The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

We didn’t do much Friday night. Kristen suggested we order take-out Chinese and she passed an order to the main house to have somebody pick it up for us. Harry arrived about forty-five minutes later, our meals in those white cardboard cartons.

Lynette and Kristen drank white wine; Sherry and June drank Tab, and I had some iced tea with mint leaves that Lynette made the previous day.

I excused myself after dinner and went back to my studio to listen to the album that I borrowed from the Swifts. My intention was to try to figure out a suitable arrangement for the song I was interested in that would do it justice.

I was only interrupted once in the studio: Kristen asked me what time I was going to bed, and I told her that I intended to be there by midnight.

I spent the rest of the night working on my arrangement and then picked up an open reel tape with a song of my own composition on it that I wanted to complete before Thursday.

Midnight came and went, and when I realized the time, it was past two o’clock in the morning.

I put my music away and walked out of the studio. The door to the recovery room was closed, indicating that it was occupied. I realized that I hadn’t said good-night to the girls and regretted spending so much time in the studio.

I woke the next morning to Lynette sucking me off.

Usually, this was Kristen’s job, but apparently the two girls had made different arrangements in my absence the previous evening. I looked past Lynette and saw that she had both legs spread out in a split with Kristen’s body underneath her.

I couldn’t see the girl on girl action, but my dick was already pretty hard from Lynette’s intense sucking. I reached down and caressed Lynette’s head in a loving manner to let her know that I was awake.

Lynette moaned, sending thrilling tremors through the shaft of my organ, bringing me very close to orgasm. I tried to will myself not to come, but Lynette was too talented. It was obvious that Kristen had ordered her to suck me off quickly and she was putting her entire self into the act.

I achieved my release much quicker than I wanted, and pumped into Lynette’s sucking mouth. After a few strong bursts, Lynette pulled off me and immediately attacked Kristen’s face, depositing my sperm into my beloved’s hungry mouth.

I was too spent to do much more than look for a few moments before shaking my head and dragging my ass out of bed. Lynette and Kristen were still playing around, kissing each other ferociously. I left them to their own devices as I entered the master bathroom.

As I was taking my shower, I heard somebody come into the bathroom.

A few seconds later, Kristen entered the tub. “Can you wash my hair?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” I soaked Kristen’s beautiful hair and then put a generous amount in her shampoo onto it.

Kristen’s shampoo (both lather and rinse cycles) took about fifteen minutes. I heard the toilet flush and realized that Lynette was in the bathroom as well.

I hopped out of the shower, grabbing one of the large towels, and nodded to Lynette, indicating that she should join Kristen.

Lynette smiled at me, and got into the tub. I could hear the two girls squealing together as they worked very hard to clean themselves up. Of course, Kristen was already squeaky clean all over her body, but Lynette would be the final arbiter of that.

Back in the bedroom, I pulled on a black pair of slacks and saw a couple of new shirts in my dresser drawer. I decided upon a burgundy shirt and looked at myself in the mirror.

My hair was still wet and very unkempt. I found a rat-tail comb on the dresser (one of Lynette’s), and tried to get the majority of the knots out. I wasn’t completely successful, and I knew that either Kristen or Lynette would insist on running a brush through my hair to get it perfect to their way of thinking.

I could hear hair dryers in the bathroom, indicating to me that the girls had left the shower. I dawdled for a bit, and finally walked out of the bedroom.

I was surprised by the presence of Sherry in the dining room, and the smell of blueberry pancakes coming from the kitchen. “Ooh, my favorite!” I announced to June in the kitchen.

“It sounded like you were still busy in the bedroom,” June said as she came out of the kitchen with a smirk.

“Wasn’t me for the last twenty minutes, Juicy!”

June blushed slightly at the mention of her nickname, as did Sherry. I wondered if June actually told Sherry how she got that nickname.

Kristen and Lynette surprised me by coming out of the bedroom about five minutes after I did. I was used to the two of them taking close to a half hour just to dress, but the two of them came out wearing sun dresses that were identical except for color that I remembered Kristen bought when she admired Patty’s favorite dress style a year earlier. Both girls’ wore their hair straight and long past their shoulders.

My mind flashed back a year or so ago when Patty and Kristen were dressed like twin sisters. However, with Lynette and Kristen with their similar builds and hair styles, the effect was even more striking. Both June and Sherry noticed their outfits.

“You guys look great!” June said as the girls came out of the bedroom.

