorously, but to no avail. With Calvin headed to med school, and her sister ensconced securely with her foundation work, Edward had been quite firm that their branch of the family had been remiss at supplying VDS with new blood. It was Helen Van Devanter who had convinced her in the end. “Just do it for this summer,” Pauline’s mom had counseled. “If you really hate it I’ll lean on your dad, and you’ll never have to go back again.”

On top of all that, the day before she came home from Harvard, she and Brian had split. She had complained to him that he never seemed to make time for them to be together, and they had fought. The argument ended when Brian said she was taking their relationship too seriously, and suggested that perhaps they weren’t right for each other. It was a good thing she didn’t have to drive home, that her parents had come for the move back, because she spent the three days following her falling out with Brian either crying or brooding.

At a commercial break Alan keyed Pauline’s cell number into his own.

“Hey, cute stuff, whashapnin?”

“Shit, Alan, I can’t talk now.”

“Why, what is it?”

“I’m stuffing two hundred invitations to the bank’s summer outing into dammed envelopes. They have to go out tomorrow.” She sounded fragile.

“OK, then I wont keep you, except to ask, what are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” she answered. “I’ll probably end up doing some sort of stupid busy work here in the office. Why?”

“Wrong answer, babe. I’m taking you out.”

“I’m sure that wont be possible. Uncle Ed keeps me on a short leash. He’s a nice enough guy, but he’s always in my face, talking up how great a company this is, explaining in excruciating detail the ins and outs of investment banking. I haven’t had ten minutes to myself this whole summer.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ll talk to him. See you at one. Bye.” He hung up before she could try to talk him out of it.

When he picked her up the next afternoon, after making things cool with her uncle by implanting a few commands in him, he was surprised to find her so collected. They talked a bit as they waited for the elevator, and he learned that Kate had been exaggerating a little. Pauline was completely over Brian, he learned right off the bat. She had cried for a few days, and been slightly depressed for a few more, but the happy bubbly Pauline was in evidence, and just to make sure, he scanned her, worried she was putting up a brave front for his benefit.

Since Alan had cleared a long lunch for them with Pauline’s uncle, and the day being so mild after the long heat wave, they decided to walk over to Chinatown. They ate in a hole-in-the-wall on Mott Street, and caught up. She kissed him, demurely, on the lips after the cabbie let them out back on Wall Street, and Alan caught an uptown IRT express train back to Grand Central. Minutes later he was in the office, and Jack had disappointing news.

“Hong Kong,” he said, pronouncing it like a curse. “He’s scheduled to speak at a conference of international NGOs. He’ll probably bore them to death with his diplomatic doublespeak. They’ll soon learn from my dear stepbrother that a few postings, and a brief ambassadorship to Upper Volta, or whatever the hell they now call it, an expert doesn’t make.”

“Do we know about his itinerary after Hong Kong?” Alan asked.

“Not yet, but Anne-Marie is working on it,” Jack replied.

An hour later Karick called from England. The abbot and Michiko had a proposal, and all of them spent the better part of the rest of the afternoon hashing it over on a conference call. All save Karick were enthusiastic about it, and in the end the former Czech intelligence officer agreed to head over to the Continent to acquire the best equipment.

Two days later Thornbow’s estate and London flat were rife with the latest state-of-the-art bugging equipment. Michiko and the abbot had brainwashed the staffs to allow the team’s entry. Even under the threat of torture Thornbow’s servants would be unable to remember allowing Karick access to the residences.

However, there was some troubling news in Michiko’s report.

* * *

“Fuck! I feel like I’m going to boot!” Alan swore as he stepped over the line. He was covered in sweat, his face flush, clothes disheveled. He stumbled towards the door, almost gasping to regain his breath. Quickly he was through it, the night breeze cooling him, making him feel slightly better than death. Jack was sitting in a lawn chair which was backed up right against the barn, waiting his turn for the “torture.”

“Boot?” the older man asked.

“Puke, ralph, heave—ya know—vomit.” Alan mumbled as best he could.

“Ah, I see. Well, perhaps you’ve had enough for today. I’ll have someone drive you home.”

Alan nodded, relieved that Jack had suggested this; he didn’t want anyone to think he was a pussy, but spending four hours near the Fourth Orb was completely draining. Jack threw him a towel, and he dried his face. As he stepped into the second car of his two car convoy he saw through the windshield Jack square his back and stride purposefully into the barn.

