The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“It was really nice of you to agree to meet Tish,” Megan said, moving her stir-stick around in her glass. “She just moved to town, and she knows hardly anybody. She’s basically just got me, and well, you know me. You’re practically my whole social network, so I’m no help to her, but you know everybody. I told her, hit it off with you, she’ll have one of the most complete social circles around.”

Alexis shrugged, taking a sip of her own drink. She’d ordered a single glass of white wine, and she’d been nursing it carefully while waiting for Tish to arrive. “That’s if we hit it off. And even then, it’s rarely a good idea to bring your new fling around to meet everybody after only one date. Again—that’s if we both decide we want a second date out of this.”

The waiter stopped by the bar, and both Alexis and Megan turned to look at him. “Your table is ready, Miss. Would you like me to show the two of you over to it now, or…?”

“Oh no, this isn’t my date,” Alexis corrected. “Just my matchmaker. We’re still waiting for my date to arrive.”

“Oh, excuse me,” the waiter apologized. “Well, it’s just that booth right over there,” he said, gesturing towards the booth in the far corner of the restaurant. Alexis saw a little placard on the table that said, ‘Reserved.’ “Whenever your date does arrive, the two of you can show yourselves to it. It’ll just be waiting for you, ready to go.”

“Thanks,” Alexis said, giving the waiter a kind smile.

The waiter nodded once, his cheeks reddening slightly. Alexis knew she had a good smile—she probably should have turned the wattage down on that last one just a bit. But she did like to make people feel appreciated wherever she could; it was probably one of the reasons her social circle had flocked so naturally to her.

“As soon as I see the two of you have made it to your table, I’ll be over right away to check in. Good luck on your date,” he added, giving her a quick nod, and diverting course back towards one of the other tables.

“I told you, the two of you will get along great,” Megan said, waving her off.

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” Alexis demurred. “Even if we’re not a good fit romantically, I’m sure we can be friends. I’ll introduce her around, second date or no. But I do have to say, her first priority after moving cities is to pick up a date? That’s how she sets down roots? It is a little weird, you have to admit.”

Megan shrugged, stirring her drink again. “What can I say? The woman’s a bit of a serial dater. She just got out of like a 5 year relationship. I don’t think I’ve ever known her to be single for more than two weeks—when she told me she was moving, her first question was if I had anybody to set her up with. And I’ll remind you that you agreed.”

“I know,” Alexis conceded, showing her hands.

“And let me tell you, her last relationship ended just 8 days ago,” Megan said, her eyes sparking gleefully.

8 days? She moves fast…

“So I’m right in the window,” Alexis quipped back. “Maybe we’ll be best-est friends for ever and ever! Or maybe someday you’ll be maid of honor at our wedding!”

“I’m just saying,” Megan said. “I think it could go really well.”

Alexis took another sip of her wine. “And you knew her from—where?”

“Childhood friends,” Megan reminded her. “Childhood friends, stayed friends through high school, college. Then stayed phone friends all the time we’ve lived apart from each other.”

“Well, you’re one of my closest friends, I already told you, your recommendation is good enough for me,” Alexis said, but Megan’s eyes went to the door.

“There she is now,” Megan said, as an aside to Alexis. “Tish!” She cried, waving emphatically. “Over here!”

Alexis turned on the barstool to get a first look at her date for the night. The woman in question had just stepped through the door, and was, for the first second Alexis was looking at her, still scanning the bar for them. Then, her eyes latched onto Megan, still waving beside Alexis, and she smiled in recognition.

She was pretty, in a soft kind of way. It was subtle—she wasn’t a knockout. If Alexis had passed her on the street, she wouldn’t have turned her head. But in the context of, I’m about to have a date with this woman, it was easy to appreciate her soft beauty. Her hair was blonde, and only to her chin, in loose waves. It outlined her face nicely; seemed to fall in the most flattering way possible. She’d worn a light blue pant suit which even from a distance Alexis could tell was meant to match her eyes. And despite its sharp clean cut outline, it only added to the impression of delicateness. The color was practically pastel.

Alexis herself was not a soft person. Her clothes tended to be pretty severe and sharply cut, out tailoring this woman’s, and unlike Tish, she didn’t hide those edges behind pastel colors. She wore darks: deep browns, pure blacks. And she didn’t let her hair fall loosely to frame her face. It was a sharp, angular bob along her cheekbones. It was there by her choice, and it stayed exactly where she put it. She never grew it out.

She was not a soft person; and soft people were not her type. She could befriend them easily enough, but they held no attraction for her. So, though Tish was clearly pretty, she was a little feminine for Alexis’ taste, and mentally, Alexis was already learning more towards friendship than attraction.

