The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She took a moment just to enjoy the noise before she set about her task.

To most people, the aggressive car horns of rammed streets and the general hustle-bustle of London life wouldn’t be that appealing, but those people simply didn’t realise how lucky they were. At least, that was the way that Sarah Curtis saw it.

The young saleswoman had been back in London just over 24 hours now, and she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it. Sarah had been sent to middle America to conduct a routine business deal for her company, and she’d only expected to be gone for two months max. But minor deals had extended the contract negotiation, and so she’d wound up stuck in the backwaters of America for five and a half months.

It was worth it—she got the deal done and then some. After a good bit of rest, she’d gone into the office and received a hell of a reception. Her bosses were very impressed—there was even talk of a major promotion—and her friends were there to greet her on her return.

Well, all but one of them.

About a month into her time in the US, Sarah lost all contact with her friend Amy Jennings. They’d got on well, having started around the same sort of time and being almost the same age (although Sarah was the oldest at 25). They shared similar interests and often met up outside of work, sharing a casual drink in a cute bar on a Friday night and often attracting the attention of a man for a bit of fun.

Which made the radio silence all the more curious. She got a new housemate and then, as far as Sarah knew, Amy vanished off the face of the earth.

Sarah had asked about Amy when she returned to the office that morning, and was surprised by the reaction. Everyone liked Amy before Sarah went to America, yet mentioning her name now drew disgusted looks and a swift change of subject. The very few people who told Sarah anything came out with a story so unbelievable, she thought they had to be kidding—tales of an Amy changed beyond recognition, nothing like the girl that Sarah used to know.

But these were serious people, and she couldn’t see them making up something so bizarre.

Sarah had to know herself.

So she’d steeled herself for a confrontation that both intrigued and terrified her and, after work, she called a taxi and made the journey to Sarah’s house.

That was where she was now. She’d been standing over the road for ten minutes now, weighing things over in her mind. She wanted to see her friend, but a gnawing voice in the back of her mind told her otherwise—if the things she’d heard were true, how could she confront Amy? And if the people in the office were wrong, then why had she stopped all contact? Did Amy even want to see her?

She smiled briefly at the sound of a horn blaring and a curse word screamed in the distance. But she realised that her mind was searching for something—anything—to distract her attention from this internal conflict. If she didn’t move now, maybe she never would.

Sarah crossed the road and made her way to the front door of Amy’s house.

Nothing seemed amiss—the house was just as she’d remembered. She didn’t know it that well—on reflection, she’d maybe been there twice—but there was something about it that still seemed familiar. Reassuring, almost.

And yet, as she raised her hand to knock, another pang of incertitude struck her. Was this the right idea?

She knocked.

What am I worrying about, she thought? The worst that’ll happen is Amy tells me to go away, and I can deal with that. Get a grip.

The door opened.

Sarah didn’t know what she’d expected, but she supposed she’d been warned.

The door was answered by a girl, roughly Sarah’s age, who definitely fit the look Sarah had been warned about. She had long black hair which framed her face piercings, and pale skin which only really boasted any colour on the many tattoos that coated her arms and chest. She was dressed fairly casually, Sarah thought, in a pair of grey plaid trousers and an oversize T-shirt with the logo of a band she didn’t recognise.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Sarah was conscious that she hadn’t said anything, and so she tried to filibuster, but she couldn’t get over the state of the girl in front of her. Amy had mentioned a flatmate who looked like this, she remembered—surely this had to be her.

As Sarah momentarily panicked, the girl gave her a once-over. Sarah was young, with a face that was full of warmth—she had long brown hair and a vague hint of something Hispanic in her features (although, for the record, Sarah claimed not to have foreign ancestry that she knew about).

She had come from the office, and it was obvious—she had mastered a form of smart-casual chic that looked stylish and professional in equal measure, especially as it hung on her thin frame. Today, she wore a blue blouse and a pair of black business trousers. The look was finished off with a pair of black brogues—simple, businesslike and fashionable all at the same time.

Sarah’s eyes met the girl’s.

And then, the girl spoke.

“Oh my god, fuck me,” she smiled, “I haven’t seen you in ages, Sarah!”

The girl lunged forward and gave Sarah a big hug. Sarah winced and her body tensed up—she was in part disgusted by the smell of smoke hanging on the girl’s every piece of clothing and her hair, but in part with the shock of realisation.

