The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

About a week after Kristen’s birthday party, I was in the lunchroom. Kristen, Patty, and I were sitting at our usual table.

“Where’s Sherry?” asked Patty.

I looked around and didn’t see Sherry. “I don’t know,” I answered. “She was in History during first period. Maybe she’s with a teacher. Funny, she didn’t mention anything to me.”

The subject of Sherry was dropped as Kristen and Patty started chatting about various colognes. Kristen wanted to do an outing to an upscale department store where Patty could try various scents to find one that was positively Patty’s own.

Of course, I had little interest in the conversation, except for the fact that I thought whatever perfume Kristen used was probably the nicest one in the world. Nobody will ever get me to admit anything else!

I excused myself from the girls, and went to the boys’ room.

As I pushed the door in to the bathroom, I heard a guy’s voice saying something loudly as I opened the door. As a result, I was quiet as I entered, trying to place the voice.

The voice belonged to Tim Hawking, a sophomore who was in the high honors track. Everybody figured him to be a cinch for valedictorian of my grade—he was bookish since Kindergarten. I was amused at how unlike Tim was to somebody like Camille; they were both the smartest kids in their respective classes.

“You know, you really suck at this!” Tim complained.

I don’t know why I continued to be quiet, but the boys’ room was empty, which was normal for the middle of class. There was nobody at the urinals, and it was very unusual for boys to make conversation between stalls. I couldn’t see Tim or whoever it was he was chewing out. Additionally, it seemed so out of character for him; he was usually at the receiving end of such hazing from the bigger students.

It took a few moments before I saw that one of the toilet stalls was occupied, confirming my suspicions that Tim was in one of them. I saw a pair of jeans crumbled at the base of a pair of a guy’s legs. I also saw somebody kneeling between his legs—a pair of silky legs that looked like a dancer’s legs. The fact that I could make out a short white skirt that came down just below where the barrier panel to the toilet was made me realize that the kneeling legs most definitely didn’t belong to a male.

There was a girl kneeling between Tim’s legs as he was sitting on the toilet!

I wasn’t really interested in Tim’s love life—we hung out in different circles. Still, the act seemed so blatant—totally unlike the Tim that I knew. His prior complaint sounded even more out of place to me.

I was still silent when I heard the tell-tale sounds of sucking and grunting that indicated the oral activity that was obviously taking place. I shrugged, and I decided to make myself scarce. I wasn’t against having a quickie at school, but I figured that my activities with Kristen were a bit more discreet. Hall monitors occasionally came into the toilets to make sure there wasn’t any smoking of tobacco or other substances happening; I thought Tim’s lack of discretion would eventually get him caught. I mentally shrugged at the idea. I would have thought Tim to be much smarter than that.

As I tiptoed quietly out the door, I heard Tim once again loudly say, “You are the fucking worst whore that I’ve ever met!”

Well, it wasn’t a big stretch to say that I was quite unimpressed with Tim’s bedroom manner, even if he was actually in the boys’ room. Calling your girlfriend a “whore,” especially in a public place, was not a way to keep a girlfriend. I wondered what kind of girl would take this sort of abuse from a guy.

I walked upstairs to the other boys’ room, and was finally able to relieve myself.

Back in the lunchroom, Patty and Kristen were talking about swimwear, which was a strange subject being that it was still winter here in the Midwest.

Sherry walked into the cafeteria about five minutes before the bell sounded indicating the end of lunch. I looked over to her, and her eyes met mine. Immediately, however, Sherry looked away from me.

What was bugging Sherry? Neither Patty nor Kristen seemed to notice Sherry enter the lunchroom, so I excused myself again and walked over to where Sherry was.

“What’s the matter, Sherry?” I asked. “Teacher problems?”

“Um... nothing... well...” Sherry paused, trying to find the right words to say. “Can I ask you... for... I need help with some homework.”

This was a totally different Sherry I was talking to. Ever since Camille talked Sherry into being a cheerleader, Sherry became more outgoing. Being one of the few sophomores on the varsity cheerleading squad made her part of the “in group” at school.

Right now, I saw none of the confidence that Sherry lately showed. “What’s up, Sherry?”

“Please may I come over to your place and Kristen’s tonight? I need to ask you guys something.”

“Of course, Sherry. Do you want me to ask Kris...?”

“Please!” Sherry begged, interrupting me. “Ask her later. I’ll see you in English and you can let me know if I can’t come over, but it’s very, very important!”

