The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Friday afternoon, with a week off ahead of me (paid vacation), on the way home, I put my foot on the brake pedal for the red light three blocks from my apartment. Instead of the smooth stop it usually produced, there was a gritty, sandy feeling, accompanied by a sharp squeal. I knew what it was; I’d already worn down a set of brakes on the car once, but it didn’t seem like that long ago. Damn. My plans to get away faded in the grim reality of the possibility of finding a garage on a Friday afternoon in the city. The light turned green, and I put on my hazard flashers and idled forward. The car behind me gave a long bleat on the horn, then revved by me, giving ‘the finger’ as they went. Yeah, so’s your mother, jerk, hope your brakes go out on a steep hill. Torvill Street, I seemed to remember a place on Torvill; I made a right, went north a block. The sound and grinding got worse every time I touched the brake, but I had remembered correctly, there was a blue-and-yellow sign, ‘ALL MAKES—ALL MODELS—RADIATORS—OIL CHANGE—BRAKES—TRANSMISSIONS—BODY WORK’. I pulled into the lot, and to my shock, one of the steel-covered bay doors opened, and a burly guy in blue coveralls stepped out and waved me in. The car came to a stop on the lift with a long, tired screech. The bay door came down behind me, the windows at the top letting late-afternoon sun make square orange patches at the top of the back wall of the garage. The man stepped up to my open window.

“No need to ask what’s the matter, hunh?” He gave me a smile, and I thought I could see the dollar signs in his eyes. I shot him a long-suffering look.

“Please tell me you can do a brake job.”

“Buddy, this is your lucky day. We were going to close in ten minutes. If I got the parts, you’ll be on your way in an hour.”

“I’m gonna name all my kids after you...Walt, even the girls,” I said, reading the name on his chest. Chuckling, he walked to a tallboy desk with a couple of stools at one side of the garage and picked up a clipboard.

“Here, just need you to put down some stuff here, while I have a look. You can sit in the waiting room,” he indicated a door to the right of the desk, “or you can watch. Just stay over there behind the yellow line, okay?” I looked at him as I filled in the form. He was heavy-set, with a wide, friendly face under a welter of curly hair, just starting to grey at the temples. If he’d had a beer gut, he would have just looked like a fat slob, but he was barrel-chested, and tapered nicely down to his thick hips. Certainly no Mr. America, but over all, solid and meaty, and not a bad looker. His mustache completed the package, at least for me; I was a fool for a guy with a good ‘stash. He’d raised the car up so that the wheels were at eye level, and was going at the lug nuts with an impact gun; I saw the fabric of his sleeves bulge as he pulled first one, then the other wheel off and set it down. He pulled a fluorescent drop light down from a reel, switched it on. From where I stood, I could see the bulb stuttering; one of the things I’d always disliked about those lights, when they started to go, that strobe effect. He reached up, wrapped his dirty index finger around one of the lug studs, and gave the rotor a spin. Whuk, whuk, whuk, whuk, whuuk, whuuk, whuuuk, whuuuk, whuuuuk, whuu. He stared for a long moment. His arm went up again, repeating the motion. Whuk, whuk, whuk, whuk, whuuk, whuuk, whuuk, whuuuk, whuuuk, whuuuuk, wh. I saw his eyelids droop, then he gave a little jump, like he’d just caught himself dozing off. I watched, curious and a little concerned. I remembered a kid in my junior high who’d had epilepsy, who’d pitched a seizure when he’d seen one of those flashing LED bike lights. I wondered if this guy might do the same. Yellow line or no, I thought maybe I should go see. As I walked toward him, he reached up and spun the rotor again, whuk, whuk, whuk, whuuk, whuuk, whuuuk, whuuuk, whuuuk, whuuuu. I could see the grooved pattern of lines on the rotor, the stuttering fluorescent light and the hazard lights on my car reflecting off the shiny surface. It drew the eye, gathered the light, flung it outward, green, blue, flash of yellow...I pulled my eyes away. Walt was staring at the metal as it slowed to a stop, and this time his eyes closed completely, his head dropped forward. Cripes, he was gonna go down. He swayed, and I put a hand out to catch him. He jerked back awake, looked at me a little annoyed. “Hey, come on. I said behind the yellow line, okay? It’s the state law, we can’t let the customers out here. It’s for your own safety.”

