The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It really all started because I was looking for a screen saver. I got bored with those I had; I went on the Internet, found some more that I liked, got bored with those too, so there I was one Friday afternoon after work, going through page after web page of the same old thing...snow scenes, kitties, puppies, nature, race cars, swimsuit models, on and on. I clicked on the link to the miscellaneous savers; I’d gone through three more pages in there when I came across one called Hypno-Tek. What the hell, it was freeware. I downloaded the Zip file and set it up on my system. The readme.txt file had the usual stuff about how to set it up, and a long disclaimer at the end that said they were not legally responsible for misuse of their software. Well, okay, I thought. Guess they had to protect their asses. I went to my System Properties, and set the thing up as my default screen saver. I clicked the ‘Test’ button. The screen went black, then burst into swirling colors. Big deal, I thought, another psychedelic show. I already had four like that on my system. The colors danced across the screen, and I slid my mouse to end the show. It didn’t stop; I remembered something in the instructions about using the ESC key to stop it. I remember putting my hand up to push the key...

I could hear my phone ringing, and I roused myself. The monitor was blank, the Energy Saver feature shut it off if the computer wasn’t used for an hour; and through the window by my desk, I could see that it was night. How long had I been staring at my computer? I got up to answer the phone, but it stopped ringing before I got there. I went back to my desk, hit the ESC key. The monitor lit up again, the System Properties screen still up on the desktop, the pointer still near the ‘Test’ button. I chose another screen saver, just a blank screen this time, and set that up as my default. I looked at the clock; near as I could remember, it had been about six o’clock when I had hit that button. Now it was almost ten. I couldn’t remember anything about the last four hours. I could see the reason now for all the disclaimers; this thing was potent. I decided it was too late to do anything that night; I was supposed to meet some coworkers at a bar, it had probably been them on the phone. Well, I guess I could always tell them I’d fallen asleep. I really had, after all.

I walked down the hall to my bedroom, took off my clothes, and settled in my bed. A half hour later, I was still staring at the ceiling. My four-hour ‘nap’ had left me wide-awake and curious as hell. What could I do with something like that? All it was good for was zoning you out if you had it as a screen saver. How useless was that? Well, maybe I wasn’t using it right. What if...I sat up in my bed. Pulling on my robe, I padded back down to my office/living room. I took a floppy disk and copied the Zip file onto it. But before I tried out my little plan, I had to be sure the thing worked. I didn’t know much about hypnotism; A few bad black-and-white schlock horror movies, and I remembered reading in a magazine that it was used medically to deaden pain, overcome fears, stop smoking, and lose weight. Once I had seen some TV show where they’d made people stiff as boards, then stacked them up on the backs of chairs and stood on them to prove how solidly rigid they were. The hypnotist had made them dance around like strippers, then freeze like statues, stuck pins in them, and even made the guys think they were pregnant, and the girls think they were bodybuilders. I took out a cassette tape recorder, popped in a blank tape, and wound it forward about five minutes. I tried to think of something certain, something I could order myself to do that would prove to me that this Hypno-Tek thing actually worked, that I could really use it. It had to be something simple, but unmistakable. Well, it was late, I couldn’t sleep, why not that? I pushed the RECORD button, and said, “Listen to my voice. Hear only my voice. You will obey my voice.” God, that sounded hokey. Real Boris Karloff stuff. “When I count to three, you will shut off your computer. You will go down the hallway to your bedroom. You will lie down on your bed, and sleep soundly until eight o’clock am tomorrow. At eight o’clock am, you will awaken feeling refreshed and relaxed, better than you have ever felt before. When I count to three. One, two, three.” I backed the tape up and listened to the recording. This was never going to work, I thought. This was so dumb. Oh, well, if it didn’t, then it didn’t. I backed the tape up all the way. I found the screen saver in the computer, and made a separate shortcut to it. No sense having it set up as the default, especially if it actually did work. I pushed the PLAY button on the tape, then clicked on the shortcut. The screen went black, then erupted into color...I sat there, staring at the screen. It wasn’t working. The patterns danced, throbbed...

I opened my eyes, sat upright. I was in bed, still in my robe, sleeping on top of the sheets. I looked over at my clock; the digital numbers went from 7:59 am to 8:00 am. What the hell! It HAD worked! I jumped out of bed, stripped off my robe, and went in to shower. I felt great. REALLY great, and I knew it was not just because of what I’d told myself on the tape. I knew this thing worked, my plan was going to work. When I finished showering, I went down the hall to my computer and got the floppy disk. I put it in my jacket pocket. I was going to have some fun. I couldn’t wait for Monday.