One of the security staff drove him in his car, to be driven back to the base by the driver of the lead car. Once out on the road, another wave of fatigue came at him, and he only just managed the energy to unbuckle his seatbelt and squirm his way into the back seat so he could stretch out and attempt sleep.

Michiko had come back from Britain with intelligence that made little sense to her, but was highly troubling to Alan and Massimo. During her reconnoiter of the grounds and dwellings of the estate she had encountered numerous metallic spheres scattered across the landscape, and throughout the castle. Neil examined the pictures the security team had snapped with telephoto lenses, and confirmed that they looked identical to the Orb he had fashioned back when he was in the service to Lord Thornbow; the result being that Alan and Jack were spending at least four hours each day exposed to the sphere’s radiation.

Inoculation, Jack called it. By inuring themselves to the effect of the orbs they would be better able to carry out their “mission.” Alan had agreed at first, but the very experience of exposing himself to whatever it was that the silver sphere was radiating had caused second thoughts to assert themselves numerous times.

The driver woke him a few block from his house, and not five minutes later was he asleep in his bed. He and Jack had been sleeping much more than usual than a “regular” Vessel, certainly attributable to the effects of the training with the orb; in fact, he sleep patterns and requirements were now similar to that of a normal person.

The long days and nights were getting to him. Each day he was up at 6:30, took an early train into the city, mornings at Columbia, in class, a few hours in the afternoon at the office (mostly familiarizing himself with the far-flung Cyaxares holdings), then an early afternoon train home. He ate each night with his parents, and then drove up to Jack’s rented farm, more than an hour and a half north, into the Hudson Valley, rarely returning before one in the morning. It was a good thing Kate was away because he doubted he had the vim to be around her, to take care of her needs.

That next morning he allowed himself to sleep in, not arriving in Manhattan until after ten. He reasoned that since there were no scheduled meetings that day until after lunch, he would not be missed, but by when he walked in Anne-Marie cornered him, pulling him into her office over his protest that he was coffee-deprived.

As she trained him on the new communications gear which had arrived that day, Alan appraised her. She was stunning as always, dressed smartly in a white summer blouse and a skirt which was hugged her figure tightly, its length just barely on the right side of proper office convention. She had always dressed well; her allure was a necessary part of her work as an undercover casino security agent. The thing was that now she no longer needed to be appealing for professional reasons, yet continued to dress to titillate.

* * *

Two weeks later Alan was flying off the London. Karick had established a training camp on a rented estate halfway between the capital and Dover, and he was taking the red eye to join the rest of the team after a few days of business in the capital. Jack had departed New York a few days previous, and all the necessary equipment had been routed through the corporate offices. Karick had drilled the “normals” (non-Vessels) in their roles for the past month, and with electronic surveillance indicating that Lord Thornbow was soon to arrive back in Britain, the time of action was nearing.

The flight itself was uneventful; however, he had a surprise encounter at Heathrow.

“Alan! Alan! ALAN!” he heard. He resisted turning his head, for the name on his travel papers was not his own, and he feared he was still within earshot of Passport Control. Instead he and his traveling companion, his bodyguard Pete, made smartly for the door and the waiting car. Just as they reached the exit Pete glanced back at their pursuer.

“Shee-yit,” he whispered to the increasingly nervous Alan, “If she was looking for me, I’d let myself be found!”

Alan twisted around just enough to catch sight of her. “Jesus, Chloe.”

The spring of his senior year of high school, not long after he became a Vessel of the Seed of Paishiya’uvada, he had a brief sexual relationship with the British au pair from across the lane. She was one of a small number of people who knew that Alan possessed his cosmic abilities, though he had used them to see that she would not be able to communicate to anyone that he was anything other than a regular guy.

“Go ahead, Pete, I’ll catch up,” he told the bodyguard as he pushed through the door.

She had been running to reach him, and when she did she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “I thought that was you!”

“Chloe, how are you?”

“Great, thanks partly to you.” She shuffled through her overlarge purse and extracted a glossy catalogue, a catalogue familiar to women, and more than a few men—Victoria’s Secret. She flipped the pages excitedly, and proudly showed Alan her picture. “It would never happened without you, you know.”

