The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christine Sumpter parked the car in her allocated slot at the base of the low-rise block of flats. Her divorce had meant downsizing and she had left behind the detached house that she shared with her cheating husband David to rent this flat. She imagined it could have been worse. The estate onto which she was moving had been all privately built at the end of the 1980s and was a mixture of houses of differing sizes and places like this. It was certainly very different from some of the grotty conversions and blocks of flats she had seen over the past few weeks. It might not be the leafy suburban street she had left behind, but it seemed clean and had a low crime rate. It certainly was nothing like the former council estates or inner city areas she had worried would be all that she could afford. There was a convenience store at the head of the close and a small shopping centre ten minutes’ walk beyond that.

Christine was in her late thirties. She had had an unremarkable career as an accountant and even that she had given up when she had married David. However, she had filled her time with voluntary work and looking after elderly neighbours. She had no children and to some degree thought that was a good idea given the long hours her husband had spent working in his own estate agents and, as it had transpired more than a year ago, sleeping with a number of the clientele.

A car pulled up in the road and a woman stepped out. Christine turned and guessed this would be the former tenant who, rather than the letting agent, had been charged with handing over the keys. Christine did not consider herself a snob, but like many British people was very conscious of her place in the class system. She knew that how you dressed and behaved, what television programmes you watched and newspapers you read, where you went on holiday, the people you associated with, even the food you ate, all said a great deal about your standing in society. She hoped that she had always lived up to what would be expected of a woman of her class. However, as she saw the previous tenant approaching, she worried a little that coming here marked a step or more down. She repeated to herself the mantra that all of this was only temporary and, once the house she had shared with David was sold and the final divorce settlement was made, she could move on to somewhere better.

“Tina, Tina Summers?”

“Erm, I am Christine Sumpter: is that who you mean? About the keys for the flat?”

“Yes, yes, that’s it. Sorry if I got the name wrong, it’s what the agents told me. I am Kaitlyn Pierce.”

The woman extended a tanned, overly manicured hand with studs set into each of her nails and a pattern replicated on each. Rather uneasily Christine took it and shook, jangling gold bracelets on Kaitlyn’s wrist as she did. Kaitlyn looked a little younger than her, Christine imagined that partly that was from her clothes and make-up. The belt of three rows of pyramid studs that sat loosely on her hips was something Christine would not have associated with a woman in her mid-thirties, but for some reason Kaitlyn carried it off. She was a bit shorter than Christine and certainly curvier. Her ample breasts seemed to be straining against the white ribbed top she wore beneath the figure hugging leather jacket. Her hips, shown in very tight jeans were broad but shapely of a type that Christine knew many men would like. She guessed that Kaitlyn was one of those women who was keen to please men. Her skin was very tanned, presumably from a salon, her hair was bottle blonde and her make-up was very obvious.

“This flat is magic, it really turned my life around. I hope it does the same for you. I’ll be sad to go, but you know: a new man, a new life.” Kaitlyn said with a smile, nodding to the shiny car that was pulled up near the entrance to the close.

Christine looked at the man behind the wheel. He was probably in his early forties, with a shaved head and a stocky build. The car and the expensive leather jacket suggested he was doing well for himself, but there was a roughness about him that Christine’s mother would have felt made him look like ‘nouveau riche’.

“Would you like me to show you around?” Kaitlyn asked.

“No, thanks it’s fine, the agents let me have a look.”

“Okay. I am sure you’ll soon find that you’re just like the kind of people who live in this area. It takes a little time, but you’ll soon be adapting to be right at home.”

Christine felt a little uneasy as she smiled in response. She did not intend to live here long; she had no particular urge to be just like the kind of people around here and certainly saw no need for adaptation. She wondered how this woman looked on her, she guessed she had noticed the differences between them and naturally saw her approach to the world, to the clothes she wore and the company she kept, as an ideal one. To Kaitlyn, Christine had no doubt she might seem a little aloof, maybe even stuck up. Christine felt that she mixed with people of all classes pretty well, but she had no desire to become anything like them. If her neighbours were anything like Kaitlyn, and Christine suspected they would be, she could imagine nodding good morning to them, but certainly not inviting them in her flat. She shuddered a little as she envisaged accepting an invite to one of their homes and no doubt being subjected to Eighties-style furnishings and chatter about soap operas or holidays on one of the Spanish Costas.

