The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Day 2

When I woke up the next morning, I could hear the TV on in the living room. It was 8 a.m. and I would have thought David would be exhausted. I went into the living room, and David was sound asleep. Maybe he was one of those people who just slept with the TV on? I found it annoying to be honest, all that wasted electricity. I walked over and turned off the TV, then looked at David sleeping. He was curled up a bit, with the sheet twisted around him. Maybe he felt me watching him, because he opened his eyes and looked at me. I smiled apologetically, saying I wasn’t meaning to wake him up as I was sure he was tired. He said it was fine, but he still looked tired to me. I told him about finding the TV on.

“Of course it was, it was supposed to be on.” I gave him a perplexed look.

“You mean you sleep with it on usually?”

He stared at me through tired eyes and said he was SUPPOSED to have it on. I just didn’t get what he meant.

Looking a bit frustrated he said, “You TOLD me to leave it on.” I informed him I had done no such thing. Then it hit me, “Sleeping With the Television On” was the song I’d been singing to last night.

“That was just a song,” I told him. He looked so tired, though, I decided it wasn’t worth arguing with him. I told him he should really go back to sleep for a while. Instinctively I found myself softly humming “Rockabye Baby.” I immediately realized how silly that was, and was going to apologize when I realized he was asleep. I softly pulled the sheet up over his shoulders, and went back into my room so as not to disturb him. I’d shower and get dressed, and watch TV in there if he wasn’t up.

I went into my shower after it had warmed up. I pondered David and his odd behavior, then shook my head in an effort to get those thoughts out of my head. He’d be leaving tomorrow, and none of this would matter. As I bathed I began singing, quietly so as not to awaken my house guest. If you haven’t noticed I sing all the time, especially when I am alone. A little Rod Stewart was always a good way to get my blood pumping in the morning:

If you want my body and you think I’m sexy

come on sugar let me know.

If you really need me just reach out and touch me

come on honey tell me so.

Tell me so, baby.

I got so lost in what I was doing that I almost screamed when the door opened and David was standing there, just staring at me through the glass shower door. Instinctively I used my hands and arms to try and cover my breasts and lower areas. I turned around so my back was to him but then felt the need to cover my bottom. When I spoke, I was practically screaming.

“What the hell do you think you are doing in here?” He stumbled over his words.

“I, uh, well that is, I wanted to, um, let you know that, uh, I definitely think you are sexy and can I please touch you?” Unbelievable!

“It was a SONG, David, and as quietly as I was singing it, you could not have possibly heard me through the bedroom and over the running water. You must have been in my bedroom, what were you doing there?” I was starting to get a little hysterical at this point.

“No, no, I wasn’t in your bedroom I promise, I just heard you while I was sleeping and it woke me up. I think you are so incredibly sexy and I do so want to touch you and…and….and…..well, I thought I should let you know.” He could not have been for real, no way was this possible.

I yelled at him to get out and I heard a reluctant sounding, “ok,” come from him and the door shut behind me. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t locked it, but living alone I didn’t need to and it never occurred to me he’d actually come in anyway. He wanted to touch me??? Were I the type, I might have started banging my head against the wall at that moment. Instead I finished the shower, making sure I didn’t utter a word and especially not a musical note, dried off and got dressed.

I sat in my bedroom for a while, not really wanting to come out. Part of me was dying of embarrassment, and part of me was really upset. I don’t have any real idea of how long I sat in there, but at some point I was aware of a quiet knock on the door. Hesitantly I invited David to come in, at least he’d knocked. He looked very uncomfortable as he began his apology. He said he was incredibly sorry, that he didn’t know exactly why he’d done that but he’d felt very compelled to do it, just as he’d felt compelled to come here and see me.