Alan was about to ask what she was talking about, but instead stole the explanation from her mind. She had, before becoming an au pair, made the rounds of the London modeling agencies, without finding success. Though her rejections had never been specific, the message had been clear, she wasn’t “curvy” enough to get work. Since her initial encounter with Alan, she hadn’t had problem, and since returning to England following her year in the States she had slowly been building up her portfolio. Juggling modeling with university had been tough going at first, but she was managing, he read from her thoughts.

“So, what brings you across the pond?”

“Just a little business,” he answered, and explained a little about the company he worked for, leaving out the delicate details. They had reached the car, and Alan offered her a ride. She declined, explaining that her agency was sending a car. She grabbed an eyeliner pencil from her purse and wrote her mobile number over her photo in the catalogue, tore it from the book and stuck it in the pocket of his suit coat.

Pete, writing at the car, gave Alan a sly grin. “So, who’s Chloe?”

“Oh, Chloe Mayhew, just some Victoria’s Secret model I know.”

“You’re shitting me,” he croaked.

“I’m shitting you negative. She wasn’t a model when I met her.” Alan explained how he came to know the fetching blonde Brit, leaving out the X-rated parts of their story.

* * *

Jack was waiting for them in the London office; the Japanese contingent was out in the country at Thornbow’s estate with Karick. Jack gave an update on Thornbow’s movements, and Anne-Marie brought Alan and Peter up to speed on the status of the preparation, and as to what sort of equipment and supplies still needed to be obtained. It was only yet early afternoon when all important matters had been fully discussed, and Alan, who had been cooped up, either in a plane, in a car in London traffic, and in the cramped offices, since ten pm New York time the night before, needed some air. Begging off offers of company from Jack, Peter, and even Anne-Marie, he set out on his own.

The London branch office was located in Wapping, a neighborhood dominated by some forlorn docks, and enormous office building housing Rupert Murdoch’s metropolitan newspaper holdings. Alan found a quiet bench opposite a pub, sat down and willed himself to relax. The weather was cool, much more mild than he was used to after experiencing all his past summers in New York.

He called Kate in Maine.


“Hey Katie, what’s up?”

“Nothing much.”

“Are you OK?” he asked. “You sound out of breath.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.”

“What are you doing?”

“Masturbating, if you must know,” she grunted. He cracked up. Looking at his watch he noted that it was early evening on the East Coast. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Just hanging out. The last group of girls arrive tomorrow, plus Miranda is coming over on Wednesday. We’re gonna play. And what are you going to do tonight?”

“Probably sleep. The time zones are starting to catch up with me.”

“Are you going to be back in New York by the time I come home from Maine?”

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise.” He could hear her pout from across the Atlantic.

After a quick call to his mom and dad he dialed the number Chloe had scribbled earlier that day. The result of their brief confab was that he was to pick her up at seven.

* * *

An unfamiliar, though stunning, young woman opened the door to Chloe’s flat. She stood in the open doorway looking him up and down.

“Hello,” Alan offered.

She said nothing in response, continuing her inspection, her gaze increasingly contemptuous.

“Uh, Alan Marshall. I’m here to pick up Chloe.”

The sentry’s eyes widened in disbelief at that piece of intelligence.

“And you are?”

The door shut in his face came by way of answer. He could hear voices now from within the apartment, the rancor in them increasing.

The door opened again, and Chloe ushered him inside, pulling him by the forearm. “Sorry about that. Just Barbara being Barbara.”

Alan had a brief glimpse of the inscrutable Barbara as she slammed the door of what he assumed was her bedroom with enough force to make the windows rattle. “Not very friendly, eh? Didn’t say as much as a word to me, just blocked the door and stared.”

“Don’t be insulted. It’s not you specifically, she dislikes people in general. My agency placed us together, and at first it was off-putting, living with someone like her, but talking to others I’ve learned that there are worse defining traits in flatmates than Barb’s silent contempt.”

“What’s her deal?” he asked as Chloe slipped on her shoes.

“Search me. She barely deigns to talk to me at all.”

“Wow! You look great.”

Chloe blushed, her skin tone rising to match the slink pink summer dress she had donned. Her legs were bare, feet barely covered by a pair of matching sandals with one-inch heels. Her light blonde hair was tied in a neat pony tail, held together with a tortoise-shell appliance, her perfume applied with the most proper of light touches.