Kaitlyn handed over the keys with the bubbly manner that she had exhibited up to now. Then with a wave she sauntered off to the car. In moments she was being driven away and Christine was left in the close empty bar herself. She turned and walked to the flat deciding to check it before she attempted to move her stuff in. It was furnished which had meant that she had not had to argue with David about taking any furniture from the house, it would be better to get the monetary equivalent and buy new when she got her own place. The furniture that the flat held was what had made her think that her neighbours’ stuff would be of that overblown style popular thirty or so years back. There was a leather suite in a cream shade, pale grey carpets and decor that mixed the slightly flowery with sharp-edged designs. Christine had always favoured more traditional stylings or at least ones with a nod to a pastoral flavour, even if that was rather false in suburbia.

The flat was on the second floor and Christine was soon at it. She opened the front door to be confronted with a full-length reflection of herself in the mirror at the end of the short hall. The mirror showed a woman of slightly above average height, with mousey hair that naturally curled tight to her head in a manner that she found difficult to alter. Her features were long both on her face and across her body, her fingers were slender and her legs, as they briefly appeared from the wool skirt reaching well beyond the knee, looked a little too trim, almost as if she had been ill.

There was a bust there, nothing on what Kaitlyn had and anyway Christine tended to down play it with the floral dresses or plain blouses matched with cardigans as she was wearing today. Her skin was pale, freckled here and there. In the past, what Christine liked to think of as her elegant, refined appearance had led people to make the mistake over her age as well as her state of health. Christine was not displeased by her appearance, she certainly preferred it to the brash, what her mother might have called ‘brassy’ manner of so many women these days. Kaitlyn would easily be put in that category, as would, Christine feared a little, many other women in this district.

For now Christine dismissed all such thoughts, there was a lot to be done and she had to concentrate. She went through the flat quickly just to check that nothing had been altered since she had last seen it and that Kaitlyn had left everything behind that she had been supposed to and that none of it was undamaged. At the bottom of a kitchen drawer she found an old letter addressed to a Katherine Pearson at a different address. She wondered if someone had got Kaitlyn’s name wrong and that was why it had ended up here.

Christine’s attention was caught by the hoot of the small removals van and she hurried down to direct the men where they had to deliver her things. With furniture in place, she had not had to bring that much with her, really just clothes, personal items, kitchen utensils, some ornaments and her computer. They were all quickly unloaded and Christine shut the door and allowed herself to slump down in the dated but reasonably good condition sofa in the living room. It had been a comparatively painless move, but she enjoyed the fact that now she felt a bit more independent. Coming here marked a clear break from David. She might only be renting this place but for now she felt it was her territory and that she could allow in only those she chose.

For the first time, Christine worried suddenly that she might be lonely here. She guessed she would have little in common with her neighbours and worried a little that she would get cut off. She had friends of course, but most of them she had shared with David and it would take some time to see on which side of the divide they would fall. Her best friend, Lucy, was off in America and Canada for the next few months, just at a time when Christine felt she needed her support most.

Christine found herself thinking that it might actually be a good idea at least to try to fit in this area, especially if the legal wrangling with David was going to drag on. She was sure there were local societies she could join. Though she had no desire to rush back into a relationship, as she thought about it, Christine wondered what it would be like to return to dating. She felt more experienced than she had been when she had met David. She certainly felt as if next time it needed to be a no-nonsense man who was not going to play games with her, well, at least not with her mind, with her body, that was a different thing. Of course he would have pay attention to pleasuring her as much as himself and have a decent sized cock. Suddenly Christine was finding that she was missing sex, not just the intimacy of being with her husband, even if, as it had proven, she had been third or fourth in line. No, she found she was missing the full-on physical contact of skin against skin and a cock sliding hard into her.

