The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was awake again, groggy from the drugs, pain, hunger, and dehydration. The best I could tell, it had been about a week since my wife and I were kidnapped.

We had been on a rare weekend trip to the ‘big city’— tickets to a good play, reservations at nice restaurants, and a few nights at a nice hotel downtown. It was a far cry from our usual modest lifestyle but you only celebrate your thirtieth anniversary once, right?

The trouble started at a nice lounge where we were having drinks before the show. A well-dressed but rather rough-looking guy came up to us and said something about me having some nerve showing up here. I tried to ignore him, and he grumbled off muttering something about showing me. I assumed he was drunk and shook it off as Carolyn and I tried to get back to our festive mood.

As we walked to the show a few buildings down, a van screeched up beside us and a bunch of guys Tasered us, then bundled us into the van. I struggled until they injected something into my neck.

For the next several days, I had feverish dreams, confused bouts of wakefulness, and spotty memories. At one point, some masked men were questioning me about what I did with Mr. Vancetti’s money. The only Vancetti I could think of was the guy who ran a convenience store in our hometown, but I did not owe him any money that I knew of. They beat me, shocked me, drugged me, and largely ignored me. I spent most of the time passed out. A couple of times I woke up in the bathtub as they sprayed me with cold water, apparently to clean me off after voiding my bowels or bladder.

I woke up to someone slapping me. Someone else was taking my blood pressure and talking to someone on a cell phone. A cup of lukewarm water was pushed against my lips and I drank thirstily.

One of my captors told the rest “Yeah. he’s awake. Go ahead.”

Another said “Man, this is going to be good!” Somehow, I doubted him.

The door opened and a gorgeous woman in a shimmering dinner dress slinked into the room and struck a sexy pose. The blonde bombshell’s tight dress was cut both high and low and showed her abundant curves gloriously. Even in my state, I was staring with lust.

It took me a long minute, but it was my wife, Carolyn! They had done something to her... a lot of things to her! It was like they made her into my twenty-something wet dream version of her. She was about 5′5″, but was now probably as tall as I am, about 5′10″. She weighed a good forty or more pounds more than she wanted to (not that I cared), but now was slender, with subtle abs showing through a cut-out in the tight dress. Her old breasts were a small handful but rather saggy as is common for a fifty year-old woman. Now, they were firm, round, and huge with thumb-like nipples showing proudly through the painted-on outfit. I’m no expert, but maybe a 36DD? Her dark hair used to be shoulder length and nearly grey and was now a silky waterfall almost to her bubble butt and platinum blonde. Her sweet face with its network of smile lines and crowsfeet was now baby smooth, blemish free, and sported huge blue eyes and plump ruby lips. I could not help the erection that she caused in me. Dear god, she reminded me of several busty models in my ‘secret folder’, mostly Rhian Sugden, but others as well.

“Hey there, sexy.” She purred in a voice like velvet sex. The problem was... she was looking at one of my captors.

“Hey babe. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, god, I feel good. So alive, so energized, sooo horny.” She was purring the last bit and moved towards the man. She slid her hands around his neck and gave him a deep, long kiss that nearly made my blood pressure explode.

“Carolyn!” I tried to scream, but it came out choked on my own sobs.

“Carolyn? I don’t feel like a ‘Carolyn’ anymore. What do you think, hot stuff, do I look like a ‘Carolyn’?”

“No babe. A hot young thing like you should have a hot name.”

“Ummm, I agree. How about... Ashley, or Brandy? Brandy sounds good to me.”

“Brandy? With that hair? I know—Mindy. No, Cindy. I like the ‘sin’ sound in it. It suites the new you.”

“Cindy. SSSSiiinnnnndy. I like it. Now, big guy, how about we break this hot body in? I cannot wait to suck your big dick.”

“Hold on. What about this guy?” He gestured at me.

“Who? Him?”

“Yeah. You know who that is, right?”

“Sigh. I guess technically he’s my ‘husband’.” She said it like it tasted bad in her mouth. “But, come one, I want someone exciting, someone sexy, like you!”

“Oh, don’t be that way Sexy Cindy. After all, he did sort of help us design your hot new looks.”

“He did? Well, he’s got good taste. Too bad he is such an old, ugly loser.”

My heart was breaking and my rage was rising. “Carolyn! What did they do to you? Come on, help me!” I cried out.