“Amy?” With the truth seemingly confirmed, she barely managed to force the question out of her mouth.

Amy let Sarah go, and stood back.

“Well, yeah,” she laughed. “You came to my house, Sarah—who else were you expecting?”

Sarah didn’t say anything for a moment—her mind struggled to even process what she was looking at. Before she went away to America, her friend was a normal, everyday girl—now, she was like something from a Tim Burton film, and she didn’t even seem to care. This was not the Amy she knew.

“What,” she couldn’t articulate the words, “what happened, Amy? You look so—so different.”

Amy laughed.

“I suppose you’ve been away a while, Sarah—you haven’t seen the new me. Here, come in, and we’ll catch up.”

Amy wandered back into the house, and Sarah hesitated, unsure of what to do. In her temperament, Amy seemed just as she ever was—it was just that literally every other thing about her had changed. But that gave Sarah a leaping off point, she thought—at least Amy was still her friend, and that was something.

She followed her into the house, eager to speak with her friend—to figure out exactly what had happened, and to perhaps even change her back.

“Can I get you a drink, Sarah?” Amy called from the kitchen. Sarah made her way there, although she certainly noticed the change in decor—the walls were black, dark coats hung from the coat rack and a series of forbidding boots and shoes were sitting by the door.

“No, thank you, Amy,” she entered the kitchen, and took a seat at the table.

“Suit yourself.”

Amy took a seat, mug in hand, and leant back.

“So, America,” she said, “what happened? Tell me all about it.”

The sheer normality of the question caught her off guard, and Sarah did attempt to answer it, but her thoughts were so distracted by the changes in Amy. The conversation kept tailing off, and it was not missed by the goth girl.

“Are you alright, Sarah?”

Sarah blushed slightly, and was furious at herself.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry, Amy, but I can’t quite get over your new look.”

“I know,” she smiled. “It’s something, isn’t it, but I think it looks pretty fucking cool. You should try it, Sarah—I reckon it would suit you.” She gave her friend a once-over. “Yeah, definitely—oh my god, you’d look so fucking hot.”

Sarah was embarrassed at the idea, and waved her hand in protest.

“Oh no, I know my look, thank you.”

“Well, it’s your shout, Sarah, but think about it, at least. I’d never have thought it would suit me, yet here we are, and I love it.”

Sarah knew the aesthetic wasn’t for her, but she was thankful that Amy had offered a way into the topic she really wanted to discuss, and she leapt at the opportunity.

“I went back to the office, Amy, and they told me that you’d changed. You’d turn up late, face full of metal, covered in tattoos and stinking of smoke, and then one day you just quit—is that right?”

I mean, she thought, I can see that it is, but I need to hear it from Amy. I need to understand just what the hell happened to her—I need to know how my ordinary friend turned into the bride of Dracula.

“Yeah,” she smirked, “I could tell they were judging me and the lifestyle choices I was making, so I told them to fuck right off. I don’t need any of them in my life.”

“But you were on track to become a senior salesperson, Amy,” Sarah said. “You’d have been making tons of money—why would you throw that away?”

Amy shrugged.

“Because I stopped giving a fuck, Sarah. Life’s about more than money, and wasting my time in an office with a bunch of fuckers who don’t know how to enjoy life. You’ve been away from it for a while, Sarah—why do you want to go back?”

Sarah didn’t have a brilliant answer at that moment, and she didn’t want to admit it, so she forced the topic back to Amy.

“Are you working now, Amy?”

“Yeah,” she said, staring off into the distance, “yeah, Alice got me a job with some girls she knows at a clothes store nearby. It’s a good day, I meet loads of fascinating people and it pays just as well as the sales company ever did. Black Rose—you may know it—swing in one day if you want to say hello.”

She exhaled heavily, and her attention returned to Sarah.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be distant myself, Sarah,” she smiled sympathetically, “I just really need a smoke.”

Sarah watched, open-eyed in shock, as Amy removed a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from her jacket pocket. She pulled one from the pack and placed it between her lips, holding it there as she flicked the flame to life and lit the cigarette. She inhaled deeply, groaning with pleasure, and she remembered that her friend was sitting there.

Amy looked at Sarah, the colour having drained from her face, and offered the pack of cigarettes.

