The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It began on the week of the 5th. The weather had been holding up well, he was two under par, and Arthur J.M. Findley felt like he was ready to start living again.

“Good shot,” said Joe.

The ball went farther than he’d expected, but it settled within putting range. He couldn’t ask for much more. He was doing his best to keep the lead over the man eight years his junior. Joseph was a good man and a seasoned lawyer, but not a great golfer.

“Things are finally starting to go my way,” said Arthur.

“We’ll see about that.” replied Joe, as he signalled to the caddies that they were ready to move up. “You seem awfully chipper today. You wouldn’t happen to have met somebody, would you?”

Arthur smiled. The pair started walking towards the hole.

“You know I’ll get it out of you with whisky eventually. Does she have a name?” said Joseph.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Her name is Caroline,” said Arthur.

Joseph chortled.

“Well I hope she’s at least a bit older than my Caroline,” he said.

“She’s your age,” Arthur replied. “Well, a few years younger. Maybe more than a few. Sue me.”

“I hope I don’t need to ask if you’re being careful.”

Arthur laughed.

“Trust me, I’m not about to marry the first woman that shows a bit of thigh.”

There had never been a shortage of women in Arthur’s life. He was fit for a man in his late sixties, reasonably handsome, but most of all, he was rich. More than forty years ago, when he’d taken Adrienne on their first date together, she’d to it as “an unconscionable hoard of lucre”. By the time she’d passed away, it had grown considerably larger.

Sex was easy. He could hire women for that if the urge struck. But true companionship was something he’d been missing dearly. To paraphrase somebody whose identity eluded him—he could spend the night with a young woman, but what would they talk about in the morning? He wanted somebody who was mature, somebody who’d lived a life of their own.

He’d met Caroline at the club. She was a doctor, but he’d never seen her there with some of the others before. She was sharp, she was funny, and she was still beautiful in her late 40’s. He hadn’t been planning on seeing anyone again so soon, but they’d found themselves talking for hours. A lunchtime chat turned into a dinner, and they’d arranged to meet again soon. They both adored the theatre. She was a successful professional and had a rich interior life of her own. She was interesting to talk to. In some ways, it still felt like a betrayal. He knew Adrienne wanted him to move on—she’d even told him that in her last weeks—but he couldn’t shake the feeling completely. He’d mentioned in passing that he didn’t ever want to get remarried; she said she didn’t believe in marriage as an institution. He was a little bit excited and a little bit terrified to see if it would go anywhere.

Joe managed to gain on him, but Arthur wound up winning by a single stroke. Satisfied, he retired for the afternoon and started making preparations for his date.

The club’s restaurant was more than happy to book them in on short notice, given that he owned a forty-five percent stake in it. They were seated on the upper level with gorgeous a view of the city. The lighting was a little bit dim for his ageing eyes, but the effect was unquestionably romantic. He’d come dressed in a casual suit that his housekeeper Hilda had picked out. It was a little modern for him, but he trusted her tastes implicitly at this point. Caroline wore a stunning black dress that showed off her legs very nicely.

But it wasn’t Caroline that would soon occupy his mind. It was her.

When he first laid eyes on her, he didn’t pay her much mind. She seemed pretty enough, but he reflexively ignored people in staff uniforms. He was focused on his date, and thinking about what kind of rub he wanted on his steak.

It was when she leaned in and asked if she could get them any drinks that he caught the scent of her. It wasn’t perfume, not exactly, but it was sweet, like a summer breeze. When he lifted his head and looked at her, his thoughts locked up. His earlier evaluation was wrong. She was breathtaking. Her smile communicated a vibrant, youthful energy. Her long blonde hair framed bright hazel eyes—sharp black pupils surrounded by a ring of gold that blended into blue. It brought to mind an eclipse on a bright day. He knew it could be dangerous to look for too long. It was difficult to care.

“Sir?” she said, breaking the spell.