But, she’d promised Megan she’d give it a shot, and as a policy tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, so she put on her most charming smile as Tish caught up to them at the bar.

Tish embraced Megan first, kissing her on both cheeks, and then turned to Alexis. “Tish, this is Alexis,” Megan introduced. “Alexis, Tish.”

“Hi,” Tish said, in exactly the kind of voice Alexis would have expected from her.

“Hello,” Alexis said, nodding back politely. The two stood there for a moment, and then Tish leaned in, apparently expecting an embrace despite having just been introduced. Reluctantly, Alexis took her cue, and Tish hugged her close, also pressing a kiss to each one of Alexis’ cheeks.

Tish was wearing pink lipstick, and the kisses she pressed to Alexis’ face were a little too drawn out to come away clean. A double annoyance; Alexis had always hated the kiss-on-the-cheek hello, and she really didn’t know Tish well enough to be wiping her lipstick off her face. She’d also noticed that Tish had not given Megan such a long kiss on each cheek, only a quick peck. Strike one, for Tish’s overfamiliarity on a first date, she thought.

Still, she was probably being over sensitive. She couldn’t write the woman off entirely without giving her a chance. Keeping her smile, she took the napkin from beneath her wine glass, and wiped each cheek once, discreetly.

“So,” Megan was saying. “Now that I’ve introduced you, I should leave you love birds to it. I know you’ll have a great time. I expect all the details out of you both later. Have fun!” She waved her goodbye, and Tish and Alexis (Alexis still with the lipstick smudged napkin in her hand) waved back in response. And Megan was gone.

“So,” Tish said. “Should we flag down the waiter?” She had a breathy quality even in her speaking voice, and she spoke just a few levels quieter than normal. If they had gone to a louder restaurant, Alexis would have spent the whole night struggling to hear her. Alexis felt lucky that they hadn’t—she could imagine how grating that would quickly become. And she hoped that what had to be a soft-spoken affectation wouldn’t start grating on her by itself.

Tish was scanning the vicinity for a waiter, but Alexis caught her attention again. “No, he showed me where our table was before, we can just head right over.” She took her half-empty wine glass, but left the napkin on the bar, and turned to walk to the booth.

“You’d think at a place like this they’d be a little less casual,” Tish remarked, as the two of them sat down in the booth. “It’s upscale here. They should take better care of their clientele.”

“No, it’s a great place,” Alexis said, setting her glass on a coaster. Tish was shrugging out of her pastel blue suit jacket to reveal a sleeveless turtleneck in the same color. “The service is really top quality.”

“Someone should at least offer to hang my jacket for me,” Tish said, with a shake of her head. She stood, and hung her jacket off a hook on the wall, but she didn’t look happy about it.

Alexis watched Tish, puzzled. She’d barely been on this date for 5 minutes and she could already tell that Tish was temperamental. Softness, Alexis could overlook, but a temperamental nature? She liked to keep things on an even keel, and hated drama. Tish seemed kind of like the opposite, which did not bode well for their date.

The waiter emerged from the kitchen carrying two plates, and as he walked them to their table, his eyes landed on Alexis and Tish in the corner booth, and sparked in recognition. He gave them a brief nod in acknowledgement, and delivered his plates to the table. Then he made a direct course to them.

“So happy you’ve joined us this evening,” he said, cheerily. “Can I get you anything to drink, Miss?”

This was directed to Tish, who visibly stiffened in response. For what reason, Alexis couldn’t possibly guess. She stared in confusion.

“Aren’t you going to ask Alexis if she wants something to drink?” Tish asked, her voice still low, but now with an edge to it.

Alexis couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Confusion turned to incredulity.

The waiter looked surprised too. “She already has a drink—”

“But we’ve moved locations,” Tish said, with a simpering smile, as if she were explaining a basic fact to someone very dumb. “That was her drink before. Perhaps she wants a fresh glass for a new table, or an entirely different drink. It’s quite rude of you to overlook her, don’t you think?”

The waiter locked completely flustered at this unexpected attack, and words finally came back to Alexis through her disbelief. “Tish, it’s not a big deal. I told him I’d be drinking white wine tonight, and that I’d probably only end up having a glass or two. He’s checked with me like twenty times since I got here to make sure I hadn’t changed my mind.” She tried to shoot the waiter an apologetic smile, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“Don’t worry, Alexis, I can take care of this,” Tish said, putting her hand on Alexis’ hand, as if these words would be some kind of reassurance to her.

Take care of this? That was practically a strike three in Alexis’ book. Alexis Laura Porter was not someone to be “taken care of.” She could take care of herself, and any conflicts that might involve her, thank you very much. And a waiter, who she’d already developed something of a rapport with, not asking for a drink order when she already had a half-full wine glass in front of her did not classify as a conflict in her book.