“Smoke, Sarah?”

“I… I…,” Sarah once again struggled to respond, “I don’t, Amy, and neither do you.”

Amy smirked: “Not to disagree with you, Sarah, but I do, and I fucking love it.”

“But… but why? I don’t understand, Amy—you were the one who pushed Harriet to provide more healthy-lifestyle training in the office, Amy. You went running every day, and you wouldn’t touch anything that had a hint of anything unhealthy in it. And you certainly wouldn’t smoke—I remember you making a big deal of holding your breath whenever you passed a smoker so you didn’t get any smoke in your lungs. So how on earth did this start?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t know, Sarah. I just tried it, and I liked it, and now I never want to stop. It’s really fucking good, Sarah—you should try it, and see what you think.”

Smoking was one thing, but she had something bigger to address.

“What does your girlfriend make of you smoking, Amy?”

“Oh,” she smiled, “that’s the best part—she smokes more than I do, and she loves it too.”

Well, that confirms that, Sarah thought, although she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Amy, how do you have a girlfriend—you’re not gay.”

To her surprise, Amy laughed out loud.

“You can fuck right off, Sarah—I definitely am. I’m dyke, and proud of it.”

Sarah crossed her arms and tried to look annoyed rather than confused.

“No, you’re not—you’re a normal woman, and you like men. You used to come out with me every Friday and try and get lucky, and I don’t recall you ever wanting to go home with a woman. In fact, I recall you hating lesbians—you remember one time when a girl hit on you in a club, and you told me you felt physically sick. You were shaking—you looked pale.”

She looked at Amy for some kind of reaction, and received none at all—her friend was just watching with an air of detached interest.

“What happened to you, Amy? How did you go from an ordinary girl to…” she couldn’t find the words, “to this? Where’s my friend?”

At that last question, she noticed that Amy winced a little—it was a low blow, but it hit its mark. She looked as if she wanted to cry, or shout, or some combination of the two.

“I wanted to catch up with you, but I didn’t realise you’d come here to insult me, Sarah.” Amy frowned, and stubbed out her cigarette. “Please leave—I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Sarah went to speak, but thought better of it. She silently rose to her feet, and left the house, leaving a sad Amy at the kitchen table.

Alice returned home from work about an hour later, and hung up her leather jacket by the door. She looked very similar to Amy, a deliberate choice made by Alice as she used that spray to alter her flatmate’s mind, but she was dressed in a black top, black and white striped skirt and fishnets—she loved being in a field where she could dress however she wanted.

How Amy coped for so long in an office, Alice never understood.

She found Amy in the living room in a bad mood. From the look of the ashtray, ashes piled up and butts scattered liberally, she must have been chain smoking, and she only ever did that when she was cross.

“Hey you,” Alice smiled, “what’s the matter?”

That was all Amy needed—she unloaded. She told Alice all about her conversation with Sarah—how her friend had been so dismissive of the way she was living, and couldn’t get over it. Amy had heard it a lot since she’d fallen into her new lifestyle, but hearing it from someone she thought was a friend actually hurt.

Amy finished venting, and she curled up on the sofa, leaning into her girlfriend’s body. Alice, who was thinking about what Amy had said, stroked her cheek gently and with care.

“What should I do, Alice?”

Alice leant forward, bringing her lips to Amy’s and giving her an upside-down kiss.

“Leave it to me, Amy, and I’ll sort it out. Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then do as I say, and we’ll figure it out. We’ll help your friend see that there’s nothing unusual, and that you can catch up where you left off.”

Amy sat up and smiled.

“That sounds incredible—thank you, Alice.”

She gave her girlfriend a quick kiss, which swiftly became a long kiss, which evolved into a battle of tongues. Amy’s tongue went for her girlfriend’s tongue piercings and played with them—both girls loved that, and Amy loved doing what Alice loved.

Eventually, she forced herself away—she stood up and popped a cigarette in her mouth.

“I’ll make us something to eat, Alice—I’m starving.”

Amy wandered off to the kitchen, leaving Alice on the sofa. Her girlfriend watched her go, but her mind was firing with what Amy had said.

If this girl had upset Amy, that wasn’t on. No-one messed with her girlfriend, not on her watch, and made her feel like crap.

Something had to be done, and Alice had just the idea.