The two girls took the compliment in stride.

“Good morning, Sherry,” Kristen said, smiling at June’s guest.

“Hi, Kris.”

“How was the recovery room?”

“I never slept in a water bed before,” Sherry answered. “It was a bit weird, but it turned out very comfortable.”

I nodded, remembering the smell of vinyl that took a little getting used to the first time I used that room myself.

Kristen looked at June and said, “June picked out the color patterns for that room.”

“It’s nice,” Sherry said, smiling. “It even has some of Jim’s clothes in it, including his costume.”

“Costume?” Kristen asked. She was unaware of my greaser outfit.

Sherry looked at me as if she had violated a taboo, but I smiled at her. “Just a few props for a song, sweetness.”

“You’re getting secretive in that studio of yours, mister!”

“Well, if you want to help out, I can use a bass to do a fairly standard riff.”

“Sure thing... oh, wait! Maybe tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, confused.

“We have a guest, darling,” Kristen pointed out. “It’s not nice for you to disappear for hours at a time with your music.”

Sherry immediately protested. “Kristen, that’s really not a prob—...”

“Hush, Sherry,” Kristen said. “I’m just reminding Jim who the host is around here. This is his apartment, after all.”

I nodded, a bit sheepishly.

June came out of the kitchen with five plates of pancakes, balancing them like a waitress in one of those diners you see in the movies. “Breakfast is served.”

“Yum!” I said, grateful the topic had turned away from me being a bad host last night.

Lynette looked at the set up on the dining room table, and without saying a word, she went into the kitchen and quickly returned with an unopened bottle of the expensive wild blueberry syrup that we were building up a nice stock of in our pantry.

“I didn’t know where you guys kept that,” June said, smiling. “I looked all over.”

“Back of the pantry on top,” Lynette said. “It’s Kristen’s favorite—her mother has it sent in from a place in Maine.”

“Bar Harbor,” Kristen said, automatically.

I had no idea where Bar Harbor or any town in Maine was, so I didn’t comment. Kristen’s family did a lot more traveling than my family ever did; in the year since I started dating Kristen, I had probably traveled further and more often than I had in the previous fifteen years of my life, and that wasn’t much compared to Kristen!

“What’s the plan for today?” I asked.

“June and I have practice later today,” Sherry said. “Lynette was thinking of helping out.”

I noticed that Lynette’s reaction to this information was to immediately look for permission in Kristen’s eyes and she smiled when she immediately received Kristen’s silent blessing.

“That leaves the two of us, Kris.”

Kristen smiled at me.

I smirked at Kristen. “That means that I’ll be able to lay down that bass track today after all.”

Sherry and June laughed at my response, and Kristen and Lynette joined them.

“Jim has a one-track mind when it comes to music,” Sherry said, giggling.

June giggled and added, “I think he calls it a four track in his studio. Anyway, he’s unlike most boys his age, who have one-track minds focused on something else.”

I felt a bit embarrassed at this. “What’s wrong with playing music? What’s it that Mac Davis sings? ‘Music is the universal language, and love is the key.’ Right?”

Sherry came to my rescue. “That’s right, Oogie. Everybody loves you for your music. We’re just having fun with you.”

Lynette furrowed her brow, and then got up from her chair and quickly left to the spare bedroom. She returned a few seconds later with a light brown wig with short, frizzy hair—almost an Afro-style.

“Where did you get that?” June asked.

Kristen answered. “Lynette has, like, five or six wigs. She’s always liked them, but she only seems to wear them...” Kristen suddenly stopped.

I think I knew why Kristen stopped. Lynette usually wore her wigs when she was alone with Kristen in the spare bedroom. When June wasn’t around, the girls never closed their bedroom door when they were together and I had seen Lynette dressed up in wigs and costumes when they were playing together.

Lynette didn’t blush, but proceeded to put the wig onto my head. “There. Now he looks like Mac Davis. He even has that funny nose!”

“Hey!” I protested, sensitive about my looks.

“Do his voice, Oogie,” Lynette begged.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Mac Davis’ voice. I tried to make it a bit nasal, and tried a few lines:

I could sit around making music

All day long...

This sounded a bit too nasal, so I ended up doing the song more or less in my own voice.

As long as I’m making my music

I ain’t gonna do nobody no harm.

“Wow, that’s eerie!” June suddenly said, interrupting me.

“Yeah,” Sherry said.

