The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Renaissance Center, Detroit, Michigan

Julie and I agreed to meet at the elevators in the parking area under the 400 tower. She was waiting for me when I got there. She looked happy and animated, but seemed unsure of what to do as I approached. I opened my arms to her and she stepped into them. The only other time we’d touched was when we’d shaken hands at my arrival earlier. The hug was much more satisfying.

The trip to Julie’s condo had taken less than ten minutes in her little Ford-Grumman. She’d disappeared into the bedroom, telling me to make myself at home. The place was tastefully decorated, but still comfortable.

“Ben?” She stuck her head and one bare shoulder out of the bedroom door.

“Yes?”

“Should I, um… Should I bring things for overnight and tomorrow?”

“If you’d like. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“It’s my day off in exchange for the Saturday on-call. Originally today was supposed to be my exchange day off, but some guy decided to schedule a meeting with me today.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it, otherwise I’ll have his head!”

“Oh it was worth it. It was definitely worth it.”

She ducked back into the bedroom and emerged a few minutes later wearing black slacks and a cream cowl neck sweater that covered all the way down to the top of her thighs. She was carrying a small bag.

“Very nice,” I said. “You look like you should be modeling that in front of the fireplace at a ski lodge.”

“I hate the cold. Born and raised here, but I still can’t stand it.”

“I know a guy who will give you a good deal on an apartment in San Diego.”

“I’ll bet you do. Don’t tempt me, I might take you up on it.”

“My God, it’s beautiful! What is it?”

“It’s a Mercedes-Benz SL580, updated with a turbine engine and various other improvements.”

“It looks like it’s doing 200 kilometers just sitting there. It’s so sleek and refined, but somehow still looks very powerful and commanding.”

“It’s already done 250 today, and there was still plenty of room left between my foot and the floor. Honestly, I don’t know how fast it will go with the new engine, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s faster on the ground than half of today’s roadables are in the air. It’s also how you’re getting to dinner tonight.”

I opened the door and helped her into the two-seater, then closed the door behind her. The muted growl of the old V-8 was gone, but my unknown technology updating wizard had managed to get just the slightest hint of audible turbine whine to let you know that you’re dealing with a formidable machine.

Julie was surprised when we pulled up at the New London Chop House, only a few blocks away.

“I’ve never been here. It’s supposed to be really expensive, Ben.” Her voice had a bit of a warning tone.

“It’s supposed to be really good, Julie. And if I’m worth twenty-seven point one instead of twenty-seven point two billion after we’re done, I’m sure I’ll survive.”

She laughed.

The valet assured me that he was qualified to operate old-style autos with both manual and automatic transmissions. I warned him that the turbine had considerably more power than the original engine, then handed him the keys.

“She’s a work of art, sir. I’ll take good care of her.” He fired it up and motored away at a sedate pace. I turned and thanked the doorman for holding the door for me as I joined Julie inside.

We checked our coats and descended the stairs. The woman maitre d’ from earlier had been replaced by a man who appeared to be in his 50’s. He greeted us immediately.

“Good to see you, Doctor Lincoln—and you must be Ms. D’Ambrosio.”

Julie smiled and acknowledged him. I was surprised that he’d identified me, since we’d never met.

“Excellent. We have your table ready. Sasha and Emily will be taking care of you tonight.” He motioned and a blond girl and a brunette stepped forward. They both appeared to be in their mid-20’s.

“I’m Emily,” said the brunette. “I’m your wine stewardess tonight. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“I’m Sasha,” said the blond. “I’m your waitress. Are you ready to be seated?”

I gave Sasha a single nod and she turned to lead us to our table. As we passed the host stand I looked for a video screen or some sort of crib sheet that had told the maitre d’ what I looked like. There was nothing. There must have been briefings on each evening’s reservations that were memorized. The service was, indeed, impressive.

Our table was near the back of the restaurant. I held Julie’s chair as she sat, then seated myself opposite her. Emily stepped forward and placed separate menus for wines and other drinks on the table. They were printed and bound in leather. I picked up the wine menu and flipped to the champagne page.

“We’re celebrating tonight, so I think champagne is in order. I’m driving an old-style car, though, so I’m going to go very light on the drinking.”

“Very wise, Sir. What are you celebrating?”