If this Sarah was so disgusted by Amy’s new lifestyle choices, she had the perfect punishment in mind… she definitely help Sarah understand...

It was a big day for Sarah, and she was in a good mood. After her big success in America, she’d been invited to make a pitch in a sales conference for a Canadian client—she’d been prepping all day, and she felt very ready. She knew she was going to get this, and her star would rise ever more in the company.

And, even better, she’d received a message from Amy last night. She felt really guilty about how things went yesterday, especially after the initial shock—sure, Amy may have changed a lot on the outside, but she was still that same girl on the inside—she was still her friend.

Sarah had been sitting at home, a glass of wine down, when her phone pinged. It was a message from Amy, apologising for being so snappy with Sarah. She’d asked for a chance to speak with her, and invited her out for a coffee at lunch—apparently, her clothes shop was next door to a coffee place. Sarah, wanting to make amends, couldn’t agree fast enough, insisting it was her treat.

Come midday, Sarah had taken a casual stroll to the street on which Black Rose sat. It wasn’t an area she ever really went to, but she vaguely knew it—it was maybe five minutes away, and it was a nice summer day. Sure, she wasn’t dressed perfectly for a stroll—white blouse, black pencil skirt, tights and white ankle boots, a smart outfit for an important presentation—but with the sun beaming down, she didn’t have a worry in the world.

She thought of Amy, and smiled as she imagined rekindling their friendship once again.

Her path led her to an alley, in which she’d find Black Rose.

Sarah had never been down this road but, if Amy was working here, she wanted to get to know it. But, as she looked about, she thought that it was a road just like any other—the hustle of London life as people went about their business, and an assortment of shops. She saw a couple of clothes shops, a music store, an old second-hand bookshop. But, as she made her way up to the other end of the alley, things took a turn for the gothic—there was a tattoo bar and a hairdressers, both largely black and styled with flames, skulls and roses. She passed the coffee bar and then, there it was.

Black Rose was a clothes shop that fit the general vibe of this end of the road—it was black, and the name hung over the door in a beautiful, almost hand-crafted font. In the window, some elaborate gowns hung on dress stands—Sarah came close, and noticed a selection of jewellery and shoes also on display. She took a moment to study the fashion, hoping to gain a little bit of insight into what Amy saw in this stuff, but she wasn’t getting it. Sure, the stuff was well-made, but it just wasn’t—well—her.

She shrugged, and made her way into the shop.

It was just a clothes shop—she’d been in many a clothes shop before—but a little darker than usual. No, she thought, a lot darker—so many of the clothes were black, as dark as possible, or so it seemed. Some hints of colour poked through in places, but Sarah’s first impression was one of a sea of black.

She was conscious of a fragrance in the air—it was unexpected, but it smelled lovely. Sarah’s worries about the presentation started to fall away, and she started to fall into a state of serene calm. That smell, it was so lovely, and the more she breathed in, the less anything else mattered.

“Can I help you?”

Sarah was suddenly aware that her eyes had closed, as if a voice in her mind had told her to shut down her other senses just to focus on that smell. Reluctantly, she forced them open.

A young woman stared at her—Sarah’s first thought was that this was Amy, such was the similarity between them. But there was something different—she was slightly taller, lacking some of Amy’s tattoos, and there was a certain harshness about her as she stood there in her gothic butterfly dress.

“I…” she struggled for words, but eventually found her way back to some semblance of clear-mindedness, “I’m looking for Amy—is she here?”

The girl smiled.

“No, I’m afraid not—she got called away to deal with issues. I’m Alice, her girlfriend, and she told me to meet you here and tell you.”

“Oh,” Sarah was disappointed.

“I’m here, though, so perhaps we can talk. Amy said you don’t understand her new lifestyle choices, so I thought I could help you out. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Sarah was unused to the spray, so it took a moment for it to do its work, seeping into her mind and making her more conducive to Alice’s suggestion.

“Yes, I’d like that,” she said, a vacant tone to her voice.

“You’d like me to show you how Amy became a goth, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, her genuine curiosity mixing with the suggestion, “I’d like that very much.”

“You’d like to know how Amy became my girlfriend, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Good, good girl.” Alice came closer, and gently stroked Sarah’s cheek. “So take the afternoon off work, and come with me, and I’ll show you—you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

That last suggestion was too much too soon, and Sarah’s conscious mind rebelled. She remained stationary, listening to Alice and inhaling the spray, but she started to disagree.