“Sorry. But, I mean, you haven’t really started yet; and that sounds like kind of an expensive noise that wheel is making.” Reaching up, I pulled at the rotor this time, a good hard yank. Whuk, whuk, whuk, whuk, whuk, whuk, whuk, whuuk, whuuk, whuuk, whuuk, whuuuk, whuuuk, whuuuk, whuuuuk, whuuuuk, whuuuuuk, whuuuuuk, whuuuuuuk, whuuuuuuuu. I saw his eyelids flutter as the lights danced on his face. This wasn’t epilepsy. “Lock your legs, Walt. Remain standing.” He’d started to sway again, and then his legs stiffened under him at my order. He stood, head bowed, eyes shut, arms loose at his sides. “Breathe deeply, in...out, that’s right. Listen to my voice, Walt. Listen and slide deeper and deeper into a trance. Deeper. Deeper. You’re very relaxed, you feel arms hanging limp at your sides, your feet inside your boots, the feel of the clothing against your skin. So relaxed. Sliding deeper and deeper into a trance with every breath you take. You’re going to listen to me, and obey my suggestions. It makes you feel so good to obey, such a wonderful feeling to obey. Walt, raise your head and open your eyes.” He complied, his eyes blearily unfocused, still staring at the rotor. “Walt, whenever I say the words ‘Grease Monkey’ to you, you will instantly fall into a deep trance, and stand still just as you are now, do you understand?” His jaw worked, his mouth opened slowly.

“Whenever you say ‘Grease Monkey’, I will fall into a trance. Stand just as I am now.” His mouth stayed open, loosely forming the last letter that it had formed, giving him a faintly surprised look.

“That’s right, Walt. You feel wonderful when you fall into a trance. You feel wonderful when you obey me. In a moment, I will count to five, and you will wake up, feeling great. But you’re going to need a hand with this job; who else is working here right now?”

“Karl and Josh.”

“After I wake you, you’ll ask Karl to come over and have a look at the rotor. You’ll spin the rotor for him, and keep spinning it until I put you in a trance again.” I walked back across to the yellow line, counting to five over my shoulder as I went. I saw his head bob back up again.

“That’s...I never seen anything like this. Uh, I’ll be right back, why don’t you have a cuppa coffee in the waiting room, okay? Just through that door and down the hall. It’ll just be a minute.”

“Thanks, but I’ll stay here. I promise not to cross the yellow line.” He went off, his brow furrowed in confusion. He returned in a moment, with a tall, thin, blond fellow in tow. He wore the same dark blue coveralls, with ‘Karl’ sewn on the chest; his hands were almost black with dirt and oil. They walked to the rotor.

“Have a look. You ever seen anything like this?” Walt reached up and began to spin the rotor. When it slowed, he pulled at it again. He was facing more or less toward me, and Karl was right in front of the rotor. I saw him start to weave, his head loll forward.

“Grease Monkey.” Walt’s hand, reaching for the rotor again, dropped to his side, and his face smoothed to a blank expression. “Karl, lock your legs. Stand upright. Breathe deeply, go deeper and deeper into trance with each breath.” I saw his legs stiffen, and the movement of his torso as he took in a lungful of air. His head was sunken onto his chest, and his eyes were closed. Wow, two for two, I thought. I looked over Karl as I gave him instructions to deepen his trance, to obey me. He was tall, slender, with a handsome, though dirty, face, and a scruffy, patchy Van Dyke, but it was hard to tell much more about his body with those baggy coveralls on. “Karl, lift your head and open your eyes. Whenever I say the words ‘Grease Monkey’ to you, you will instantly go into a deep trance, standing just as you are now, do you understand?”

“Whenever you say the words ‘Grease Monkey’ to me, I will instantly go into a deep trance, standing just as I am now. I understand.” He had a pleasant low voice, deeper than I had expected from such a lanky man. I was impressed at his exact repetition of my command, too. I woke both men, then sent them after Josh, after dutifully returning to my spot behind the yellow line. They returned, and it looked like the best had been last; Josh was a handsome young guy with short, wavy chestnut hair, and his coveralls accentuated rather than hid the well-built body underneath. I think he was suspicious of something when both the other competent men went to him and asked for help on a simple brake job, but he certainly couldn’t have imagined being put in a trance. Walt spun the rotor a few times, and unbelievably, soon I had all three men in my control. I gave Josh the same trigger as the first two men. I could hardly believe this; Walt had no idea how truly he’d spoken. Lucky day, indeed!

“Walt, is there anyone else on the premises?”

“No.”