Monday couldn’t wait for me, either. I got to the office at 6:30 am, beating the rush hour for the first time. I had made another tape the night before, telling myself to get up earlier; it had worked just as well last night as it had the night before. I was refreshed, relaxed, feeling great. I was the first one in the building, and I started a pot of coffee in the break room, then walked down the hall to my office. I took the disk out of my jacket pocket, inserted it in the computer, and copied the file onto the hard drive. I made a shortcut to it on a toolbar, then pulled out some paperwork and started my day. At eight o’clock, I heard the front door open and close. I felt my heartbeat pick up as I heard footsteps in the hall. I heard them go into the break room, heard the scrape of the coffeepot as it was picked up, heard liquid pouring into a cup. The footsteps came down the hall to the office door. It was Dave Harman, the Regional Manager. He usually visited our branch once or twice a week, and whenever he did, that meant a longer day for me. He was a delegating type, and he liked commandeering my office, he said because I had the most room. I didn’t really mind; everyone jumped a little higher and moved a little faster when he was around, and nobody else dared knock on my door if they knew he was in there. He was a big guy, I had heard he was an ex-military; I guessed from the first time I met him that he was the kind you called Mister Harman, or Sir, but not Dave. I usually spoke to him only when spoken to.

“Hey, What’s-your-name, that coffee’s terrible,” he growled at me as he came in through the office door. “Is this from last Friday? When did you make it?” He looked pointedly at his watch, and slung his laptop case onto my desk.

“When I got here at seven, sir.” Hiding my resentment behind a smile, I stood. “Let me make you a fresh pot.” Like he couldn’t open a damn pouch of coffee and press a button for himself.

“You’re damn right you will. Jump to it!” Oh, great. It was going to be one of those Mondays. Or, maybe not...I turned back to my computer, clicked on the new shortcut, and went to make another pot of coffee. I didn’t really mind doing things like that for him; but he could be such an asshole about it sometimes. As the office door closed, I heard the buzzer at the security door ring. I walked to the other end of the hall and looked through the peephole. This was going to work out even better than I thought. It was one of the weekly deliveries, my favorite one: not the delivery, but the delivery guy. He was cute and sexy, and whenever it was warm enough he wore shorts that showed off his handsome legs. It was warm enough today. I popped open the door. He flashed that sweet smile, his dark brown mustache bristling. He was wearing a shirt I hadn’t seen on him before, one with a name patch. It was embroidered with GREG. I’d never asked him his name; real men weren’t supposed to do that kind of thing.

“Morning! I’m a little early today; had some canceled orders, so I’m ahead of schedule.” Behind me, I heard the office door open.

“HEY! That coffee ready yet?” Damn. He hadn’t looked at the screen saver yet. I smiled apologetically at my delivery man.

“Let me get Mr. Harman’s coffee started, and I’ll be right with you, OK?” He nodded. Behind me, I could hear grumbling as the doorstop wedged into place.

“This office is always so hot. Why do you keep it so hot in here?”

“Not up to me, sir. I don’t have a key to the thermostat box.” Smiling over my shoulder at Greg, I said, “Wait here,” and went up to the coffeemaker. There. Twenty seconds later, a fresh pot of coffee was dripping into the pot. I walked back down the hallway toward the office. And saw what I had hoped for.

The delivery guy was still there, standing and looking into the office door. His mouth hung slightly ajar, a faint look of surprise on his face. The hand-truck he used for deliveries was standing where he had left it, still stacked with boxes. I knew Mr. Dave Harman well enough to know that they weren’t just chatting; not in the mood he was in.

“Everything OK?” He didn’t look at me, his glazed stare still fixed intently into the office.

“Oh...kay...” he breathed, and from inside the office, I heard Mr. Harman mumble the same thing. I passed my hand in front of his face; he blinked slowly, but otherwise there was no reaction. I put a hand on Greg’s shoulder. Still no response.

“Greg, step into the office,” I commanded. His right leg drifted forward, then the left. I reached down and pulled the doorstop away, letting the door swing shut. I closed my eyes, felt my way across the office, and turned back toward the two when I got to my desk. I opened my eyes. Both men stared glassily at the monitor.

