The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“... and then he gave gave me a two hundred dollar tip and walked out the door.” I concluded lamely, utterly leaving out everything that happened this morning at the Postalex for the sake of posterity. “What do you think, girls?”

After Foley had stopped her fit of inane laughter and Parker stepped outside for a few minutes to cool off we’d flipped the closed sign and sat down to a steaming pot of stock orange pekoe. As the mild flavours worked magic on my flustered employees I had told them what had happened the afternoon before and waited for them to give their thoughts.

“So, did he like hypnotize you into hypnotizing us?” Foley’s bangs rustled as she furrowed her eyebrows and tried to make sense of my story.

“No such thing as hypnosis, Amber.” Parker chimed in authoritatively, “More than like its radiation.”

“No, that just gives you cancer.” I mumbled as I leaned back and inhaled deeply over my mug. Then I put the tea down and fished around in my pocket for a moment and produced the business card. “He also gave me this, but there’s nothing on it I can use.”

Foley grabbed the card and flipped it over a few times, presumably to check if it was four dimensional or something equally absurd, then read the inscription on the front. “Did you Google his name?”

“What?” I said flatly.

Parker didn’t both responding to my long established techno-illiteracy and instead pulled out her cell phone. As she tapped and swished her fingers on her little device I glanced at the pinnacle of digital media that was my CD boombox and got up to put in a different album. We’d been listening to Glen Miller most of the morning, something that would normally have caused Foley to bitch and moan, so I thought I’d liven it up with something more modern.

“What the hell is that droning?” Foley whined as she cringed and pretend to cover her ears, “It sounds like a choir was hit by a mattress factory and decided to take a nap where they were!”

“That, you little shit, is Ray Charles performing Don Gibson’s ‘I can’t stop loving you.’, and I won’t have you saying a word against it.” I snapped at her, our long standing music feud largely dominated by my clever use of being-her-boss tactics. “This is one of the greatest hits of all time. Live with it.”

“Yeah, I bet my grandma really wiggles her prosthetic hips to the beat. If this song was any lamer I’d quit and go find work as a nun just to get a little excitement.” Foley scoffed and brushed her hair over her shoulder dismissively.

I glowered at her and leaned over the counter to peer down at her under the bridge of my nose. “I could just order you to like it. Order you to develop a taste in music other than your trashy pop.”

Foley slowly stood up and met my gaze with her own. I was slightly taller, so it didn’t work to intimidate me but there was no loss of enthusiasm on her part. “Oh, you know I’d love that. Come on, boss, use your super horny powers to win an argument, because this snore-fest certainly isn’t getting you anywhere!”

“He runs Think and Do Hairstylers.” Parker interrupted our spat as if it had never happened.

“What, the fancy one up the street?” Foley kept her posture, ready to get back into it if she needed to, but turned her head to look at the newfie.

“You knows yourself.” Parker nodded.

I leaned back and shook my head. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“What, really?” Foley snorted, “Why am I not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Stop being contrary and lets get on the go.” Parker snapped to dissuade us from further discourse and headed to the front door. Foley and I followed and peered down the chilly street at the line of shops ringing outside of the central park. Sure enough, ten or so shops down the line, just after the short cut to the Postalex, was Think and Do Hairstylers. I’d walked right passed it earlier that morning. Parker crossed her arms smugly against the chill and shook her head, “It even says so on the card, Ms. Covy.”

“Thanks.” I said dully as I glanced at the appellation and muttered out load as I read, “Thinker and Doer”.

“Right contrary.” the newfie scoffed as she turned and went back inside.

All in all it wasn’t surprising that I had never noticed the other shops around us. I lived just outside the back door of my shop and I couldn’t afford to spend money at any of the swanky shops around us so I only ever came out on the street to see how our decorations were faring during holidays.

Grumbling under my breath I followed Parker and Foley back inside and the three of us grabbed our coats. I made sure to turn off the lights and lock the door before we headed out into the brisk wind. The street was largely deserted despite the time of day, most people taking shelter inside their shops or running to their cars as dry leaves chased them about in eddies and whorls. The crisp air nipped at my lips and ears as I ran and I watched it burn a light rouge across my employee’s cheeks and noses before we made it to the hairstyles.