“Men, you will all address me as ‘Sir’, do you understand?” All three mouths opened as they chorused.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Josh, you will go to the doors and lock up. Make the place look as if it’s closed, then return here.”

“Yes, Sir.” He walked slowly to the door beside the desk, went through.

“Men, get to work on my brakes.”

“Yes, Sir.” Walt and Karl turned, walked toward the car. Picking up tools, they each moved to a side and began to remove parts. I heard the door open behind me as Josh returned. He stopped next to me, his eyes half-open.

“Josh, those coveralls are stifling. You’re itching to take them off and cool down a little.”

“Yes, Sir.” Beads of sweat formed on his face, and a dark wet stain rapidly formed under each arm. Where the uniform touched his stomach began to get soggy, too, and the patch grew until it joined the spreading ones from each arm. The sweat was running off his face now, soaking into the collar. In a moment his coveralls were clinging damply to him as he continued to perspire, but he stood still, making only tiny jerking movements, as if being poked with pins.

“Get out of those wet clothes, Josh, and you’ll instantly be relaxed and cool.”

“Yes, Sir.” He peeled the coveralls off, and they flopped to the floor with a wet slap. While the clothing had shown off some of his physique, it had only hinted at the form it had covered. Either he was one of the most blessed males on the planet, or he was in a gym most days. He’d slipped off his heavy crew shoes, his socks, and then wriggled out of his boxers. When they had flopped to the floor, his body stopped its small, uncomfortable twitchings. I walked around him in a circle, taking in the glistening, statuesque frame. I still wasn’t sure I could pull this off, but I was sure going to try.

“Karl, Walt, stop what you’re doing and come over here, then stand absolutely frozen.” From behind me, I heard their voices in unison.

“Yes, Sir.” I heard the ring of wrenches on concrete as they dropped their tools. Their footsteps neared me across the concrete, and stopped behind me.

“Josh, imagine you have a job putting window displays in at a department store. These two mannequins need to be stripped. As you take their clothing off, you will become more and more sexually aroused. You will begin to fondle the mannequins, touching them in those ways that most excite you to be touched.”

“Yes, Sir.” He moved to Walt, unzipped the front of his coveralls. He slid the fabric off Walt’s immobile form, revealing his hairy, generous chest and firm, flat abdomen. Josh pulled the heavy cloth down past the knees, then stood again. He stared for a few seconds, then turned and stepped to the desk. He picked up the stools and brought them back to where the two ‘mannequins’ stood. He set one behind Walt, then took him by the chin and pulled him backward, putting his back against the seat of the stool. Then he walked around the rigid, leaning man, took his right leg, and pulled it upward, setting it on the second stool. He went to work unlacing Walt’s boots, the right resting on the stool, the left stuck hanging in midair, bobbing like a springboard as Josh pulled the boot and clothing off it. He took Walt by both legs and pushed the stool aside with one foot, setting the blocky, rigidly stiff Walt on his heels. All through this, I could see Josh’s penis hardening, growing along with his sexual excitement. He put his arms around Walt’s waist and stood him upright again, but instead of releasing him, Josh began to caress him, kissing him on the mouth as he rubbed his hands first across Walt’s big back, then down to his nicely-rounded glutes. He gave a squeeze, and a tiny moan escaped him. He knelt, moved his hands down Walt’s solid, thickly-haired legs, and then crouched down and began licking his feet. If Walt felt any arousal, he didn’t show it; his face remained blank, his body motionless as Josh rubbed his hands against Walt’s inner thighs, his tongue now lapping at Walt’s toes. He was breathing fast as he let go of Walt and turned to Karl. He followed almost the same procedure in stripping down his second ‘window dummy’, but he stopped several times while Karl’s lean, well-defined body was stretched across the stools, rubbing his chest, then bending down to mouth Karl’s nipples, and finally taking Karl’s pecker in his mouth. As with Walt, there was no reaction from Karl to these eroticisms. As Josh, panting, stood Karl back on his feet, he ejaculated, spattering both men.

“Excellent work, Josh. Now I want you to imagine that you’re on a tropical beach, a paradise of white sand and blue ocean, and two native girls are pleasuring you. Lie down on the beach, and they will show you the most wonderful time you have ever had.”

“Yes, Sir.” He stretched out on the greasy concrete, and I could see the sweat begin to form again on his skin as he pictured the warm tropical sun.

“Karl, Walt, your friend just showed you where he most likes to be touched. Now he’s injured, and in great pain, and the only way you can make him better is to help him by touching him in just those places, in just those ways. It will be incredibly arousing to both of you, and it is for your friend’s good.”