Without waiting for an answer, Sherry ran out the lunchroom door. I watched her leave, completely mystified about Sherry’s behavior.

I looked back at the table where Kristen and Patty were, and they were both looking at me. The bell rang, and the two girls walked over to me.

“What did you say to Sherry to make her run away like that?” Kristen asked me.

“I didn’t. She asked if she could visit us tonight and that it’s very important. I said that I’d first clear it with you, Kris...”

“Of course, she can come over,” Kristen said.

“I figured that. I told her that I was going to ask you and she ran away. I’m not sure what’s bothering her, but it seems to really be upsetting her.”

Patty burned her gaze into me for a moment and then her look softened. “I’m pretty sure she’s over her infatuation phase, Jim. Maybe she’s having problems at home?”

Kristen suggested, “Maybe her cousin Dale?”

I sighed and shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“It better not be Dale!” Kristen said with a menacing coldness to her voice.

“Will you see Sherry later?” Patty asked, turning away from Kristen.

“We have English for last period.”

“If she still seems upset, find me after class,” Patty offered. “I can drive her home, if necessary. I’ll try to find out what’s bothering her.”

“Thanks, Patty,” I said, feeling much better. If anybody could read another person’s emotions, it was Patty.

Patty turned back to Kristen and said, “We’ll find out the problem, Kris. I’ll see you when class is over.”

Kristen nodded, her eyes still flashing their anger, obviously thinking about Dale.

The two of us watched the red head leave the lunchroom.

“I need to get to gym,” I told Kristen.

“Yeah,” Kristen said, anger still in her voice.

Gym was uneventful, and I put thoughts of Sherry behind me during the class. I attended French class afterward, and thought a bit about Sherry, but figured that either Patty or I would get to the bottom of things by the end of the day.

As I was leaving French, my seventh period class, I found Camille waiting for me at the door to my classroom.

“Jim!” Camille said. “I need to speak with you.”

“Sure, Cammy,” I said. “I’m heading to English...”

“You’re going to have to skip it, Jim. It’s very important.”

This was a day of mysteries and “very important” things.

I sighed. Camille was a real friend, however, and I could never turn her request down.

“Let me find Sherry and tell her that I’m not...”

“No, Jim,” Camille said. “This is important, and I’m pretty sure it concerns her.”

Now I was really interested. Maybe Camille could explain Sherry’s weird behavior.

Camille and I went toward the band room. It was one room that I had access to, and I knew that it was empty after seventh period, which is when the orchestra rehearsed. Mr. Ryan, the orchestra leader, might still be there, but he never had any problem with me coming and going at any time.

I passed Amy Grant on my way into the band room. She gave me a shy smile as I passed her.

The band room, as it turned out, was empty, and Mr. Ryan was just leaving the room. He smiled at me and didn’t say anything about me using the room with Camille.

I turned to Camille. “What’s up...”

“Jim, something terrible has happened... is happening right now!” Camille looked frantic.

“Tell me what it is.”

“Do you know Tim Hawking?” Camille asked.

What a coincidence! I had walked in on Tim getting a blow job in the boys’ room earlier and now Camille just mentioned him.

All of a sudden, I realized where I saw those athletic legs and the short white skirt. Sherry was the girl in the bathroom with Tim!

Camille must have seen the expression on my face. My blood ran cold as I realized that Sherry was the person who Tim referred to as a whore and how her oral talents sucked.

“Tim Hawking and Sherry Jordan,” I said.

“Tim Hawking and almost half of the entire fucking cheerleading squad,” Camille said.

“What?” I nearly shouted. Tim was not the kind of person who would attract the amorous attentions of most of the cheerleaders. Well, neither was I, although most of the cheerleaders were quite friendly to me after Kristen’s Halloween party, Sherry’s initiation, and Kristen’s birthday party.

“Well, with what I’ve heard of his attitude, he won’t be with many of the cheerleaders for long,” I said.

“You were there with him! I saw you come out of the boys’ room!” Camille said.

“I walked in and heard he was doing something in the bathroom. I discreetly left as soon as I noticed. I didn’t realize he was with Sherry until just now.”

Camille shook her head, as if I wasn’t getting it. “You don’t understand, Jim!”

“Huh? What don’t I understand?”

“Tim Hawking has tickets!”

I felt the blood drain from my face as Camille uttered those words to me.

I steadied my breath. “What do you know about Tim and the tickets?” I asked.

Camille spat out. “That mother fucker gave one to me!”

“Oh, no...”

