The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was Monday morning and Quentin was remembering what he could of what was undoubtedly one of the most enjoyable weekends he had ever spent. Now it was over and all he was left with was a hangover. Mentally he shook himself, he recognised that this tendency to depression was nothing more than low blood sugar and the effects of the hangover.

He called to Julia. “Julia I need food, send out for a bacon and egg sandwich and make me some tea, please. Get something for yourself as well, if you like.”

“I’m your P.A. not your slave, don’t take it out on me because you’ve got a hangover!”

“Julia don’t make me threaten you, you know how I hate losing and that would mean I would be grumpy for days.”

“Ok that would be horrible, alright Lord and Master this slave hears and obeys. Just don’t get any ideas: this is a one off. Remember I can be pretty unpleasant too.”

“Yes but you can only make that a threat, if you are nice sometimes as well.”

“Don’t push it, remember you’re the one with the hangover.”

“Point taken!”

That went well, Quentin thought, Julia must have been hungry as well, or she would have never given in so quickly. He left his desk and went and sat on the sofa, there was no point in trying to work, nothing was going to get done until he felt better. At least he was over the worst now; his stomach was at least under control, even if not exactly sorted. He was out of practice, He hadn’t had many hangovers like this since his student days. Remembering back he had always recalled those drinking sessions, fondly; why?

The phone rang. “It’s Cathy, would you like me to put her through?”

“Yes please Julia.”

“Quentin, how are you feeling this morning?” Came Cathy’s cheery voice.

“Not exactly on top form, but it would appear I’m going to live.”

“Whatever possessed you to get so drunk last night.”

“It seemed a good idea at the time.”

“Yes but you were fine after the award on Saturday, why last night.”

“Look are you ringing to question my sanity, or was there another reason.” What was it with women Quentin was thinking; if they got a hangover it was always a reaction to bad tonic water, or something they ate, but if a man they knew had a hangover then he was clearly a moral delinquent and disserved everything he got.

“My you’re grumpy this morning. I was just phoning to see if we could talk later. We can’t this evening, its my college night and we couldn’t this morning, since you were not quite feeling up to it.”

“Well I’m still not up to it, it’ll have to be after lunch. Three o’clock here ok?”

“Such enthusiasm, see you then. Bye.”

“Bye.” And Cathy rang off.

The sandwich and tea had finally set him on the road to recovery and he had been looking forward to seeing Cathy. He was definitely becoming attached he realised. He wasn’t completely sure, but just maybe she was going to be the one, he was going to have to be careful that was all. Cathy wasn’t exactly ante titles or celebrity, she had certainly enjoyed rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous on the night of the award, but he knew there were some issues there. The first time she had met with his family, she had said something a little telling to his Mother. She had commented that she had been frightened that they would have had a title when she saw the house. The problem was that his parents did have a title, they just didn’t use it, anymore than he did his. Oh well he hadn’t lied about it, and he certainly didn’t want to bring it up now.

The door opened. It was Cathy.

“I didn’t knock, thought you might still be delicate.”

“How thoughtful. Come on sit down you can be Mother.”

Cathy joined Quentin on the sofa and commenced to pour the tea that Julia must have brought through just before she had arrived. She gave Quentin a quick kiss before she handed him his tea.

“Thanks for a wonderful weekend.”

“You’re welcome, but do I sense a kind of ‘but’ in that statement?” He asked.

“Not really, or at least not a bad one. Its just that I feeling a little guilty. That ‘Girl shop’ place must cost the earth of itself and add to that the hand made shoes, the dress and all the rest. Well its just that I’m feeling a little too much of a taker. I loved it, the award do was wonderful and I know how much that meant to you. It’s just that you can stop now. That place is a bit of a con it’s set up to beguile poor besotted blokes like you into spending on their lady friends. I don’t want to treat you that way, make you feel you’ve got to spend money on me: I like to pay my way you know that.”

Quentin breathed again, he had been a little nervous. That was the trouble, when one had something this good, there was always the worry that one might lose it.

“No that’s not a bad ‘but.’ But it’s not a necessary one.” He paused then drawing breath continued. “Look here Cathy, you know I’ve got pots of money. I inherited a lot from some Uncle I never met and well I do seem rather good at making the stuff, so its not as if I can’t afford it, is it? And well I know that you’re anything but money grabbing, so its hardly as if you are forcing me. So I tell you what Old Girl, why don’t we keep the next appointment, I really don’t want to break it after having made it, and we can review the situation after that?”