Slightly flushed and more than a little embarrassed at herself, Christine focused on the unpacking she had to do. After a few minutes there was a ring on the doorbell and going to it she found a woman, who, for an instant she mistook for Kaitlyn, but as she looked more carefully she saw that while similar in style, this was someone else entirely. She was probably a little younger than Christine but dressed younger than that. She had on a long baggy teeshirt under a loose cardigan but it did little to downplay her ample breasts. Below she wore tight shiny black leggings and flat ankle boots of black leather. Her hair was blonde and pulled back into a pony tail.

“Hi, there, you must be Tina. Kaitlyn said you’d be moving in. I’m Gill, did she mention me? No worries if she didn’t. I’ve bought some biscuits. Have you unpacked the kettle?”

Christine was powerless to resist the forceful, bubbly personality of this woman as she basically marched into the flat. She guessed this Gill was a neighbour.

“Erm, it’s Christine. Yes, no, I have done.” Christine said uncertainly as she closed the front door and followed Gill into the kitchen.

“That’s great. I live downstairs you know. It’s good to have another girl upstairs from me. Me and Kaitlyn got on so well and it’s a shame to have seen her go, though I am happy for her and Don, of course. I don’t know what it is about this place but it always seems to turn people’s lives around. You know, only six months back, she came here, after a messy divorce, looking so dour, so untrendy. Now look at her, sexy, sassy and getting hold of a man miles better than that bastard she left behind.”

Gill continued at full flow. Christine could imagine, given their similarities, how Kaitlyn and Gill had got on so well. Though Kaitlyn’s story seemed a little like her own, she could not envisage an outcome of the same kind for herself.

“Too many women forget that if you want a man, or even if you want a decent shag, you have to go out and get it, dress in a way that makes you feel good but attracts men too.”

Gill looked to be casting an appraising eye over Christine and seemed to tut a degree of disapproval. Christine imagined that Gill would have thoughts of encouraging Christine to dress differently, no doubt in the brassy way that she and Kaitlyn did.

Christine thought it best to head off such plans quickly. “Erm, well, I’m pretty happy with what I wear. I’m not looking for a man at present.” Christine did not say that she was not looking for sex either as Gill’s comments made her remember her earlier burst of lust.

“Come through.” Gill said now the coffee was ready.

She walked into the living room with the cups as if it was her own flat. Christine felt unable not to follow. As she sat down and took the coffee and then the biscuits Gill proffered she began to feel that she had been a little hard on the woman. After all, it was better to have a warm welcome from a neighbour rather than her scowling silently at you as you came in and out of the block. Gill might not be the sort of woman Christine would have associated with before, and her kind were not found in the suburbs where Christine had lived previously, but this estate was different and Christine was coming to feel, that here she might be the one to stick out.

“You must feel a little out of sorts for the moment.” Gill continued, “But I am sure you’ll soon be fitting in, you know, look like a woman from these parts; Kaitlyn found it easy.”

For a moment Christine felt Gill was telling her not to step out of line and come with what her mother would have termed ‘airs and graces’. However, in seconds, Christine found she was welcoming the advice and thinking of ways how she could fit in better. She could not envisage dressing like Gill and certainly not having the tanned complexion that she had. Then again, why not? She was in her thirties not her fifties, why should she not dress a little more fashionable? How could she judge what it was like to go to a tanning salon if she had never tried it?

“Thank you Gill. I’ll bear that in my mind.”

The response seemed to delight her neighbour. “That’s great, Tina ...”

Christine was about to correct Gill’s repeated mistake but she felt it would be a little rude to do so.

“What are you doing Friday night? Do you fancy meeting for drinks at ‘Oscar’s’? It’s a great place, a little into town. I can introduce you to couple of my friends, Hazel and Sarah, I’m sure you’ll love them.”