“Listen to me,” I intoned. “Hear only my voice. Obey only my voice. Do you understand?” I tried to make my words as compelling as I could; I suddenly wished I had read more about hypnosis before I had tried this. What if it didn’t work?

“Lissen...hear only...obey...only yer voice.” Greg looked even sexier with that blank stare, mouth slightly open.

“Hear only...obey...only...your voice...” Mr. Harman spoke at the same time, his mouth forming the words sluggishly. He looked as if he was trying to figure out a magic trick. He was holding the handset of the phone; he had it lifted to his ear, and his other hand was resting on the keypad. With a start, I realized he might have been on the line when he’d looked at the screen saver. I took the phone from his unresisting hand, put it to my ear. To my relief, I heard a recorded voice.

“...please hang up and try again. If you need help, hang up, and then dial...” I hung up the phone, then reached under it and unplugged it. I needed a few uninterrupted minutes; it was all I felt I could afford. I knew enough about hypnotism to know what post-hypnotic suggestion was; that was a gimmick in almost every TV show where they used hypnotism.

“Close your eyes,” I ordered. Obediently, both men’s eyelids fluttered down. I touched the ESC button on the keyboard, and the screen saver closed. “Now, I want you to listen carefully. In a few minutes, I’m going to count to three. When I do, you will both wake up, feeling better than you ever have, just like you’ve had a great night’s sleep. Remember, when I count to three. Nod if you understand me.” Both heads bobbed slowly up, down, up, down. I could feel my heart pounding, feel my cock rising. Easy now, don’t screw this up! I moved over to Greg, my eyes on his handsome, peaceful face. He was even more adorable when he was asleep, I decided. I put a hand on his shoulder; there was no reaction. He was breathing deeply, regularly. “Greg, whenever you hear me say the word ‘refresh’, you will instantly fall back into a deep trance, deeper and deeper. Whenever I say ‘refresh’, do you understand?”

“Re...fresh...deeper...trance...whenev’r you say...refresh.” He spoke in a monotone, slurring slightly. I turned to Mr. Harman’s seated figure. His arm was still raised, hand curled around the nonexistent telephone. I placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Dave, whenever I say the word ‘java’ to you, you will return to a deep hypnotic trance, deeper and deeper. Whenever I say ‘java’, do you understand?” His head nodded slightly as he answered.

“When..ev’r...you say...java...deeper ‘n deeper.” His voice was a mumbling whisper. I turned back to the tranquilly still Greg.

“Greg, repeat your magic word again.”

“Refresh...refresh.” My heart raced; this was going to work! I turned back to Dave.

“Dave, repeat your magic word again.”

“Java...word’s...java.” I reached across him, plugged the phone back in, and put it back into his hand. I closed his fingers over it. Reaching behind Greg, I pulled the door open, propped it again. I touched his shoulder again.

“Turn around, Greg.” Submissively, he swung around, his hand brushing loosely against my rising hardon as he turned. “Now open your eyes, and walk back to the hand truck.” His eyes, still glazed, focused on the dolly; he moved slowly to it. I raised my voice a little, so they both could hear. “Dave. Greg. I want you both to listen to me carefully. I’m going to count to three, and when I do you will both wake up feeling refreshed and relaxed, like you’ve just had the best night’s sleep you ever experienced. You won’t remember being hypnotized, but I want you to remember your magic word. When I say the magic word, you will instantly return to a deep hypnotic trance, deeper and deeper. Repeat your magic word.” Greg’s jaw worked; his mouth slowly opened.

“Refresh...”

“Ja...va.” Dave’s voice came drowsily from behind me in the office.

“Good. Very good. Now I’m going to count to three. One. Two. Three!” I saw Greg’s mouth close, he blinked, blinked again. Behind me, I heard Dave suck in a deep breath.

“Hey, what the hell’s wrong with this phone? It hung up on me!” Well, he was certainly awake. Greg grinned at me, tilting back the hand truck and wheeling it forward. Dave slammed the handset onto the cradle, then picked it up again. I watched through the open door as he jabbed at the buttons, listened to the earpiece. “That’s more like it.”

“Same shit, different day, eh?” Greg spoke in an undertone, winking as he went by toward the storage room. I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Better get him that coffee, before he breaks that phone.”