“Old Girl! You stupid upper-class tosser, you’re going to pay for that. So yes I will let you pay for one more appointment, but it’s only because I love you, otherwise I would have to kill you, you do understand that don’t you?”

“Yes my little subverted assassin.” Quentin laughed grabbing her for a quick rough hug and a stolen kiss.

Well that hadn’t gone quite as planned thought Cathy. She had intended cancelling the final trip to ‘The Girl Shop,’ but she was kind of pleased that she hadn’t. Quentin clearly didn’t mind and one last trip would be fun. She would just have to be careful to make this the last one.

The afternoon of Tuesday the seventeenth came round all too soon and here they were again sitting comfortably discussing Cathy’s treatment. Peter Boscombe , Quentin and she were seated and Miss Charters was standing demurely by the door holding a clipboard.

“Good to see you again Mr. Marjoribanks. How are things the hair certainly looks to be coming on a treat?” Mr. Boscomb asked.

“First rate, I’m very pleased, it’s almost down to her waist, I never knew it was possible to stimulate hair growth like that.”

“Well, it is a fairly new treatment and very hard to come by. As far as I know this is the only place in Europe offering it. Miss Charters tells me that if you are serious about wanting more length then we are ready for another application.”

“Yes I definitely would like more length; I am happy to authorise another treatment.” He could see why they were checking, this treatment was very expensive.

“Very good. Were there any other areas that you would wish us to pay attention to?”

This was it, he had decided to say it, he had a strange feeling that Cathy would let him get away with it. “Well yes, I was wondering could you organise some more feminine casual clothes: skirts, dresses that sort of thing?” He could see Cathy looking daggers at him, but she was keeping silent, it was strange she wouldn’t do that anyplace else.

“I am sure that would be possible. Miss Charters?”

Miss Charters bobbed a quick curtsey to Quentin. “Quite possible, have you any special requirements, Sir?” She asked.

“Not really just something a little more feminine, I don’t mean all pink and fluffy, there’s no need to go from one extreme to the other.”

“I quite understand Sir, Would you be wanting the clothes to be revealing: very short skirts or sheer blouses?”

“Not unless that’s what Cathy wants. I was hoping for demure, but attractive. Some of the skirts could be short, but not too short.”

“Very wise Sir. Would you be wanting stockings or would pantyhose be acceptable?”

He might as well go for broke. “Well I don’t really approve of pantyhose, it might be a little snobbish of me, but I do feel that a lady would wear stockings.”

“Very good Sir. And if I might make so bold the Doctor tells me that she is particularly pleased with the way that Miss James’ waist firmed up with the treatment belt. I appreciate that at twenty three inches, Miss James has a very slim waist, however, the Doctor tells me that she would be perfect for a waist reduction treatment we have pioneered.”

“Thank you, but I would need to think about that.”

“Very good Sir.” Miss Charters replied, dropping another curtsey.

“Miss Charters Please take Miss James through now.” Boscomb ordered.

Again Miss Charters curtseyed. “Please follow me Miss James.”

And with that the ladies left. After they had gone Mr. Boscomb turned to Quentin and said: “You know that waist treatment is really worth considering. We use stem cells cultured from treated hair follicles, that are injected round the waist area. These cells are then coerced to form bands of muscle which when properly stimulated form a sort of invisible internal corset, that safely reduces the waist and because it is just muscle, it can relax and will not interfere with pregnancy or any natural process. Of course following pregnancy the muscle can be restimulated and the reduction can be reintroduced.”

Despite himself, Quentin was interested. “What sort of reduction are we talking about?”

“Nothing too dramatic, but we can usually lose two inches quite comfortably and up to four in most cases.”

“Well I can’t deny that would be very attractive, but how safe is this process? I wouldn’t be prepared to take even a slight risk with Miss James’ health.”

“The process is completely safe and non-invasive, but here, I have some literature you can check on the subject. We could also cull some follicular cells today so that should you be interested we can prepare the treatment.”

“Thank you and yes if you can take the cells safely, I see no harm in being prepared.”

“Then we shall try to do this, I’ll let you know when you collect Miss James.”

“Very well then, I shall call for Miss James at five, or should I phone to check she is ready.”