“Erm, yes, yes, that seems like a good idea.”

Christine responded, surprised at how enthusiastic she sounded. She felt she should have been a bit more ambivalent in how she replied. She wondered if she would have anything common to discuss with Gill, let alone her friends, if she was in their company for any length of time. Typically Christine talked about exhibitions she had visited and her favourite parts of France and guessed that the only topic she would raise that would come close to what Gill and the others would discuss would be movies. Even then, Christine imagined, rather dismissively, whereas she enjoyed serious independent films, it was likely Gill preferred the latest Hollywood rom-coms. There seemed no need to rush into making new friends, especially with women who were not of her type. She guessed she would enjoy some weeks of calm and relative isolation. However, something quickly suppressed those thoughts. Perhaps it was Gill’s infectious enthusiasm that seemed to make it so hard to say ‘no’ to any suggestion she made. Anyway, Christine now thought she was foolish to be so dismissive of Gill and the fun she was offering.

“Great, I am glad. It’s always a good laugh, all girls together. We can go on for a bit of a boogie later, we’ll show you the best clubs in town.”

For a moment, Christine felt unease at this added suggestion from Gill. Surely both of them were too old to be heading out to discos; not that Christine had ever visited more than one or two even when a student. However, that quickly seemed ridiculous. She was not getting any younger, but there was no reason to stop enjoying herself.

“Sounds wonderful.” Christine added almost automatically.

Her positive response seemed to send Gill into a renewed burst of enthusiasm and the next thirty minutes passed quickly as she outlined all the great places she and her friends had been to over the last few months and the trip to Ibiza the summer before.

“Well, I am sure you’ve got to unpack.” Gill said suddenly, standing. “I’ll see you Friday night, let’s say seven. I’ll drop by and pick you up. Okay?”

Christine nodded her compliance.

“That’s if I don’t see you before. I am manageress for the branch of ‘Disclosure’ in town; if you catch me there, make sure you ask for the ‘manager’s special’. We’ll do coffee too, there’s a nice little place in the next stretch of shops along.”

Christine’s query about how Gill supported herself was answered. ‘Disclosure’ was a comparatively new chain store selling lingerie and even fetish wear, not the kind of things Christine ever envisaged herself buying, but she knew they had become highly accepted in the high street. In a couple of minutes she was showing her neighbour to the door, promising to fulfil everything that Gill suggested.

With the front door closed, Christine felt as if the flat was a little too quiet. She reflected that maybe she had been far too judgemental regarding Gill who appeared well intentioned. They had not discussed Gill’s relationships but Christine wondered if she had been in a similar position herself in the past and just wanted to prevent Christine from getting too down. Maybe part of her interest was business too; Christine guessed that she was in the demographic that Gill’s shop mainly sold to. Anyway, Gill was probably right, Christine conceded, it would be so easy just to mope around the flat. Now she worried that, before she knew it, she would have turned into one of those elderly women with too many cats and who mumbled constantly to herself.

Christine applied herself to the task of unpacking. She slid back the wardrobe door in the main bedroom to find that it was not empty. There was a pair of black jeans and a number of sets of leggings. There were some scoop tops, a denim jacket to match the jeans and a cropped leather jacket. There were a couple of leather skirts of differing lengths; three pairs of high-heeled shoes and two pairs of long boots, one in leather and one in suede. It appeared that in her rush to leave for her new life, Kaitlyn had left behind a number of clothes.

Christine thought it best to simply bundle them all up and have the agents send them on. She called them to come and collect the items. However, they said that Kaitlyn had left no forwarding address with them, she had no obligation to do so, especially as all her bills had been settled. Christine thought about sending the clothes to a charity shop, though given how new these things were, presumably expensive too, she was hesitant to do that. She felt certain that Kaitlyn would make an appearance to reclaim them when she realised things were missing as she unpacked wherever she may have gone.