He mumbled something incoherent and scrambled to pick up the drinks menu. He worried that his date might have seen him staring at the waitress. He focused on the words in front of him. His eyes attempted to stage a rebellion, but he managed to stop them before they got further than the bottom of her hair. He took a deep breath.

“I think a Merlot might be in order,” he finally said. “Are you OK with that?”

“Yes, that sounds fine,” his date replied.

When a different staff member came by to take their food order, he was both disappointed and relieved. His thoughts strayed back to her from time to time, but it became easier to concentrate on the woman in front of him instead. The danger had passed.

It was probably for the better, anyway. He knew even if a woman like that would be interested in someone like him, it wasn’t going to be for his personality. She couldn’t have been older than 25. While the club’s uniform didn’t flatter the feminine form, he could tell she was generously endowed, and she was obviously spending plenty of time in the sun or a tanning booth. As stunning as she was, the last thing he needed was an expensive new girlfriend practically young enough to be his granddaughter.

In the middle of laughing at one of Caroline’s anecdotes from the clinic, his head started buzzing. It was that scent again.

“Is everything to your satisfaction?” a sensual voice whispered beside him, sending a shiver through his whole being. He turned his and his eyes locked onto hers.

“... yes,” he eked out a few seconds later.

“I’m so glad to hear that. If there’s anything you need—anything—don’t hesitate to ask.“

As he watched her plump lips move, all he could do was imagine kissing them. Perhaps she wouldn’t be a great conversationalist. Perhaps she wouldn’t be interested in the world of international finance like Caroline was. Would that be so bad? He couldn’t formulate a response to her statement before she’d left the table.

He tried to get back to finish his meal, but from the look on Caroline’s face, she’d definitely noticed his gawking. She was quite irritated. The conversation between them stopped flowing freely. Try as he might, he couldn’t maintain interest in what she was saying. He sounded half drunk every time he spoke. It didn’t help that he kept stealing glances around the room, eyes desperately scanning for this creature that had ensorcelled him with just a glance.

When Caroline left to go to the bathroom after mains, Arthur took advantage of her absence. He looked all around the room, then went downstairs, and then to the kitchen. She was nowhere to be found. He flagged down the manager.

“Is there another waitress who was here recently?” he asked.

“Oh sir, I’m sorry, I’ll send somebody else immediately.”

“No it’s not that... I just need to speak with her privately for a moment. She was in her twenties, maybe. About this tall, blonde hair. She took my drinks order, but she seems to have wandered off.”

The manager looked at him incredulously, but he definitely recognised Arthur. It followed then that he probably realised what it could mean for his job if he wasn’t forthcoming with information.

“She’s gone home for the night,” he said. “Her name’s Krista. Krista Olsson.” As the manager spoke of her, his eyes took on a slightly dreamy look. “She wasn’t feeling well, so I told her to go.”

Krista. He played with the name in his head. Krista Olsson. He wasn’t the best with names but he knew he’d never forget this one.

“Is she working tomorrow?”

“Yes. She’s on the lunch shift.”

With a little more time and distance, he found his bearings once again. He was able to engage Caroline in conversation a little better again, but there was none of the dynamism of their earlier encounters. He had no idea if she’d contact him again for another date. It wasn’t stressing him.

The next day couldn’t come soon enough. He blew off a lunchtime meeting he was supposed to be having across town. He arrived at the club restaurant ten minutes before service was supposed to start, but the lady at the front desk wasn’t going to turn him down. Most of the staff knew him here.

He went back into the staff room, eagerly searching for his prize. His heart skipped when he saw her. She was sitting cross legged on a chair, flipping through a hardcover book. This fact existed only at the periphery of his awareness. He was focused on her.

“Oh, hello again sir,” she said.

“Hello, Krista, isn’t it?” he said.

“That’s me. How’d you know?” She beamed a big smile at him as she awaited his response.