“No… I have a big presentation with a client—I can’t miss it—I can’t take the afternoon off.”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

“No,” she said, a little firmer. “No, I don’t.”

Sarah blinked, and felt as if she’d woken up a little, even though she hadn’t been asleep. She shook her head, as if to shake off a feeling of fog in her mind.

“It was nice to meet you, but I have to go back—please tell Amy I came.”

Alice smiled, and shrugged her shoulders.

“Will do.”

If Alice hadn’t planned ahead, that would have been the end of it for now—Sarah would have returned to work, perhaps the vaguest remnants of Alice’s suggestions lingering in her mind.

Fortunately, Alice had planned ahead—she knew Sarah was working, and had a contingency plan just in case.

It all happened in a flash. Sarah left the shop, and collided with a big man in overalls carrying a tin of paint. Really, it was just a nudge and certainly not enough to do any damage, but the man reacted as if he’d been hit by a train, launching the paint in Sarah’s direction. Alice had one intention—that Sarah’s outfit be ruined—and he succeeded admirably.

She said nothing, standing in shock as the builder swore at her, dropped the tin to get a little more paint on her tights and shoes, and then stormed off.

Alice gave it a moment before coming out of the shop.

“Oh my goodness, Sarah, what happened?”

Sarah said nothing—her mind was racing, a combination of the shock of the encounter and the lingering effects of the spray.

“Your clothes, they’re ruined—and what about your big presentation?”

Talk of the presentation forced Sarah’s attention back to reality.

“Oh god,” the colour drained from her face, “what am I going to do? I can’t turn up looking like this.”

Alice bit down on her tongue to suppress a big smile.

“Well, this is a clothes shop—I’m sure I can lend you something to wear. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Sarah didn’t reply, so Alice took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back towards Black Rose. The young businesswoman stepped back into the shop, got another whiff of that smell and noticeably relaxed.

Alice smiled—this was proving easier than she’d hoped.

She moved round in front of Sarah, sliding her hand down the woman’s arm until she found her hand, which she held gently.

“Come this way—I’ll show you to the changing room.”

Alice pulled her through the shop to an area at the back, surrounded by a black curtain. She led Sarah through—a clothes rail, a couple of ornate mirrors and a few chairs were positioned strategically.

There was a large cardboard box sitting under one of the mirrors—Alice walked over to it, and nudged it over to Sarah with her foot. Sarah looked down, noticing Alice’s combat boots.

“Here, put your clothes in this for now, and I’ll see what they have in stock. Fully strip now, Sarah,” she said with a smile, “you’d like that. I’d certainly like that, and you’d like to make me happy, wouldn’t you?”

Sarah breathed in deep, taking in a lot more of the spray that was hanging in the air.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Alice left Sarah to her own devices—she already had an outfit prepared, something gothic but just about appropriate for the office—and she went to the shop’s back office to pick it up.

Sarah, meanwhile, stood still. Something in her mind said that this wasn’t right, and that she wasn’t going to strip naked for some stranger. But something else shouted a little louder, and told her to do it—she needed a change of clothes and, well, it’d make her and Alice happy.

It was a process, removing her clothes and avoiding getting any paint on her body, but she did it. She stood in a matching cream bra and pantie set—simple but sexy—and ignored that little voice in her mind saying there was no need to change underwear too. She unclipped the bra, and let the panties slip down her long legs—she placed them in the box and, devoid of commands, stared semi-vacantly at her reflection in one of the mirrors.

Alice had been standing outside, waiting and sneaking some peeks at Alice undressing. She was hot, Alice thought, and she’ll be a lot hotter by the time I’m done with her.

She pulled back the curtain and stepped into the changing area, a pile of clothes draped over one of her arms. She placed them on one of the seats, and couldn’t help herself.

Alice moved behind Sarah, and placed her hands on her stomach. As she spoke, she moved them up slowly.

“Oh my goodness, look at you, Sarah—you’re so beautiful. If I had a body like this, I’d be over the moon with it. You’re so hot—so beautiful—and your body needs all the attention. I know what I’d do to this body—how I’d treat it, and how I’d make you feel. Good, like only a woman can make another woman feel.”