“No, Jim,” Camille said. “I mean, he looked so confident when he gave it to me. I looked at it for a second, not believing it, when I realized that if I didn’t pretend to react, he’d know that there’s something special about me.”

“You went along with it?”

“He just asked for a blow job. He told me to go into the bathroom and blow him. I’ve done worse before.”

“And you did?” I asked, looking at Camille’s outfit. Although I now knew that it was Sherry with Tim during lunch, it seemed to be an automatic response.

“He tried to make me go into boys’ room, but since he wasn’t specific when he asked me, I told him that I’d only do it in the girls’ locker room,” Camille explained. “He almost gave me another ticket, but decided that he wouldn’t mind visiting there after all. I chose that room because I knew the coaches don’t have class during second period. Anyway, I did him, and he wasn’t very nice about it. He has a mouth on him. I would be damned if I gave him anything good, though, which is probably why he complained so much.”

I shook my head.

“Fuck him!” Camille spat again. “Anyway, he tells me that he heard that I should be better, and that I’m a prissy cunt. He then gives me another fucking ticket, and tells me to practice improving my oral skills every night, to learn how to deep throat, and to be ready for him on Saturday.”

“Saturday?” I asked, confused.

“My cousin Jackie is throwing a party, and he must have found out from one of the cheerleaders. I was going to invite you and Kristen, and then this asshole comes up and makes me blow him during second period. I was steaming mad when I got to the lunch room during the next period, when Maria told me to tell Jackie that she invited Tim Hawking.”

“Oh, fuck! Maria, too?”

Camille nodded. “I went looking for you during fourth period. I saw Kristen and Patty, but you were nowhere to be seen. Then I saw you come out of the boys’ room. I was about to run after you when I saw Sherry leave, closely followed by Tim! I hid so that Tim didn’t see me, but I was floored—I thought you and Tim were in cahoots, trying to bang the entire cheerleading squad. I was about to figure a way that I could slice the dicks off of the two of you when I realized that you knew that the tickets don’t work on me.”

I winced at Camille’s description of her concept of vengeance. Camille and Lynette were both quite protective of their squads.

“I didn’t have any idea about Tim, except that I heard him with somebody when I was in the boys’ room. He was quite rude and it embarrassed me. I left before he knew I was in there—it was uncomfortable for me to be there. I didn’t realize he was with Sherry until just now.”

“How the fuck did he get your tickets?” Camille asked.

My eyes shot open—Camille was right! I fumbled for my attaché case, and opened it. I looked for and found my tickets. “They’re here,” I said. “Did the tickets that Tim give you disappear?”

“Um, no,” Camille said. “They only disappear when they’re used. He didn’t use his...”

Camille opened her purse and pulled out two tickets. I looked at the numbers. “196 and 197.”

I looked at my roll. I knew that I didn’t use nearly two hundred of them. I saw that the first one was 38.

“He didn’t get them from my roll,” I said.

“There are two rolls of tickets?” Camille asked, suddenly horrified.

“I don’t know,” I said.

For all I knew, there could be hundreds of them. I didn’t want to consider that right now in front of Camille, who felt herself a victim of them. Even two rolls were bad enough.

Suddenly, something else fell into place. “Wait. Did you say that Tim asked you to practice giving head?”

Camille’s eyes darkened as I reminded her.

I didn’t need her to answer, but added, “Every night?”

Camille nodded, still fuming.

“Oh, my god. Sherry!”

“What, Jim?” Camille asked, confused.

“Sherry asked to come over to Kristen’s apartment. It looked as if she was ashamed...”

“Oh, fuck, Jim. This ain’t funny at all. He’s going to destroy the girls’ lives!”

I nodded sadly. How do you fight somebody who has tickets?

“Where does Tim have his tickets?” I asked.

“He pulled the ones he gave me out of his jacket pocket.”

“He probably keeps them handy in case an emergency comes up,” I said, mostly to myself. I followed the thought and realized that it meant that I couldn’t give a ticket to, say, one of the bigger students, and have him knock Tim unconscious. If Tim managed to give the guy a ticket first, he could find out that I was the person who set him up.

“I’ve got to think this through, Cammy!” I said.

I calmed myself down, and considered my options.

After a few moments, I realized that I had three advantages over Tim. First, I possessed my own roll of tickets, and Tim may not know about them. Second, I knew that Camille seemed to be immune to their effects—even Tim’s, thank goodness. Third, Kristen and Patty knew about the tickets. Now, even if Tim managed to find his tickets the same time that I did—and this was unlikely, or we probably would have heard of his antics sooner—Camille probably had the most experience with the tickets, even if only on the receiving end.