“I make it my business to know who works for me,” he said. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

He hoped she wouldn’t interrogate him any further on that issue. He was hardly going to confess to the fact that he’d pressured her boss to tell him her name. Or that he’d spend an hour the night before searching social media for her. He’d had to ask one of his house staff how to look people up on the internet. The last time he’d searched for somebody’s contact details personally it was in a phone book—in the late nineties. The hunt for Krista’s social media turned out to be fruitless, but it made the prospect of seeing her here today somehow even more alluring.

“Yes, I just started this week,” she said. “I like it here. It’s not too frantic. And the clientele are very...”

“Wealthy?” he offered.

“Classy. Like you, sir. There’s just something about older men. They’re so much more refined.”

He felt a surge of energy. It was a feeling that reminded him of being in school. Young love, the kind where you don’t even understand what you’re feeling yet. He was just relieved that he seemed to be able to speak coherently this time.

“Well, I hope people are making you feel welcome. I’m very pleased to have you with us.” It was true, in more ways than he was willing to admit.

“Thank you so much, sir. I look forward to seeing you around,” she said with a wink. He tried to respond, but that intoxicating scent interrupted his thoughts once again. His eyes became unfocused and he almost tipped over.

She was gone.

Krista was his obsession. There was a message left for him from Caroline, but he didn’t bother listening. He asked for a copy of the staff rosters discreetly and found himself rearranging his schedule around Krista’s shifts. If she noticed or was bothered by his actions, she never commented on it, and in fact she always seemed to be the one serving his table. It might have been because he always left her a generous tip. Regardless, it suited him just fine.

Joseph needed to meet with him about some estate matters, so he held that at the club, too. When Joe saw him making eyes at the waitress, he rolled his eyes and laughed.

“It’s not like you to stray,” Joseph said.

“Hmm?” he muttered.

“You know, from your new lady friend, Caroline.”

“Oh,” he said, eyes suddenly caught on Krista again. “It didn’t work out.”

Sometimes, he could have sworn she was flirting with him. The rational parts of his brain tried to tell him that she was just doing her job—she had to be nice, had to be friendly. He was too scared to ask her out. Not because of the impropriety of dating an employee, but for fear of being rejected. He hadn’t felt this intimidated by a woman since he earned his fortune. It was absurd, but he couldn’t help it.

When he was “just checking on the kitchen” in hopes of bumping into her, he faintly heard shouting coming from the staff area. By the time he investigated the disturbance, it was over. Krista sat alone, looking furious.

“Is everything alright in here?” he said.

“Oh, Mister Findley! I’m sorry, I hope you didn’t hear all that.”

“Is something wrong?”

Her look of anger passed into something else. It was a wry look.

“Oh it’s nothing really, it’s just... Sophie, one of the other waitresses. She can be so cruel to me sometimes. She really hates me.” She buried her head in her hands.

Arthur was shocked.

“If she’s bullying or harassing her colleagues, that’s totally unacceptable behaviour. Have you spoken to your boss?”

“I have, but she... she makes up all these lies about me. She says I’m not doing my job properly, that I’m lazy, and that I just spend all my time flirting with the members.”

Arthur’s shock quickly turned to anger.

“Why don’t you let me have a word with him.”

“Really sir? Oh, only if it’s no trouble. I don’t want to cause any problems.”

It was no problem for Arthur. When he was finished, he made sure that Sophie was never going to work here or anywhere like it again.

Days passed where he scarcely thought about anything other than Krista. When he was around her, he was happily entranced by her presence. He longed to gaze into those beautiful eyes. When he wasn’t, he was increasingly anxious to be back there. To do things for her. To leave little anonymous gifts. He daydreamed about rescuing her from some terrible life that he imagined she might have. Sometimes the fantasies were paternal and caring; other times, they were base and animalistic.

Early the following week, he had “accidentally” walked past where she was having her break. To his delight, she struck up a conversation.

“It’s funny, you know?” she had begun. “I feel like I’m really starting know you quite well, sir.” The way she said “sir” always sent a jolt through him.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Well, I’m embarrassed to say... but I may have already known a little bit about you even before we met.”