“Yes, Sir.” The two men stooped down, Walt pressing his lips to Josh’s, reaching under Josh, lifting him slightly, running his hands over his back, down to his buttocks. Karl, meantime, reached in and began kneading Josh’s chest, crouching down to mouth his nipples in turn, then moving down to Josh’s rod, now pointing straight upward. Karl took it in his mouth, perfectly imitating the movements Josh had made a few moments ago. Walt had moved down to Josh’s legs, and was sliding his large hands up and down on the insides of Josh’s thighs while he licked and kissed Josh’s feet. All three were moaning in ecstasy as first Josh, then Karl, then Walt came.

“Stand up.” The three instantly sprang up, giving their programmed response to my command. Josh slid a bit as he rose, still sweaty, and with a generous spray of semen on his legs and underfoot. “Josh, you’re no longer in a tropical paradise, you’re back at the garage.”

“Yes, Sir.” He sounded a little disappointed.

“Karl, Walt, get back to that brake job.”

“Yes, Sir.” They turned about and walked back to my car, now bare-skin nude, and began to work again, picking up their tools from where they had dropped them at my call. Well, it seemed that none of them had any problem obeying any orders I gave them, so I figured it was my turn to join in.

“Walt, freeze.” He stopped where he was, leaning to pick up a screwdriver from the toolbox.

“Yes, Sir.” I walked over, ran a finger up his back, along the spine. I put my hands on his backside, kneading the cheeks.

“Josh, come over here and take down my pants and underwear.”

“Yes, Sir.” He was standing by me in a moment, his hands pulling at my trousers, freeing my cock.

“Walt, your whole body is numb, unable to feel anything until I tell you to.”

“Yes, Sir.” He stood, still poised with one hand reaching for the toolbox. I spread his cheeks and drove into him. He remained motionless, staring at the workbench as I ran my hands over his smooth, wide shoulders, then around onto his bristly chest and stomach. The thought of the total control I held over these men, and watching their obedience to my every command, had already pushed my own arousal almost to its peak, and I felt myself reach orgasm, blowing into Walt’s rigidly-locked flesh. I rested for a moment, leaning against him, catching my breath, then pulled free.

“Walt, you’re no longer numb, no longer frozen. Go back to work on those brakes.”

“Yes, Sir.” He came to life, picking up a screwdriver and turning to my car. I walked around to Karl.

“Karl, stop what you’re doing and kneel facing me.” He turned and dropped to his knees.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Karl, a moment ago you helped your friend, who was in great pain. You must do it again, this time for me.”

“Yes, Sir.” He leaned forward and took my erection in his mouth, while his hands rose upward, slid under my shirt, and began kneading my chest. After a few moments of this, I erupted again, and Karl swallowed my load, along with most of what was on me from inside Walt. I felt a bit guilty about that, and fished in my jacket for the packet of breath mints I usually carried. I pulled myself out of Karl’s mouth and inserted a mint.

“There, Karl, suck on that and get back to those brakes.” He gave his ordered response as he stood and turned again to the car. I looked over at Josh, who was standing, staring at the back wall of the shop, awaiting his next command. Best for last, I thought as I licked my lips. “Josh,” I said, walking over and taking his hand, “come with me.” His bare feet began to move as he said ‘Yes, Sir’. I led him through the doorway by the desk, and along the hall to the waiting room. It had several windows, but the blinds were pulled down and it seemed to be private. “Josh, in a moment I’m going to snap my fingers, and you will awaken. When you waken, the first person you see will be the one you most want sexually. Doesn’t matter who, you must have them. You are in animal lust, you must have the first person you see, whoever it is, and you must have them now.”