“Do to me? They made me a sex goddess. It’s amazing—my tits are soo sensitive, and my mouth and cunt are literally drooling for Mr. Vancetti’s tasty cock. I can’t wait for him to bend me over and shove his meat deep inside me. Umm, but you’ll do for now, big guy.” She rubbed herself against him some more, practically raping him through their clothes.

“But this isn’t you! They did something to you!”

“They sure did! They gave my brain a good scrubbing, got rid of all that old morality garbage and those stupid inhibitions. They helped me see my true role, serving important people like Mr. Vancetti, and how I can use my body to help them in so many ways,”

“But what about us?”

“Us? Like ‘you’ and ‘me’? ‘Me’ is going to fuck this guys brains out, then go find my master. I don’t know or care what ‘you’ is going to do.” With that she deftly opened his fly, pulled out his cock, and fell to her knees to take it deeply and noisily into her mouth. I tried to close my eyes, but another guy came in and taped them open, then tore her nearly bursting dress off and began to fuck her in what sure as hell looked like her ass as she finished up the blow job. She looked like she was in heaven even as I knew I was in hell.

I woke up to the sun in my face. I was in our hotel room, which I guess I had been in all this time but had not really paid attention. I was covered in vomit and the room stank. I struggled to the bathroom, vomited again, then tried to clean myself up. I looked horrible! Unshaved, bloodshot and sunken eyes. I looked like I was coming off a nasty bender.

A quick search of the room showed that all of Carolyn’s things were gone. I called the cops then struggled to get dressed and clean up as best I could.

The officers that responded to my call started off sympathetic, but with every call they made or fact they checked, it became obvious that they were rapidly changing sides. I had been set up but good. The hotel reported that I had checked in alone and prepaid for the week, not letting housekeeping in. Carolyn’s mother said she had heard from her daughter several times in the last couple weeks and that she was in hiding because I had turned alcoholic and abusive.

They found increasingly incriminating texts on my phone that made it look like she was a beating victim and I was a monster. Her work confirmed that had taken some emergency leave because of personal issues. My work was furious that I was ‘no call, no show’ and made it clear my job was on thin ice. Our bank account was significantly drained and most of our savings and investments were transferred. A call to my folks was nearly the final nail—they wanted nothing more to do with me after what I had done to poor Carolyn. I was dead to them.

As I was processing all of this in front of the officers, I mentioned Mr. Vancetti’s name. That got the attention of the older officer. “What do you have to do with Mr. Vancetti?” When I told him I did not know the man, he asked if I had ever heard of someone named ‘Johnny Lucky’. That was a name that I had heard of. One of those rich guys that pops up on the news every so often, well known as a gambler and playboy, and rumored to be ‘connected’ to a big crime family.

I told them what I could remember of my captors mentioning him. The cop told me that Mr. Vancetti was indeed Johnny Lucky and that if I crossed him, the smartest thing I could do would be to run far away. The officers closed their books and left. I had a distinct sense that this would go no further as far as they were concerned.

In short order, I got the bill and a request to vacate from the hotel, discovered my car was missing, and my credit rating was hurting. I got a car from a ‘rent a wreck’ agency and headed home. All of Carolyn’s things, and a few other things of value were missing, and some of my favorite stuff had been trashed. I suspect it was her that took a dump on a pile of my clothes. I bagged it up for disposal with my last energy and went to bed in the guest room—the master bedroom was not fit for humans at the moment.

The next few days were a whirlwind. The first hurdle was getting work back on track. I had a good boss and I told him the absolute truth as I knew it. He put me on probation. If I kept my nose clean for a month, everything would be OK. We sent around a cover story of an unexpected hospitalization in the city. I also negotiated some time off to try to find Carolyn and get things back to some semblance of normal.

My best friend, Steve, was a godsend. He listened to my story, asked some smart questions, then just dove into the messes in the house at my side. As we worked, we created a basic action plan. When Sue, Carolyn’s best friend, showed up to scream at me, Steve was there to help things from getting uglier. When I discovered that Carolyn had utterly trashed me on Facebook, Steve helped me do some damage control and delete my account.

