The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I woke up feeling my dick being suckled in a warm mouth. There were no hands touching it, so I realized that it was one of Kristen’s lovely sucks.

Before I could open my eyes, however, a pair of lips met mine. My eyes closed and I reveled in the mind blowing sensation of kissing a woman while another one sucked me.

It didn’t take long for my dick to erupt.

I grunted in release, and Kristen continued sucking me until I was completely spent.

The lips I was kissing moved away, and I opened my eyes to see Kristen and Camille sharing a wet kiss between each other. I realized that Kristen was also sharing my essence between them.

While Kristen made breakfast, I asked Camille if she knew any of the larger athletes at the school.

“Of course,” Camille answered sweetly. “I know all of them.”

“Who would be willing to do you a favor?”

“All of them.” Camille said it as if it were a given.

“Who do you know that can put the fear of God into Tim Hawking and make him reconsider going after the cheerleaders?”

Camille thought for a moment. “TB... um... Tiny.”

Now that was a great idea. Tiny Jonas was a line backer and star of the wrestling team. He was so large that people described his muscles as having muscles. He was big, black, and nobody, and I mean nobody, fucked with him.

“Tiny will do anything you ask?” I asked.

“Of course,” Camille said. “I introduced him to June.”

June was a black cheerleader, and was known to call Tiny “her snugly Teddy Bear.”

I laughed. Tiny would be perfect. “Do you think he’s coming?”

“June doesn’t do parties,” Camille said.

“Oh,” I said, my spirits lowering.

“Let me see if I can have Tiny come over anyway. The entire squad loves him.”

“Are you sure June won’t be jealous?” I asked.

Camille laughed. “June will tear the eyes out of any girl who even looks at Tiny funny. They all know that his dance card is full.”

I smiled. “Can you have him arrive at Jackie’s about an hour early?”

Camille moved over to the phone. She didn’t know Tiny’s number, but she knew June’s.

“This is Camille Lombardi, from the cheerleading squad. I’d like to speak to June, please.”

There was a pause. “Hi, June. Cammy... Yeah... Doing fine, actually... That’s nice... Listen, June, the reason I’m calling is that I wanted to know if we could borrow TB today... Yeah, the party... There’s been some strange... yeah... Anyway, a friend of mine thought that having TB around... Yeah! Think he would do it?” Camille grinned and gave me an OK sign. “Thanks a million, June... Of course... You’re welcome, too... Bye!” Camille hung up the phone.

“What is TB?” I asked.

“It’s short for ‘Teddy Bear,’” Camille explained. “Only June calls him by that name, so Lynette and I use the initials instead. Anyway, June’s going to call Tiny, but she tells me he’s free until five and they have a date at six.”

“That only gives us a couple of hours,” I said. “That should be enough.”

Camille took me to her cousin’s house at noon. A few minutes later, June arrived with Tiny. I watched the two of them lock lips for a couple of minutes before Tiny got out of June’s car. June waved to all of us and left.

“Hey, Tiny!” Camille said.

“Yeah, Camille. What’s up? June said something about some trouble?”

“I want you to meet two of my friends. This is...”

“Kristen Swift,” Tiny finished. “Archy Jonas,” Tiny introduced himself, extending Kristen a large paw.

“Pleased to meet you,” Kristen said, taking Tiny’s hand.

“And you’re the guy they call ‘Oogie,’” Tiny said, turning to me. “Jim something?”

“Jim Crittenhouse,” I said, offering my hand to Tiny.

“You are a mean mother on the horn,” Tiny said, smiling.

“I’ve heard you called the same on the wrestling mat,” I said with a laugh.

Tiny had a deep laugh that shook his entire body.

“Now, who is this problem that you want me to take care of?” Tiny asked, getting right to the point.

Since only the four of us were around, I decided to cut right to the chase. “His name is Tim Hawking.”

“The tenth grade nerd? He can’t hurt a fly.”

“He’s raped a couple of cheerleaders already,” I corrected Tiny.

Tiny’s eyes widened. “I’ll take care of that...”

“Wait, Tiny,” I called, seeing murder in Tiny’s eyes. Tiny was sort of a mascot to the cheerleaders. “Here, have a ticket.”

“You have one wish,” Tiny intoned.

It was weird hearing that from the two hundred fifty pound behemoth.

“Answer the next set of questions truthfully until I say ‘Truth Serum Off.’ You will not remember me asking them.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Has anybody ever handed you any one of these tickets before?”