“No five should be fine.”

Meanwhile Cathy was itching to speak with Miss Charters, or Emily as she called her when they were away from the men. Difficult though it was she restrained herself until they were safely in the treatment suite.

“The nerve of it!” She exploded.

“I beg your pardon?” Emily responded, her tone rising slightly to indicate the question.

“He wants me to dress more femininely – that sounds wrong, is there such a word? Anyway the nerve of the man: I choose what I wear, if I choose to dress the way he wants occasionally its because I want to!”

“There is such a word, but it’s not often used because its awkward and when you say occasionally how often is that?” Emily replied with a conspiratorial laugh.

“Well pretty much never, but I did dress up for the award.”

“I don’t think that counts really, do you?”

“Ok that would be stretching it a bit, but you get my point. I’m growing my hair for him isn’t that enough?”

“Darling, you don’t have to justify yourself to me, I’m just the help, but if we are going to be really honest, you’re growing your hair because it looks good and you enjoy the effect. It wouldn’t have been as long as it was if you didn’t think you looked good with long hair. It was only laziness that was making you consider shortening it.”

“Maybe, but he doesn’t know that, so this request is definitely trying to push the envelope.”

“Perhaps, but what has he asked? Just that we provide you with some nice tasteful casual clothing.”

“Yes but he wants me wearing stockings.”

“Darling he’s a man, I’ve asked that question many times and that’s the only answer they are capable of giving, though I must say your man was at least eloquent in his answer and, though I hate to admit it, right: stockings do have much more class.”

“Yes I’ll give you that, but they aren’t really everyday casual wear.”

“Men don’t know that. And really when it comes down to it stockings aren’t that much more trouble, not when one’s your shape anyway.”

“It’s just that I’m comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt: it works for me and why should I dress to satisfy someone else’s ideal?”

“No ones saying you should, but take it from me if you give a little occasionally its amazing what you get back.”

Cathy was remembering the fun she and Quentin had had the weekend of the award, and had to concede that there might be some advantages in enticing Quentin.

“Maybe.”

“Look you going to get the clothes, so we might as well choose well, and if you were to wear then every now and then, well that would only make your man more interested in paying for you to come here again?”

That made sense and well if he was going to make requests like this, he disserved to be manipulated.

“Ok we shop! What was that stuff about my waist?”

“Well we have pioneered a new process its totally safe and fully reversible and does not include invasive surgery…”

“Yes but what is it?” Cathy interrupted.

“We can make your waist smaller give you and hourglass figure, not that you haven’t already got one, and all without exercise or wearing corsets or any real discomfort. You’d keep you flat tummy, but your shape would just get a bit more, though nothing extreme.”

“You can do that?” Cathy had always had a thing about her waist, and despite having a very trim waist, she always felt that she would look better if it was smaller. Her mother had always accused her of being a Victorian throwback.

“Yes, quite simply yes. The Doctor can explain the process, but basically we encourage new bands of muscle to grow and then stimulate then to tighten and voila a smaller waist.”

“Wow, I want, but I bet it’s expensive and Quentin didn’t sound too interested.”

“Well the Doctor can at least take some cell samples to check and well you could work on Mr. Marjoribanks.”

“The cell samples would be fine, but I wouldn’t feel right working on Quentin. I don’t mind a little manipulation , but that might be a taking it too far.”

“Well you could let him think the process here is more magical than it really is.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well the casual clothes, don’t lay into him when you get out of here just wear them for him, not all the time, but enough so that he thinks there has been some effect. Then see what happens, he might even ask you about the waist procedure, he will probably be looking for excuses to keep you coming here, hoping to make other male orientated modifications. Men are very transparent!”

“You’re right it would probably work, It’s just a question of my conscience now.”

“Well wearing the clothes and all that isn’t taking, that’s giving, so why not go with the plan, then you only have to make up your mind, if it seems like it’s working?”

“That’s sort of a circular argument, but hell, I’m sold.”

That evening Quentin was more than a little nervous. He just hoped that Cathy would have had time to calm down. He knew she liked new clothes and he was fairly sure that she would enjoy looking good, if she would only give it a chance. He was quietly hopeful that she would come round, but he was expecting to get it in the neck this evening. He was stunned when she came through with Miss Charters. She was wearing a seemingly simple peasant style dress in a dark burgundy colour, with cream and white detail and smocking. Though it came to mid-calf and was demure, the way it hugged Cathy’s figure, shamelessly emphasising her femininity but in a wonderfully understated way, was quite simply a work of art. This was what Quentin had been wanting.