“Welcome to Think and Do. Where you think it and we do it.” a mellifluous voice called out from the side as we rushed in and shut the door. The speaker had her multi-tone golden hair styled up in a way that only a hairdresser would wear yet some how managed not to look too much like a melted caramel. Her face was locked in a customer service smile and her make up made her eyes seem attentive even as she was visibly trying not to look disproving. “Do you have an appointment or will this be a walk in?”

“Yeah. Walk in.” Foley got her bearings before me and abused her advantage to get another dig in at me. “My boss here needs someone to get the rat’s nest off of her head and replace it with a haircut.”

“Shut up, Foley.” I snapped internally cringing as a look of heat crossed her features, then stopped to take in my surroundings. Where Dove by Day was a friendly series of blues and greys this place was a deep and intimate red with gold or purple trimmings on nearly every feature. The warmer colours made me feel immediately relaxed and I caught my gaze lingering over the luscious colourants and luxury conditioners that lined the shelves.

“Hmm, well I can see that she needs the work.” the woman said with a dismissive wave and sauntered over. She walked right into my personal space and ran her fingers lightly through the tips of my hair before suddenly grabbing a handful and began running her fingers from forehead to nape as I suppressed a gasp. With a wicked smile and a disconcertingly sharp intake of breath she continued, “You have such nice natural volume. You really shouldn’t be straightening. We will have to shape this to frame your delicate face and match its colour to your skin. Do you burn easy? You need a little more sunlight for this colour to work. Perhaps... hmm. Yes. You’ll like cobalt. Let us get this washed and ready to be transformed.”

The whole time she was talking she ran her hands through my hair with increasing fervour, her speech getting quicker and her eyes racing up and down my face, neck, and hair. I tried to protest once, but as off-guard as I was I couldn’t put any effort into it. She continued to tousled my hair into stranger and stranger contortions as her rambling built to an almost fevered pitch.

“Enough!” I suddenly screamed and shoved her away, “Don’t touch me! Tell Garret that Dawn is here and don’t touch me!”

The woman hesitated a second as she bit her lip and gave me a predatory once over, then turned and rushed over to the phone on the nearby desk. “Right away, Dawn.” she said, then laughed somewhere between a giggle and a cackle as she waited for the phone to connect.

When it connected she let slip a disgusted frown for only an instant before recovering. “Hello, Liona. Its Florence at T&D. The one on Main. I need to speak with Garret. Someone is here to see him. Just put him on and I will tell him. Listen you bitch, you can monopolize him all you want but this is business. No, I can’t just tell you, I have to do it myself.”

There was a delay before she continued in a suddenly brighter voice, “Good afternoon, Garret! It’s Florence. From T&D. On Main. Yes sir. No sir. I know sir, but I had to, there is someone here looking for you. Her name is Dawn. Oh? I’ll ask.”

I exchanged glances with Foley and Parker who could only shrug as we stood there awkwardly, and smiled when the woman rested the phone receiver against her shoulder to ask, “Mr. Garret wishes to know ‘Dawn who?’”

“Tell him it’s Dove by Day.” I grumbled and caught Foley snickering quietly. I scrunched up my nose at her, then turned to follow the audible half of the conversation.

“Dove by Day, sir. What is so funny, sir? The dingy shop down the row? No, sir, she is far to pretty to work somewhere so tasteless. I’d like to, sir. No openings here, but I can check with the other location. Ah, regrettable, sir. Yes, sir, I’ll hold them for you. Mhm. Mhm. Mhm. I was thinking cobalt or platinum blue. I know, right? Thank you, Garret.”

When she hung up she completely missed my best withering glare and jumped right back into my personal space while being careful not to touch me. “Garret says to have you wait for him here. In the mean time I have been given permission to give you a complimentary treatment. Whole package. Trust me, when I’m done you’ll be batting men off with a stick. Women too, if I have anything to say about it.”

“Great.” I moaned dully, “Do what you need to do.”

“What about us, Ms. Covy?” Parker asked, then motioned to tweedle-dumb who was pointing mindfully at her sealed lips. “Amber’s still shut up her prate, not that I’m complaining, but it’ll be some boring sitting by myself with n’arn to talk to.”

“Ah.” I thought about leaving Foley hushed up, but decided it might be better to have more people alert and capable of speech when Garret showed up. I sighed and said, “Okay, Foley, you are free to speak.”