I pointed this out to Camille, who had already reached the same conclusions. We talked about possible situations, but didn’t come up with anything concrete. Camille had an interesting suggestion which might work on alleviating Sherry’s orders, however.

In addition, Camille agreed that Kristen could be a good ally. We needed to come up with a foolproof plan by Saturday afternoon.

“Oh, Jim?” Camille said right before the class bell rang.

“Yes?”

“I know that I’ve thanked you for showing maturity with those tickets,” Camille said, giving me a friendly kiss. “Now I better warn you: Kristen might be on Tim’s list of targets. She is the richest girl in school, probably in the county!”

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Kristen was at her Camaro when I ran out of school. “Kristen, quick, we need to get to the apartment fast!”

Kristen didn’t ask me why, but she got into the car and before I even my seat belt was fastened, she was peeling rubber out of the parking lot.

“Where’s the fire, Jim?” Kristen asked.

“Tim Hawking,” I said.

“Tim who?”

I looked at Kristen. There was nothing on her face that told me that she was playing dumb.

“Tim Hawking. He’s the high honors nerd in tenth grade.”

“I might have heard of him, but his name doesn’t really ring a bell,” Kristen said.

“Kristen, do you trust me?” I asked, seriously.

“Of course, Jim.”

“I’ve been told of an emergency. It involves Camille, Sherry, and probably all the cheerleaders.”

“You’ve been invited to Jackie Lombardi’s orgy!” Kristen smiled.

“Orgy?” I asked, shocked.

Kristen laughed. “Her party. Camille asked me about it before homeroom. We’re free on Saturday. Camille was going to ask you about it sometime today.”

I sighed.

Kristen pulled through the security gate and into our driveway.

I didn’t feel good until I looked back and saw the gate close.

Once we were parked, I pulled a ticket from my attaché case and said, “Here, have a ticket.”

“You have one wish,” Kristen intoned.

“Kristen, I want you to be aware of me making this request. I want you to honestly answer the next two questions.”

“Your wish is my command,” Kristen said. “What the fuck is this?” Kristen demanded.

I knew that I would be sorry no matter how Kristen answered this next question. “Do you know Tim Hawking and have you received a lucky ticket from anybody other than me?”

“No, and yes, and what is this shit?”

“Whoa there! No and yes?”

Kristen looked at me, confused. She nodded, but didn’t seem to understand.

I gave Kristen another ticket.

“You have one wish.”

“I want you aware of me making this request, also. I want you to tell me exactly who, other than me, has given you a lucky ticket.”

“Debbie Lombardi gave me some a few years back and has given me a ticket to make me forget what she asked. The only thing that I can tell you is that none of her wishes other than the one to forget are still in effect, although she has about twenty thousand dollars of my money.”

Kristen shook her head. “What the fuck was that all about? Debbie Lombardi has tickets?” After a few seconds, Kristen shouted, “TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS! I got in all sorts of trouble for that!”

“It’s a long story, Kris,” I said. “I’m sorry if it sounds as if I don’t trust you, but I needed to do this,” I said, truly sorry. “Tim Hawking is a tenth grader and he’s using Lucky Tickets to have sex with the cheerleaders. I figured that you might be a possible target due to your wealth.”

“I have no idea who the fuck...” Kristen paused, her eyes opening wide. “You said Debbie Lombardi has tickets. Now there’s somebody else in school who also has tickets?”

“Debbie had tickets,” I said, emphasizing the fact that it was past tense. “At least, she did according to Camille,” I added.

“How does Camille know?” Kristen asked.

Oh, fuck. I never told Kristen about Camille.

I decided to skirt that question, and instead told Kristen about the boys’ room during third period, and what Camille told me about second period.

Kristen’s eyes narrowed at me as I told my story. I could see her getting angrier and angrier as I continued.

Finally, when I was finished, Kristen simply shook her head. “You are lying to me, Jim.”

Before I could answer, Kristen stormed out of the car and went upstairs into our apartment.

I sat quietly for a few moments before getting out of the car.

I tried the door that led into the back of the garage. It wasn’t locked. That was a good sign. I may own the deed to the apartment, but I lived there with Kristen’s good graces.

As soon as I entered the apartment, Kristen threw a pillow at me. “You sleep in the living room, Jim!”

“Kristen, please listen to me!” I begged.