“No.”

I felt a surge of relief. I handed Tiny another ticket.

“You have one wish.”

“You will not accept another ticket like this from anyone ever again.”

“I cannot grant that wish.”

Huh? It worked before.

“Why not?” I asked.

Luckily, the “truth serum” wish was still in effect.

“You cannot wish that I cannot accept a ticket from you.”

That was weird. “All right, then. You will not accept another ticket like this from anybody other than me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Truth serum off.”

Tiny looked a bit disoriented. “Listen, Tiny. We just want to keep Tim Hawking from disturbing the party.”

“If he’s raped some cheerleaders, they should call the police.”

“It’s not black and white like that, Tiny. The girls just found themselves... trapped by him. It’s difficult and the girls find it difficult...”

“My mama’s a rape counselor,” Tiny said.

“Shit,” Camille said, suddenly remembering that little fact.

“Huh?” Tiny asked, totally confused.

I handed Tiny another ticket.

“You have one wish.”

“Forget about rape. Tim Hawking is just a nuisance, and we’d like you to help us keep him from the party.”

“Your wish is my command.”

One again, Tiny looked disoriented.

“Tiny?” I asked.

“Yeah?” Tiny said, shaking his head.

“Your mother is a rape counselor, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I have a friend, Patty Nadal...”

“The red head?” Tiny asked.

“Yeah. She had a problem a couple of years ago.”

“Who’s the dead mother that did it?”

Oh, shit. Tiny was back in “knight in shining armor” mode. I could see why the cheerleaders loved him.

“It was years ago, Tiny. The guy graduated. She’s only now getting her life back together. Do you think your mom...”

“She works at the precinct,” Tiny said, frowning a bit. “She’ll be happy to talk with your friend. But you should never allow a rapist to walk away. There will always be another victim, sure as shit.”

I nodded. I found myself actually warming to this big lug. It was strange that I never considered him as possible friend material.

“Mind if I ask a question?” Tiny asked.

“I don’t mind. What’s up?”

“You’re a tenth grader,” Tiny said. “You’re dating Ms. Swift.”

That wasn’t a question. “Would you believe that I love this Goddess?”

Tiny looked at Kristen and then back at me. After a few moments, he said, “Yeah. I really believe that. I’m sorry to bring it up. It just seemed strange to me.”

“It was strange to me, Tiny. Can you believe that I once disliked her? I thought she was responsible for me losing a friend. In fact, I misjudged her, but we discovered that we really love one another.”

Tiny smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I once thought that June was stuck up. Then Cammy here introduced us. She wasn’t what I thought at all. June’s going to be a nurse.”

Tiny’s story was similar to mine, without the tickets, of course. We actually managed to start to develop a friendship that day.

“This guy, Tim Hawking, has a similar dislike for the cheerleaders,” I said.

Tiny nodded. “I’ll help him adjust his attitude.”

“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?” Camille asked.

Tiny turned to Camille. “I’d never hurt anybody, Cammy.”

I thought about the hundreds of opponents in football and wrestling that would take issue with Tiny’s statement, but wisely didn’t say anything. There was a big difference between a monitored athletic event and a big kid bullying a smaller and younger one.

Camille invited everybody in. Camille’s aunt looked a little nervous at Tiny, but was immediately enamored of Tiny when he introduced himself quite formally.

After Jackie’s mom went in to fix the refreshments, Camille said, “See, Tiny. A little manners go a long way.”

“Yeah, Cammy. I’m glad I’ll be able to at least pay you back a little bit for all the help you’ve been over the years.”

Camille nodded. “Thanks, TB.”

Jackie was assembling some albums for her record changer. Camille went to the kitchen to help her aunt fix up some snacks.

I felt in my pockets and realized that I had used up all the tickets that I had on my person on Tiny. I used more than I had thought I would need to handle him, and I hoped that I wouldn’t be caught short when Tim showed up. I did have others nearby in a safe place, though.

“Where did you learn to play the horn, Oogie?” Tiny asked.

“Fifth grade. I knew piano before that. I play other instruments as well.”

We made small talk for a few minutes before the doorbell rang. Tiny and I walked to the door to answer it.

It was Lynette Robbins, the head cheerleader. She looked a bit nervous. “Is that asshole here?”

I was about to answer when Tiny said, “Not yet, and he won’t be here if I have something to say about it.”