Even my beloved Kristen was looking at me, a bit shocked. “I was always trying to place who your natural voice sounded like.”

Lynette didn’t say anything, but was nodding in agreement.

I was a bit confused until June said what everybody else had been thinking. “Jim sounds like Mac Davis!”

“Huh?” I shook my head. “His voice is more nasal than mine!”

“No it’s not,” Kristen said, shaking her head. “When you made your voice nasal, it didn’t sound like him at all. When you relaxed and used your own voice, it sounds just like his.”

“You guys are crazy!” I protested, shaking my head vigorously.

Everybody except me seemed to be in agreement, however.

I stewed over this quietly and let my so-called friends continue to talk about my voice sounding like that of a country-western singer.

After a couple of minutes of good natured ribbing, Lynette touched Kristen’s arm and then nodded at me. Kristen and the others got Lynette’s message and the subject was mercifully changed.

Later that day, after the three cheerleaders had left to go to pick up my sister on the way to practice, Kristen joined me in the music studio.

Kristen was strumming her guitar as she watched me play with the patch cords that led to the open reel and the cassette tape decks.

“You need a mixer,” Kristen said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We’ve never seen good ones in the second hand shops, though.”

Kristen put down her guitar and left the studio for a moment. She returned less than a minute later.

“Where did you go?” I asked.

“I needed to fetch something.”

I looked at Kristen, and only saw a guitar pick in her hand. “A pick?”

Kristen smiled. “Nah. A surprise.” She picked up her guitar and started picking a song, stopping a few times to tighten or loosen her strings slightly to get her guitar in perfect tune. I soon recognized the song as Don MacLean’s Vincent, which I remembered Kristen playing at the music store in Indiana.

“You played that at the store,” I pointed out.

“I use it to warm up. It was the first song I ever picked out on my own, and I like to play it.”

I listened to Kristen play that song. After she played the chorus, she started to repeat the verse. I started singing along.

Starry, starry night,

Flaming flowers that brightly blaze.

Swirling clouds in violet haze,

Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of China blue.

Colors changing hue,

Morning field of amber grain,

Weathered faces lined in pain,

Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.

My lovely blonde Goddess smiled as she realized that I knew the words to that song. Heck, I had just about memorized that entire album when American Pie came out. Based on what people told me about the title track, I even started looking into Buddy Holly records at the time.

I continued to sing, and Kristen joined me by singing a harmony line on the second chorus:

Now I understand,

What you tried to say to me.

How you suffered for your sanity.

How you tried to set them free.

They would not listen,

They did not know how.

Perhaps they’ll listen now.

Kristen stopped playing at this point. “Do you ever feel like that, Jim?”

“Like what?” To me, Vincent was simply a song. A very pretty one, but it was just a song.

“Like people are sometimes too stupid to listen to you?”

“No.”

“You don’t feel like you’re misunderstood?”

“When I was younger,” I admitted. “My father was a bully, but I always had my mother. I don’t feel like that so much nowadays.”

Kristen shook her head. “When I first heard that song, I asked Daddy if he could get me a reproduction of that picture.”

“What picture?” I asked, completely confused.

“Starry, Starry, Night. The picture mentioned in the song.”

“The song’s about a picture?” I asked. This was news to me.

Kristen looked at me, surprised. “Do you know anything about that song?”

“Somebody once told me it was about Vincent Van Gogh... a painter, right?”

Kristen shook her head. “It’s pronounced ‘Van Gogh.’” Kristen pronounced the last part the way it would be pronounced in Dutch, with a back-of-the-throat guttural sound at the end. “You don’t know what the song’s about?”

I decided to admit my stupidity. “I originally thought that he was singing about a friend. Then somebody told me it was about an artist, which sort of explained all the color visualizations in the song. I was never sure what to make about the song, actually.”

“It’s a short song but it is all about the life of Vincent Van Gogh. How he was misunderstood his entire life. He was broke when he died, and nowadays his paintings sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars—money the painter never saw.”

“Starry, Starry Night was the name of one of his pictures?”

“You’ve been in my room. The picture is on the wall.”

I tried to remember the picture that Kristen had hanging over one of her dressers. I remembered a picture with a lot of swirls on it. “The one with the yellow circles?”

Kristen shook her head at me. “Yeah. That’s the picture that the song is about.”