“Yes, Sir.” As I brought my hand up, the thought went fleetingly through my mind that perhaps I had worded this command a little too strongly. The chance for revision, though, was taken from me by my own body; as my arm bent, my elbow gave a loud pop, the result of an old injury. It sounded enough like a snap to bring Josh out of his trance. His eyes moved, fixed on me, the pupils dilating out until his brown irises were eaten by black. His face colored, became vivid red, and the blush began to spread downward across his whole body. “No, no. You’re...you’re a guy. I’d never...I can’t...I don’t...” he was trying to fight the overpowering urge he now felt, the unstoppable need to take me. His hand came up, brushed against my arm, and his whole body shook. A low mewling sound, like a cat in heat, began to issue from his half-open mouth. For my part, I had no reservations about having him; if anything got out of hand, I could stop him with the Grease Monkey command. I put a hand out, ran it down his chest, his abdomen. He looked down, watching my hand in amazement, panting. “No. No, I won’t...I’m not...” the sentence ended in a moan as he grabbed me with both arms and crushed me against him. He pushed his mouth onto mine, and I tasted the coppery tang of blood. He pulled back; his lower lip was cut where he’d grated it against my teeth. He was past caring, swept along by the primal urge I had unleashed. He yanked my jacket from my shoulders, pulled it off me, and flung it away. He began tearing at my shirt, and I heard buttons bouncing on tile, fabric tearing as he stripped me. His cock was like an iron bar, I could feel it striking my legs as he twisted, pulling the clothes from my body, using his hands and his bloody mouth to rip them away. I was trying to help, if only to save enough of my clothing to put back on, as he gave a hard push, sending me backward onto a couch. He growled as he dove at me, his mouth finding mine again, his erection pushing into my stomach as he crouched astride me. He pushed sideways against my arm and I went down hard onto the cushions. I had ordered animal lust, and he was obeying. He pinned me face down with one hand on the back of my neck; the cushion smelled of grease, oil, and cigarettes. He clawed at my pants with the other hand, and I felt the catch tear away as he yanked them down. I tried to yell the trigger phrase, but my mouth was jammed into the rancid seat cover. He put a finger, then two, then three, into me, then I felt the stretching pain as he slid that big, hard pecker in and began heaving it back and forth. He had both hands on my shoulders now, and he was bucking against me, the couch giving off puffs of dust as he jumped. Added to the other unpleasant smells, now I could smell the stench of my own shit on his hand as it pinned me down. He was shouting hoarsely now, “Take it! Take it all, you bitch!” I still had a mouthful of fabric and foam, and no way to stop him. He pushed hard into me once, twice, then I felt the flood of his orgasms pump into me as he dropped down onto my back and began babbling into my ear. “Oh, God, oh Christ, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, mister. I’m so sorry. Believe me. This never happened to me before, I can’t help it. Forgive me, please mister. I gotta have you, I want you so bad, please mister, I swear, I’m not a faggot, I’m not, I can’t stop myself, you make me so hot, soo hot, so fuckin’ hhhot, I don’t even know you, Oh, Christ, what have I done?” His hips began to twitch as he began his cat-moan again, and I felt his torso lifting off mine as another wave of lust took him. His heels slipped under my thighs, and his legs wrapped around mine as he began to ride me again. His hands left my shoulders, and I felt his nails digging through the skin on my back. My mouth was free again; I turned my head to one side, coughing, and managed to choke out the trigger.

“Grease...Monkey!” He leapt off me as if electrified, landed feet-first on the tile floor, and froze. I lay there, feeling the blood welling into the gouges on my back, the throbbing pain of the violation I had brought on myself. I looked up at him as I gasped for breath; he stood, arms loosely at his side, his hard-on shriveling, blood oozing from the gash on his lip onto his chin. I pushed off the couch, crawling onto the brown-tiled floor. “Josh, help me...stand up.”

“Yes, Sir.” He stepped to my side, lifted me bodily, set me on my feet, then returned to his neutral stance, staring glassily straight ahead, once again the ideal robot slave. I bent slowly down, pulled my pants back up. I looked down at the torn, bloodied piece of rag that had once been my shirt, and reached to retrieve it. As I tried to put it on, the right sleeve tore away at the elbow and slid back off to the floor. Most of the buttons were gone, and there were large rents and stains across the chest and shoulders. I felt the blood on my back soaking in, sticking the cloth to me. I bent again, picked up the piece of sleeve, and went over to the drinking fountain. I soaked the bit of rag in water, then returned to Josh and daubed at his torn lip. I had cleaned it pretty well, it was mostly blood, just a small cut that had already started to coagulate, when I heard the door behind me open. I turned to see Walt and Karl, still naked, both filthy dirty, shuffle into the room. They stopped in the same stance as Josh, arms loosely at their sides, staring dully.

“Your car is finished, Sir,” Walt intoned sleepily.

“Go...put your clothes back on, men,” I said a little unsteadily.