Christine went in search of her own clothes to hang in the wardrobe but to her annoyance could not find the suitcases she had put them into. She searched the flat twice and then called the removal company only to get an answerphone message. She wondered what to do. She guessed she could rush out to a shopping centre and grab some things to tide her over until her own clothes reappeared, but she was uncertain which way to head from here. Furthermore, having spent much of the day in packing and moving she did not relish having to traipse around the shops. She went back to the wardrobe. Whilst the clothes were not her style they looked about her size. She guessed, given the crisis, the only solution was to borrow some of Kaitlyn’s stuff and clean it before she came to collect it.

Rather frustrated, Christine unpacked all her kitchen things and then set about installing her television. She found that she did not have the range of channels that she had had in her old place. Checking with the company was another thing she added to her growing list. She idly flicked through what channels were available and there seemed to be a choice between pop videos, soap operas and shopping channels, even some pornographic channels which fortunately at this time of day were not on. She wondered if this had been some parting shot from David. Then again, Christine reminded herself, it was such a labour these days to get any service company to provide what you actually wanted.

Christine found it difficult to concentrate on the unpacking. Once she had her internet set up she found herself whiling away time reading online fashion blogs and celebrity stories. These were things that had never really interested her before, but she found herself being drawn into them. She wondered if this was a result of finally breaking from David. She felt that she no longer needed to justify herself and could do whatever pleased her. If reading these things made her happy, Christine decided, why should she not do so?

Three days had passed and Christine felt herself settled. Where the time went she did not know, somewhere between reading online gossip and watching her favourite soap operas. She realised she needed to eat and popped to the convenience store which was becoming where she frequently shopped, not being bothered to go to a larger store. She planned to get a salad and some milk; she had tea in the flat—somewhere at least. The shop assistant, Kelly, seemed to have expected her and Christine. From the first visit, she had proven very chatty; knowing all about the area and ‘Oscar’s’ which Gill had apparently mentioned Christine was going to be a regular patron of.

Coming out of the shop this time, Christine looked down into the carrier bag, realising that chatting meant she must have picked up someone else’s. In place of the skimmed milk, salad and newspaper she thought she had bought there was a glossy celebrity magazine, a pie, some full fat milk and a packet of cigarettes. She turned to go back inside to change them. However, a voice halted her.

“Tina, so you got my call?”

Christine looked back surprised and then realised it was Gill.

“Erm, sorry, what?”

“I called your mobile.”

Christine had no memory of giving Gill her number. She fumbled in the denim jacket she wore but realised she must have left it in her flat. Rather guiltily she was now going around in what Kaitlyn had left.

“Sorry, I must have left it at home.”

“No worries, you’re here, that’s great.” Gill nodded to the tanning salon that they were a few steps away from.

Gill clearly believed that Christine was happy to go into the tanning salon with her. Christine had never been one for tanning on a beach, let alone from a machine. However, she saw no reason why she should not go along with Gill; there was something about her enthusiasm that Christine found infectious. At the moment she had nothing else particularly urgent to do and followed Gill inside. It turned out to be pretty much like going to a swimming pool, she undressed and put on a towelling robe. She guessed some women would wear a bikini and for a moment she thought she would keep her bra and panties on, but something encouraged her to take them off.

As she stepped from the cubicle she saw that Gill was naked. Her breasts seemed very round and certainly firm for her age. Christine guessed that Gill had had cosmetic surgery, something she did not approve of. However as she looked at Gill’s taut body she imagined she might change her opinion. Her body was decorated with a few tattoos, one of a fish on her shoulder, stars along her wrist and a butterfly close to her styled pubic hair. Christine had never considered shaving her hair there, but on Gill it looked very elegant.

“That’s it, all off, I’m not a fan of tan lines.” Gill chuckled.

In the next few minutes Christine was equipped with a pair of goggles and soon was sliding into the bright light of the bed. To her, it looked a little too much like a sandwich toaster, but as she slid into the warmth she understood why Gill enjoyed this so much. Christine found herself drifting away and felt more relaxed than she remembered being for quite a while. It was Gill who woke her.