Kristen shook her head. “You lied to me, Jim! Camille couldn’t intentionally do a bad job with a boy. Debbie told me... well, everybody knows that Camille has a lot of experience. And Camille couldn’t know about his tickets if she was given one.”

“Tickets don’t work on Camille,” I blurted out.

Kristen looked at me. After a minute of silence, she slowly asked, “What did you say?”

“Tickets don’t work on her,” I said. “I promise, Kris. It’s what we talked about a few weeks ago at Lake Shore Point.”

I could see a million thoughts entering Kristen’s head. Before she could ask her questions, I said, “We have another problem, Kris. Remember how weird Sherry acted in the lunchroom? I believe that she’s been told to practice giving blow jobs and to learn deep throat. She asked to come here, Kris!”

“Sherry?”

“Yes. I also invited Camille over.”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “You are not going to have an orgy here!”

I gave Kristen a dirty look that must have worked because her look almost immediately softened.

“I’m sorry, Jim,” Kristen said. “It’s just that... you know... those tickets... I mean, you don’t use them... or at least I don’t think you do...”

“Please, Kristen,” I said. “I know that I hurt you with them, and I have stopped using them. However, we now have to deal with the fact that somebody else also has them.”

Kristen was quiet for a few moments. I could see her start to calm down. “I still don’t think that I want Sherry to be practicing on you...”

“I think we have a solution for that,” I said, remembering Camille’s brilliant idea. “Camille has a... well... she has one of those... rubber...” I couldn’t continue.

After a few moments, Kristen’s eyes opened wide. “Didoes?” Kristen asked, incredulously.

“Yeah,” I said, reddening. “She says it’s kind of big, but Sherry can practice on that.”

For the first time since I handed Kristen a ticket that day, Kristen actually smiled. “Cammy comes up with the strangest ideas. Now tell me about Debbie Lombardi and Camille.”

I told Kristen most of what I knew that Camille told me a few weeks earlier, omitting some of the things that weren’t very pertinent, including how the tickets had been used on me.

Camille was at the apartment about a half hour later.

Kristen looked at Camille quite strangely. I decided to demonstrate Camille’s immunity quite dramatically.

Without warning, I pulled out a ticket and handed it to Camille in front of Kristen.

Camille looked at me, and then at Kristen. She said, “Fuck you, Jim!”

Kristen was quite surprised. “Huh?”

“Do you want me to do the ‘You have one wish’ bit, Kris?” Camille asked.

“They really don’t work on you?” Kristen asked.

“I can’t tell you,” Camille said, looking at me for support.

“Now do you believe me, Kris?” I asked.

“Let me see that ticket, Cammy.”

“I... I can’t.”

“Why not?” Kristen asked.

“I can’t tell you,” Camille said, this time looking extremely frustrated.

I didn’t expect this. “It might be because if she hands it to you, you’ll be forced to grant a wish.”

Camille shook her head. “I can’t tell you,” she repeated.

“Kristen, if and when I find out, I’ll let you know as much as I can possibly tell you,” I assured my Goddess. I had told Kristen earlier that Camille could only talk about the tickets with me.

Kristen looked from Camille to me and decided that she should change the subject.

“Where’s your toy?” Kristen asked Camille.

Camille finally smiled. She had a bag with her, and she rooted around on the bottom of it and pulled out a realistic looking penis, if you considered a thirty inch double-ended penis to look “realistic.”

“Ooh,” Kristen said, her eyes transfixed. “It looks like it was made for sharing!”

Camille rolled her eyes at that remark.

“Put that away,” I said to Camille. “It’s making me feel inadequate!”

Kristen laughed and said, “Oh, poor Oogie Woogie! I’m quite familiar with yours, and you should be proud.”

I received one of Kristen’s patented dick hardening kisses.

After we broke our kiss, Camille asked Kristen, “May I try?”

Camille showed me that despite Kristen’s patent, she was quite capable of giving me her own version of that same kiss.

As Camille kissed me, Kristen unfastened my pants, and showed me that she had the fucking nerve to actually measure me against that rubber monster that Camille brought with her!

After Camille and I broke our kiss, Camille looked down and said, “I haven’t seen that since New Year’s Day.”

“Don’t be getting any ideas, Cammy,” Kristen said, laughing.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’m glad Kristen wasn’t angry at me about all this.

Sherry arrived about seven in the evening. Her mother announced Sherry over the intercom.

“Come on up,” I said, trying not to scare Sherry too much.

Sherry arrived in the apartment a couple of minutes later. She seemed surprised to see Camille in the apartment.