“Thanks,” she replied through a thousand watt smile. “Sorry I’m running a bit behind.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you need to ring up the restaurant to let them know we’ll be late?”


“You didn’t reserve somewhere?” she questioned incredulously.

“Guilty. Well, I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to eat. Any ideas? This is your town, after all.”

She shot him an exasperated smile. “Oy, we’ll never get into anywhere even half-decent without a booking.”

Now it was his turn to be incredulous. “You mean to tell me that on a Thursday night in late July you need a reservation to eat, as you put it, ‘anywhere even half-decent?’ What kind of place is this city of yours?”

“London, baby!”

“Oh, just pick a place. I’ll see we get in. In case you have forgotten, I can be VERY persuasive when and if the need arises.”

“I thought you only used that to get girls,” was her snarky retort, as she put her earrings on.

“Yes, well, to see that you don’t go unfed this night, I’m willing to branch out, just this once.”

“You’re such a goof,” she giggled, dragging him, at long last out the door.

They encountered one of Chloe and Barbara’s neighbors coming up the front steps, and Chloe introduced Alan to Will, a doctoral candidate in mathematics who had the flat next to hers. He was a tall guy of slightly above average looks, spoiled by an ill-fitting wardrobe, but sporting a very stylish pair of eyeglasses.

“Seems like a nice enough guy,” Alan said as they made it through the main door of her building.

“Yeah, he’s sort of a project of mine. He’s not bad looking, and he’s sweet, but he a nerd. I picked out his new frames for his glasses last week, and next week we’re going clothes shopping.”

“He has a thing for you?”

“No,” she laughed. “If you must know, he fancies Barbara, for the life of me I can’t tell why. She doesn’t give him the time of day.”

“Yeah,” Alan said with a grin, hailing a taxi, “I’m a member of that club.”

The went to a stylish little place in Chelsea. Alan thought Chloe had been joking when she suggested he use his power to secure them a table, but she had been right, the place was packed to the rafters, with another mob hovering around the bar. He had suggested she try to exploit her fame as a model to get them seated, but she told him she wasn’t famous. The lingerie catalog she had shown him was her first really big booking, and it hadn’t even been mailed out yet.

They talked over the wine and food throughout dinner, catching up. Alan told her about breaking up with Pauline, Megan and Leila having his baby, dating Kate, and even a few of his more peripheral adventures.

Chloe told him she was not serious about modeling, her sole motive was to support herself through her university years, and if she was lucky enough, salt enough away to help her younger brother make his way through college. She wanted to be a cell biologist, or perhaps go to medical school and become an immunologist. She limited herself in taking modeling jobs while school was in term, and made up for it during breaks. When she had encountered Alan in the airport she was returning from a photo shoot in Cologne, and she was leaving the next day for fittings in Milan.

* * *

“Want to go back to your place? Maybe some dancing?” he asked as they left the restaurant.

“Uh, where are you staying?”

“The Savoy. Why do you ask?”

“Barbara hates it when I have company of any kind.”

“I can take care of that,” he said with confidence.

“Oh yeah, I forgot for a minute whom I was dealing with.”

“In fact,” he added, “I have an idea.”

When they reached Chloe’s building the made a slight detour to Will’s door. Chloe invited him over to have a drink with her and Alan. Will understood that Barbara would be objectionable to all this company in her apartment, but couldn’t resist. As the trio entered Barbara favored them with a nasty sort of glare, and then retreated into the sanctity of her bedroom, the door shut firmly.

An hour later Barbara was fuming. This was her apartment, Chloe just a renter of a room. Chloe knew how much he hated having lots of people around. First there was this Yank, a breed she could hardly stand to be around, and then she had the temerity to invite the loser from next door, said loser having a propensity to follow her with his eyes whenever they encountered each other in the hall or lobby.

It sounded like they were having a great time, though. Happy conversation, glasses clinking together with frequent regularity, punctuated at intervals by laughter all around. She was, to her own great shock, coming to regret her self-imposed solitude. She felt herself waver, but held tight. As she reached for the handle to yank open her door and upbraid them, a change came over her. She could feel it, like a shiver running down her spine, yet unlike and she had felt before.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, in a gentle tenor of voice neither Chloe or Will had ever recalled hearing before; Alan had never even heard her speak up to this point.