We developed a multi-prong plan. One part was to try to restore what we could of my life—my job, the bank, my credit, the house, etc. Another part was to try to do some damage control or fix what parts of her life got screwed up with her abrupt departure—after all, I was hoping to rescue her and get things back on track. That was pretty hard—she had done pretty much a ‘scorched ground’ assault and they had a lot of staged photos from when I was out that did not help. Fortunately, most of the photos were poorly taken, and a few of them brought up the question of who had taken it? Finally, the most important prong, to me, was to try to find and rescue Carolyn.

Things moved along for a while. I got Carolyn’s family to stop spitting at me even if they did not forgive me, my credit was doing OK and I got some of my money back from the bank. Work was going well enough that I wasn’t walking on eggshells any more and some of my co-workers were even helping me with some of my personal projects.

Occasionally something would happen that put me in a tailspin. I got a few anonymous texts or emails that would send me crying to my room. The most common showed the new Carolyn sucking cocks of men that did not show their heads. A few were videos of her wildly fucking faceless men, sometimes in her ass. One showed her in a fetish maid costume serving a masked man, doing any depraved thing he asked—such as sucking his toes or asshole with a moaning fervor, clearly relishing the opportunity to serve.

These always tore me up, which is what I assumed their goal was. I felt the need to watch them ‘to look for clues’ and tried to not think about how hard I sometimes jerked off afterwards. One of the more typical and ‘mild’ flicks showed Carolyn or Cindy walking into a room, white stuff dripping from her mouth and clean-shaven vagina and walking up to a well-endowed man on the edge of a bed, his head out of the frame. Cindy would wave at the camera and smile, letting more cum dribble onto her firm tits. She turned to look at the man’s cock, then exploded! She grabbed it like it was her only purpose in life, stroking and licking it as if born to the task. She would nuzzle it on her cheek and smile at the camera with a lusty gleam in her eye before she slipped her mouth over the tip and s-l-o-w-l-y slid it into her mouth. This would turn her on so much she would reach between her legs and diddle herself. She would speed up her fingers or mouth, orchestrating the eventual climax. Her hips would twitch and churn, her big tits bounce in rhythm, and she would toss her hair as she came while swallowing his cum.

Other things that happened included delightful little treats like notes from creditors I never heard of making big-time threats. Carolyn may be going by Cindy most of the time but she seemed perfectly capable of signing credit card slips with her real name. I got a penis enlarging pump in the mail with a note in her handwriting saying she hoped it helped, and a copy of the charge slip to our account. Semen covered panties or filled condoms were other favorite things of hers to send me, sometimes with red-hot stories of how they got that way and accompanying photos. It was heartbreakingly evil, but most of this faded over the course of a couple months.

I tried to follow every clue I could. Visits to places she bought stuff usually turned up an employee that vividly remembered the hot blonde—some had especially clear memories of the blow jobs or other sexual favors she did for them. Apparently it got back to her that I was doing this because she started to leave taunting little notes at the stores, like the one at a sex store that had a coupon in it for a fake vagina. Of course she included a close up of her own for comparison.

I was nearing the end of my rope when I got a flyer in the mail—an ad from a strip club in the city for their headline dancer, ‘Sinnndi!’. It took a minute to see Cindy under the make-up and hairdo, and even longer to see any remaining signs of Carolyn in the amazingly lush, vibrantly sexy woman in the ad. Scrawled on the back was a note—‘Meet me here, alone, at 9:00pm on Saturday.” It was signed ‘Johnny’.

8:30 Saturday night and I was finding a seat in the surprisingly pleasant club. A suited man patted me down, helped me to a table in a back corner and told me to wait, then collected my cell phone. Another man was standing guard nearby, turned so he could watch me and the room in general. I had told Steve what was going on, and he had a report outlining everything we could think of so if anything went wrong, he could contact the authorities, but that was not much of a safety net.

A man joined me. He was a pretty bland-looking guy with a Bluetooth earpiece. “Call me Tom. Mr. Vancetti will not be here tonight but anything you tell me, he will hear, and anything I say after this will be his words, as far as you know.” He gestured at the earpiece. He did not offer his hand.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Tom. I... I’m not sure what is going on, but all I want is Carolyn back.”

Tom looked at me neutrally. “What about the rest of your life? Your money, your reputation, your family and friends?”

“Without Carolyn, none of the rest of that means anything to me.” Tom nodded, then listened to the earpiece. He nodded again and began to speak.