I decided it wasn’t a good idea for me to admit that I had thought that particular picture was one that Kristen might have painted herself when she was younger. It never occurred to me that it was a reproduction of a painting by a famous artist!

“I’ll have to check it out the next time I’m in the main house.”

Kristen again shook her head at my naiveté. “I used to lay in my bed strumming that song on my guitar and sing that song over and over. Nobody except Will ever understood me. Daddy and Mommy try, but they never really know what goes on inside my head. That picture and that song seemed to describe my own life.”

This was a revelation from Kristen that I never heard before. I couldn’t think of anything to say. “Oh,” I finally uttered.

Kristen closed her eyes. “I felt that way most of my life. The only time I felt differently was when I was with my parents or when I was upstairs in the apartment playing games with Will. I really felt that nobody liked me... not even the people that I hung out with.”

I remembered Kristen’s circle of bitchy friends that, if memory served correctly, included Patrice and even Lynette. Had it just been a year ago that Kristen was such a different person?

“Do you still feel that way, Kris?” I asked, softly.

Kristen started to shake her head, but stopped.

“It was after I met you... and what you did to me. Patty came over to my house. I was so embarrassed at what happened over Wendy’s house that I didn’t want to talk with her, but she was insistent. I decided to let her come over, and we talked. I think we talked for a couple of hours. I showed her my play room, and she took one look and told me how lonely it was in here. It was as if she could just feel the loneliness that I felt. Then she told me about her past, and somehow, the subject got changed to you.”

Somehow, I knew that this had happened, but neither Patty nor Kristen had told me anything about it up until now.

After a few moments, Kristen continued. She wasn’t looking at me, though. “I told Patty how much I hated you, and that I wanted to kill you. I told her what really happened after I left Wendy’s house that first day... about how I couldn’t contact my brother, which was a first for us. Somehow, I felt that I could tell Patty everything. I even told her that I wanted to kill you, but I couldn’t.”

“You wanted to kill me?” I asked. This was news to me.

“I wanted to cut your balls off with a butter knife and force feed them down your fucking throat, Jim.”

The vehemence in Kristen’s voice startled me. I could see a look of pure hatred in her eyes.

“You were the personification of every person in the world that I ever hated. I told this to Patty... and more! I played out scenes of killing you that I thought would scare Patty, but she didn’t get scared. She just listened.”

The image that Kristen was painting was very frightening. “You wanted to kill me?” I repeated.

Kristen didn’t answer me. Instead, she continued. “Patty listened to me as I ranted and raved all about you. And then when I finally stopped to catch my breath, Patty made a single comment.”

Kristen paused, waiting for me to ask the obvious question.

“What did she say?” I finally asked.

“She said, ‘If you kill Jim, you’ll be an addict without any way to feed your hunger.’”

“Patty said that?” I asked. Not only was I hearing once again that Kristen didn’t love me and that she wanted to kill me, but now that my dear friend Patty insinuated something very nasty about me! This was amazing. I was too shocked to say anything.

“Patty’s very observant,” Kristen said, nodding. “It was like she knew what I felt, and she pointed out to me that anything I did to hurt you would end up hurting me. It made me hate you even more! I’ve never hated anybody in my life like I hated you the moment that became crystal clear to me.”

This news was very disturbing! “Hate?”

“Hate, Jim. After what Patty said, it hit me that she was right. If I killed you, I’d be a junkie without a fix. It was then that I was considering...”

Kristen suddenly stopped. She was still not looking at me.

From the tone of Kristen’s voice, I finally realized where Kristen was headed. Softly, I said, “You were going to kill me and then kill yourself?”

Kristen didn’t answer, but slowly nodded.

I was shocked, but I was still curious. “What did Patty say about that?”

“Patty let me rant on and on, and didn’t really say much at all, but simply nodded at me from time to time. Finally, I was tired of shouting and ranting. When I went to catch my breath, Patty told me a personal story.”

“Her rape?” I asked.

Kristen finally looked at me. “Yeah. She told me that she told you about it... you were the first person she told. But she told me about what the guy did, and how she felt afterward. She had never been betrayed like that before, and it almost made her lose faith in other people. For a year and a half, she lived a lie... she never told people what happened, even her best friend. She wanted to get even with the guy who did it... she felt much the same way that I did.”

I nodded. I had heard Patty’s story, although I had a feeling that Patty would be more open to discuss the details of her rape with another female who had a similar experience. I was still in a state of shock hearing about how Kristen truly felt about me.