“Just a second, store room’s still locked.” I followed him down the hall, taking in the action of those fine legs. “Here, let me get it.” I moved past him, put the key in the handle. Reaching in, I flipped on the switch, and the fluorescent lights flashed on. As he pushed the delivery inside, I asked innocently, “Can I get you a cup of coffee? Something to refresh you?” He stopped in midstride, still holding the handles of the dolly. I walked in, letting the door shut behind me. I peered around at his face. His eyes were closed. He stood poised, inert. Oh, this was too good to be true! Trying to keep the thrill from my voice, I said, “Greg, can you hear me?” His mouth dropped open.

“Yeah...”

“Greg, when I snap my fingers, you will wake up. You will think that you’ve just spilled coffee on yourself, and have to wash it off. It’s on your shirt and your shorts, and the only way to clean them is to take them off so you can wash them. Remember, you have take off your shirt and shorts so you can clean them.” I snapped my fingers, and Greg’s eyes popped open. He continued his interrupted walk for two more strides, then parked the truck dolly. I could see him looking down ruefully at his shirt. “What’s up?”

“How did I do that?” He turned, wiping on his shirt with his hands. “Damn, I’ve got coffee all over me! Can I use your bathroom? I’ve gotta clean this up.” I’d been hoping he’d just strip right there in the store room; guess I should have expected him to want some privacy. I smiled.

“Yeah, you’re a mess! The john’s down the hall. Go refresh yourself.” His hand, rubbing on his shorts, froze. I thought for a moment; I had heard that you couldn’t get anybody to do anything in hypnosis that wasn’t in their nature, which was why he didn’t want to strip in front of me. Well, okay then...“Greg, when I snap my fingers again, you’ll wake up. You’ll go down the hallway to the bathroom, and strip. But the coffee has soaked into your underclothes and socks, too, so you’ll have to take them all off to clean them. You’ll see a robe hanging on the door, and you’ll put that on.” That should do it. He’d be naked, but not think he was. I clicked my fingers together. Greg’s hand resumed brushing the imaginary coffee from his clothes.

“Jeez, I’ll be right back.” He walked to the door, still wiping at the invisible stains. I watched from the doorway as he went down the hallway, opened the door to the restroom, and went in. From down the hall, I heard Mr. Harman’s shout.

“Hey! How about that coffee?” I walked down to the coffeemaker, poured a cup out, grabbed the cream and sugar, and hurried back down to the office. He glared at me as I came in, took the cup I offered. “About time. What are you doing down there?” I tried to keep a straight face as I answered.

“Nothing. Delivery guy just spilled on himself. Some java.” Dave’s hand stopped, the coffee cup nearly to his mouth. His eyelids drooped shut. I took the cup gently from his hand, and took a sip. “Dave, when I snap my fingers, you will awake. You’ve just spilled hot coffee on yourself, and you have to go down to the bathroom and clean up. Take off all your clothing, so you can get the coffee out. There’s a robe on the floor in there, and you can put that on. There is another man there, but he has a robe on too, so it’s okay for him to be there.” I looked at him asleep there for a few seconds. He was always clean-shaven, always well-groomed, every hair in place. He really was kind of cute, if only he wasn’t such an asshole sometimes. I snapped my fingers in front of his nose. His eyes opened, and then widened in surprise. He gave a yell.

“Augh! Damnit!” He bolted out of the chair and ran down the hall, tearing off his coat and pulling at his tie. I followed him, picking up the discarded clothes as I went. I still had the coffee; I sipped some more, then walked into the restroom. The rest of Dave’s clothes lay scattered on the floor; he’d really ripped them off in a hurry. He was standing by the urinals, nude, moving his hands as if tying an imaginary sash. Greg was standing in front of a sink, also naked, wringing water out of his shirt and trying furiously not to look at Dave in the mirror. I could see the flush rising in his cheeks: I realized I hadn’t told Greg that Dave had a ‘robe’ on, too. This was trickier than I’d thought. I’d have to put them under again.

“Gee, this java needs a little refresh.” At their cues, both men dropped instantly into trance. I walked slowly over, stopping between their slumbering forms. Greg’s hands were wrapped around the wadded-up shirt; water dripped from his hands. I found myself a little disappointed; guess my imagination had pictured Greg as a beefier guy. He was in shape, of course, as a guy who handled heavy boxes all day would naturally be, but a little smaller and less ripped than I had hoped. Dave was a real surprise, though; maybe it was his attitude, or the baggy suits he wore, but I’d always thought his bulk was just fat, from sitting at a desk all day giving orders. I hadn’t expected him to be in such good shape. Guess I should have, but I hadn’t really given much heed to the ex-military story. I walked around him, taking in the broad curves of his shoulder, smooth v-shape of his back, his nicely-rounded buttocks. His upper body was bigger than I’d expected, and so was what I saw at his crotch. “Dave, I want you to imagine you’re a Mr. Universe bodybuilder, and you’re in the posing competition.” His face lit up in a remarkable smile; I had rarely seen him smile, and certainly never like that. He even had dimples! He was really handsome, the arrogant S.O.B. His hands moved to his waist, grasping, moving slowly up and down. He was untying his invisible robe! I had forgotten about that, but he hadn’t. He shrugged his shoulders, took a stance, brought his arms up. He was pretty impressive, for an amateur. “Okay, I want you to freeze, just like a statue. Hold that pose while the cameramen take your picture.”