Alan was non-plussed, and even Chloe, though wary, understood that Barbara’s willingness to join the group was due to Alan’s influence. It dawned on her almost immediately that Alan was opening up Barbara to Will’s advances.

Will, who had been semi-reclining on one of the sofas, straightened up and made room for Barbara next to his place. Alan popped open a beer and gave it over to Barbara, and they settled down. After a half hour Alan and Chloe removed themselves to her bedroom, leaving the nascent couple alone in the living area.

“Ouch, you naughty boy!” she half-squealed half-whispered once the door was closed behind them. “I should have seen that one coming from a field away. Barbara and Will. Brilliant!”

“He’s a nice guy, right?” he asked. She nodded. “Maybe she needs a nice guy to loosen her up. And besides, now you’ll have more free time.”

“Come again?” She was confused by the last part.

“Well, now the spiffing up of Will can be Barbara’s project.”

“But I liked doing that with him. It was fun,” she mock-whined.

“OK, OK, now the both of you can remake his style. Sheesh! You think you’re doing a girl a favor!”

“Come here, big guy,” she growled, pulling him by his necktie, dragging him to the bed. As she plopped them down onto the bedspread her short dress rode up almost to her hips. “Did you like the stuff I was wearing in the picture.”

He nodded. “It was very pretty.”

“I’m wearing it now.”

He rolled on to his back and she straddled him. He lifted the hem of her summer dress, and she put her hands straight up in the air, so that he could take the dress right off of her. She hadn’t lied; she was clad now only in the baby blue frilly bra and panty set he had seen in the catalogue photo, a photo now resident in his suit coat pocket in the outer room. She bent down to kiss him, and he hugged her to him. “I wonder what Barb and Will are doing right this minute,” she giggled between kisses.

“I must be an awful lover,” Alan sighed.

“Why on earth would you say that?”

“You’re thinking of Will and Barbara.”

“Well,” she said with a hint of arousal coloring—or in her case, colouring—her tone, “You’ll just have to change my mind.”

“ far do you want me to go with that?”

“Changing my mind?” she asked as she rubbed herself against him, occasionally licking at his neck and chest. “I trust you, so as far as you want to take it.”

“Tell me a fantasy, a situation you always wanted to act out.”

She hesitated. There was silence between them for about a minute, broken up only by the sound of Barbara’s laughter from the living room. “You’re going to think it’s a trifle tame,” Chloe offered.

“Don’t worry about what you think I’m going to think.”

“OK,” she breathed, “I was thinking about the time we did it. When you took my ‘virginity.’” He nodded, remembering. “I’d like to do the same to you.”

“Got it. Put your dress back on,” he said with a grin. He got up off the bed and took off his tie and shirt, and then went back out into the living room, a vacant living room, he noted; Barbara’s bedroom door was closed, and he could hear muffled conversation from the opposite side. He waited two beats and then knocked on Chloe’s door, not waiting for her to answer, and stuck his head through. “Hi, Mrs. Mayhew, I finished cutting the lawn. Is there anything else you need me to do before I go?”

She quickly got what he was playing at, and played along. “Um, oh, Alan, yes, come right in. There is something you could do for me, now that I think about it.”

“Sure thing,” he answered a little nervously. He looked at her like a teenaged virgin would look at a beautiful and scantily-clad woman, avoiding her eyes, taking furtive glances at her well displayed legs and pert breasts, reddening when he thought he was being caught. “W-what do you need me to do?”

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and motioned for him to take the seat facing the bed. “How old are you now, Alan?”

“Um, sixteen, almost seventeen, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Chloe. You make me feel so old calling me Mrs. Mayhew or ma’am.”

“O-OK, Mrs. Mayhew.”

She laughed, and he blushed harder. “Are you thirsty? You must be hot from being out in the yard.”

“No, Mrs. May—Ch-chloe, I’m OK.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

He looked away because he knew she was aware he was staring at her. “No, not right now, Chloe.”

“But you did?”

“Yes,” he said, emphasizing his answer with a vigorous nod.

“What was her name, the last one?”

“Um, Marjorie.”

“Did you kiss her?”

He nodded.

“Did you do anything else with her?”

He nodded again, looking as if his embarrassment would soon become fatal.

“What did you do with Marjorie, Alan?” she asked breathlessly. “Please, tell me.”