Kristen continued. “Then she told me that it was you—of all people, the guy that did this to me!—that did something to her that made her realize that what she had been feeling was all wrong. She told me that you could make people do things that you wanted, and that a side-effect of what you did to her made her realize that the boy who raped her didn’t—couldn’t!—take away her sexuality, her femininity. We ended up talking for a long time.”

I waited for more from Kristen but there was nothing else forthcoming. I looked in Kristen’s tear-streaked eyes, and didn’t see the hatred that I saw in them just a few minutes ago.

“And you still hate me?” I finally asked.

“No.”

“You said the other day...”

“I said that Sherry loved you. I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t, but when I realized what I said, it brought back the memories of that day with Patty. I felt guilty because I never told you that before.”

“Oh.”

I wasn’t entirely convinced, and there were lots of questions in my mind—questions I felt should wait for another day.

Kristen’s voice got even lower. “Patty did something strange that day.”

“Huh?”

“She said, ‘Can I try to make things better for you?’ I said, ‘Yeah, right.’ Like she can fix this addiction problem, right? Anyway, she comes over to me all of a sudden and pulls me very close and kisses me. It was totally unexpected, and I tried to pull away from her, but she had me pretty tight. After a few minutes she finally stopped.”

“Patty kissed you?”

Kristen didn’t answer my question but continued. “She asked me if I felt any different, and I asked, ‘You mean, do I still feel the addiction?’ and she nodded. I told her I did. She closed her eyes for a few moments and then said, ‘I’m sorry. The only person that can probably fix this is Jim.”

“Me?” I asked. “Ha! I tried and it didn’t work!”

Kristen ignored my outburst and continued her story. “Patty then turned to me and asked me, bluntly, how I felt about you. I was about to say that I still wanted to kill you, but then I stopped. Somehow, something did change!”

“What changed?”

“Well, it was like Patty thought she could kiss me and make the addiction go away. I mean, that’s nonsense, right? But Patty really thought that... she really believed it!”

“Yeah...?”

“Anyway, after that kiss, it was like, all that anger and hatred that I had was no longer there. I mean, I could still remember feeling that way, and I knew why I did, but the emotions were just memories... they weren’t... I don’t know. How do I describe it? They weren’t in the here and now anymore. It was like they disappeared!”

“Disappeared?”

Kristen shook her head. “I know this sounds crazy, Jim. It was like Patty figured she could, like, suck the addiction out of me. Only... she didn’t do that, but instead, it was like she sucked the bad emotions, the hatred. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“That sounds weird.”

Kristen nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but Patty had this look on her face. She started talking about you again, and this time, for some reason, I found myself a little more open to hearing what you did for her. She told me what you and she did in the mornings, and invited me to join her. I was about to tell her, ‘No way!’ but then that part of me that feels the addiction... well, it got the better of me.”

“The next day was the day you came over with Patty?”

Kristen nodded again.

“Patty and I talked a lot after that. Sometimes on the phone, sometimes face to face. She told me that I was a better match for you than she was and she had a feeling that not only did you feel terrible about what you did to me—which took a long time for me to believe!—but that you actually had feelings for me. It took a few days, but I came to enjoy being with you. And then, the afternoon after the first day of school... when you played that song for Patty and me...”

“For you,” I corrected.

“For me...” Kristen came over and gave me one of her erection special kisses. When we broke it off, Kristen finally added, “I realized that we were both stuck with each other. As much as my addiction made me like a slave to you—and I think that was the hardest part for me to accept—you were just as much a slave to me. Patty made me realize that you felt guilty every time that I suck you. You do, don’t you?”

“Well...” I admitted. I had mostly gotten over it, but I still had twinges of guilt over it. Surprisingly, that very morning, when Lynette woke me up by sucking me, I felt a bit of that guilt then!

Kristen smiled. “You do, and don’t tell me otherwise. Anyway, your guilt makes you just as much mine. I told you that more or less on New Year’s Day, Jim, after I spent a week in Europe thinking about everything. I don’t mind the addiction much any more because it binds the two of us together.”

I was about to answer Kristen when she gave me another one of her special kisses. It lasted a long time. I knew that I would need some private time to think about these new revelations.

I saw the light over the intercom was flashing and I went over and hit the reply button. “Jim here.”

Harry answered. “Tell Kristen that her package is outside the door to your studio.”

“Package?” I asked, turning to Kristen.