But Tish had turned back to the waiter. “Perhaps you’d like to start right over from the beginning. I had to hang my own jacket too—what’s next, you’ll ask us to go into the kitchen to cook our own meal? You should re-approach the table, offer to hang my jacket for me, and then ask us both for our drink orders.” Her hand was still on Alexis, rubbing circles with her thumb, as if to comfort her.

Alexis was once again speechless in shock. The date had barely started and it was already a disaster. And she wanted to curl into a ball in embarrassment for the way Tish was speaking to their waiter.

“I’m sorry,” the waiter said stiffly. “Would the two of you like anything to drink?”

Tish looked back to Alexis pointedly, waiting for her to speak.

Alexis was still speechless. She looked from Tish to the waiter and back again. She could feel her mouth was hanging open slightly, and that her brow was furrowed in deep confusion, but she couldn’t smooth her own features. The shock was too raw.

After an awkward minute of this she finally got some words out. “Just wine for me, thanks,” she muttered, still having a hard time believing the previous interaction had really happened.

“I’d like a glass of white wine, also,” Tish said, looking back to the waiter. “There, was that so hard? If you needed any more tips on how to do your job, here’s a clue. This is the part of the meal where you bring us our menus.”

That final insult was enough to bring Alexis out of her shock. She ripped her hand out from under Tish’s grip. “Don’t bother. I’m leaving.” The waiter took this as his cue to escape, and raced away to another table, with a look of profound relief on his face.

Tish turned to Alexis, her eyes wide with surprise. “But Alexis, we’ve barely had any time to get to know each other. I can already tell I like you very much—I was hoping we could at least stay until dessert, and maybe even have a cup of coffee afterwards at my apartment…”

From the tone of Tish’s voice, Alexis got her implication loud and clear. “Sorry, Tish. Your attraction to me is one-sided. I don’t really tend to go for jerks, and I can say pretty confidently that you’re the last person I’d ever want to go to bed with. I hope I never see you again in my life. But hey, you know what, you can pick up my bar tab since you’re so concerned about ‘taking care of me.’ Have a crappy life!” With that, Alexis stood, ready to storm out.

“Wait, Alexis—do you have a home phone number?”

That was enough to stop Alexis in her tracks, it came so completely out of nowhere. “Do I have a what?”

“Do you have a home phone number?” Tish repeated patiently. “We could try this again when you’re in a better mood.”

Alexis stared, once more in disbelief. “You’re the cause of my bad mood. And you know what? Yeah, I have a home phone number. And it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ever get it!” And Alexis turned on her heel, and stalked out of the restaurant.

She’d never walked out of a blind date in the first ten minutes, but then she’d never been on a blind date that had gone so quickly off the rails. 10 minutes of Tish’s company had been 10 minutes too long, as far as she was concerned. Relief at having escaped filled her as she made it outside, and she happily hailed a cab, eager to get home and forget the night had ever happened.

It started two days later.

When Alexis got home, there was a message on her answering machine.

At first, she didn’t think anything of it. She had a large group of acquaintances and friends, and she gave her home number out freely to people that she liked. And she’d always been one of those people who liked keeping a landline, even though she primarily used her cellphone. As much as possible she tried to use her cellphone for work, and urgent situations where people needed to get in touch quickly. But her friends all knew that if it wasn’t urgent, she preferred them to call her at home.

So a message waiting light was nothing out of the ordinary. She hit play as she set down her briefcase and shrugged out of her coat.

“Hi, Alexis. It’s Tish.” Alexis froze. “I thought it was a shame our date wasn’t more successful, and I’d love to make it up to you on a second…”

“How did you get my number?!” Alexis asked her empty living room. “I didn’t even tell you my last name!”

“You’ve got the wrong idea about me, and I’d like to correct your impression. Give me a call back—Megan can give you my number, if you’d like it. Oh, and I should mention, she was the one sweet enough to pass your number on to me after your little oversight—“

“What oversight?” Alexis demanded. “I didn’t want you to have it!”

“So, call me back any time, Alexis. I’ll be waiting. Talk soon!” And the message cut out.

Alexis grumbled to herself as she picked up the phone, dialling Megan’s number. It rang twice, and Megan picked up.

“Hi, Alexis! How was—”

“Why did you give Tish my number?” Alexis interrupted.

There was a puzzled silence. “Sweetie, I thought your date went well.”

It was Alexis’ turn to be surprised. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Tish said you both really hit it off,” Megan elaborated. “She even said that you made a point of telling her that you wanted her to have your home number, and you wrote it out and everything, but then forgot to give it to her. So I was happy to help her—“

“We did not hit it off,” Alexis gritted out. “I’ve never seen someone behave so rudely in the course of 5 minutes, and I told her I never wanted to see her again. But now she has my number, and she can call me all the time. Why did you believe her, Megan?”