“Again, Tom is repeating exactly what I say to him. Because I believe you, I am going to be very frank with you. You will understand that this puts you at risk should you betray my trust. I’m afraid you are a rather innocent victim of mistaken identity.” Tom started. “One of my men told me that a man who had stolen from me and then vanished had turned up. I had another man get eyes on you and he confirmed that you were who we were looking for. I was angry enough that I told them to implement a rather nasty plan designed to destroy my enemies.

“The good news for you, I guess, is that the person in charge of the plan got soft, and that Cindy’s programming was not as solid as I had been promised. They pulled their punches. Your house was to have been burned, your job and finances totalled, social media and relationships utterly decimated. While I could not blame Cindy, I’m afraid I did deal rather harshly with my lieutenant.

“It took a while but I eventually cooled off. Having the sexy, willing, and very submissive Cindy around helped me calm down and I felt quite vindicated, taking something so precious from you and twisting it like this. Then I got curious and began to ask Cindy about you and why you had betrayed me.

“That was when it came out that you were not who we thought you were. For a while, we just laughed. What a great cosmic joke. Some poor innocent schmoo and we screwed him over royally. Even Cindy thought it was hilarious.

“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things about me, but I am not really a monster. My sense of morality may be damaged, but it soon became clear to me that I had to at least try to fix this. I tried to do a few things at your job and the bank behind the scenes, and I hope some of my efforts helped. But it was not enough. Had you answered Tom differently, I would have written you a large check and directed some of my staff to help you rebuild your life.

“But here’s the rub. The processes we used on Cindy were developed by various business affiliates of mine. They had never tried to use so many so rapidly on one person, although my cousin did something somewhat similar to toy with the wife of a man who could not cover a bet in a card game. Anyway, the long and short of it is that it is probably not possible to restore Carolyn to any real semblance of who she was. We tried a few small tests, and actually made things worse—hence her new part-time job here. In fact...”

Apparently they were watching the time. The redhead on the stage took her bows and left as the lights and music changed. The announcer went through some spiel about how lucky we were to be here tonight and such. “Now, our star performer, the incredible, the amazing, the SEXY Sinnnndiiiii!” The music shifted to a throbbing techno beat as Sinnndi came out in a reflective foil-like catsuit. She marched herself around the edges of the stage with dominating steps, shaking her long hair and jiggly ass at the men howling at the edges. She slinked to the pole and began to slide herself along it, then peeled a patch of silvery material off her to reveal the high curve of her left hip.

Tom resumed speaking to me. “We’ll let her have her little show, then we can speak some more. Wait here.” He stepped into a back room.

Sinnndi kept up her athletic but sexy routine, occasionally making love to the pole, sometimes simulating sex with the audience, sometimes just sliding her hands around herself like she was her own lover. She kept peeling off pieces of the material and tossing most of them in the audience. Soon she was down to a metallic one-piece swimsuit-like outfit and knee-high boots. She peeled the suit down to reveal a very well-filled bra-like top and skimpy silver panties. She teased us with the bra, whipping the men into a frenzy before she turned her back, dropped the bra, and turned back to us with her arm over her nipples.

She kept this sort of thing up long enough that I am sure some guys ejaculated out of the sheer excitement of it all. Once she was totally naked, she danced some more, leaving shimmering juices smeared on the pole before she took her leave to a standing ovation and with what was probably hundreds of dollars in tips.

As instructed, I remained at the table, not sure what to do next. I was stunned when Sinndi, or Cindy, or Carolyn came up from behind me a few minutes later, slid her arm on my shoulder, and asked “Mind if I join you, hot stuff?” I stammered something, and she sat down. She was wearing glitter, a towel over her shoulders, and a short robe. She smelled of sweat and sex, and something floral—I would have sworn it was Carolyn’s favorite fragrance—White Linen. Somehow that really threw me for a loop.

“Did you like the show?” I replied that it was a good show but that she could have done pretty much anything and it would have been worth it. “That’s sweet, thanks! I’m pretty thirsty, though. Would you buy me a drink?” I agreed and she signaled a waitress. As she sipped her drink she smiled at me. “I hear tell you are a big shot, and that I should take good care of you. How about we go to the VIP area and I give you a private show. Since you are a special guy, I think we can have some special rules.”