She raised the book up to his eye level and tapped on the cover. The book was titled “In Search of a Legacy” by Arthur J.M. Findley.

Oh gods, he thought. She’s reading my autobiography. Not that he’d actually written it. Nobody writes their own autobiography. There were people for that.

“It’s really very interesting. You’re such an... impressive man,” she said, giving him a sultry look. “I’m almost finished now. It’s a shame really. I would have liked to know even more about you.“

His mind was going haywire. He was sure of it now. She was flirting with him.

“Well, I’d be happy to tell you,” he said. “Tell you... um... whatever you wanted to know.”

“That sounds wonderful.” she said, then paused. “Hold on, are trying trick me into a date?”

“I... no I would... I mean...”

She smiled wickedly.

“Oh Mister Findley. I thought you’d never ask.”

He took her to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city—The Kreisau. It wasn’t one of his holdings, but he knew the owner. He dispatched a car to pick her up from her apartment in the outskirts, then awaited her arrival in the foyer. As he stood alone with a small bundle of roses, he wondered again if he was being a fool. He could hear the voice of Joseph swirling around in his head. Don’t be an idiot, Arthur, he’d say. Can’t you see she’s a gold digger? He wouldn’t be the first wealthy old man taken in by a pretty smile. But he was finding it increasingly difficult to care.

The wait was agony, but the reward was sweet. She was even more stunning out of her uniform. It wasn’t a short cut outfit designed to titillate—it was tasteful, elegant evening wear. It was her body that made it sensuous. He escorted his date to the dining room, shooing away the staff who tried to seat her—that was his job. She smiled sweetly as he held the chair out for her.

His friends sometimes joked that he liked to talk too much about himself, but Krista was more than happy to oblige. In fact, she spent much of the evening asking even more questions about him. About his family, about his businesses, about his connections. He tried not to brag, but couldn’t help himself. She seemed charmed by it. She seemed to want to know every detail.

“What ever happened to your wife? You talked about her a lot in your book,” she said as the staff took away her plate.

His smile dampened.

“I’m sorry to say that she passed away. It was last year, just before Christmas.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. He was probably just imagining it, but her tone was oddly upbeat. “Do you think you could ever find somebody else?”

“I’d like to find somebody, some day. But I don’t think I could get married again.”

“Oh? Why is that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Going through all of that a second time, it... well it seems like a lot. There’s all sorts of complications when you make that leap,” he said. He wasn’t sure what he was even saying. It didn’t seem to even make sense out loud.

She chose not to press him any further on that topic, and instead continued the previous line of conversation. He felt like he barely learned anything about her, but she just seemed so happy for him to keep filling up the air.

“Wow, that’s so incredible,” she said. She finished draining her glass and placed it down on the table. A waiter moved in to refill it, but she gestured him away. “I never knew all of this business stuff could be so interesting.”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use for it,” he said with a slight laugh. “But it certainly has kept me busy.”

“I’m glad you weren’t too busy to indulge my curiosity, sir.”

He almost told her that there was no need to be so formal around him anymore, but as she said it, she leaned in closer to him, and he felt a wave of emotions. The scent was there again, that beautiful, comforting, delirious scent. His jaw slackened. His eyes found their way up to hers, and he stared for what felt like an eternity.

“Do you like my eyes Mister Findley?”

“Yes... oh, I’m sorry,” he said, then tried to peel them away.

“There’s no need to be shy. You can keep looking if you want.”

He did want. He relaxed and kept staring.

“Don’t you just love the way they seem to go on forever?” she said.

“Mmm...”

“I’ve really had a wonderful time tonight,” she said. Don’t you agree? He nodded dumbly.

“It’s such a shame that it has to come to an end. Don’t you think, Sir?”

“Such a shame...” he said.

“Wouldn’t you like to continue our evening for just a little longer?”