Before Sherry could tell us her problem, Camille took over. “Jim, Kristen, and I know all about Tim Hawking.”

Sherry looked shocked. “He said... I mean... I’m supposed...”

I had a ticket at the ready. I handed it to Sherry.

“You have one wish,” she monotoned.

“You are not to obey any of Tim Hawking’s wishes.”

“I cannot grant that wish.”

Shit! It was worth a shot, anyway. I tried another strategy. “All right, then,” I said. “You will no longer accept a ticket from Tim Hawking.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Sherry looked confused.

I handed Sherry another ticket.

“You have one wish.”

“You will not find Tim Hawking in any way attractive.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Sherry shook her head. “What’s happening to me? Things are starting to go weird...” Sherry looked quite confused for a moment. “It’s been a fucking weird day!”

“As Cammy told you,” I said, “we know about Tim Hawking. Camille has a way for you to obey him without involving me.”

“Huh?” Sherry asked, confused.

Camille reached into her bag and pulled out that monster dildo.

I excused myself and went downstairs. I didn’t have any intention of embarrassing Sherry while the girls gave her “lessons” in orally pleasing a guy.

For Kristen’s birthday, one of her mother’s presents was for the two of us. It was a pool table, and we put it into one of the rooms downstairs that Kristen earmarked as a new playroom. I decided that if I were to build a music studio, it would be nice to have a good stereo and some entertainment nearby, so we made one of the rooms a playroom and Kristen taught me how to play pool.

Kristen was a much better player than me, but she was helpful in showing me how to improve my game. She said that when I got better on the bank shots, she’d teach me nine-ball.

I played a few games, and in the middle of my fourth rack the girls came downstairs.

I didn’t look at any of the girls, but continued to attempt to sink the balls numerically. I just sunk the nine and was aiming at the ten. I didn’t even look up as I said, “How did the lesson go?”

“We managed,” Camille said, not wanting to embarrass Sherry.

“Want to play teams after you finish this rack?” Kristen asked.

“Which teams?” I asked.

Camille answered. “Jim and I, Sherry and Kris.”

I looked up from my shot. “Really?” Up until that day, I never played with anybody other than Kristen.

“Eight ball, Sherry breaks,” Camille said.

Camille sounded quite sure of herself.

“Stakes?” Kristen asked.

“I have twenty dollars,” Camille said.

Kristen and I never played for money before. We played our own variation, strip pool, but I wouldn’t suggest that with Sherry around.

“Want any handicap?” Kristen asked, grinning.

“Jim. Sherry’s your handicap!”

Kristen giggled, while Sherry and I blushed.

“Who breaks?” Kristen asked.

Camille said, “Sherry.”

Kristen laughed as I sunk the fifteen. She was going to show Camille how ruthless she was at games of skill.

Camille helped me assemble and rack the balls. She did it quite professionally.

Sherry saw the rack of cues, and picked one that was probably about three inches too long for her. When Kristen was teaching me the basics, she told me to use smaller cues as a way for me to learn control, and she now suggested a different smaller cue for Sherry. Sherry took her suggestion without comment.

Camille picked out the cue that happened to be Kristen’s favorite. When Camille noticed Kristen’s reaction, she handed it to my Goddess and took another one of similar size.

Sherry inexpertly chalked her cue and Kristen helped her line up her shot. It wasn’t quite strong enough, but a striped ball managed to fall.

“Stripes!” Kristen called, proudly.

Camille simply shrugged.

Sherry tried to line up another shot from a long diagonal. Her target bounced onto the two corner rails instead of into the pocket.

“May I?” Camille asked me.

“Of course,” I answered Camille, regally. “Age before beauty.”

“Hey!” Camille protested, but continued lining up her shot.

Camille managed to clear the solids. I noticed after she banked the three ball that she ran them numerically, finishing with a two bank shot that sunk the eight ball.

The three of us realized that Kristen was just hustled on her own table! We all laughed at the dumbfounded expression on Kristen’s face.

“You guys never ask me where I spend my Sundays,” Camille said, sticking her tongue out and collecting Kristen’s twenty dollar bill. “Since I was twelve years old, I’ve been playing at the Brew Lounge.”

“You need to be eighteen to go there,” I pointed out.

Camille shrugged. “Sunday afternoons they allow me to play for a couple of hours in between lunch and the time the real players come in. Fifty cents a game to cover the coin slots, and Louie used to teach me shots when the bar was mostly empty.”

“Louie?” Kristen asked.