Lynette looked relieved. We invited her in, and we saw another car pull up with Maria Wilson.

A few minutes later, I saw Tiny stiffen. I looked outside, and saw Tim Hawking striding purposely up the sidewalk.

“I’ll handle this...” Tiny said, springing into action.

Tim looked stunned as he saw the huge line backer approach him. He froze, and Tiny took advantage of the situation.

“Excuse me, asshole. This event is for cheerleaders and their dates and guests. I’ve been told you’re persona non grata. That’s French and means that you are not wanted here.”

Tim hurriedly reached into his jacket pocket, but Tiny thought that he might be going for a weapon. Like lightning, Tiny pulled Tim’s hand out of his parka. As this happened, a whole roll of tickets flew out of his pocket. Tim looked at his precious tickets, and in a panic, started to dive for it. It wasn’t a brilliant move, since Tiny still had a firm grip on his right hand, which was now behind Tim’s back.

When I saw the tickets, I made a dash for them. Tiny didn’t expect me to move behind him, and he lowered his guard. Nevertheless, I still managed to get to the roll of tickets before Tim did.

I saw Tim start to fall down toward me, his right arm in pain, and I briefly wished that these tickets had never been around.

Before I knew it, the roll of tickets, which I had just managed to grab, disappeared. I just felt them just vanish, no longer there.

Was it that simple? Just wish them to disappear and they will? There was one way to test my theory out, but then I’d be damning Merry or somebody else with their possession. If Camille and Debbie were any indication, then I’d not be able to help my sister and who knows how she’d be tempted with them? Then another, darker thought came to me.

“Get off Oogie,” Tiny said, pulling Tim up by his left hand.

I felt Tim’s weight suddenly leave mine, and I pulled myself up. Tim’s attention was riveted to where I fell on the tickets, which were no longer there.

Tim saw the tickets vanish into thin air. “He stole them!” Tim cried.

“Stole what?” Tiny demanded.

Tim found that he couldn’t say what I stole. “Um... my things. They disappeared into thin air!”

“If it was a weapon, then I’d feel safer with it being disappeared forever, you little twerp.”

“No... I mean it...”

“I’ve already told you. You’re French for ‘get out of here.’”

Tiny had an interesting way with words.

Tim Hawking got the message and left slowly, his eyes constantly looking on the ground where he last saw his precious roll of tickets.

Disaster had been averted. I’m not sure how many people Tim Hawking destroyed, but his ability to magically do so was now significantly reduced.

A few minutes after Tim left, I excused myself from the party to take a quick jog to Kristen’s Camaro. The doors were unlocked, and I opened the door and looked underneath the passenger seat. I was afraid that I would find nothing there, and my heart hung quite heavy.

I found the purple roll of tickets underneath the seat, right where I had stashed them before leaving for the party. I had found out soon after I moved in with Kristen that she was never able to pick up my ticket roll. I had never discussed this oddity with Camille, since she claimed that she never had them, but I figured that storing them in Kristen’s Camaro would allow me quick access to them if I needed them, and was a relatively safe place when I didn’t have my attaché case with me.

For a few minutes after I saw Tim’s tickets disappear, I had the awful feeling that my wish to make his tickets disappear might have the side effect of making mine go away as well. As I have mentioned, I was not exactly sure how they worked, and in the moment that I had seen his tickets vanish, I was even willing to give mine up in order to save other potential victims from Tim. The fact that my tickets were still safe where I left them made me feel better.

I came back inside Jackie’s house and smiled at Kristen.

“I saw what happened outside,” Kristen said when we had a moment alone together.

“What?”

“Tim lost his tickets. You touched them and they disappeared. How come it doesn’t happen when you hand me the roll?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

“I’m glad he’s rid of them. It’s bad enough that you have them. I mean... I mean that in a nice way, Jim...”

I nodded. “I know, but if I make mine disappear, somebody else will find them. Kristen, I keep hoping that there is a way to fix what I have done to you!”

Camille walked over to the two of us. “Are you talking about what I think you are talking about?”

I nodded, sadly.

“You did a good thing outside. I hope the next person is more like you and less like that asshole.”

We ended up in a three way hug.

It was an enjoyable party. Even Tiny had fun.

Tiny had to leave early. Kristen, Camille, and I went outside with him when June pulled up.

“Hey, June!” Camille said, cheerily.

“Was my Teddy Bear a good bodyguard?” June asked.