“Longer, uhuh,” he intoned slowly.

She snapped her fingers, and he jerked back.

“Waiter? Bill please,” she said.

After a few more seconds his thoughts started moving again.

“Hey, you know, we could... we could continue...”

“Oh! What a wonderful idea. Your place?”

He nodded sluggishly. My place. What a wonderful idea.

On the way out, it was her guiding him in his quasi-drunken stupor. He hadn’t thought he’d drunk too much, but he strained to keep his balance. She grasped his arm to help him, and the touch was electrifying.

He began to sober up a little as his driver took them home. He’d given Arthur a wry look in the rear view mirror when they entered the car, but Arthur barely noticed. He was focused on her. She indulged his slightly incoherent chit-chat with tasteful nods, smiles and laughs.

“Wow,” said Krista as they passed through the gate and the grounds came into view. “You have such a beautiful home!”

He wanted to say something poetic, or perhaps witty.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted out instead. He wanted to slap himself.

She turned to him and smiled.

“You’re so sweet, Mister Findley. It would be amazing to live in a place like this.”

A thought briefly flashed through his delirious mind—the thought of Krista living here, with him. It was a very pleasant one.

He managed to walk himself to the house and hold the door open for her. Then began a whirlwind tour of his home. Hilda gave him a disapproving look when she saw how young his date was. He paid it no mind. They went through the kitchen he seldom used, the dining room, the guest rooms, the conservatory, and finished up in the drawing room. She was particularly impressed by the view of the valley. He poured brandy at her request and eagerly served it to her.

“I just love your home, it’s so incredible,” said Krista, taking a sip of her drink and running her hands along the stone above the fireplace. “It’s so traditional... old fashioned...”

“I’m an old fashioned kinda guy,” he said.

“Oh I know,” she said. “And I like that about you, too,” she said, drawing in close and putting her glass down. He breathed her in and could scarcely move a muscle. Her face lingered mere inches away from his own, and they gazed into each other’s eyes. He realised he was harder now in her presence than he had been at any point in the last decade, with or without assistance.

As quickly as it had begun, she drew away.

“I think the Brandy is going straight to my head,” she said, and let out a small giggle. She reached past his body, bringing it tantalisingly close again, if only for a moment. She picked up a small sculpture of a panda from above. “Oh, this is so lovely too!”

He spent a few seconds processing what was going on before responding. His head was still swimming.

“Mmm,” he said. “Yes, that one is... beautiful...”

His eyes were nowhere near the sculpture. He was staring up into her face, taking in her delicate features, the gold and blue in her eyes, the subtle curves of her body implied under her elegant clothing.

“It must have been very expensive. I could never dream of owning something like this. Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift,” he began. It was a gift from his late wife, he almost said, but did not. She’d picked it up for him when she’d gone on holidays. He was too busy to go with her that year. He did like it, but the way she looked at it made him feel another urge. The urge to do things that would make her happy.

“Maybe it should be a gift again,” he continued. You should take it.”

“Oh no sir, surely not, this is far too much.”

“No please, please. It’s just going to waste sitting here in the home of an old man who owns far too much already. It’s a beautiful piece. It should be with somebody beautiful.”

She looked him straight in the eyes.

“Thank you, sir. You’ve made me very happy.”

He felt warm and contented. He knew he’d made the right decision. She leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek, and suddenly he was electrified again.

“You know, sir, that’s one thing I really like about the older generations. They really know how to treat a lady right.”

“Mmm...”

“The men my age, they’re only after one thing, and it’s disgusting. But not you. You know how to control yourself.”

“Yeah,” he said dreamily.

“You wouldn’t dare put a hand on my body, force me against a wall and rip my clothes off.”

As she spoke, he could feel her scent as much as smell it. He couldn’t help but picturing what she was saying, and his dick started straining against his underwear even more.

“You would be far too restrained to force my legs apart, sir. You’re such a gentleman. You’d treat me right. You wouldn’t take hold of me, tease me, play with me until I was soaking wet, pressed up against the wall and unable to get away from you.”