“Used to be the bartender there until he passed away,” Camille said. “I used to go there to get away from... my sister.”

Kristen and I nodded. Kristen now knew about Camille’s relationship with her sister. Sherry also seemed to know that Camille had a rocky relationship with her sister.

“You’re welcome to use our table here if you ever want to use a table for free,” Kristen offered. “Sherry, too,” Kristen quickly added.

Camille laughed. “I haven’t paid for a game since I was thirteen. The guys thought it was cute that such a young girl would play them for the cost of a game.”

“You’re both still welcome.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on it. I bet Jim can use a better teacher.”

“Hey!” Kristen objected.

“I need to get home,” Sherry said, quietly.

“What time is your mother picking you up?” I asked.

“She should be here in five minutes.”

We all went back upstairs, since the main house intercom wasn’t yet wired into the playroom.

The intercom was buzzing just as we entered the apartment. “Miss Kristen, Mrs. Jordan is here to pick up her daughter,” Wally said as Kristen answered the intercom.

“Where is she?” Kristen asked.

“She’s just entering the parking area,” Wally answered.

The four of us went back downstairs to drop Sherry off.

“What’s in the bag?” Sherry’s mother asked her daughter as she entered the car.

Before Sherry could answer, Camille opened the bag and pulled out what I recognized were the pompoms that the cheerleaders used last year. “For practice,” Camille explained. She most certainly did not reveal the rest of the contents of the bag, and Mrs. Jordan didn’t bother to ask.

We all bade the mother and daughter good-bye, and watched the car depart.

Instead of going back to the apartment, Kristen and Camille headed straight for the pool table.

The two girls showed me how to play a game they called Cutthroat. Apparently, the normal rules were that each of us were given five balls, and the object was to sink your opponents’ balls.

Of course, I was the first one out, followed by Kristen.

Neither girl thought this was quite fair, so they improvised new rules. Each girl would have ten balls, both of them sharing my balls.

No matter how we played the game, Camille won.

I eventually grew tired of losing, and ended up watching the two girls play.

Kristen asked Camille if she’d like to spend the night in the spare room. Camille only accepted when Kristen promised to allow her to wear one of her outfits to school the next day.

When I woke up the next morning, I noticed Kristen wasn’t in bed. I went to the bathroom, and Kristen wasn’t in there, either. I looked all through the apartment, and noticed that the spare bedroom was empty as well; Camille’s bed didn’t even look as if it was even slept in.

“Wally?” I called out.

“Steve here, Jim,” answered the intercom.

“Sorry,” I said, forgetting that Steve did the night shift. “Any idea where Kris may be? Is she in the main house?”

There was a delay. “I show the lights on in the pool room.”

Pool? “Do you mean the Solarium or the room downstairs over here?”

“Downstairs—your billiard room, sir.”

I sighed. “Thanks, Steve.”

Since I was only wearing boxers, I went back into the bedroom and grabbed my robe. I decided against slippers and went barefoot downstairs into the playroom.

The girls were playing pool. Kristen was completely nude, and Camille was topless. Camille was holding a cue in her hand. There was only the nine ball on the table. “If I sink this on a bank, I get you as a slave for two weeks, or a night with Jim.”

“A night with who?” I asked.

Both girls were startled when they noticed that I was in the room.

“Jim! What are you doing up so late?” Kristen asked.

“Late?” I asked. “It’s six thirty in the morning!”

“Really?” both girls asked together.

Camille laughed. “Kristen is a compulsive gambler.” I watched Camille line up an unusual shot. The cue ball lay just inside one of the corner holes, and the nine ball was positioned in the exact same position inside the corner hole opposite on the same end of the table. Instead of making the short shot from one pocket to the other, Camille was going to bank the shot.

Knowing what I did about bank shots, I figured that Camille would aim for the direct center of the opposite rail on the other side of the table to make a V-shot toward the corner. I never had any luck with this sort of shot, and wanted to see how Camille would do it.

Camille wasn’t aiming where I expected, though. Instead, she was aiming for a spot between the opposite side pocket and the corner diagonal pocket. Camille took her shot, and it hit where Camille aimed, bounced to the center of the rail between the two opposite corners, then bounced on the side rail almost exactly opposite the first cushion she hit. The ball continued its motion and just missed the nine ball.

“Aha!” Kristen laughed, as the ball’s speed was much slower now due to all the banks.

The ball continued moving, albeit slowly, and hit the rail next to the corner and then banked one more time to hit the nine ball with a perfect kiss, sending it into the hole with the cue aiming safely away from the hole.