“Ah Ladies so good of you to join us.” Boscomb opened as both he and Quentin stood.

Both ladies curtseyed and Miss Charters replied. “Good evening Gentlemen, please sit.”

The gentlemen sat and Mr. Bosomb said: “Your report, please, Miss Charters.”

“Very good Sir.” She replied with a quick curtsey and then she went on in a business like way. “We have, as requested, obtained suitable casual wear and Miss James has been instructed in the need to wear stockings rather than pantyhose. I believe that particular problem has been fully corrected, so if there are any recurrences please let us know immediately. We have further treated Miss James scalp and would expect a further three to four inches of hair growth over the next four weeks and finally we have, of course, carried out our full offering of hair nail and skin treatments. Oh and in addition, with Miss James’ consent we have taken a follicular cell sample.”

Could this be real Cathy was wearing stockings and would only wear stockings from now on – no this was a game, but a very exciting game and just maybe if Cathy was enjoying it too, she would go along with some of his fantasies some of the time. Well if that was true he was all for the need to keep playing.

“I’m very pleased; excellent work. Look I’ll be in touch regarding the next service, but for now we’ve got an appointment.”

He and Cathy left quickly and were soon in his car, the new clothes has already been loaded into the boot (Author’s note: Americans call this the trunk, don’t know why!).

“Look I have to say it, your really are the bee’s knees, I just can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

“Thank you, I feel good too.”

“You’re not… I mean, you know…”

“No I’ve calmed down, though I was hopping at first, but I love the clothes and well I really love what they do to you. You’re not going to get this all the time, but I’m definitely going to make sure we get the wear out of these new clothes, we wouldn’t want to waste you money now, would we?”

“Glad to hear it.”

At this point Quentin had let his left hand rest on Cathy’s right thigh, and was now slowly pulling up the dress, with his fingers, though still keeping his eyes on the road.

“Quentin what do you think you’re doing?” Cathy asked in mock anger, but she wasn’t stopping him.

“Just checking my little piranha.” By now he had found the hem with his fingers and was moving the dress right back on her thigh to expose the stocking top.

“Very satisfactory.” He announced as he looked down to visually verify what his fingers were telling him.

“That will be enough of that.” Cathy said, readjusting her dress, and continued. “You keep your eyes on the road. Any further quality control will be carried out in a safer and more private location.”

“Well that will have to suffice pro tem, we’re going out now, but later I intend fully satisfying myself that I’m getting value for money.”

In spite of herself Cathy was finding this very exciting, she was defiantly in agreement regarding the need for quality control.

That had been some night. Quentin hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. If she had a problem with Quentin, it was that he was too careful, like many big men he had learnt the need to be gentle and was never really aggressive. A girl didn’t want to be hurt or anything, but occasionally it was sort of nice to be ‘taken’ and well last night, Quentin had got close, she certainly felt well used, in fact she admitted to herself it kind of showed in her slightly smug expression.

So here she was at work dressed in a denim skirt, mid-thigh length and a T-shirt and sweater and yes she was wearing stockings. Well she had to wear some of the new clothes, she reasoned, because when she hadn’t gone home last night they were all she had! She hadn’t been prepared for the comments, however.

“Girl you look good.” Had been Seeta’s greeting.

Tom had stared and then acted embarrassed, and Janice had just nodded to her and then said: “Better, much better, you scrub up quite well!”

In fact by the end of the day she had had to admit to herself that she felt better about herself, dressing a little more hadn’t been selling out, it had given her more presence the effect had been good.

Quentin had stayed for a little while when he dropped her back at her flat. “Just some further quality control.” He had told her, but they hadn’t really talked about anything and she was wondering whether she was being fair. She really did want this waist treatment, but was not happy with tricking Quentin into paying for it. She couldn’t even convince herself that wearing sexier clothes was exactly a sacrifice, she was honest enough to admit that she was enjoying the attention, so much so that she would certainly continue with her new wardrobe.

The next day she met with Quentin for their morning tea, again she had dressed for effect; it was getting addictive, she had to admit.