“She knew you had a home number,” Megan said, as if this was an obvious thing to put together. “You don’t tell people you have a home number unless you want them to have it. It made her story sound credible. And, Alexis—come on. The woman is one of my oldest friends. That does mean I tend to believe what she tells me…”

Alexis opened and shut her mouth a few times, trying to find the words. Finally, she settled. “Well, Megan, I’m telling you she’s wrong. She was lying. We did not hit it off, so if you could ask her not to call me anymore—“

“I don’t know about that, Alexis,” Megan said. “You do have kind of a tendency to wall yourself off after hitting it off with someone. You show a little vulnerability, it freaks you out and then you run.”

“That isn’t what this is,” Alexis pressed.

“But if it was, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?”

There was a beat of silence. Alexis was too thrown by Megan’s transfer of allegiance to speak.

“So you won’t tell her not to call me?” She asked quietly, after a few minutes of this.

“No. I think it’s better that you don’t run away this time. It really did sound like you and Tish had a good time, and I won’t let you turn your back on that.”

Alexis considered bursting out with another, we didn’t! But she knew a lost cause when she saw one.

“Fine, Megan,” she said, in a low voice. “But your recommendation matters less than dirt to me now, and I want you to know that.”

She hung up the phone.

The next day, another message. Alexis reluctantly pressed play.

“Hi, Alexis, it’s Tish. Megan told me you didn’t ask her for my number, but she also very helpfully mentioned that you have a tendency to run from connection and commitment.”

She spoke in that drawling way, just loud enough to hear. It left Alexis straining to make out the words, even though consciously she knew it was loud enough to be audible. Maybe it was the breathiness of her voice—it was not a sustained tone. It was mostly exhalation, with just a little speech tucked into the centre of it and wrapped in air. It came out thin, and delicate. Which only added to the uneasy impression that Alexis couldn’t really hear her, even when she could.

“She told me she wasn’t interested in enabling you in that pattern of behavior anymore, and neither am I. So I’ll give you my number right now. I want you to write this number down for me, Alexis. Write it down, and give me a call. Here it is. Did you get it? Call me.”

Alexis had very pointedly not written the number down. She had sat in her armchair, arms crossed, seething.

Another day, another message.

“It’s Tish. You can keep avoiding me all you want, Alexis.” She drawled her words again, drawled her words always, dragging them out at an uncomfortably slow pace. The rhythm was so delayed that it was uncomfortable to listen to. And not only did she delay, but she delayed erratically. She did not sink into the same, snail’s pace slow tempo and maintain it. She spoke excessively slowly, but there were hitches in her delivery. Strange, nonsensical pauses, even in the middle of a word. Or a sudden acceleration that came at random, no warning. It made the thing even more disorienting to listen to.

And this was on top of the fact that every word was only barely above a whisper.

“But I’ve got your number, and I’m going to keep calling you. Don’t worry about me. I’m a very patient woman. I don’t mind being kept waiting. Although, maybe you should take a look at yourself. You seemed so offended by my behavior, but it’s rude to ignore calls and not return messages, don’t you think? Doesn’t that make you a little hypocritical? In any case, you’re forgiven. And when you finally do call me back, all this waiting and delay will only make it more satisfying. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say. Take your sweet time. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

Alexis groaned in frustration, letting her head flop back against the back of her chair.

“Tish,” she announced herself in the next message, drawing out the “sh” at the end of her name for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I’m calling just to hold up my half of the conversation with you, Alexis. I’m sitting down at my vanity right now—I’m going to make myself up, as if we were going out on a date together. I have this new shade of lipstick I just bought—bright, vibrant pink. I usually like softer colors myself, but I thought something hotter would be appropriate on our date. There’s a spark between us, and it should be recognized. I’ll be all dressed up and ready to go in a half hour. If you change your mind in that time, call me. There’s still time to go out for real.”

For a minute, Alexis could picture the hot pink shade of Tish’s lipstick. Hot pink was a sharper color—Alexis liked sharp colors. If Tish had worn such a striking color on their date she wouldn’t have come across as so soft and maybe Alexis wouldn’t have been so against her from the beginning. Maybe she wouldn’t have minded wiping hot pink lipstick off as much as she’d minded wiping soft pastel lipstick from her cheek.

But this fascination ended a few seconds later. Hot pink lipstick or not, when Tish showed her colors that would have left Alexis with nothing but disgust for her. Hot pink lipstick or no.

She looked at her phone, now silent, with no other messages waiting. She’d been avoiding calls for the last few days, for fear of catching Tish on the line. She had a strange feeling that if that happened she might not be able to hang up the phone.