“That’s enough, you don’t want to end up like burnt toast.”

“No, but it does feel good.” Christine said sincerely as she looked down at her body which seemed surprisingly brown for just one visit.

“Sure does. Let’s shower then go and grab a coffee.”

Christine spent the entire afternoon with Gill as the coffee had turned into dinner. The bar-restaurant was not the kind of place she would normally have gone into and she had felt a little frumpy compared to the other women in there. She had little recollection of what she and Gill discussed but she remembered having fun and deciding that she had to start watching the particular soap opera on one of the satellite channels that Gill had been raving about.

Stepping through the door to her flat, a couple of days later, Christine found a letter had arrived. It was addressed to ‘Tina Summers’, but Christine opened it without thinking. It said that she had been approved for membership of the 1-2-1 Club. She had no memory of applying for membership of anything and imagined that this was simply advertising. Then she wondered if it had been something Gill had signed her up for. If that was the case then it would seem rude to ignore this offer. Gill seemed fair and Christine had to admit that whilst she might not have been the kind of woman she would have made friends with in the past, she actually enjoyed the woman’s bubbly manner. It seemed that hanging out with her had allowed Christine to relax and enjoy life a little. That was probably what she had needed.

Now Christine read the club’s brochure with more interest. It appeared to be some kind of dating organisation though like many these days, emphasising the social aspects rather than simply straight on matching. Christine guessed that that approach might suit her perfectly at present. It would allow her to widen her circle of friends now it seemed that many that she had shared her … her ex-husband, David—that was it—had now stopped bothering to contact her.

Christine felt that if she ran into a nice man while at one of the club’s events, then, all well and good. The large manor house a couple of miles out of town seemed like a nice relaxed setting. There were a range of events from meals, drinks parties and more full-on discos. The people shown naturally looked sexy and enjoying themselves and certainly seemed to be of Christine’s age group, some perhaps a little younger. She saw that they had an event that weekend and Christine found herself planning to go.

Now Christine lit a cigarette and turned to her gossip magazine, it was only when she was halfway through that she realised she did not smoke and yet there were already two butts in the ashtray. As in the tanning salon earlier in the week, after a burst of concern, Christine found she felt relaxed and that while it might be something she had not done before it gave her a satisfying feeling. Turning back to an article about the new house of a footballer and his wife, Christine found herself drawing on her smoke with pleasure.

Having paid the driver, Christine stepped from the taxi and headed to the wine bar, ‘Oscar’s’ where she had arranged to meet Gill. As she stepped inside the place seemed reasonably stylish if a little dated. She imagined that brash Eighties was the common design around here. She had not walked far when Gill called out to her. She hurried over in a clinging leopard skin dress and hugged Christine as if they had been friends for decades. Christine was quickly introduced to Hazel, a woman of her own age with a cross-over top of some shiny material and a black leather skirt and Sarah, a little younger, with a bandeau top and skin-tight, coated capri trousers. Both had long, permed hair with blonde highlights.

Christine was glad she had thought to change her style a little; otherwise she would have looked like these women’s schoolteacher. The removals firm had ended up compensating her for her lost things and she had gone out to buy some new clothes. For this evening, Christine had thought she had put on her dark blazer and matching blouse, a pair of the new, plain leggings that she had bought and a pair of court shoes. Now, however, as she was led to the bar and looked at her reflection behind it she saw the blazer was replaced by that leather jacket; her blouse by a dark red scooped top and rather than the plain leggings she now wore shiny ones, what she had heard described somewhere as ‘wet look’. On her feet were a pair of patent shoe-boots with quite a heel.

This seemed incredible. She must have been in more of a daze as she got dressed than she had realised. Where had these clothes came from anyway? Then she began to recognise them as some of the things she had assumed Kaitlyn had left behind. However, given their difference in stature and body shape it seemed incredible that these clothes fitted perfectly. Christine began speculating seemingly mad things such as herself ordering clothes online in some sort of computer-using sleepwalk and that for some reason she had bought things to match what had been left in her wardrobe. As she looked at how good her legs appeared in the leggings and how sexy she felt in this outfit as a whole, Christine told herself to stop worrying. Perhaps she had some innate fashion sense that was coming to the fore now she was not dressing for her ex-husband.