Kristen’s jaw dropped. I replayed that shot in my mind a few times. If you drew a picture of the ball’s motion, it would look like a fish without the tail completed.

“Which is it, Kris?” Camille taunted. “A week of slavery or a night with Jim?”

Kristen looked crushed. She didn’t seem to like either alternative. “How about more money?”

“I’m up over six thousand already,” Camille said. “If I accept more, I’ll have to start declaring income tax!”

“Six thousand?” I asked, totally shocked. “You bet six thousand on a game of pool?”

“Nine ball,” Kristen corrected. “And the last money bet was only a thousand.”

“I refused to continue allowing Kristen to ‘double or nothing’ at five thousand, one hundred,” Camille explained with a smirk.

“Five thousand, one hundred and twenty,” Kristen corrected. “You’ve got to lose sometime.”

“Six thousand dollars?” I repeated.

Camille explained. “Kristen is of the opinion that there is luck in a game of nine ball.”

“Six thousand?” I repeated, waiting for Kristen to answer me.

Kristen looked at me. “Six thousand, one hundred, twenty dollars, plus five nights with Camille, all the clothes that I was wearing, an hour that I have to diddle Cammy, and now an additional two weeks of complete slavery. I also had to kiss Camille’s breasts.”

“Are you guys fucking crazy?” I asked.

“I’m fucking you,” Kristen answered sweetly.

“You need help, Kris,” I said, quite angry. I turned my back to Kristen and decided to leave this completely intolerable situation.

As I walked out of the playroom, Camille said, “I’m not holding you to any of this, Kris. I was just happy to play.”

Kristen didn’t come back into the apartment for ten minutes. She came in with Camille.

I set out scrambled eggs, low-fat bacon, some English muffins, and coffee. Kristen did not look me directly in my eyes.

I remembered this sort of reckless behavior. It was my real father, the alcoholic. I wanted to shake some sense into Kristen, but I realized that this wouldn’t work. I learned that alcoholism was a sickness, and Kristen’s compulsive gambling was similar. A sickness. Maybe my tickets could help her, but I was feeling quite sensitive about the tickets with the Tim Hawking situation.

“Jim...”

If Kristen couldn’t look me in the eyes, then I knew that I didn’t want to hear what she was going to say.

“Not now, Kris. Eat.”

“But, Jim...”

“Jim is right, Kris,” Camille said, softly.

After breakfast, Kristen went to the bedroom. I knew that she was going to take a shower, which usually was a two person activity.

“I was pulling her leg, Jim,” Camille said.

“Kristen is fiercely competitive,” I said. “If she owes you money, she’ll pay. She’ll probably even be your slave. You should have known better once you realized that she wouldn’t stop.”

“I was having too much fun watching her get angry,” Camille admitted.

“Having fun is one thing,” I said. “Feeding a sickness is another.”

“I know,” Camille said, casting her eyes downward. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to be angry with you, Cammy,” I said softly. “Kris’ problem is a distraction now. We still need to figure out the answer on how to deal with Tim Hawking. Let’s focus on that. Let’s avoid pool for now and work together on dealing with Tim.”

I really had no intention of staying angry at either girl for long. Yes, Kristen was my Goddess, but she was also human. She may have her own weaknesses and problems, and I would learn to deal with them. Maybe Camille’s making Kristen’s gambling obvious would make it easier to deal with it sooner, before Kristen did anything that she’d really regret.

I left Camille and went into the bedroom. The door to the bathroom was open, and I could hear the water running.

I took off my robe, my boxers, and then entered the shower with my Goddess.

Kristen turned around when she felt me enter the shower and she gave me one of the biggest kisses she ever gave me.

“I’m sorry,” Kristen said when we finally broke our kiss.

“We’ll work it through,” I said.

I saw hope in Kristen’s eyes as I started to soap her lovely body.

After we emerged, Camille was already dressed in one of Kristen’s more modest outfits.

“Jim,” Camille said. “Before we leave, you should do something.”

“What?” I asked.

“Remember the last two wishes you told Sherry?”

Oh, yeah. I delayed doing this before, since I didn’t want to do it in front of Sherry, but I realized that I needed to “protect” Kristen as well. In fact, it might be a good idea to “protect” the entire cheerleading squad.

I pulled out a ticket and Kristen took it.

“You have one wish.”

“You will never accept a lucky ticket from anybody other than me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I smiled, but my smile faded when I realized that I added the “anybody other than me” part.

Was I really that much better than Tim Hawking?