I kept my face purposely blank while he continued to speak. He told me he didn’t mean anything by it. Then he backtracked, not that I wasn’t sexy because I certainly was but, uh….um. David was clearly having trouble saying what he wanted to say and part of me wanted to smile, but I didn’t let myself. He assured me he was not the type of person to do that sort of thing, and he hadn’t meant to upset me. He understood if I didn’t want him to stay, but he really hoped I’d let him and he’d be on his very best behavior.

I was torn as to what to do. The incident in the shower was very upsetting, yet he seemed so sincere. I sighed and said I supposed he could stay. His face practically lit up when I said that, I found myself starting to smile. Encouraged, he told me we would have such a great day together and we were going dancing that night. When I started to protest he stopped me and said he couldn’t wait. I’d argue with him later, it wasn’t worth it now.

We made our way to the kitchen, and had some breakfast. The conversation wasn’t particularly exciting, but it was pleasant in a quiet sort of way. I suggested he might want to make his reservation to go home tomorrow. David blew that off a bit, saying he’d get to it. I didn’t even want to think about how much money this last minute trip was costing him. Discussion turned to what we might do that day. The tension from the shower incident seemed to be fading.

It turned out we both enjoyed playing games so I dug out my cribbage set and we spent a lovely morning playing and talking about nothing. As it got to be lunch time, I said I could make us some sandwiches, and he said he’d rather take me out to lunch. Now I’d let him treat me last night, but I was going to feel odd letting him treat me again. He insisted, saying that I was being kind enough to let him stay with me and he felt he owed me for this morning. Rather than discuss that any further, I just agreed to let him, but insisted that after we stop by the grocery store so I could pick up something to make for dinner.

I chose Subway for lunch, not wanting anything elaborate. Afterwards, we ran to the store and I picked up some chicken and potatoes to make tonight, along with a few other things. He again insisted on paying, despite my protests.

We got home and put our things away, and decided to go see a movie. I was relieved at that choice. Although I was enjoying his company, I still felt weird about this morning, and was grateful for a chance to not have to make small talk. We both enjoyed the movie, a romantic comedy. When we came out, it was pouring. I hadn’t bothered to check the weather forecast, so I’d not brought my umbrella. He offered to go get the car and come pick me up, which was sweet and I agreed, handing him my keys. He pulled up around, soaked to the skin. I hurried into the car but got a bit wet myself. At least my shoes weren’t sloshing, though as I suspect his were. As is so often the case with me, I felt the need to burst into song:

I’m singing in the rain

Just singing in the rain

What a glorious feeling

I’m happy again

I have to admit I was delighted when David joined in on the next verse:

I’m laughing at clouds

So dark up above

The sun’s in my heart

And I’m ready for love

At that, he suddenly stopped singing. He looked uncomfortable, and I assured him he sounded fine. He muttered that it wasn’t that, he just didn’t know the rest of the words. I accepted this explanation, but for some reason I couldn’t continue the song. Maybe he thought it was annoying the way I always sang, he wouldn’t be the first person to feel that way. Luckily, most of the people I am truly close to just accept that it is part of who I am.

At home, he said he was going to take a shower, and change to dry clothes. He left his shoes outside the front door, as they were sloshing as I’d suspected. I decided to start dinner. When he came out, he got on the computer for a bit while I cooked. I was glad he wasn’t watching TV, because it meant I could turn on the radio. I listened to my radio, restraining myself from my usual singing and dancing around the kitchen as I cooked, in case I was right about the singing annoying him.

When dinner was ready, we sat down and ate while he told me more about his job. He worked for a small but successful technology company. They had one program that was particularly successful, and had built themselves around it. He was not on the technical side of course; he was on the business side. He had a higher-level management position and was pretty happy doing it.

When we finished, I got up to do the dishes and he insisted on helping, so I washed and he dried. We worked together in silent camaraderie, and it was very pleasant. He then reminded me that he was to take me dancing. I reminded him that his shoes were still soaking wet and as he’d not brought any others that might make dancing difficult. Admitting the truth to my statement, he looked distressed. He said he really needed to take me dancing tonight. I jokingly suggested that we could just dance in my apartment. He almost looked relieved at my suggestion, I just didn’t get that.