Though she was slightly apprehensive at first, Christine quickly found herself getting caught up in the infectious spirit of the three women. A lot of their conversation seem to revolve around celebrities and fashion and she found that now she was familiar with those things. Soon they were rating the men in the wine bar and making raucous comments that Christine felt sure would get them barred. Catching sight of a man she would not normally have thought twice about, she admired his smooth ‘silver fox’ ways and began to fantasise about what sex with him might be like.

Then Gill quietened the ladies down and then spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Now the surprise.”

She placed four tickets on the table. They were for a local nightclub.

“Fantasy Men—do you know them, Tina?” Hazel asked Christine enthusiastically.

Christine found herself smirking. She did not know of them but she could imagine precisely what they were—a troupe of male strippers. As she was handed her ticket she saw she was right. She had no idea if it was the spritzers or the cocktails that had followed, but seeing muscly men stripping naked seemed to scratch an itch she had only begun to realise that she had.

Hazel and Sarah waved and shrieked at Christine and Gill as they left the taxi and walked into their block of flats. Gill looked dead beat and Christine found it difficult to accept that her friend was finally quiet. For much of the night she had been hearing her shrill voice being excited about one thing and then the other.

“Night, babe.” Gill said as she air-kissed Christine and headed wearily into her own flat.

“Night.”

In a couple of minutes, Christine was through the door into her own place. She slumped on the leather sofa and flicked on the television. She reached to unzip her shoe boots. Then as Christine sat back she realised she had been howling at the strippers just like the women around her. Had her voice been as shrill as Gill’s? Had she been as unrestrained? She did recall that there had been an urge to be photographed alongside them and fantasies about having sex with one of them. In fact Christine realised that she was highly aroused, something that she had not expected. She wondered if David’s attitudes had completely closed her off from the kind of things she really liked to do. However unusual it felt to Christine to get so much fun out of an evening like this, she could in no way deny it was fun and more than she could remember having in a long time.

Christine felt too wired for sleep. In fact, more than that, she realised she was very aroused. She guessed that being in a room of stripping men among a group of women who apparently wanted to mount them there in front of everyone would have that effect. Irritably she began flicking through the channels until the grunts and moans showed her she had reached a porn channel. It looked like a businessman was taking his female colleague on his desk at night in a deserted office and Christine recalled the silver fox from the bar. Without rational thought, Christine’s hand was down the front of her shiny leggings, and her fingers were sliding around her lace thong to find that her sex was awake and wet.

Soon Christine was thrusting her clenched fingers into her pussy in time with the man’s thrusts on the screen. She easily imagined herself in the tight red leather skirt suit being taken this way, the features of the man from the bar merging with the glistening oiled bodies of the male strippers. Christine’s thumb nuzzled clitoris and she felt a strange empowerment, in sitting here, blatantly in her own flat, fingering herself because it made her happy. Seeing herself dimly reflected in the television screen, the shininess of the leggings and the leather jacket she still wore added to the sense that she was a sexual woman unafraid of all that she could be. With her free hand she was soon released her breasts from her bra, watching her nipples hard against her tight top, playing with them between her fingers, imaging what it would be like to have them pressed so tight against a leather bustier as she had seen on one of the women tonight.

All this melange of exciting thoughts was soon sending Christine squirming back and forth across the leather of her sofa; the sensation almost too good to bear. Then she came, her legs skidding out from beneath her, her body feeling that she was tumbling down a chasm, her head being knocked from white light into colours, her limbs shaking as if she was shocked. The orgasm kicked again and in that Christine felt that whatever changes had come upon her, were precisely right. If this was how Tina Summers felt, then she had no desire to live as anyone else.