She’d listened to a few of Tish’s messages now, but this was enough, now. The messages clearly weren’t going to change in content. They would only ramble on in that drawling, dragging way, with all those strange pauses and accelerations, all of it encased in exhalations and murmurs. She didn’t need any more of that.

She picked up her receiver, and dialled the necessary buttons to block Tish’s number.

That should have been the end of it. And in fact, for all of the next day, Alexis had felt that a huge weight had come off her shoulders. There was a new looseness to her muscles and a lightness in her step all day. She believed, after a strange 3 day interlude, it was over. She would never have to sit through another strange message of Tish’s again.

Then when she came home, the message waiting light was on again.

“No,” she breathed. Unlike other times, when she dragged her feet before playing the messages waiting for her, this time she raced to play it. She needed answers—how?

“Sweet of you to think you could block me, just like that,” Tish said, in her erratic and affected manner. It was starting to make Alexis dizzy just to hear it.. It sent all the straight lines of her apartment crooked and to extreme angles. “I’m someone who has always been quite comfortable using disposable phones, and cycling phone numbers. So, good for you for blocking my primary cell. I hope it made you feel like a big girl. But I think I’ll return to this old habit of mine and call you from a new number every day. You can block this number if you want to—I’ll never call from it again. And I believe you can still call my cell, even if it can’t call you anymore. So anytime you want to call me. Do it.” There was an extra force of emphasis in the last two words. Tish over-pronounced their consonants.

Alexis sank down into her armchair, her head in her hands.

She had renewed energy the next day. If Tish was going to change her number, then two could play that game. She, Alexis, would change her number, and Tish could never call her again. She wouldn’t even give the new number to Megan, who was as good as dead to her now.

The only trick was, she had to remind herself of everyone who had her current number, so that she could systematically tell them what her new number was. She had to be sure to be thorough; she didn’t want to lose anyone in the transfer.

With a renewed sense of spiteful glee, she sat down at her dining table with a pad of paper and started listing the names. After getting about ten down, she stood to play that day’s message and then sat back down to her task.

“I know you think you hate me,” Tish started. “But do you have any idea how closely hate and attraction are related to each other? The way those pathways wire into your brain… they’re practically on top of each other. It only takes a little shove to move you from one to the other. And you hate me—you spend hours a day thinking about how angry you are at me, how you just wish you could get me back and humiliate me, isn’t that right?”

Alexis froze in the tracks she’d been making across the page.

“And I’m sure you very much enjoyed publicly shouting at me at the end of our date; it gratified you. It gave you some way to release the tension my behavior had built inside you, didn’t it? Only a little push, Alexis… All that anger you feel for me… think of how satisfying it would be to take it out on me… to grab me by the arms and shake me, shouting your hate. To slap me across the face—wouldn’t that be a relief? Just like shouting at me was?”

There was a beat, and if possible, when Tish came back on the line her voice was softer still. “Have you ever had hate sex, Alexis? If you have, you know what I’m talking about. You could be shaking me, and slapping me—and railing into me at the same time. Don’t you think that would make it hotter?”

Alexis swallowed.

“Can’t you picture it? I can tell, just from talking to you, that you’re the kind of woman who has a nice, thick, strap-on. And I’m sure you like putting it on and fucking it into your lovers. But you’re more of a protective type, aren’t you? Maybe you really never have had hate sex. If that’s true, that’s too bad. You’re missing out. You could hook yourself up, and then throw me onto the bed—and then fuck me like it’s a punishment. You could drive into me with everything you had, and make it hurt. Make me cry, and make me scream, and work all that aggression out on me—and the yelling, and the hitting only make it better. I bet it’d give you one of the best climaxes of your life.”

Alexis’ breathing had accelerated, and her hand was a fist around her pen. The images were too vivid—it was uncanny how well Tish had pinned her. She did like to top with her lovers—but as Tish had pointed out, she tended to be very cautious and caring about it. She’d never used the word protective before, but it seemed more appropriate than any other descriptor she had. That was an annoyance in itself; not only could Tish pinpoint her preferences, but she could improve on Alexis’ own understanding of them?

This description was opening something dark in her. She’d never once been tempted to be rough—and especially not that rough. But her blood was pounding in her veins, and she could taste it—what a relief it would be to beat out all this frustration onto Tish’s soft body…

“How are you doing, Alexis?” Tish went on. “Did sitting through all this make you angry? You know my number—there’s still time for you to come over and take it all out on me tonight.”

The line clicked as the message ended, and Alexis groaned again, knocking her forehead onto the table.

That night she dreamed the exact scenario Tish had described to her. She woke up a tangle of need, her heart racing, and screamed her frustration into the pillow.