Her hands grabbed Sarah’s breasts, her rings positioned in such a way that they rubbed up against Sarah’s erect nipples. She was getting turned on—good, Alice smiled.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sarah? You’d like a woman to show you how to feel good, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she almost shouted it out.

Good, Alice thought—that’s where I want you to be at the moment. She wanted the tension to remain, buried subconsciously in Sarah’s mind, until the moment she decided to release it and make her just like Amy.

Alice removed her hands, and was pleased by Sarah’s low moan of disappointment.

“Right, time for you to get dressed, Sarah,” she stepped away from the naked businesswoman, “you don’t want to miss your meeting.”

The mention of the meeting again kicked Sarah’s mind into gear. She moved over to the pile of clothes and, without so much as a look, she started putting the items on.

Alice watched in delight and, if she was honest, a little bit of arousal, as Sarah put on the black and grey matching bra and panties. After that, she started sliding the black tights up her legs. She looked good in underwear—Alice was gutted she couldn’t have her way with Sarah right now.

Oh well, she forced herself to think that good things come to those who wait.

In this case, she smirked to herself, with an emphasis on ‘cum’.

Sarah got dressed, and Alice was pleased with how good the outfit was. She hadn’t gone elaborate at all—no, she wanted an outfit that would effectively blend in, starting off small just as she’d done with Amy.

The businessman began with a black blouse—it was simple, sleek, with a slight ruffle of the sleeves. She pulled on a pair of trousers next—they were just simple black pants, nothing too exciting, but necessary for the look.

Alice lit up a cigarette and watched as Sarah pulled on the black blazer, and started smirking as Sarah put on the shoes.

They were Alice’s favourite part of the outfit—a pair of black ankle booties, laces on the front and three-inch heel on the back, which almost had a Victorian quality to them. Alice loved the boots—they were hers, and she was slightly reluctant to let them go—but this was all for a very good cause.

When Sarah was dressed, her eyes drifted over to the mirror—she looked at herself, surprised and confused and a little turned on.

“Oh my goodness,” Alice was on her feet, cigarette hanging from her lips, “look at you, Sarah—you look so sexy. You like looking that sexy, don’t you?”

Almost instinctively, she sniffed for more of the spray in the air.

“Yes, I do,” she said, “I love looking this sexy.”

“You look so sexy, so strong, so domineering—you’re happy I could offer you a change of clothes for your meeting, aren’t you?”

“Oh, god yes,” she said, a little passion creeping into her voice. “I’m so grateful—I don’t know how I can ever repay you, Alice.”

Alice removed the cigarette from her mouth.

“You could give me a kiss, for one.”

She leant in, placing her lips on Sarah’s. For a moment, Sarah’s conscious mind wanted to revolt, not certain what was happening, but her desires forced it away—she was aware she was pushing back, kissing, desperately trying to release some of the tension Alice had built up. The kiss was soft and gentle, then it became rougher, as Alice forced her tongue into Sarah’s mouth and took charge.

Sarah was happy to let her take over—at that moment, all she needed was Alice to hold her, and to care for her. If she was making Alice happy, that was everything.

But eventually, a couple of minutes later but what felt like an eternity in Sarah’s mind, Alice broke the kiss.

“I think you need to go back to work, Sarah—these deals won’t make themselves.”

Reluctantly, Sarah made her way to the shop door, but stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned, and noticed the spray bottle in Alice’s hand a split second before she was blasted in the face.

She blinked, dazed, and Alice told her opportunity:

“Remember nothing that happened here, Sarah, but know that everything is okay. Let it come to you in fragments, and appear in your dreams. Dream of me, Sarah. Dream how being here, being dressed like this and pleasing a goth dyke—dream of how hot it makes you feel. Dream of how much you want to feel like this all the time. There’s nothing better than feeling like this.”

Alice stopped talking and, seconds later, Sarah shook her head and blinked.

“What was I saying?” she asked.

“You were saying that you need to get to your meeting. Don’t worry—I’ll tell Amy you came by.”

“Oh,” the last suggestion clicked in her mind, “oh, okay, thank you. It was nice to meet you, Alice.”

Sarah left Black Rose, and left Alice with a big smile on her face.

She loved planting the seeds of a transformation.

But even better was watching them grow.