“Once we were kissing, and she let me put my hand on her sweater,” he choked out.

“You mean on her breast, don’t you, Alan?”

He whimpered and nodded, feeling his cock stiffen at the memory.

“Is that all?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

He shook his head, his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“What else, Alan?”

“She touched me through my pants,” he said, almost blubbering.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

He nodded.

“Don’t be. Just relax,” she ordered, and watched a little of the tension drain out of him. “Is that the farthest you’ve gotten with a girl, Alan.”

He nodded.

“Come over here and sit with me.”

“O-OK, Chloe.”

“That’s a good boy. Oh wow, you worked up quite a sweat cutting the grass. Take off your t-shirt, and I’ll fetch you a towel.” She was back a moment later, shooing him off when he tried to take the towel, and began to dry off his back. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes, very.”

“Why aren’t you and what’s-her-name still going out?”

“She ended it. An older boy asked her out, and now she goes with him.”

“Oh, Alan, that’s awful! Were you sad?”

He nodded.

“Lots of girls like older blokes, because they know that older blokes have more experience. They are just little girls who don’t know better,” she said with a derisive snort. “But I know that ex-per-i-ence is not all that it’s cracked up to be.” He shuddered as she walked her fingertips up his arm. “Alan, do you think I’m pretty?”

He made googly eyes at her, too spooked to say anything.

“Mr. Mayhew is always traveling on business, so you’re such a dear to take care of me, I mean my yard for me.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. May—, Chloe.”

“I also feel safe knowing such a strapping young man like you lives just next door. Always there to lend a hand, help out around this lonely house of mine,” she sighed. “There is something you can help me with,” she continued as she moved the towel to his chest.

“What,” he whispered, his face inches from hers.

She kissed him, and he groaned. His hips buckled as she slipped her tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth.

He broke away. “Mrs. Mayhew! What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, just placed her mouth over his, her hands caressing his chest, teasing his nipples. He groaned into the kiss, and his hands began to timidly explore the her back, rubbing tentative patterns in the fabric of her dress.

“I’m so lonely, Alan, would you help me?”

“I don’t know what to do,” he said pitifully.

She shot him a dazzling smile. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll show you what to do. Unzip my dress please, it’s in the back.” She turned away from him so he could reach the pull, and his hand trembled as he lowered the zipper down to the end. He could see the waistband of her frilly blue panties, and his hand lingered at the small of her back. She turned to face him again, and he jerked his hand away as if burned, afraid she would think he was taking liberties.

“Sorry Mrs. Mayhew. Your skin is so soft.”

“My husband brings me lotion from Paris.” She saw him freeze up at the mention of her husband. She dropped her voice to a throaty whisper. “He’s there right now. Paris. He leaves me alone all the time.” She moved the shoulder straps of the dress so that the slipped off, holding the dress up so it wouldn’t fall down. “Have you ever seen a naked woman, Alan?”

“I-I’ve seen pictures.”

“But never in real life?”

“N-no, ma’am.”

“I told you to call me Chloe. Would you like to see more of me?”

He nodded. She lowered the dress so that it was bunched up at her waist.

“It’s important, Alan, to know how to undress a woman. Many boys, even men, become flummoxed with the brassiere. I think right now I’ll take it off myself, but later we can practice.”

His eyes were riveted as she reached behind her and unsnapped the bra closure and shucked it off, and he gasped as her breasts and hard nipples came into sight. “Do you want to touch them? You can, you know.”

He reached out and took her breasts in his hands, and started rubbing them, playing with the nipples.

“Ow, no, gently, Alan, gently. Women like a soft touch.”

He did as told, and she began to purr softly, rubbing her ass against the bedspread. “Lick them, but softly, gently, OK?”

He nodded and went at it, but after just a bare minute she pulled his head from her chest. “Take off your pants, everything,” she gasped, shedding the dress and wiggling out of her panties. “You’re so big,” she moaned. “Bigger than my husband. You have got to fuck me with that, right now.” She laid back and spread her legs, beckoning him to mount her.

He was trembling as he positioned himself above her. He placed his cock over her blonde thatch and shifted back to attempt penetration, a task he failed to achieve. He stabbed blindly a few times more before she reached down and took him in her hand.