I was going to say no, I swear I was, but dear god. I had helped design her after my deepest desires and I still saw elements of Carolyn in tiny ways. And it had been so long since I had done anything like this. I let her lead me past some curtains to a side lounge with a big wrap around couch and large screen TVs showing the woman dancing on the stage. Sinnndi sat me down and got me a fresh drink before standing up and putting on some music. It was a lot more friendly somehow, and she began to move differently—softer, more intimately.

She moved close, violating my personal space, but I was not complaining. I could feel her heat, smell her scents. Her hair sometimes brushed against me as she swayed and moved closer and closer. “The usual rules are no touching. The rules for big spenders are that we can and will touch you but you still cannot touch us. The rules for people like you are there pretty much are no rules.” She whispered in my ear as she stroked my cheek, and leaned a heavy, warm breast on my shoulder.

My body shivered as she continued to stroke me so softly but so erotically. “Come on, babe. Touch me back. I love being touched.” She was whispering again. When she spoke softly like this, she sounded like Carolyn. I stroked her back with one hand, and her hips with another. “Yessss.” She sighed. She was sitting on my lap, rubbing against my cock, pressing her chest against mine. One of her hands was between us massaging my groin. I slipped one of my hands around to cup a full teat and she moaned. Her lips blindly sought out mine and soon I was mindlessly kissing her feeling like a hormone-driven teen on his first make-out date.

As we were making out, someone cleared their throat. “Johnny!” Sinndi exclaimed, getting up to hug and kiss the new arrival.

He reached out his hand to me. “Hello. I’m John Vancetti. I’m pleased to finally meet you and sorry that it has to be under these conditions. Shall we go somewhere more private?” He led us to an office in the back and poured me a stiff drink, along with a wine cooler for Sinndi.

After some introductions and other niceties, Mr. Vancetti sat me down and laid everything out for me. There was a lot to take in, but when he was done, he told me to go home and think about it, then call him when I was ready. He gave me a card and escorted me to my car that he had arranged to have pulled around.

A lot to take in, indeed. He explained something about the processes. They were designed to be used sparingly, as an alternative to cosmetic surgery and such, but at a different level mostly available only to the 1%. They also had more capabilities, such as the mental changes they could do. The system was limited, however.

For example, they made her younger by basically using nanos and chemicals to flush out accumulated toxins and rebuild her cells at microscopic levels. Similar processes basically rebuilt her skin from the inside out. They did not know of a safe way to restore her older appearance.

She was several inches taller now because of forced growth to many long bones, balanced with growth in muscles, nerves, etc. Again, no known safe way to reverse. Similarly, her gorgeous ass and huge tits were created in ways that mimicked natural growth. Surgery was an option but trying to restart the natural processes again in reverse would almost certainly trigger rather nasty cancers and other complications.

She had gone through a forced second puberty to get her body to turn out right, and to get hormone levels and such where they wanted them. Trying to turn it all off would probably mess her up in too many ways to think about.

Perhaps most insidiously, the mental changes were the results of many things. They used hormones and other chemicals to alter, and in some cases, damage parts of her brain to lower her inhibitions, raise her libido, make her bond tightly to one person yet be sexually aggressive rather than a submissive ‘kitten’— although she could certainly be that when it suited her (Sinndi literally purred when Johnny said this. I was not aware she was paying attention since she was mostly sitting there and seemed to be rubbing herself quietly.)

The list of mental changes was extensive—some memories were probably totally gone, others distorted. When they tried to break the bond she had to Johnny and restore her memories of me, they seemed to just confuse her on some level and the result was more of an air-headed bimbo than she was before, so they started to call her Sinnndi and got her the job at the club since it bothered Johnny to see her like that. He sheepishly admitted that it was probably not the smartest or most moral way he could have handled it.

So, the problems had been laid out for me to see. He listed some options. The first and most obvious was to take her as she was. With a little tweaking, she would be a great trophy wife—loving, perfectly faithful, always ready for any kind of sex... but not really able to do things like carry on a real conversation, or cook anything too complicated, etc. A little more tweaking... or actually, a little less, and she would be a perfectly happy pet for me.

They could overlay a new personality profile in her. They had a whole catalog of them. The big downside is that it would probably interfere with her real memories even more. However, profiles for a wide range of jobs, relationships, interests, etc. existed and could be ‘mixed and matched’ to make her like I might want. Johnny even offered to throw in some additional body shaping if I desired, but he did warn that there were a lot of things they just could not safely do at this point. He could help me ‘build’ a wife, companion, mistress, maid, or more if he so chose.