He was drooling at the thought.

“You wouldn’t get me so turned on that I was begging you to take me. Begging you to stick your big hard cock inside of me. Making me yours, forever. Screaming your name in pleasure,” she said. As she did, she gently bit his ear, and the unexpected touch set him over the edge.

He moaned, came in his pants, and passed out.

That was when he really started losing track of things. In the days that followed, it became more and more difficult to focus on things in his life. He did the bare minimum to keep things moving at his commitments, and only the ones he absolutely could not get out of. Every moment he spent not in the presence of Krista was becoming harder to bare. He daydreamed about her constantly.

When they went out for more dates, she would tease and cajole him. He started bringing her more beautiful things. At first, they were things she liked from his house—a painting, a jewellery box that also belonged to his wife—but soon he was going shopping and trying to find ways to impress her. She initially put up a protest about the lavish gifts, but that soon stopped. It was clear that she loved to receive them. In fact, she seemed almost aroused by it. She always leaned in to give him a chaste kiss. It was driving him wild, but it was the closest contact he could get from her.

After he dodged one phone call too many, Joseph tracked him down at his house.

“Arthur! What the hell is going on?”

Arthur sighed.

“I’m enjoying my life. How about you?”

“I’m told you’re off cavorting with some twenty year old painted whore.”

Arthur lit up.

“Don’t you dare fucking call her that,” he said. “Krista and I have been seeing each other but that’s none of your business whatsoever.”

“I’m sorry, I—I was out of line. I didn’t know you were seeing anybody seriously. That was extremely disrespectful of me,” said the lawyer.

Arthur started to calm down.

“I pay you a lot, Joe. And I value our friendship. But I need to take some time for myself. Can I trust you to handle things for me?”

Joseph nodded silently.

Over dinner that night, Krista had been embarrassed to admit that she was a virgin. She was saving herself for marriage. She was old fashioned, as she kept repeating.

Over dessert, she told him she had to leave for a while.

“I’m sorry, sir, but don’t worry, I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

A few weeks? It was going to be an eternity. He offered to fly her anywhere she needed to go, to escort her there himself. But she insisted that it was something she had to do on her own. As a parting gift, she’d given him a small wooden box and told him to wait until she called him to open it.

The wait was torturous.

Five days later, when he was on the verge of falling apart completely, the call came.

“Hello, Mister Findley,” came the voice of his angel.

“Oh god, Krista. I’m so glad to hear your voice. How are you?”

“I’ve missed you too, sir.”

“How much longer until you get back?”

“A little while more, I’m sorry. Have you waited to open the box like I asked?”

“Yes. Still sealed shut. I’ve got it here with me.”

“Good, very good. I want you to take the key and open it up now.”

He opened it as she asked. His heart skipped when he saw red lace panties inside.

“Oh Krista...”

“I know I’m saving myself for marriage, but you can still have a little bit of fun, sir. I want you to hold it up to your face. I want you to breathe me in.”

His hand shook as took it out of the box and lifted it to his face. He took a deep breath in, and immediately became lightheaded. It was her scent. It was incredible. All of his pent up anxiety disappeared.

“That’s right, big, deep breaths. Mister Findley, I want you to take out your cock for me. Can you do that?”

“Uh huh...”

“Take out your cock and stroke it for me. But put the gift back in the box and set it aside, we wouldn’t want it to all go to waste now would we?”

“Whatever you say...”

“Grip your cock, sir. I want you to imagine that it’s me. I’m right there with you. It’s my hand making you feel good, making you feel just the way you like.”

And it was almost true. He could almost see it. His mind’s eye obeyed her every command from the other end of the phone. He knew it wasn’t quite real, but it might as well have been.

She stroked his cock while looking him deep in the eyes. She smiled that smile that occupied so many of his waking thoughts. She spoke gently to him, encouraging him, making him feel better than he had ever felt before.