“If I know you, and I do—better than anyone else, even after such a short time—I pushed you past your limits yesterday, and made you even angrier at me. That was the last straw for you—you’re really thinking about changing your number now, aren’t you?”

Tish’s tack for guessing Alexis’ thoughts was growing more disturbing. Alexis’ ignored it, keeping her focus on the list of contacts she was still working on.

“You can change your number if you like. But let me tell you why that won’t work. I’m sure by now you’ve turned on Megan, and you’re not planning on giving her your new number. So how could I possible get yours? You’re right about that—I couldn’t. But you still remember my number, don’t you?”

Alexis’ eyes widened. Unbidden, the number in question leapt into her mind, and for a second her fingers itched to dial.

“And right now, you’re thinking about pressing down on your dial-pad. You’d like to dial it, wouldn’t you? That would be a relief too; all the frustration, all the avoidance could end. Ask yourself, are you really going to forget my number, even if you stop getting my messages? You’ve got a very good memory, I’m sure. That number is in there and it’s never coming out. And not only do you remember my number, but you remember everything I’ve been saying to you. And you’re almost curious. What would it be like to call me? What would we do on our second date? And would I really let you fuck me the way I said?”

Alexis bit down on her lip. She knew it didn’t actually matter if she spoke, because Tish couldn’t actually hear her. But she knew the next words out of her would be confirmation. Those questions were in her mind. And she herself didn’t want to hear it.

“Yes, Alexis, I would. But that’s not the point. You go ahead and change your number—but you won’t get anymore messages like these. And haven’t they started to feel like a routine to you? Another day, another message—are you ready to give that up? Even if you think you are, you’ll remember my number. And if you were curious about calling me once, you’ll be curious again. And my number will be sitting right there in your head, waiting. And eventually, even if you change your number, you’ll call. And that’s why it won’t work.”

The pen fell from Alexis’ hand as the message ended.

She looked down at her list for a second.

In the next second, she tore it up.

“You’re still wondering about what I said yesterday,” Tish correctly diagnosed at the start of her next message. “You’re wondering what it will be like when you call me.”

Alexis had given up the pretence of sitting at her table. She was back to sitting in her armchair to listen, and she wasn’t listening only with seething fury. She was listening with curiosity now too, curious even through the haze of tilted angles and whispered exhalations. She paused for a second, looking at her phone. Then, before she could change her mind, took it off speaker, to play the message through the receiver itself. She lifted the phone to her ear.

“Here’s how it will be: you’ll call me. You know my number, you’re thinking it to yourself right now. You’ll reach for the phone, and dial it, and you’ll feel a wave of relief. The phone will ring once, maybe twice. I’ll try to pick up on the first ring—because I’ll know somehow that it’s you. And unlike you do, I won’t keep you waiting. I’ll answer, and you’ll be nervous, so you won’t say anything at first. You’ll just breathe into the receiver, and notice your racing heart.

“And I’ll take pity on you, and ask why you’re calling me. And you’ll say, because I need you. Because that’s the truth. And then, I’ll tell you to come to my place. I’ll give you the address. I’ll order a taxi to your door, if that’s what you need. And you’ll come—and when you arrive, we won’t waste any time. You’ve been thinking about my hot pink lipstick, and driving into me with your strap-on, dreaming about it so much that I know you can’t wait. We’ll have sex first, get the tension out of you. And then we’ll go on our second date. That’s how it will be, Alexis. If you’re ready to make that call now—I’ll answer on the first ring.” Click.

Alexis’ fingers were wrapped around the receiver tight enough to ache. She was pressing it into her skin, hanging on every word. The numbers of her dial-pad would be indents in her skin, like Tish’s phone number was an indent in her brain.

When the message clicked off, Alexis hung from the phone for a solid ten seconds before she registered that Tish was no longer speaking. Slowly, she lowered the phone, and she stared at the number pad for another thirty. Tish would answer on the first ring…

Then she snapped out of it, and hung the phone up with more force than necessary.

That night she dreamed of taking a cab to Tish’s place. The urgency rushing through her, and streetlights streaking past cab windows—stumbling up the stairs, to Tish’s door. And Tish would open it, wearing some lacy piece of lingerie that would only annoy Alexis more; and they would only barely make it to the bed, and then Alexis would rip Tish’s lingerie apart and punish her for wearing it…

Alexis woke in a sweat again. I’ll answer on the first ring, Alexis… when you arrive, we won’t waste any time.

She pressed the pillow over her ears to block out the words.