I could, of course, just wash his hands of her. She was badly broken, through no fault of my own (his words), but Johnny would make sure she was well taken care of for the rest of her life.

Regardless of what he decided, Mr. Vancetti promised him enough to get back to at least where he was before this started, and then a fair settlement on top to help him move on. He shook my hand, suggested I not say anything just yet, and to think about it for at least a week. He would make sure Sinnndi was safe and cared for, and that she would not have sex with any other guys in the meantime.

“Hey, Lindsay, could you come here for a moment when you can take a break?”

“Sure, just give me a second.” I heard sounds of meal prep coming from the kitchen. Tall, busty Lindsay with her long platinum hair came out wearing a big smile, an apron, and some flip flops, and nothing else. She settled in my lap and wrapped an arm around my neck. “What’s up, hon?”

“Well, the way you’re sitting, you can probably feel one of the things that is ‘up’.” She laughed at this. I loved her laugh. She had an adorable giggle, but her actual laugh was so infectious and real. “The other is to show you this.” I held up an envelope.

She squealed when she opened it and found the tickets to an island resort, all expenses paid. “You are getting so fucked tonight!’ She exclaimed. I loved how sexually unrepressed she was. She sometimes embarrassed me with how free she was in expressing herself, but at times like this it just made me love her more. “So does this mean you’ve heard from the lawyer?”

“Yeah. A couple weeks ago he let me know that everything was free and clear since Carolyn left me. Her name is off everything we can get it off of, the annulment was approved, everything is spic and span.”

She ground herself on my slacks. I could feel her excitement through the cloth. “Elopement and honeymoon locked and loaded. Starting the countdown. Now, let’s see if we can find a way to seal the deal.” She slipped off my lap and squatted between my legs. Her clever fingers undid everything and soon had my pants around my ankles and my cock deep in her talented mouth.

I obviously kept Sinnndi, but decided to take advantage of the personality overlays. She thought of herself as Lindsay now, and had a new background based on some memory reads the group had available. She was a very good cook, enjoyed music and dance, and more. It was actually kind of fun to work with the team on this. I got to select things from a database. Each attribute had codes that suggested other things to consider or things that it did not work well with.

Carolyn had grown up in a small farm town, so we started with a sort of cowgirl base. That did not work real well with her long hair and pale skin, so we tried more of a ‘ski bunny’ template, albeit one where skiing was more of an excuse to hang out in the lodges. We layered on a gregarious personality that worked well with her enhanced sensuality. Unfortunately, I could not restore her high IQ, but we found several tricks to help—enhanced memory, improved connectivity, etc. That allowed us to add a lot of artistic elements—many of the paintings in the house were hers.

I even felt good enough about how things were going to allow the tech (they called themselves Artist Technicians) to add a few templates without my knowledge so there would be some mysteries to explore. It took a couple weeks to get the basic elements inserted and tested.

They had something called the ‘sandbox’ where they would inhibit her ability to remember then run her through simulations to see how she would respond. This allowed us to observe and tweak as necessary. The first and most obvious problem was that she was such a sexual creature that she would literally throw herself at anything with a sexual organ. We thought we had that under control but she would still hook up with anyone who basically asked nicely. It was pretty jarring to compare her behaviors in my mind as Carolyn, Cindy, Sinndi, and now Lindsay. (I chose the name Lindsay by looking at a list of popular names from her new birth year and thinking which one worked best for her. She chose her own middle name in a sandbox session—Anne, which was actually her old middle name. I still do not know if she remembered that fact or not.)

The more we worked with Lindsay, the more I fell in love with her as her own person. She was so sweet and polite in public—the kind of woman who played with puppies and tickled strange babies, and helped other people in small ways, and played in the rain or spontaneously danced to music in the mall. When it was just the two of us, she was warmly affectionate—constant touches, hugs, and kisses. It took very little to fan her flames and then she was either a tigress or a kitten, depending on her mood.

She had memories and skills consistent with a variety of jobs—legal secretary, fashion store supervisor, teacher’s aide, and so on but in her mind, her real ‘career’ was homemaker who had a couple part time jobs on the side. One of the sad notes of all this was that she could not have kids—they had messed that up when they tinkered with her insides so she would not have menses anymore. It took some real delicate touches to keep her from getting melancholy over this.