“Wouldn’t you like to feel this all the time? Wouldn’t you like me to do so much more for you?“

“Yes... Yes please... I need you...”

“Yes, you do need me. And you could have me... You could have my tight, virgin pussy all to yourself...”

She stroked faster and harder. He drew nearer and nearer to his climax. She whispered in his ear.

“That’s right, Mister Findley, feeling so good. I make you feel so good.”

Suddenly, she stopped.

“But I don’t want you come right now. Maybe next time.”

As she hung up, he felt a mixture of exhilaration and the bluest balls he had ever experienced.

She didn’t call back the next day. Or the next. Arthur eventually caved in to the temptation to open the box. Just one smell. To tide him over.

He glanced at the panties. They were red, almost the exact shade as her lips the last time he’d seen her in person. He wondered if she was wearing them at the time, if she’d stuffed them straight in the box during a trip to the bathroom. The idea of sniffing panties was a strange one to him—he’d never really gotten the appeal. But things were different with Krista. Everything was. He held them up close to his face and inhaled as deeply as he possibly could.

It was a little weaker than last time, but it was still delightful. It overwhelmed him and he started stroking himself. He put it back in the box awkwardly with one hand and imagined that she was laying on top of him. She was just looking down at him, smiling approvingly as he jerked himself off. This time, the imaginary woman nodded as he silently asked her if he was allowed to come.

By the evening, it was obvious that it hadn’t stifled his desires, if anything it had made them worse.

When she didn’t call the following day, he called an escort service.

He got the girl to climb on top of him with most of her clothes still on, and act out the scenes he’d been imagining. Considering what he was paying, she was more than happy to oblige. She sat on top of him in the dim light of the hotel room, and he could almost see Krista in her face. When he reached out for the box and grabbed the panties, she looked a little curious, but knew better than interrupt.

He started by rubbing himself, but she took over and he didn’t object. He was focused on maintaining the illusion, and he couldn’t say no to her. After a few minutes, she mounted him and started bouncing up and down slowly. The scent made it so easy to imagine that she was her.

With one hand pressing the lingerie into his face, he screamed Krista’s name as he came. As he basked in the feeling, he imagined what it would be like to get more than this. You could have me... her voice said inside his head. You could have my tight, virgin pussy.

There was just something he had to do before he could have it. Before he could have it all to himself.

He repeated this pattern for a few more days. He made sure to get the same escort each time, and she took to the role perfectly. He even started bringing little gifts, and paying her more and more on top of what he promised. There was something about the act of paying tribute to his effigy of her that was deeply comforting.

Despite this, the scent was clearly fading with each passing day, and the encounters became less and less satisfying. Then, Krista finally sent him the message. She was back.

Arthur was torn. He knew what he needed so badly, but he was still struggling with the idea. Back at his house, he slid out a storage box he kept under his bed and opened it up. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. He opened that original little box that contained the ring he’d given his wife, all those years ago. It was a small stone, but it was also a family heirloom. Adrienne had cried when he proposed to her, and as he stood there holding it again, he cried too.

Then, he thought about Krista again. He could be happy with her—happier than he could ever remember being in his life. He’d promised himself he’d never get married again. He told people it was pragmatic, but the truth was, he hadn’t been ready to move on with his life. Now, finally, he felt like he was. He put the ring back inside its little box and prepared to meet her.

He didn’t want to just send a car to summon her. He couldn’t wait that long. He drove himself to where she was arriving.

“Oh my god, I missed you so much Krista,” he said. He reached in for a hug, which she granted him. Her hands lingered on his body as they separated.

“I missed you too, sir.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, and he felt it once again. That scent. That overwhelming feeling of lust. If she’d spoken the words he would have dropped to his knees and worshipped her right there in the street.

“Krista... I’ve been thinking...”

“Oh, what’s that, sir?”