“He was perfect,” I assured June.

“The creep that they thought would crash the party actually showed up. I managed to show him the error of his ways.”

“I hope this doesn’t become a habit,” June said.

“It won’t,” I said with some assurance.

June and Tiny looked at me strangely.

Before Tiny could get into June’s car, both Kristen and Camille gave Tiny a kiss on his cheek.

I offered my hand to June, and after a moment, she shook it.

As Tiny got into the passenger side, June said, “Did you know that Tiny plays the trumpet?”

“Really?” I asked. I never saw Tiny play an instrument before.

“His Uncle Jake was a jazz musician in Chicago.”

I hadn’t known this. “You play?” I asked Tiny.

“A bit,” Tiny admitted.

That was interesting. And then, suddenly, I made a shocking realization. “Jake Jonas? The legendary blues musician?”

“Yeah,” Tiny said, smiling slightly. “You’ve heard of him?”

“My... um... dad... once took me to see him in Chicago.”

I was always uncomfortable about talking about my real father. Also, despite the fact that I truly enjoyed watching the blues musicians play, my father got drunk and rowdy and we were asked to leave the pub where we listened to him play. He also beat me up when we were outside, and then begged forgiveness. I really hate my father.

“He died of a heart attack two years ago,” Tiny said, a bit sadly.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I felt a bit awkward. Then, I realized that if Jake Jonas taught Tiny to play the trumpet, Tiny might have some talent. “Would you be interested in the jazz band? We have a Spring Concert coming up...”

Tiny looked at June, who smiled at Tiny. “You practice on Thursdays, right?” Tiny asked.

“Yeah...”

Tiny said, “I’m free on Thursdays. I’m usually hanging around doing homework in the library while June practices with the cheerleaders. I’ll show up for your next rehearsal and you can give me an audition.”

The next Thursday, the entire music room became quiet when Tiny Jonas entered the room with an instrument case.

There were a few fingers pointing, and I motioned for Tiny to sit at the seat next to Toby.

Toby saw Tiny open his case and pull out an old trumpet. Tiny oiled the valves and ran his fingers over them. His eyes opened wide as he realized that Tiny’s trumpet looked nearly identical to the one that I presented to Toby, although it wasn’t as polished as Toby’s was. (For that matter, when I had that trumpet, it was never as polished as it was after I gave it to Toby. He really seemed to cherish that gift.)

After hearing Tiny practice with a chromatic scale that ran two octaves in an equal number of seconds, I realized that Tiny’s playing “a bit” was an understatement.

I told Tiny earlier that if he could just play the arrangements, that would be enough of an audition for me, since none of the other musicians had actually auditioned for the jazz band.

I noticed Tiny was hesitant during the first run through of a song, but on his next attempt he played his part nearly perfect.

During this particular rehearsal, I handed out some new music that I had written myself. I told Tiny to take the first eight bar solo to see how he’d do.

When Tiny took his solo, he floored me with the soulful notes he could get from the simple chord progression that I set up.

At the end of the rehearsal, Tiny graduated from being a curiosity, as it was very clear to everybody that he was a much better player than Toby. People called me a virtuoso, and I could actually say that his playing was as good as mine. I was lucky to have a bunch of other instruments in my repertoire, just in case I was underestimating his talent!

Tiny just smiled at me as he left. I saw Toby running up to catch up with him.

The next week during jazz band rehearsal, when the first solo was to occur, I was surprised to see both Toby and Tiny get up. Instead of a solo, they played a well-orchestrated duet.

I broke up the rehearsal at that. “What the fuck was that?”

Tiny grinned. “I think, in Italian, they call that a ‘duet.’”

“Did you guys rehearse that? That was perfect!”

Toby nodded. “You told me to practice. You are usually busy on weekends, and I asked Archy last week if I could practice with him. We played at his house.”

I shook my head. “You owe me a dozen sets of ear plugs!”

The entire band, except Tiny, laughed at that. One of the saxophonists whispered something to Tiny and Tiny burst out with his loud, booming, laughter. “A dozen! Man, Oogie, you’re cruel!”

From the way that Tiny said it, I knew that he said that with admiration.

Mr. Proilet was sitting near the back of the room. He moved up to me and whispered something to me. I nodded sagely.

I started the song up again, and was prepared for that duet, which they repeated with a slight variation. I saw Mr. Proilet’s eyes widen a bit at this.