He started flipping through my CD’s and pulled out Colbie Caillat. I told him I really couldn’t dance, and we really didn’t have to do this. He insisted on putting it on, and asking me which song I liked best on it. Without hesitation, I told him “The Little Things.” Immediately he flipped it to that song and hit play, then put his arms around me, holding me close and we started to sway as the music played.

The little things, you do to me are

Taking me over, I wanna show ya

Everything inside of me

Like a nervous heart that, is crazy beating

As we swayed, I started to sing. I’m so often not even aware I’m doing it, it just happens.

My feet are stuck here, against the pavement

I wanna break free, I wanna make it

Closer to your eyes, get your attention

Before you pass me by

He stopped moving suddenly. I gave him a questioning look, and he told me he could not move. I looked at him disbelievingly.

“What do you mean, you can’t move?” David informed me that he could not move his feet, they were stuck. He made straining movements as though trying to move them and genuinely seemed unable. I got down and pulled at his right foot, and it really did seem stuck.

“It’s the song Becky, I know it is.” I had no idea what he was talking about. “When you sing it I do it, don’t you see that’s what’s going on!”

I processed what I’d just sung, “my feet are stuck here.” I was struggling to believe this, it really couldn’t be true.

David said, “I’m having a hard time believing it too but that’s what seems to be happening.”

I went back in my head through some of what had happened since yesterday. He’d shown up on my doorstep saying he’d heard me singing “Somewhere Out There.” (“We’ll find one another in that big somewhere out there”). Then “Come Dancing,” when he’d insisted he needed to take me dancing. I think there was even something in there about a Saturday night, which tonight was.

When I’d sung about sleeping with the television on, he’d done just that. I shuddered a little as I thought about this morning. “If you want my body and you think I’m sexy come on baby tell me so, if you really need me just reach out and touch me come on sugar let me know.” Even in the car this afternoon when I’d started singing “Singing in the Rain” he’d sung with me. Now his feet were stuck, after I’d sung about feet being stuck to a pavement.

“If this is some kind of elaborate joke, I don’t appreciate it and you can just leave now,” I told David. He looked at me helplessly.

“It’s really not a joke, and I can’t go anywhere until you unstick me.” I had to admit he really seemed stuck. Sighing heavily, I went and backed up the song to where I’d been and began singing where I’d left off, as I knew what the next verses were.

So back up back up take another chance

Don’t you mess up mess up I don’t wanna lose you

Wake up wake up this ain’t just a thing that you

Give up give up don’t you say that I’d be

Better off better off, sleeping by myself and wondering

If I’m better off better off, without you boy

At this he took a couple of steps backwards but didn’t move any more.

So don’t just leave me hanging on

And every time, you notice me by

Holding me closely, and saying sweet things

I don’t believe, that it could be

You speaking your mind and, saying the real thing

My feet have broke free, and I am leaving

I’m not gonna stand here, feeling lonely but

I won’t forget you, and I won’t think this

Was just a waste of time

Now he seemed able to move freely. I was having trouble believing this.

Clearly David was too, but he was happy to have his mobility back.

We were both clearly feeling awkward. He asked me if I had any idea why this would be happening, and I said I was as in the dark as he was. Part of me still thought this was all some kind of joke. Neither of us knew what to say, so I said I had a headache and was going to go to my bedroom. He knew I was lying, but didn’t argue. We both needed a little time to process.

In my room I went over and over in my head the events that had occurred and came up with no answers. There was no possible way for this to be happening. and yet it was. If true it explained a lot, but how was it happening, and why? I came up with nothing. Luckily, he’d be going home tomorrow and hopefully we could both just pretend this hadn’t happened. I didn’t emerge from my room again that night. I knew that probably made me a horrible host, but I knew I wouldn’t even be able to look at him if I did. At some point I finally went to sleep.