As all this was going on, Mr. Vancetti’s people helped in dozens of other ways. they set it up so it would appear that Carolyn had moved overseas, and helped me move to another state and sever most of my ties, even changing my name. My new bank account and credit history was good, more than good, in fact. Work was a lot of fun now that I had the resources to quit any time I wanted.

In Lindsay’s mind, we met when I was taking a solo vacation in her hometown of Vail to take a break from what had been going on in my life—wife running away and ruining things for me. We’d hit it off enough that she followed me home, partly to be with me, partly to follow a new job offer that ‘somehow, coincidentally’ happened at the same time. We dated for a while, which was fun since she really loved unconventional dates like ice skating at midnight in a park or breakfast picnics in a canoe.

She moved in a while ago, and it was like she belonged here. She had taken to waking me with warm hugs and kisses, or a tender blow job, or riding me awake, or going for a tickle attack. We often showered together before I headed off to work and she got things around the house taken care of. Her job was part time, giving her plenty of time to get stuff done, work a shift, and get home before me. She enjoyed wearing sexy or teasing things around the house. Some of her favorite stuff was lacy, racy lingerie, but some of my favorites were soft-to-the-touch plain old pastel undies. I really liked it when she wore things like her powder blue French-cut panties under a coordinating short and slightly too-snug tank top with no bra. of course, she often chose to go nude or nearly so, like today.

Thankfully our home was a cabin on some nice land with great views and no neighbors in eyesight in most directions (and the windows where there are neighbors are frosted—too bad for them!) I’m not really sure it would bother her a whole lot of they DID see her, but I’d much rather they just fantasize about her. I’m pretty sure they’ve heard us. Just a couple days ago, we were pretty noisy as we fucked on the front porch hidden only by the waist-high wall and our angles.

When she was finished with the blow job, she nearly skipped back to the kitchen to finish supper. “So, shall we elope here or on the island?”

“Is there anyone you’d like to invite to a ceremony if we did it here?” I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

“Well, some of the girls at work have offered to throw me a bridal shower and it would be nice to have them at some sort of reception.” Lindsay was such a warm person that she made more friends since we moved here than Carolyn and I had in the time we lived in our old neighborhood.

“Tell you what. Let’s plan a simple ceremony at the courthouse, then throw a party here a couple days before we hit the beaches. We’ll invite everyone over and have Jessie cater it.” Jessie was a neighbor that managed a nice restaurant and catered on the side.

The bridal shower, short civil ceremony, and reception went well. It was great to see Lindsay so happy, and it felt great to feel like all the nastiness was far behind us. We were napping on the warm sands, having enjoyed a day of paragliding, snorkeling, drinking, beach sex, and just plain relaxing. “Hi. Fancy meeting you here!” I looked up and saw Johnny Vancetti in shorts and sandals. My blood ran cold for a moment. “Is this your beautiful bride?”

I quickly introduced him to Lindsay, who honestly did not seem to recognize him. “What are you doing here, sir?” I asked, shaking his hand to cover my own shakiness.

“Just dropping off a wedding gift.” He handed me a nicely wrapped box and walked away.

“Who was that, hon?” Lindsay asked.

“Just someone I met from before.” ‘Before’ was sort of a code word for the bad times she thought I had gone through before meeting her. I tossed the package in our beach bag, gave her a kiss, and laid back down.

Later, at the hotel, I opened the package while she was showering. It was full of files—paper and on thumb drives. A note explained that this was all the records, photos, and so on of our shared experience. He was satisfied that I had kept my part of the bargin and this was his way of showing his own good faith. I told Lindsay through the door that I’d be right back. I ran the stuff to the hotel office and had them shred everything that would fit in the machine, and smashed the drive to toss in different trash cans on my way back up. I also slipped into the gift shop to get a bracelet Lindsay had looked at earlier.

Back in the room she asked me where I had been. I told her I had to hit the gift shop and gave her the bracelet, fibbing that the package had been a gift card that I decided to spend on her. She thanked me and pushed me onto the bed, promising to give me a gift of my own. I’d made the mistake of telling her ‘no’ before when she really wanted sex and she pouted for hours. I was not about to make another mistake.