I was watching for the duet, and I noticed that the variation was mostly due to modifications done by Tiny rather than Toby.

I continued to direct the song, and it seemed that everybody was keyed up. The solos were just a little more polished, apparently everybody was trying to live up to the high standards that Tiny and Toby, who I were now thinking of as “the two T’s.”

Kristen and I had plans for the next weekend, which were subsequently scrapped when June drove up to Kristen’s gate with Tiny.

“Hey, June,” I said over the intercom. “What’s up?”

“I’m here to ask a favor.”

I looked at Kristen, who already had our suitcases packed. She nodded and took the suitcases back to the bedroom. I told June to drive up to our apartment.

“What’s up, guys?” I repeated when we met them at the parking lot.

“June and I have been talking,” Tiny answered. “I have been cheating, and I’m really feeling bad about it.”

“Cheating?” I asked.

“I gave Toby his part of the duet.”

“I knew that,” I said, smiling. “The second time, I noticed that most of the variation was you.”

“I’m good at solos, and I thought that Toby needed a bit of confidence. He asked if we could practice together last weekend.”

“Yeah. Mr. Proilet talked with me on Thursday. We’re going to ask you to be the assistant director, so you can take over when I can’t be at rehearsals.”

“I can’t do that, Jim.”

“Why not?”

Tiny didn’t answer. I was about to prod him when June spoke up. “Tiny has a problem, Jim. He can’t read music.”

Tiny can’t read music? He played each of the pieces nearly flawlessly the first day. I was stunned, but then I realized how his first run-through of each piece wasn’t as good as his subsequent performances.

“Do you mean to tell me that in two rehearsals, you’ve managed to perfectly memorize six or seven difficult pieces mainly by watching Toby play?”

Tiny looked back at me sheepishly. “My uncle taught me to play by ear.”

“Oh,” I said, softly.

“Let’s go inside,” Kristen said. “Oogie has a music studio downstairs.”

Kristen brought June upstairs to the apartment while I led Tiny to the room that Kristen was starting to make soundproof. I had my electric piano and a couple of trumpets in that room, as well as a lot of works in progress and some empty music sheets.

I was lucky in that Tiny knew the notes, he just didn’t recognize the notes on a staff. I showed him the basics of reading music.

It took a couple of hours, but Tiny was determined to learn how to read music, and I was patient. I knew that Kristen and I had plans, but I was not a person who would deny somebody of Tiny’s obvious talent a request for help, even if he hadn’t been so helpful with the handling of Tim Hawking.

During one of our breaks, we took a walk outside the studio and I heard the distinctive sound of pool balls broken.

I smiled at Tiny, and brought him next door to the playroom. Tiny was a bit surprised to see how it was decked out (just a stereo, television, and the pool table), and we watched the two girls playing.

Unlike Camille, June was closer to Kristen’s skill level. The two girls would sink two or three shots in a row.

“Do you play, Tiny?” I asked.

“Once or twice,” Tiny answered.

After the girls finished their game, Tiny and I joined in with our respective girlfriends to play teams.

It was close, but Kristen and I won, Kristen sinking the eight ball in a beautiful shot.

“Pay up,” Kristen said.

“Huh?” Tiny asked, confused.

“Winners get a kiss from the losers!” Kristen moved over to Tiny. He looked embarrassed and looked at me. I shrugged.

June watched Tiny kiss Kristen on the cheek, and took her cue and moved toward me.

Not wanting an angry Tiny, I did the same, and kissed June on her cheek. Her dark complexion reddened slightly.

“We need to be going,” June said, softly.

Tiny nodded. “June’s mother is very strict.”

We escorted the pair out of the playroom to June’s car.

“It was nice to see your apartment,” June said to Kristen.

“Your whole place is nice,” agreed Tiny.

“Thank you,” Kristen said.

We watched June and Tiny pull out of the parking lot.

“You think we embarrassed them with that kiss?” Kristen asked.

“A little,” I said.

“They make a very nice couple. June really opened up in the living room.”

“Really? What did she say?” I asked.

“Just girl talk,” Kristen said, mysteriously.

I smiled. It was nearly four in the afternoon. “How about a quick trip to Madison?” I asked.

Kristen’s nose crinkled as she ran upstairs and came back down with both suitcases. “You bet, Oogie!”

Next Monday, before music class, I explained to Mr. Proilet about Tiny’s difficulty. The next day, he gave me some elementary music reading texts that weren’t aimed at musical novices, and I forwarded them to Tiny, who showed quite a lot of appreciation for them.