“Oh god, Oh god, Oh god, Oh God, FUCK,” he bellowed as he spurted all over her hand, crotch, and stomach. He jumped from the bed and started reaching for his clothes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have to go, I’m sorry,” he wept as he moved around the room looking for his socks.

“ALAN! Come back to bed. RIGHT NOW! Put those clothes down.” He dropped his stuff and approached the bed, stopping one stride away from her, small tears running down his cheeks.

“Don’t cry, really, it’s natural. Don’t worry really,” she soothed as she pulled him back to the bed. She took his dick in her hands and began to give him a gentle handjob. It took him virtually no time to get hard again as she stimulated him, kissing away his tears. She rolled on her back again and pulled him so he was on top again. He tried to put her in again, but she stopped him in mid-try and guided him to the mouth of her pussy.

“Oof!” she grunted as he entered her. “Go slow, Alan, I’ll tell you when you can go faster, ‘K?”

He nodded, feeding her a little more of him. She groaned and groaned as he pushed forward, and she came as he came to rest all the way inside her. He did nothing, minding her admonition to let her set the pace.

As she came back from her climax she blinked her eyes a few times to refocus on his face, a broad smile painted across her features. With all her strength she lifted her head from the pillow and kissed him with tongue, and she giggled as she felt his manhood jerk in her depths as a response.

“Oh, baby boy, that was wonderful. Pull out a little and push in again. That’s right, just like that. Now a little more and a little harder.”

He fucked her for a long time, periodically slipping out when he misjudged the pertinent distances, and though he expressed embarrassment, she just pulled him by the member so he was in her again as quick as possible. She came more times than she could remember, her nerves frazzled with orgasmic pleasure, taking no pains to quiet or restrain herself in any way.

“Mrs. Mayhew, Mrs. Mayhew, Mrs. Mayhew! I’m going to lose it again!”

“Yes dear boy, YES, shoot all yourself in me. It’s alright! I’m protected.”

He loosed an enormous moan as he shot off in her, and she trembled exhaustedly beneath him, too worn out to come again.

“Did I do OK, Mrs. Mayhew?”

“OK, Alan, charade over,” she sighed, hugging him hard.

“Was it everything you expected?”

“That, and more,” she giggled. “You’re some actor.”

“Likewise,” he said with a grin.

“I wonder what Barb and Will are up to.”

Alan closed his eyes and “looked” into the adjacent bedroom. “You don’t want to know.”

“Quit teasing. Tell me,” she demanded.

Alan put his hand on her forehead, and shared his view into Barbara’s bedroom. Barbara was tied to the bed with the sashes from two silk bathrobes, her wrists fastened to the headboard. She was face down on the mattress, and Will was fucking her from behind, spanking her as he went along. Alan withdrew his hand, and the scene faded from Chloe’s vision.

“I never thought Will was like that. He so meek.”

“Actually, this is what she insisted on. When I altered her I forced her to confide in Will how she wanted it. This is all her. He’s the reluctant party.”

“You think you know a person,” she laughed. “Well, that’s not quite true. I really know very little about her, come to think of it. So what are you going to do with them? Leave her like this, you know, digging on Will, or will you change her back?”

“What to you think best?”

“Well, kudos to Will.”

“OK, I’ll leave her like this.”

She chuckled. “It’s going to be a blast living here, watching this unfold.”

* * *

It was just after dawn when Alan awoke. He let Chloe sleep as he gathered his things and dressed, and was surprised to see Barbara sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Morning, Barbara.”

She didn’t stir. Her eyes were staring straight ahead, a blissed out look upon her. A smile made her already beautiful features even more alluring.

“Morning, Barbara,” he repeated. She snapped out of it, favoring him with an even wider smile.

“Good morning, Alan. Want some coffee? Will made it before he had to run.”

“Sure. Should I help myself?”

“No, that’s OK, I’ll fetch it.”

“So,” he said, taking a sip, “You and Will, huh?”

She blushed crimson. “I know, I never would have predicted this. But he’s always been sweet on me, and last night, I just don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, thanks for the java. I’m going to say bye to Chloe, gotta run.”

London was awakening as he stepped out onto the pavement. Trucks were delivering bread and milk and whatnot as he made for the Tube. A block short of the station a black sedan pulled up right next to him as he was waiting to cross the lane.

“Get in,” Karick said, his voice horse from too many Balkan Sobranies. “He’s in London.”