I looked at Julie.

“We’re going to have a baby,” she said, beaming.

After twenty years of male sterility, an announcement like that probably carried the same impact as saying that we were going to invade Spain, but neither girl even batted an eye. Instead they smiled and congratulated us both.

“I see that you have Dom Perignon,” I said.

“If I may, Sir,” said Emily, “the Dom we have really isn’t up to snuff. It has a distinct almond tang, and a bit of a bitter finish. Our Master Sommelier isn’t happy with it at all, but we keep it on the menu for our guests who insist on having Dom Perignon. I do apologize.”

“Thank you, Emily. Do you have any other recommendations?”

“If Moet & Chandon is to your taste, we have an excellent Brut Imperial Rose ‘14. It’s far superior to the Dom, in my opinion.”

I looked at Julie.

“Have you ever had a rose champagne?”

“No, but it sounds interesting.”

“Neither have I, and I agree. We’ll go with the Brut Imperial, Emily.”

“Excellent, Sir.”

Emily departed and Sasha handed each of us a printed and leather-bound menu. She asked if there was anything that we needed immediately. There wasn’t, so she stepped away to let us look over the menus.

“Look at the top,” Julie whispered across the table. The menus were printed with both of our names. They’d been made custom for us. I wondered if any special dietary requests we might have made would have resulted in different selections on the menu. It seemed likely.

The restaurant was busy, but the atmosphere was still mostly subdued. There was one somewhat noisy table with eight businessmen who appeared to be having a celebration dinner of some sort. The other tables were mostly older couples, businesspeople in groups ranging from two to six, and the occasional single diner. I noticed that each table had a waiter and wine steward whose sole responsibility was that table.

The service certainly lived up to the legacy of the original. If the food was good, I was going to add another restaurant to my list of favorites alongside Golden of Del Mar and, of course, Giovanni’s.

Emily’s recommendation had been perfect. The champagne had a distinctive blush color in the crystal flutes and it had made for a perfect toast to Julie’s impending conjugation. Dinner had also been delicious, and the service was impeccable. The only concession the restaurant made to modern times was due to the mostly-cashless economy: They presented the bill on an electronic tablet with a biometric scanner.

The bill had come to $382. If we’d had a wine with each course, it could easily have been double that, but we’d only had the champagne. I’d added 100 dollars in tip for Sasha and the same for Emily. It was worth every penny.

“My God this thing is fast!” Julie exclaimed as I decelerated to exit I-75.

“We weren’t going all that fast. It still had plenty left. I’m sure you go faster in your roadable all the time. It’s probably already waiting for us at my house.”

“It doesn’t seem that fast in the roadable, though. Being on the ground really gives you a sense of the speed. It’s… exhilarating! And I can’t believe how naturally and precisely you drive after twenty years of not driving at all.”

“Twenty years to the rest of the world, but to me and the others in the time bubble with me it’s only been a couple of weeks.”

“How did that work, anyway?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” I said as I made the left onto Van Dyke in Sterling Heights and headed home. I’d tell her about a lot of things later.

I had the tiniest of pauses at my bedroom door. It was a new bed, but it was the same bedroom in the same house where I’d loved Pamela a few weeks, yet twenty years, earlier. But the fact that I’d loved her then was irrelevant. She hadn’t returned my love. She’d been a conniving bitch who’d been trying to manipulate me into being her meal ticket.

Though my soul had been crushed in this room not that many days earlier, I’d since healed. I’d entwined my heart with those of several wonderful ladies in California, and I was going to do the same with Julie. That was all that mattered.

I’d left Julie’s bag at the bottom of the stairs while I gave her the tour of my house, then taken it and her upstairs to complete the tour. The logical final stop was the master bedroom. I walked in and set Julie’s bag down at the foot of the bed, then turned around.

She stood in the doorway, gripping the sides of the doorframe. Her face showed a mixture of fear and uncertainty. I remembered what she’d told me about her ex-husband and her life since their divorce. I stepped back to her, released her hands from the doorframe, and guided her back out into the hallway, turning her so that the bedroom was behind her. I took her hands in mine.

“He was an idiot, Julie.”

She looked at me with uncertainty.

“He was a complete and utter idiot. Do you know why?”

She shook her head.