He occasionally found time with Mr. Proilet and a Saturday with me, and continued learning how to read music in his spare time.

Valentine’s Day was a weekend this year, and Kristen decided she wanted to visit her brother again. She convinced Camille to come as well.

At Logan Airport in Boston, we saw Will stand there and stare at us as we exited the jet way. He didn’t move, but continued to stare. It was easy to follow his gaze; he was entirely focused on Camille.

“Um, Will, you remember Camille... Cammy.”

Will didn’t respond, but continued to stare.

“Earth to Will,” Kristen said with humor.

Suddenly, Will realized he was staring. “I’m... I’m sorry...”

I turned to Camille, who was also staring at Will. “Cammy?”

“Yes?” Camille said.

“You remember Kristen’s brother, Will.”

Camille offered her hand, and Will kissed it.

Kristen and I looked at each other and shrugged.

Will was between partners; he broke up with Robert amicably a few weeks before.

We ate once again at Legal Sea Food, and during the meal, it was quite clear that Will and Camille were in another dimension, simply staring at each other, and neither one paid any particular attention to Kristen and me.

We originally expected Camille to share our bed, as she did a few times a week ever since that first night. However, she accepted Will’s invitation to his room, which didn’t surprise us too much, as the two of them were staring at each other nearly non-stop since the two laid eyes on one another.

Kristen and I gave Camille and Will some time alone on Saturday, and we had reservations at another nice restaurant for Valentine’s Day. Will and Camille were still doing the staring thing. We tried drawing them into conversation, but every attempt received a single syllable response at most, and only if they heard us, which wasn’t often.

When we left Logan Airport, Camille and Will shared a long, ten minute kiss that drew the attention of nearly everybody at the gate.

The only thing that was able to separate them was an insistent flight attendant who told them that Camille was about to miss the final call for the flight.

I think Camille seriously considered staying in Boston with Will. I was quite surprised to see Camille, who was sitting alone on the opposite side across the aisle from me. I know that Camille was physically on the plane, but her heart had definitely been left in a lovely apartment in Cambridge.

Despite her feelings for Will, Camille still spent the night a few times a week with Kristen and me.

Aside from my new friendship with Tiny, I found myself stumbling into Amy more and more. It was as if she knew my class schedule and intentionally made herself present in between classes. I remembered when she was a shy player, not saying too much to anybody with the notable exception of Kristen. I mentioned this to Kristen, and she told me that she noticed that Amy was coming out of her shell as well.

Kristen and Amy were still talking to one another during the rehearsal. Kris was playing Mr. Proilet’s electric piano during rehearsals and playing on mine in the music studio at our apartment, so that she and Amy could play duets—duets became popular with that particular song after the Two T’s showed their proficiency that first time. I was very happy that the band members were taking time to practice together on their own.

Amy even started talking to me in the hallways. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I just listened to what she said, remembering Kristen’s advice a few months earlier, and I talked back to her.

A couple of weeks before the Spring Concert, I asked Kristen to make a special trip to the Junior High to pick up Merry for our jazz band rehearsal.

There was a bit of buzz in the music room as they noticed Merry sitting on a tall stool right next to my podium. I didn’t explain Merry’s purpose to anybody. I wanted to see the reaction of the band (including Mr. Proilet, who was sitting in the back, as usual).

We started with the song I wrote, which I referred to as the ”Fisherman Variations.” I figured out the chord progression from something that I quite enjoyed, and I brought Merry in on the joke, and she agreed to play along with it. I red-lighted the room, making the only people in the room the musicians, myself, Merry, and Mr. Proilet. The members of the chorus, who were part of other songs, were waiting patiently outside.

Before I started the song, I told everybody that I was going to add a sixteen-bar vocal solo at the point right before the finale. They seemed confused, since Merry wasn’t known as a singer, even in Junior High.

We started the song, and Kristen and Amy took the first eight-bar duet. The other duets followed, with the Two T’s doing the last duet. It was now time for Merry’s solo, and Amy, Sam, and the drummer started a light chord accompaniment as Merry started singing at my cue.

The entire band was so stunned when Merry finished that they all missed their cue for the big finale.

The song degenerated at that point, and Mr. Proilet started laughing. “I thought the chord progression sounded familiar, Jim,” he said, coming up to my podium.

“Thanks, Mr. P.”