“Do you like?” She asked doing a quick twirl before she sat down.

“Yes very much.” Quentin answered looking a little surprised.

“That’s good, because so do I. I had decided to wear something nice for you last night to sort of say thank you for sending me to that place and for all the nice things you’ve bought me, but yesterday I found that I…, well I found that I liked the way people seemed to take more notice of me; I don’t mean sexually, but there was that too, it was as though I was more important, people treated me differently and I liked it. I haven’t really changed, but I think I’ve found more confidence to be myself and I like it.”

“I’m glad, because I was beginning to feel a little guilty. That place is rather an ego boost for a bloke; all that curtseying and what not sort of make a chap feel important. I have to say when you curtseyed last night, well it really, you know, sort of got me going, as it were.”

“You’re such a softy when you get all flustered.” Cathy commented rather cruelly.

“Yes well a chap doesn’t always feel right just sort of saying these things, not in front of ladies anyway.”

“Quentin we’re lovers.”

“Yes well Humph!, anyway as I was saying, I sort of see how that atmosphere could have led me on, made me a little more bold than I should be, I wasn’t really treating you like a person.”

“Well I feel guilty too, that place is magical, they make an art out of pampering, and I could see that the set up was designed to appeal to your ego, so I knew that you were being manipulated and I was sort of letting it happen.”

“Well the truth is I really enjoy being manipulated this way and I still want you hair longer, so I would love you to go back at least once more and I intend to ask for something slightly outrageous again, I don’t know what, I don’t suppose it matters, It’s just doing it that’s so enervating.”

Cathy had to smile. “Well you’re asking a lot, I mean you want to spend more money on me, sending me somewhere I absolutely love – that’s quite a favour you’re asking.”

Quentin was smiling now as well. “I can see that, but would you, I mean just for me?”

“Ok.”

He had to ask, it was a risk, but if he didn’t well he would always wonder.”

“Oh and Cathy, I checked into that waist business and it really is as safe as they say. And well I know this sounds sort of wrong, I mean you’ve got the most perfect figure, but something about you having a built in corset, well I mean it kind of interests a chap, well you know?”

“It’s ok Quentin, you can say when you find something sexually exciting, and I’ve always wanted a small waist, not with corsets, I have just always felt that a really small waist would be really special, I think it goes all the way back to my childhood and paintings of fairies and heroines with impossibly small waists, but whatever the reason this is something I want too.”

“Gosh! Well I mean, um who would’ve thought it?”

“Quentin snap out of it; use English please not ‘Toff’” Cathy replied laughing.

“Well I’ll book you in for another treatment, I’ll do it now.”

So saying he phoned immediately.

“Hello, can I speak with Boscomb, please it’s Marjoribanks here?

“Please hang on.” And then. “Mr. Marjoribanks, is everything alright? Came the concerned question.

“Most assuredly old chap, couldn’t be better. I was hoping to set wheels in motion for that waist thingy you were offering.”

“Oh I see. Well it takes a certain time to culture the cells, but we could book a service slot for Thursday week, the treatment will take about two hours.”

Quentin checked quickly. “Late afternoon would be best, if you could arrange to collect Miss James, I should be able to collect her at half five.”

“That would be fine, we’ll collect from your work address at three p.m.. would that be acceptable?”

“Eminently, thank you.”

The call quickly concluded he turned to Cathy and announced: “Done, you are booked for next Thursday week, they’ll collect from here at three. He said the treatment will take about two hours, but I guess it’s only the beginning and you will need more than one visit.”

“Cathy kissed him, very soundly.”

“Gosh, well you do seem grateful, I must say.” Quentin observed when he was able to come up for air.

“You should come round this evening, make it after ten, I’m going out earlier.”

“Well that’s something else I wanted to talk about. I wonder do we really need to live in different houses?”

“Quentin, are you asking me to move in with you, to live in sin?” Cathy replied. She had been kind of expecting this and was not totally averse to the idea, but she intended to have a little fun before accepting.

Quentin looked very flustered at that. “Well no of course not, I mean I would never presume. Oh blast it, this isn’t going at all how I planned.”

“Well perhaps you should include me in the planning process?”

“I’m trying. As I was saying, where was I?”

“Living in separate houses.” Cathy offered less than helpfully.