“Thank you!” she blurted out obstinately as she started to fidget, eyed the hairstylist warily, then continued in a much lower tone, “I was getting all... You have to stop doing that, boss. I’m starting to like it.”

I felt my cheeks flush furiously as I fought off any thoughts of Foley’s changing preferences and waved them off as I followed the stylist to the back room.

Dawn Covy, Think and Do, Seventy-two minutes later

“What do you think?” the stylist asked proudly and posed as if for a photo shoot. I looked up into the mirror and gasped.

I stared dumbfounded at the asymmetric curve of actinic blue that framed the left side of my face, lose and unruly while the remainder flowed like mercury into a dutch braid that wound past my right temple. I don’t think my neck ever looked so long, and I had to look down to make sure I wasn’t in some way taller. “How did you...” was all I managed as I ran my fingers down the lightly curled strays on my left.

“Well, I’ll be honest, I just colour matched your skin. It’s really fair, kind of ice-queen-ish.” she said as-matter-of-fact, then laid one hand on my shoulder and used the other to stroke the unbraided side of my head. “I think Garret is going to be another twenty minutes if you want to see how it looks... post... coitus...”

She breathed the last two words across my ear while her reflection’s eyes locked directly onto my own. I shuddered and felt a flushing in more areas than my face, but quickly shoved any ideas under my belt and bolted to my feet.

“No, I’m good! Thanks. No, I’m fine.” I stuttered and stumbled my way back to the front. I was tempted to order her to stop acting suggestively around me but I was seriously disturbed by the thought of turning her on more by ordering her around. Demurring from using my new powers to escape I decided to use my naturally acquired minions instead. “Foley, Parker. Were you waiting long?”

“No, We... whoa.” Parker’s eyes bulged and then she broke into a wide toothy grin. “Ms. Covy! Well aren’t you done up like a stick of gum! And only on hair alone! Right gorgeous, you are!”

“Not bad, boss.” was all Foley supplied, though the gleam in her eye looked far too much like the one in the hairstylist’s for my tastes.

“Uh... Thanks.” I crossed my arms and twirled the loose bangs around my fingers for a moment then shrugged. “At least I match the booths in Dove by Day.”

A chill wind suddenly swept across the store as the door swung open and two men in identical black suits stepped in. They were each wearing shades despite the overcast weather, and they held their hands crossed in front of them as they surveyed the room. After a tense moment one of them stepped aside and another man in a similar suit stepped in, paused as the others had, and adjusted his already immaculate coat.

The third man was older than the others, more salt than pepper across his longer-than-average crew cut, and dark grey beard kept trimmed and squared across his jaw gave him a severe look. His face was hard and set, used to a long life of hard work, and he looked very much like a villainous James Bond. Across his left brow was a scar that just narrowly missed the eye itself and left a streak of white at an angle that forced a disapproving expression onto his features.

He looked at the four girls, nodding solemnly at the hairstylist who frowned back in response, before locking eyes on me and stepping forward. I flinched when he held out his hand, then realized he meant to shake my own. “Dawn Covy?” he asked.

“Yes?” I took his hand gingerly and almost winced as he applied firm pressure in return. “Who are you?”

“Dimitri Boscone.” he said in a voice as hard as his face, no emotion had yet shown itself. He let go of my hand and clasped his own his behind his back. Turning and walking back to the door he called out over his shoulder, “You’ll follow me to the board room. You may bring your employees if you wish.”

“Excuse me?” I said, not moving from my spot as the man, Dimitri, halted mid stride. His men tensed and I’d seen enough police procedurals to know they were probably carrying weapons on them, so I chose my words very carefully. “What I mean to say is why should we follow you? We were waiting for someone else.”

“Garret.” the man said without turning. It wasn’t a question. “He will be waiting with Alania in the board room by the time we arrive. Oh, and we may be the same, you and I, but do not attempt to order your women around while we are en route. It would be in considerably bad taste.”

“What about your men?” I asked, then immediately regretted it. How the hell did he know what I could do?

“You can try.” he said cryptically then opened the door and stepped outside, “Hurry now.”

With a look and a shrug to both Parker and Foley I waved them to follow and brushed my newly dyed hair behind my ear as I let the two goons usher us out into the cold. I glanced at the hairstylist before the door closed and snapped my attention away when she leaned forward and blew me a kiss.