“Merry, that was one hundred percent cute,” Mr. Proilet said, smiling at my sister.

I turned to the rest of the band. “Do you think we can do it again, this time not missing the finale?”

Everybody looked sheepish. I actually expected the laughter to interrupt the song, which is why I brought Merry in a couple of weeks before the actual performance.

We did the song again, Merry did her solo, and this time, there was no hesitation that prevented the finale.

Still, at the end, there was a lot of levity in the room.

I swore everybody to secrecy. “If this gets out to too many people,” I said, “it will spoil the surprise, and with this song, the surprise is everything!”

Everybody swore that they wouldn’t tell. Unfortunately, I heard the song occasionally sung in the hallways, and not only by band members. I hoped the song would go over well live as well as it did the second time we rehearsed it with Merry.

When the Spring Concert arrived, the jazz band was once again the closing act. A lot of people attended the concert... even more than during the Christmas Concert, which was actually unusual.

I asked Patty to use her artistic talents to create Merry’s special props. She didn’t understand what they represented, but I knew she’d understand when Merry did her performance.

My mother, step-father, and just about everybody that I knew, including the very busy Mr. Swift and his wife, were in attendance. The room was standing room only, and I think we may have violated a fire code with the crowd in attendance.

When I walked on stage with the rest of the band for the first part of the concert, I heard people start to chant, “Oogie!”

I didn’t respond to the chants. This first part wasn’t even the jazz band, just the third period class that Mr. Proilet taught. This wasn’t about me, and I was embarrassed a bit. Heck, none of the concert, not even the jazz band, was about me. It was only possible to put on a great performance with great performers, not just the conductor. I knew that Leonard Bernstein conducting a group of five year old kids who never saw an instrument before wouldn’t sound very well.

After we played our numbers, the high school chorus did their songs. They were nicely done, and my good friend Roy sang a featured solo in the song Colour My World, followed by a lovely flute solo from one of the women in the orchestral band. I recognized the flutist as a junior, and made a mental note to invite her to the jazz band next year. Watching her play gave me an idea for some songs by Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull.

It was now time for the jazz band to appear. As we set up, more and more people started to chant, “Oogie! Oogie!”

I sighed. It was kind of embarrassing. I mean, I worked my ass off, but so did over a dozen other very dedicated people. It wasn’t fair for me to be singled out like that.

I set up for the first song, which featured an extra-long featured solo by Tiny Jonas. It was very well received.

We played the rest of our set, leaving the ”Fisherman Variations“ for last.

Amy started the intro to the song, and soon the entire band broke up into eight-bar duets. Each was met by enthusiastic applause.

Finally, during the duet by the Two T’s, two members of the chorus rolled Merry onto the stage. She was sitting on a step-ladder, in front of which was a large sheet of paper that looked like bricks. The effect was that Merry was sitting on a cartoon brick wall.

In Merry’s hand was a stick with a string on it: She was the fisherman for her solo. There was a microphone strategically placed in front of Merry.

After the Two T’s finished their duet, to very enthusiastic applause when Merry started singing:

My bologna has a first name,

It’s O-S-C-A-R.

My bologna has a second name,

It’s M-A-Y-E-R.

I like to eat them ev’ry day,

And if you ask me why I’ll say,

That Oscar Mayer has a way

With B-O-L-O-G-N-A!

Merry’s solo was greeted by laughter and applause from the audience, but at the same time, the entire band geared up for the grand finale, which was strong on brass mostly because I anticipated the audience’s reaction.

When the song ended, the audience stood up for a standing ovation.

I was floored. I expected laughter and applause, but not another standing ovation.

I turned to the band, and they all stood in recognition.

The applause didn’t die down, and as I led the orchestra offstage, I started hearing chants of “Oogie!” and “Encore!”

I sighed. I hadn’t planned on another encore. Roy, who was standing off to the side of the stage watching the performance from the wings, said, “We have everybody here that did Lollipops and Roses from Kristen’s party.”

That was an excellent idea. The audience was getting more raucous, and it sounded as if they might stampede.

I told everybody to find the music to Lollipops, and for those that didn’t have it to either improvise or pretend to play. I got the featured singers from Kristen’s birthday party as well. Luckily, there wasn’t a mike on me, so Roy did the male solo alone.

All in all, it was a very well received concert. My mother and step-father were extremely proud of Merry and me, as were Kristen’s parents.