I walked over to Greg, saw that the blush was fading from his now-relaxed face. Guess he must have had quite a start, what with big Dave running in there, tearing off clothing. I smirked a little at the thought. Greg’s shorts and underwear were piled on the counter, waiting to be cleaned of their illusory stains. His work boots were standing neatly next to the heap of clothes. I looked him over as he stood there in slumber, hands clenched around the bunched fabric of his shirt. I hadn’t really expected him to wash the clothes, but thinking back, I realized this was just what I had ordered him to do. I had to be very careful about what I said to my puppets; they followed instructions only too well. I ran my eyes down Greg’s well-proportioned, slender form; My imagination had made him more defined, with a bigger upper body. Well, I thought, we could always work on that...his manhood, however, was all that I could ask. His chest was nice, though not spectacular, and was covered in a mat of short, curly hair just a bit darker than his mustache. I took a deep breath; he smelled of Drakkar. God, he was appealing. As I thought about all I would like to do to him, I felt my own cock throbbing. I could see Dave in the mirror, still posing for his imaginary photo-op. To my surprise, his ample pecker was standing firmly erect; guess I’d hit on a fantasy of his without realizing it. I noticed Greg’s watch sitting next to his sunglasses on the counter. The hands pointed to 8:37. I realized that the rest of the staff would be here soon, and I wouldn’t be able to explain this little tableau. I kept my voice calm, chose my words carefully as I walked across to ‘Mr. America’. I put my hand on his bunched shoulder, felt its warm solidity.

“Listen to me, the one whose shoulder I’m touching. Um, first, relax that hardon. When I count to three, you are going to put on all your clothes again and go back down to the office. When you get there, you will awaken, and not remember any of this morning, except that you got here and got a cup of coffee. You will be your usual charming self. Now repeat your instructions.” Still smiling radiantly, locked in a heroic posture, he recited sleepily.

“When you count...three, I will...put on my...clo’es. Go back...to the off’ce. When I wak’...I won’t... ‘member...morning. Got here...got coffee. My...usual...charm’n...self.” I went over to him, my eyes going over his big arms, those rippling abs, his rapidly deflating penis. Funny how I hadn’t noticed how well built he was. And I’d always thought Lois Lane was dumb, never noticing Clark Kent was really Superman! Dave really needed to fire his tailor. I wanted to grab those handsome buns right now...I sighed. Plenty of time for that later, now that I had him at my beck and call. The thought of that almost gave me some clothes to rinse out.

“Okay, Dave, remember your orders. One; two; three.” His arms swung slowly down, and his eyes gradually opened. He moved mechanically around to where his various articles of clothing were strewn, picking them up and putting them back on. I helped him into his suit coat, and straightened his tie for him. He didn’t react, didn’t seem to notice me. He shuffled to the door, and went out. I turned back to Greg, a little regretfully. Next time, I reminded myself. I reached in and took the wet shirt from him. His hands remained out, clenched around nothing.

“Greg, listen to me. Open your eyes. You’ve cleaned all your clothes. Put them back on. And don’t worry about your robe, either. You’ve already taken that off.” Greg’s eyelids slid up. His hazel eyes stared dully at the clothes, then he reached over and picked up his socks. As he bent over to put them on, I felt my lecherous urgings rise again. And another plan leapt into my mind. I watched him pull on his boxers, then his shorts. He took his boots, bent again to slip them on and lace them, then shouldered into his tee shirt. His glassy gaze moved slowly to the damp work shirt in my hand. He reached out an arm, took a slow step toward me. “Greg, freeze. Be a statue.” He swayed, immobile, his hand still outstretched. “This shirt’s too stained to wear. You’re going to leave it with me so I can clean it properly. After all, I spilled the coffee. You’ll come back at 7:30 tomorrow morning and get it.” I moved closer to him. “Greg, in a moment I’m going to count to three, and you’ll wake up feeling relaxed and refreshed, ready to take on the world. Remember, you’ll get the shirt tomorrow morning at 7:30.” I inhaled a long breath, drinking in the musk of the slim, hardy sculpture before me. I figured there was no need to make him repeat his orders; he’d already proven he obeyed my commands to the letter. I stepped reluctantly away, opened the bathroom door, and positioned myself as if just entering. “One, two,...three.” Greg blinked, looked at the floor, then shook his head slightly, clearing cobwebs. He turned back to the washstand, picked up his watch and sunglasses. “Everything okay?” I asked lightly. He looked preoccupied.