“Damn it Woman, I’m trying to ask you to marry me the least you could do is stay quite long enough for me to get the question out.” Quentin responded irritably. “Now do me the courtesy of keeping quiet while I try again.”

“Yes, I’m very sorry.” An extremely surprised Cathy replied in a very subdued voice.

“Now separate houses that was it. Yes well it wouldn’t be proper to expect you to move in, so…” And at this point Quentin went down on one knee facing Cathy and pulled from his pocket a discrete ring box. “I wondered if you would consider doing me the inestimable honour of agreeing to become my wife? Oh and I do love you did I mention that, well I do anyway.”

Cathy was more that just surprised. She had always assumed that someday someone would propose to her and recently she had been sort of living her life based on the assumption that Quentin would be part of it, she just had never integrated these two things. She had, she supposed, assumed that they would move in together and hadn’t really thought beyond that. Well now she had to. Well she loved the stupid duffer that was for sure, and if the feeling in her tummy was anything to go by, she was happy with the question. Oh sod it, she thought, go with your heart girl. She leaned forward and grabbed Quentin by his ears pulling him forward.

“Yes, though God knows why.” And then she kissed him.

“Bloody hell! That was ‘yes’ wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but aren’t you forgetting something, that box it’s for me, yes?”

“Oh yes, it was great-granny’s, but only if you like, we could get another one otherwise.”

“I think you’re meant to open the box, that way I get to see it.”

“Oh fair enough, can’t I just put in on your finger for now?”

“Why not?”

Quentin took the ring out and clumsily put it on her ring finger and finally she got to see the ring. There was a large diamond surrounded by lots of little diamonds and sapphires forming an oval cluster.

“It’s beautiful, but this looks like I’ll need full time security following me.”

“Don’t worry it’s insured.”

“I love it, but this is just too valuable, I can’t take this.”

“You’re not, you become my wife it stays in the family.”

“But this must be worth tens of thousands.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well what then?”

“Hundreds of thousands.”

“Shit!”

“Very Ladylike. Wear it; it’s yours.”

“ So what now?”

“I suppose a blow job is out of the question?”

“Quentin, really and yes it is and certainly not at the office. No I mean wedding plans and that sort of thing.”

“Well you’re the girl.”

“I noticed that.”

“No, I mean, it’s kind of traditional that you have the first say as to what you want and all that.”

“Well can’t we keep it simple, I mean just go somewhere and get it done? Then if family and friends want to celebrate we can have a big do then.”

“Sounds good to me. Look I’ve got to fly to Estonia, tomorrow morning, I’ve got a meeting in some place called Tartu, never heard of it or anything, but it does sound kind of different. Get your passport come with me to Tartu tomorrow and let’s get married.”

“What about visas and things?”

“Don’t be silly Estonia’s part of the EU now, you don’t need a visa or anything.”

“Yes but they won’t just let us marry, you must have to apply in advance.”

“I doubt it, Estonia used to be part of the soviet union and they were pretty laidback about marriage and such, but I’ll check, I’m phoning my representative out there shortly and I’ll get him to set it up, if he can.”

“You’re bloody mad, but yes we’ll do it – my smart arse of a sister will never top that, whether she goes for the white meringue or tries to be different.”

“Bloody brilliant and now I know your marrying me for love and of course to get one up on your sister. Oh and don’t take too much we’re only there for the day, flying back on the last flight out of Tallinn tomorrow night.”

A little later Quentin phoned down.

“We’re on Cathy. Apparently the place is crawling with churches, it’s some sort of University town. Anyway we are booked in to some church or other for six-thirty tomorrow evening local time. Are you still up for this?”

Cathy didn’t really need to think. “Yes, God knows why, definitely yes.”

“Right be ready for five tomorrow morning.”

“See you then. Love you.”

This was strange, she wasn’t wearing the ring, she was too scared about what she would say, if anyone noticed it, and it was a little hard to miss. She was getting married tomorrow, well people would know then, but until then it was her secret.

“Love you! That sounded a bit serious.” Seeta commented laughing.

“Well maybe.”

“Oh dear, you’re lost I can see that now. You should have kept him guessing, you can’t afford to be easy girl.”

“When I see you with a ring then I’ll listen to your advice.”

“Touché, but that’ll never happen it’s the single life for me.” Seeta answered laughing. “Don’t let me get you down, I’m and embittered bitch you know that.”

The rest of the day was long and forgettable.