Back at Kristen’s apartment, Kristen told me, “That song makes me cry.”

“Which one? Merry’s solo?”

“No, you dork! Lollipops. I used to listen to that song a lot when I was very young. I think it was my parents’ favorite song at the time, since I heard it so much.”

“I didn’t know that. I just thought it was a pretty song that allowed plenty of opportunities for improvisation, which is really what you want to do when picking out a jazz repertoire.”

“Don’t make it sound so clinical, Jim,” Kristen said. “Just say, ‘I thought it was a romantic song,’ and let it drop.”

“I thought it was a romantic song,” I said, meaning every word.

Kristen threw me into a hug that evolved into one of her erection special kisses. “I love you, Oogie!”

“I love you, my lovely blonde Goddess!”

It wasn’t long after the Spring Concert that things started getting hectic. There was the Senior Musical (Music Man). Earlier that year, we had open auditions in the Junior High for the part of Amaryllis, Marian the Librarian’s music student, and for Winthrop, Marian’s brother. Both parts were for younger people, and it was an opportunity for junior high students to participate in the musical.

I helped Merry learn the “over-hand exercise” song that Amaryllis plays on the piano in the play, and I secretly hoped that Merry would win the part, but I think that the faculty director thought that if Merry got the part, claims of nepotism might be charged, since I was a regular fixture of the school musical since I was in seventh grade.

I had to admit that the girl they chose had a better singing voice—almost an adult’s voice—whereas Merry’s voice was more of a childlike quality, which I thought was more apropos for the character. However, I didn’t play favorites once the part was cast, and helped the girl, whose name was Mary, learn the “over-hand exercise” and other musical parts that she needed to learn. I realized while I was working with Mary that her voice was much more suited than Merry’s was for the Goodnight, My Someone duet that she sang with the leading lady in the musical.

Merry, for her part, got a part in the play in the band that Harold Hill “directs.” I taught her how to properly hold a clarinet, and then showed her how to hold it slightly wrong in order to look appropriate for the part, but still be able to play a note that was in the correct key. (I convinced Mr. Proilet that I could get the rag-tag actors on the stage band to actually play their real part. It was a suggestion I grew to regret!)

Kristen, Patty, and Camille, meanwhile, were spending most of their time with the Senior Prom, and didn’t have time to help out with the musical.

Mr. Proilet had his hands full getting an orchestral band to get the brass parts working properly for the show stopping tunes, and I brought Tiny on board—I just needed to work with him for a couple of hours before he got the songs correct, since he still was a novice at sight reading music. Tiny made my life easier, as he could help me by acting as an assistant director when I was working with the “specialty music” including the barber shop quartet numbers.

Don’t let anybody tell you that a high school musical is a simple affair. It most certainly isn’t. The type of people who aspire to be actors, musicians, and singers tend to be prima-donnas, and everybody offered their own ideas on how everything should be done properly.

Kristen attempted to get the movie version of the musical with Robert Preston and Shirley Jones on Betamax, but it wasn’t available. There was a soundtrack album, although it wasn’t still in print, but Kristen’s dad managed to have a copy of it from the 1960s that wasn’t too scratched up.

The more I heard the soundtrack album, the more I thought the person that was playing Harold Hill might not be perfect for the part. He did have a forceful voice, which would be useful for the Trouble number (one of the showstoppers that I was assigned), but he didn’t have the range for the Till There Was You and Marian the Librarian numbers (actually, he did have the range, but he couldn’t hold the notes long enough without bending them, which sounded quite phony).

Fortunately for me, my friend Roy was able to work with that actor for a week, and actually improved the actor’s voice, explaining how to breathe and other tricks of the trade. The person playing the part was more an actor than a singer, and Roy’s dedication to his singing craft really helped the actor.

I didn’t think the musical would be ready for the date we were planning, but in the last few weeks, everything started to really come together, including the phony musicians, much to my surprise.

This was the first time I was involved in the direction of the school musical. Before, I was just a performer and not a person actually charged with putting things together. It was a lot of work, and it made me think back to the past three years when I was a prima-donna myself.

The musical pulled together, and word of mouth after the first performance sold out the other three performances. We were even requested to do a special performance at the Junior High, since a lot of their members had parts on stage—two of them pretty important as well. Despite a couple of technical problems due to the differences in the auditoriums between the High School and the Junior High, the kids seemed to really enjoy the musical, or maybe it was the time off from classes that the musical afforded them.