“Did you ever ask yourself why I behaved as I did, on our date? I’m sure you have. You looked shocked and uncomfortable at the time. I must admit, the confusion did look very attractive on you. I imagine you look confused as you sit listening to these messages of mine. I may or may not get myself off picturing that look—“ Alexis clenched her thighs together—“but a lady never kisses and tells. If you want to know whether I really do, you’ll just have to call and ask. Or, better still, ask me in person. I could describe it to you as you’re fucking me, that might be the best of all three options…

“But I digress. Why did I behave so rudely on the first date? I’ll tell you. From the first meeting, the power dynamic of the relationship is established until the end of time. And I knew from one look that you are accustomed to holding all the power in your relationships. You’re the dominant one. You call the shots. Well, that just doesn’t work for me.

“You see, you’ve got to make the power grab within the first five minutes. If you miss your window, you can never get the power back, no matter what you do. Sometimes it’s necessary to go to extreme lengths to seize that power. A more demurring woman would have taken one of my early cues, and I wouldn’t have had to take it so far.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s worth it. I took the power for myself, and I have it. And for the rest of our acquaintance, from now until the end of eternity, I will be in possession of that power. An offended waiter is a small price to pay.

“Of course, you understand what this means don’t you? No matter what you try to do, you can never get that power back. You can never get the upper-hand over me. I have it permanently. Oh, sure. I’ll let you dominate me in bed—because I like that. And I know you’ll like that. And I think you’ll probably be the best fuck of my life. But that will be power I’m lending to you. You get to dominate me because I’m giving you my permission. But that power will always belong to me.” Click.

Alexis’ skin was flushed. The receiver was against her ear, and only shallow breaths would come. She was squeezing her thighs together so tightly that her hips ached from the pressure.

In her dreams that night, Tish whispered in her ear. “Dominate me… take the power… borrow it… but it’s mine… and so are you…”

She shivered in her sleep.

“You’re not the first, you know. I’m sure you know. We’re both fully grown women, we’ve had other partners before. Maybe Megan told you I go from partner to partner. Maybe she told you that I stay with them for years at a time. All of that’s true.”

“This is what I do: I seize the power every time, from the first meeting. And I commit to my partner, one hundred percent. And we have a good time—I’m a successful woman, and the women I date are successful too. You’re successful, I know. So we enjoy career success, a vibrant social life. But at home, in private, I’m the one with the power. I don’t exercise it all the time—I have no interest in running the lives of my partners for them. But it is fun to hold it over them when we’re alone. To influence them, to direct them. At least, it is at first.” Alexis frowned at the shift in Tish’s tone.

“Here’s the problem I run into, Alexis. It is possible to order someone to dominate you—but the results are variable. I tend to go for women who are less abrasive than you, more accepting. More conciliatory. Women who capitulate to me in the first moment. Women who would say, ‘yes,’ when I asked if we should flag down the waiter, and sit and wait for me to do it. This works for awhile, but it doesn’t have longevity, at least beyond a handful of years.

“Women like this don’t typically have original impulses towards domination. They can’t come up with their own ideas—that can’t figure out what I need without my having to ask. And they don’t go far enough on their own, don’t make it rough enough for me. Sure, with the power I have, I can tell them exactly what to do and how to do it. But after awhile, that stops being sexy.

“So ultimately these relationships fall apart. Because what I want is someone who knows what they’re doing—someone who knows how to take the power and use it without being told, and ride me good and hard. I want someone who can come up with their own ideas, who doesn’t need to be spoon fed. Is that you, Alexis? Do you think you can give me what I need, what I’ve been looking for? Can you ride me to within an inch of my life, and slap me hard enough to make it sting? Call me and tell me if it’s you. Call me and tell me if that sounds like you.” The last words were an exhaled prayer, a plea that tore Alexis open.

She almost called her. She got half of the number dialled before she stopped herself. If she dialled—if she called—it would be over for her. Somehow, Tish had become perfectly her type, and she knew if she got with Tish even once, she’d never be able to give her up. She’d be pulled in, addicted, and it would last for god only knew how many years. She couldn’t call her. There would be no coming back from that.

But she’d managed to dial half the number, just the same.

That night, when she was taking Tish in her sleep again, Tish was crying in relief this time. “Thank you,” she breathed in that breathy voice of hers. “Oh, thank you, Alexis, I’ve needed this for so long—“

“I’m sitting at my vanity again, Alexis. I’m getting myself all ready for you. I’ll get myself ready every night until you call me. And call at any time—I should have mentioned that before. Any time, day or night. I’ll be ready for you to come over. I’m just waiting for you.

“I’ve got my lingerie on already. I don’t think you’d approve—but that’s why I chose it. I’m curious to see what you’d do about it—“ And vividly, Alexis could feel the fabric tearing under her hands. “It’s light pink. A really soft, floral pink. It’s a bustier. It’s very supportive, really puts my goods on display, if you can picture that. And it’s got a matching, lacy thong that hooks into pink ribbon garters, and the garters hold up these cream colored pantyhose. There are decorative bows placed strategically across the whole ensemble—I can practically hear you scoffing right now. But I think the garters really accent my upper thighs. It’s just bare skin from the garter to the thong, apart from the place where the two hook together—I’m sliding my hand along it right now.”