“I can’t... I can’t stand to be away from you. And I can’t imagine the idea of living my life without you from now on. I... I know you’re a respectable woman—old fashioned, and I’m going to do things right by you.”

He opened up the small box.

“Krista Olsson, will you marry me?”

She smiled wickedly.

“Oh Mister Findley. I thought you’d never ask.”

Krista Olsson sipped a fruity cocktail that her future husband had prepared for her. She played with her fingers on the bench she was seated at, admiring the stone now adorning her finger. It was small, but she assumed that if he’d given to her, it was probably worth a lot.

“Do we have to talk about things like this right now?” she said.

“There won’t be any time later. Joe’s always had a good head about this sort of thing, and he’s right. It’s important that we sort out all the details so nothing stands in our way.”

When he’d started talking about his lawyer this morning, she knew it was going to be a problem.

“It sounds like he’s the one standing in our way,” she said. Arthur looked pained. “What kind of document is this anyway?”

She knew very well what kind of document it was. Any good lawyer on retainer for somebody this wealthy probably had a pro forma on file for exactly this kind of situation. She was asking because she wanted to make him squirm.

He took an inordinately long time to answer her question, and when he finally spoke, he struggled not to trip over his words.

“It’s just an, er, well it’s an agreement. A sort of statement of intent.”

“Intent? About what, my love?”

“Well... it’s about what we would do in certain future contingencies. It’s all quite standard, I assure you.” His face was turning redder.

She did her best shocked look.

“You mean it’s some sort of prenup?”

He fell silent. Krista had never mastered the art of crying on demand, so instead she turned her eyes down to the ground and went for “sad but stoic”.

“I understand. You have to take care of yourself. I mean what would people think? They see somebody like me and they just think I’m...”

Arthur closed his arms around her.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I know that what we have is real. Realer than anything I’ve felt in a long time. But Joe just likes to do things proper, you know? He doesn’t know your heart, not like I do.

At that moment, she looked up into his eyes.

“You do trust me, don’t you sir?”

She tensed up in anticipation. As soon as the moment felt right, she relaxed, and let it all out. The reaction from Arthur was immediate and obvious. His muscles relaxed. He looked like he was about to fall over. She hadn’t dosed anybody this regularly and heavily for a long time.

“Yes...”

He looked into her eyes. She’d noticed that he seemed to have a fixation on them during their first encounter. She liked it. He wasn’t just another man who couldn’t take his eyes off her tits—although the end result was the same. Here he was, unable to look away, cock hard and mind wide open.

“Yes what, sir?”

“Yes, I trust you,” he said, nodding.

“I’m so glad to hear it. But I understand. We can wait until your lawyer brings those documents, and I’ll sign them, but... it’s just, it’s such a shame, sir. I just us to be married so badly. I need you, sir. I need you inside of me.“

She hiked up her skirt, revealing to him that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. He stared at her exposed pussy.

“Don’t you want to get married, too? Then we can be together...”

She let out a second dose for good measure. Arthur gasped as it washed over him.

“Yes, god, I want to marry you so fucking badly,” he said.

She left his embrace and stood. She leaned over the bar and exposed herself to him. He stood, entranced by her lips as she swayed her hips side to side.

“Fuck the prenup,” he finally said.

She smiled from ear to ear.

“Oh sir, do you really mean that?”

“Yes! Fuck the Prenup, fuck Joe. I’m going to call up the celebrant and see if she can come down immediately. God I need you so fucking bad.”

She turned just in time to catch him launching himself at her. She kissed him—chastely, and without tongue.

“Oh sir, please hurry.”

Men, she thought. The most absurd of god’s creatures.

She laughed to herself quietly as he staggered out the door towards the car like a drunken idiot.

Perhaps she’d overdone it slightly, but she was done playing around. She was going to get her hands on that fortune, and she was getting tired of waiting.

When he hadn’t returned after two hours, she tried to call him and ask him what the hell was taking so long. When a member of the police answered his phone instead, it dawned on her that something had gone horribly wrong.