Kristen didn’t answer me, but instead opened the door and there was a large box wrapped in red and white wrapping paper.

“Happy Birthday, Jim!” Kristen said, smiling.

“Huh?”

Kristen dragged the box into the room, and told me to remove the wrapping paper. It didn’t take me long to see what it was: a sixteen channel mixer!

“Kris! I only have a four track deck!” I protested.

“For now,” Kristen said with a wicked smile.

On the box, I noted a business card: Kurt Helmut from Lafayette, Indiana.

Kristen helped me set up the mixer. We needed to rearrange things around the room a bit, but it wasn’t difficult. There were plenty of chords and switches that would allow me to patch things a lot easier than my old jerry-rigged setup from before.

Kristen and I christened the new mixer by laying down Kristen’s bass accompaniment to a few tapes I had been making.

After those tracks were laid down, Kristen and I listened to the ones that were mostly complete.

After listening to my tapes, Kristen made a single comment. “You need a drummer, Jim.”

I smiled. I knew that, but my efforts on the drums were almost as bad as my efforts on the guitar.

“Can you play me a song that you played at that lounge?”

“Which one?”

“The one by Harry Nilsson.”

I nodded and moved over to the upright piano. Kristen set up the mixer to record my performance, so I made sure the microphone was live.

Kristen spent a few moments, first fiddling with the mixer and then with the four track. I saw her hit the peak button that froze the VU meters to their peak levels. She asked me for a sound check, and I gave her a five count at various volumes on the mike followed by a few scales on the upright.

When Kristen seemed satisfied with the preamp levels, she turned the tape deck on and nodded to me, her index finger on her lips.

I silently counted my standard fifteen seconds and then played the chords that started the intro of the song.

Kristen had one eye on the meters and her other eye on me as I performed. I saw her nodding, satisfied, as I started the second verse.

After the second verse, I noticed that Kristen was staring at me, waiting for the chorus.

It was only as I sang the words did the meaning of this song become clear to me:

Can’t live, if living is without you.

Can’t give, I can’t give anymore...

This was Kristen’s not-so-subtle way of emphasizing the discussion that we just had; her way of describing her life.

For a moment, I wished I had Roy with me to do a harmony line on the vocals for the next verse. Of course, I could probably double-track my own voice to accompany myself on a subsequent recording, but something told me that Kristen wanted this song live.

When the chorus came around again, I think I startled myself by actually hitting the same high note that Harry Nilsson did on his version, and hitting it correctly. I saw the VU meters go far to the right and wondered if I saturated the vocal track.

Kristen was now staring only at me.

Unlike Nilsson’s version of the song, I had no orchestra behind me. I let my fingers do the best they could on the piano, but I was now staring at Kristen.

The song was over for about a minute before either Kristen or I stopped staring at each other.

Kristen quickly went over to the open reel, rewound the tape, and popped the reel off. She also popped out the cassette that she had also apparently recorded as well.

“These are mine, Jim.”

Kristen left the studio to put those tapes in some special place. She left the door to the studio open.

Not for the first time, I wondered what it was like to live Kristen’s life: lonely, misunderstood, and now physically bound to me by those damned tickets. I thought of the words to the song Vincent and how they must have touched Kristen’s heart when she first heard that song.

I made up my mind right then and there that nothing would ever make me deny anything for that wonderful creature. If there were any way possible for me to do something for Kristen, I would move heaven and earth to do so.

The pent-up emotions that I felt from the moment I made the realization during the first chorus of Without You finally hit me hard. I spent the next five minutes softly crying, not caring if Kristen walked in on me.

It was a few minutes after I finally stopped crying that I heard the water flowing in the communal shower down the hall.

Kristen was softly singing an old Motown song from the 1960s.

No muscle bound man

Could take my hand

From my guy!

No handsome face

Could ever take the place

Of my guy!

I walked to the shower, listening to Kristen’s wonderful voice. Kristen saw me at the entrance and she smiled at me as she made a slight alteration to the lyrics:

He’s gonna be a big rock star,

And when it comes to bein’ happy...

We are!

There’s not a man today,

Who could take me away

From my guy!

I know it is a crime to silence a voice as wonderful as Kristen’s, but I found myself unable to help myself. I went right over to her and gave her the biggest, sloppiest, and wettest kiss ever. Kristen melted in my arms.

I would definitely have to find a dry pair of clothes later, but that wasn’t really on my mind at the time.