“Yes, Sir,” all three repeated, turning and going back to the garage. I picked up my jacket and followed slowly, my backside’s ache making it difficult to walk properly. The three were kneeling down, tying their shoes and boots. They stood, Josh first, his sweat-soaked coveralls clinging to him, then Karl, with a small smear of brown at the corner of his mouth, then Walt, his dirty chest visible at the top of his zipper. I still had the wet piece of sleeve, and I wiped away the corner of Karl’s mouth, then took the hand that Josh had stuck inside me and wiped it off as best I could. I could see pieces of my skin under the nails.

“Men, you have done excellent work, exactly as ordered. I’ll be sure to bring my car to you for all my service needs. In a moment, I will count to five, and you will all wake up with no memory of being under my command, or anything out of the ordinary happening this evening. I came in, and you fixed my car. But you will remember that whenever I say ‘Grease Monkey’ to you, you will instantly go into a deep trance, and stand just as you are now.”

“Yes, Sir,” came the response from all three. I looked them over, my three handsome automatons, then kissed each of them warmly on the lips. I hobbled over to the yellow line, stood again in the ‘safe zone’, and counted to five. The three men blinked slowly, groggily as they returned to consciousness. Walt’s friendly, open face broke into a smile as he walked toward me, Karl turned to a bank of buttons and pushed one, and my car lowered toward the floor, and Josh grabbed a hanging rope and hauled the bay door open.

“What’ll it be, cash, check, or credit card?” I hastily pocketed the piece of sleeve as I pulled my wallet from my breast pocket. Walt eyed me curiously as I did so. “Hey, is that blood? You got a big rip in your...” I held a hand up and nodded.

“Yeah, rough day at the office,” I smiled wanly.

“With who, Godzilla?” he chuckled. You have no idea, I thought. He took the card I offered and swiped it through the slot on a small keypad beside the computer. He pushed a few buttons, and handed me a chit of paper to sign. “This copy’s yours, Mister Larrabie, and here’s the itemized bill. You want the parts?”

“Yeah, throw them in the trunk. It’s a company car, and they take it out of my hide if I don’t give them parts as proof.” Karl opened the driver’s door, popped the trunk from the dashboard button, and put a plastic-wrapped bundle in.

“I hear that. You’re all set, sir.” I could feel three pairs of eyes watching me as I tottered over to the car. Karl’s deep voice spoke as I eased myself into the driver’s seat.

“Are you all right?” I smiled tiredly at his dirty, handsome face.

“Like I told Walt, rough day.” I raised my voice a bit as I continued. “Gentlemen, thank you all for your great service. I know I kept you here past closing time, and I really appreciate it. I’m going to rave to all my friends about your garage.” Three smiles appeared, and Josh gave me a little salute.

“Glad we could help. Take it easy, now.” I started up, backed off the lift, and backed into the parking lot. As I stopped for a moment to shift myself into a more comfortable position (or at least a slightly less painful one) I heard Walt’s voice through the open bay door.

“Okay, closing time, Grease Monkeys. Let’s get outta here. Dunno about you, but I’m beat.” I could hear the agreement of the other men, then Josh’s voice alone.

“God, I’m sweatin’. Walt, we gotta get that A/C fixed.” The door shut, and as I drove out of the lot, the lights in the bays flickered off.

I tinkered together a stand, and mounted that scratched, worn rotor on it. I’ve tried to recreate the lighting, but still haven’t come up with the right combination. Guess that it was a one-time coincidence, the combination of the spinning rotor, the stuttering fluorescent light, and my flashing hazard lights; maybe the overheads in the garage and that orange late-afternoon sun helped, too, or the noise from the pads grinding against it. The rotor is rusting now, and I doubt I’ll ever get it to mesmerize anyone again. But it did a great job that Friday. I dropped by the next day, and the trigger worked just fine; I did some fine-tuning on my mechanics. Josh and Karl have steady girlfriends (Josh has asked me to stand up at his wedding next year), and Walt is married, and their women all were a little unhappy when their guys suddenly started having a Friday night poker game. They wouldn’t even say where, but the girls eventually understood; in retaliation, formed a ‘Poker Widow’s Bar Night’. Poker Night’s a ‘guy thing’, as Walt says. Every week now, the guys come over to my place at five, and get showered and cleaned up. They do clean up very nicely, even Karl, now that he’s shaved off his bad beard (Josh also suddenly took on two workout buddies, and Karl has really put on some impressive upper-body mass; Walt now has great definition as well as his natural chunkiness). But the cards still haven’t been shuffled, and the chips are still wrapped in plastic, just as Josh brought them. Instead, I Grease them up and we Monkey around all evening.