“Because from the moment I first saw you, I thought you were sexy. From the moment I first saw you, I thought you were beautiful. From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were a real woman and I desired you. You turn me on, Julie. You turn me on physically, intellectually, emotionally, and sexually.”

There was just the faintest glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Right now, Julie—right at this moment, what is important to you?”

“I… I want to be good enough for you. I want to be good enough to make love with you. I want to be good enough to have your baby.”

“Are you good enough?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Is the reason that you don’t know because of the words a man said to you years ago—the words he said because he knew he wasn’t good enough for you—the words he said to try to hurt you so that he could pretend that he wasn’t just lying to himself?”

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“I don’t know, Ben. It still hurts as if it happened just yesterday.”

“I understand. What do you want to do, Julie? Whatever you want is fine. I want you to do what’s best for you.”

“I want this, Ben. I want to be with you, but I’m scared that you won’t like me… you know… in bed.”

I released her hand and softly stroked her left cheek. Her eyes closed and she sighed and leaned her head into my caress. Gently I pulled her into a soft, comforting hug. We stood that way for a couple of minutes before I released her.

“Will you kiss me, Julie?”

She nodded slightly, then closed her eyes and tilted her head upward to offer me her lips.

Our kiss was soft, gentle, caring. She whimpered, then moaned softly in her throat as it extended for several seconds before ending.

“That was beautiful, Julie—one of the sweetest, tenderest kisses I’ve ever had. Your kiss is more than good enough for anyone, including me. I’d be happy kissing you for years and years.”

She blushed, but there was hope in her eyes.

“Can we start with that, Julie? Can we start with your wonderful kisses and work from there?”

She nodded. I took her hand and led her back into the bedroom.

Julie was a kitten in bed. She was vocal, but it was all soft sighing, whimpering, moaning, and mewling. She moaned my name as her arousal grew while I was thrusting into her. She arched her back, dug her nails in to pull me down tighter into her, and cried out in pleasure when she orgasmed. She smiled in sheer bliss when I came in her. She shared soft, loving kisses while we both caught our breath.

Then we did it all over again.

I laid beside her, with her cuddled up against me, sighing with happiness. I didn’t give her a chance to think about things and ask the inevitable question.

“Just so you know, Ms. D’Ambrosio, you blew past ‘good enough’ a long time ago and left it in the dust. You are spectacular in bed! You make me feel like Apollo, descended from Olympus with his Scepter of Female Pleasure. One or two more rounds with you and I may have to build a separate wing onto this house just to contain my ego.”

She lifted up gave me a kiss.

“Thank you, Ben. That was wonderful. It was more than wonderful. It was…”

She frowned.

“Are you OK?”

“I’m going to change my name. I don’t want his name or anything else to do with him. I’m going to change my name and become… Julie Lincoln.”

Her expression quickly changed to one of worry.

“I’m sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to presume. I’ll go back to my maiden name. It’s just that you’ve been more of a husband to me in half a day than he was the whole time we were together.”

“It’s OK, Julie. And thank you. We should talk about it, but we need to talk about a lot of other things first.”

“Like the contract?”

“The contract?

“We didn’t execute the contract, Ben. We forgot. I’ll still do it, of course…”

I silenced her with a kiss.

“Can you do something for me, Julie?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t think right now, just feel. Tell me how you feel inside.”

“I feel… happy. Like I belong… like I belong to you, Ben. I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s so… perfect.”

Her eyes filled with happy tears. I kissed her again, then took her hand and placed it on my chest, resting my hand on top.

“What do you feel here?”

She paused.

“I feel your heart, Ben. I feel it beating… so strong. It feels like it’s a part of me, like it’s calling to me.”

“What is it saying?”

“It’s… it’s saying… ‘love!’”

“Yes it is, Julie.”

I hugged her closer against me.

“There was never going to be any contract for us, Julie. What this is,” I pressed her hand tighter to my chest, “and what it is becoming is so much more than any contract could ever be.”

She sobbed softly into my neck.

“Thank you, Ben. Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for showing me how special two people can be to each other.”

“There was never any doubt, Julie. As wonderful as you are, it couldn’t happen any other way.”

And there, in the bedroom where my heart had nearly been destroyed, Julie’s heart began to heal.