“Yeah. Yeah. Not as bad as I thought, I guess.” He grinned at me in the mirror.

“Shame about the shirt, though.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be back tomorrow to get it. Seven-thirty too early for you?”

“I’ll be here. You know, I never leave.” He chuckled, followed me back down the hall to the storeroom. I unlocked the door again, and we entered. As he strode across to the pile of boxes on the hand truck, I started to put my plan into action. “You sure I can’t get you a drink of something to refresh you?” He’d hefted a box, starting to unload the dolly, and turned to stone as he heard the trigger. “Greg, can you hear me?”

“Yeah...” I could see the roundness of his upper arms as he stooped, holding the parcel, eyes shut.

“Greg, in a minute I’m going to snap my fingers, and you will awaken, feeling fine, and you won’t remember the events of this morning. You got here, some coffee got spilled on your shirt, but that’s all that happened. But you won’t be able to stop thinking about me, won’t be able to get me out of your mind. You want to be with me, you’ll do anything. Anything. You won’t remember me giving you this command, but you will obey.” I snapped my fingers, and he finished setting down the box. He reached over for another. As he did so, he grinned over at me.

“You know, maybe I will have something. You got any soda?” I smiled back.

“I think I can arrange that. Break room’s this way.” I pointed from the doorway. “Come on down when you finish.” I started to close the door.

“Hey, wait! I’m almost done.” He slung the boxes off the dolly, pulled it behind him as he trotted after me. I pretended I’d just noticed the patch on the shirt I was carrying.

“So, your name’s Greg,” I said nonchalantly, reaching into the refrigerator, and pulling out a can of cola.

“Yeah, that’s me. Greg Sanders.” He stuck out his hand for me to shake. “What’s your name?”

“Barry. Barry Rodgers.” His hand stayed in mine, warm and strong, reluctant to let go.

“Good to meet you, Barry-Barry Rodgers.” I could feel the tingle rising into my cheeks. He withdrew his hand; he was blushing, too. He saw the clock on the wall behind me, then groaned.

“What the...? Is that right?” Looking over my shoulder to see, I nodded. “I gotta go! Shoot, I thought I was ahead of schedule.” He moved to the door, then stopped. He looked back at me, doe-eyed, then suddenly confused. I jumped into the breach.

“It’s all my fault,” I volunteered gallantly. “After all, I spilled the coffee on you.” I held up the wrinkled shirt as proof. Walking across to him, I faked a punch at his arm. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, okay, tomorrow.” He flashed that sexy smile again, jabbed back at me, touching me lightly on the stomach. I led him to the security door, opened it. “Thanks again.” He held up the can of soda.

“Don’t mention it. Least I could do.” I gave a little wave as I let the door go. He stood, watching me, and then grabbed the handle just before the door shut. He pulled it open again. He really didn’t want to leave! I could see the mixture of wanting and bewilderment on his smooth, tanned face as the blood rose in his cheeks again. He opened his mouth, closed it, then spoke again.

“Okay, uh, take it easy. Barry.” He reached out awkwardly, patted me on the arm, suddenly looking anywhere but at my eyes. For a second, I thought he was going to try and kiss me. His face was beet-red.

“Tomorrow, then. Be careful out there. Greg.” I smiled again, then shut the door firmly, if unwillingly. I peered through the peephole. I saw him reach for the buzzer, then think better of it. He looked at his watch, then looked yearningly at the door. I knew his work ethic was fighting my subliminal command. I saw his shoulders slump as he took the dolly and pulled it after him down the service hallway. I felt a little twinge of conscience for the poor cuss; he was such a sweetheart, and he looked so forlorn. Not to worry, I told myself. Tomorrow, I’d make it up to him.