Alexis squeezed her eyes shut—the image was so clear.

“I put that on before I made this call, and I did most of my make up. But I’ve left the lipstick for last—and it’s not the hot pink this time. I went out and got this bright, electric red. It will completely clash with my whole ensemble. But I think it’s a striking shade, and I’m going to put it on as I’m talking to you.”

There was an audible clicking noise, and for a moment, Alexis was afraid the call had ended. Then she realized it was only the sound of Tish taking the cap off the lipstick. There was another sound—her turning the bottom of the tube to send the lipstick up.

“I think this is the kind of color you would wear—so it’s a little like I’m putting your things on my body, isn’t it? I’ll wear your clothes if you tell me to, if that’s something you want to see on me. And if I want to take the power back—it is rightfully mine, you know—than I can make you wear my clothes.”

There was a very faint sound, barely audible, but it was clearly a dragging. Alexis could picture the stick of lipstick right against Tish’s mouth, Tish dragging it slowly, and the stick leaving its color behind. She painted her lips as slowly and deliberately as she spoke her words. And it was like Alexis was seeing it in person. Tish’s lips dipping in from the pressure of application, her lips dragging along underneath the color and then plumping back out as the stick moved on.

After a few minutes of this, Tish spoke again. “All it is is pleasure, Alexis. It’s just pleasure. Why would you want to deny yourself pleasure? Why would you want to deprive yourself? Why would you want to deprive me? You know what we can make together. You’ve tasted it yourself, in your own mind. Call me.” Click.

Alexis held out all that evening, She got through because she had armrests to grip with all the strength she had. She managed to keep it off her mind, and go to bed properly.

But she dreamed of sitting on Tish’s bed, watching her dress and put on her lipstick.

And when she woke, the phone was already in her hand, half-dialled, and she couldn’t stop herself from dialling the rest of it.

Tish answered on the first ring. “Alexis,” she purred, and it made her shake.

Alexis breathed into the receiver.

“Why are you calling me, Alexis?” Tish asked, her voice inflected with amusement.

Alexis gripped the receiver harder, making her fingers ache. “I need you,” she breathed, caught between a murmur and a whisper. She could hear the need in her own voice. It was a desperate, strangled confession.

“There’ll be a cab at your door in five minutes,” Tish said, decisively. Alexis knew her fate was sealed forever when Tish added—“Bring your strap-on.” Click.

Tish opened the door and it was like Alexis’ dream. She was wearing the pink floral lingerie she’d put on earlier that night. The shade of her lipstick was exactly what Alexis had pictured. It was still wet—recently applied. She’d taken the whole ensemble apart to go to sleep. But then she’d put herself back together in the middle of the night for Alexis’ arrival.

“We’re not wasting any time,” Tish said, and it was like Alexis pictured it a thousand times. Alexis was across the threshold, and they were kissing. Alexis was kissing like she’d never kissed anyone before, and Tish was moaning back into her mouth as the door closed. They made it to the bed without paying attention. The blood rushing through Alexis’ body was steering her faster than she could think— the promise of satisfaction after so many nights of frustration was calling her on even faster than her blood could run, but she tried to keep up. Their first time was a blur, almost like a hallucination, but it was still better than Tish had sworn to her it would be.

And it was over too soon, even though it felt like it lasted forever.

After, Alexis was exhausted in every part of her body, and she could only stare up at the ceiling. Tish pressed close to her.

“Do you want to know why I did it?”

Alexis turned back to look at her, barely able to process spoken language.

“I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be you,” Tish elaborated. “I didn’t tell you before, but I’ve had my share of dates where the woman doesn’t capitulate, and then I don’t waste my time with her. And I was still in my window, and taking it as far as I could to see if I could get you, but I’d mostly decided that if I couldn’t, then we’d go our separate ways.”

Alexis watched her as she spoke.

“But when you stood up, and yelled at me, and then stormed out—I knew I wanted you. I knew you had that fire I’d been looking for. And I knew I was going to make you eat your words—‘the last woman in the world you’d ever want to go to bed with.’ Yeah, right.” Tish laughed softly.

Even through her exhaustion, Alexis could feel hunger kindling in her again.

“But that wasn’t why I did it. I did it… just because I could. I did it… just because I wanted to… and now I have you.”

Alexis was too thoroughly exhausted to really do anything with her awakening interest except drift into sleep.

But in her dreams, that phrase was repeating again and again.