The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

On Saturday, Kristen had an appointment to get her hair done at a salon nearby, leaving Will and me alone. Will took me to the campus at M.I.T. From out of nowhere, Will asked me, “Do you know you have a strange aura?”

The question made me laugh, seeing as how we were walking at one of the leading intellectual campuses in the country. “I do?”

Will didn’t seem to mind me laughing. “I’ve seen your particular aura before, a few years ago, and it scared the shit out of me. Somehow, it’s different now.”

“I don’t think we met a few years ago,” I pointed out.

“You’re right.”

Will then told me about his real mother. She lived in New York City, and gave him up for adoption a week after he was born. She died just another week later, the victim of an automobile accident.

Will explained, “I’ve always felt that a part of Katie, my real mother, lives on inside me.”

“That’s a beautiful thought, Will.”

Will shrugged. “It might not be profound, but I really feel it. Sometimes, I can almost hear her giving me advice. Of course, it could very well be wishful thinking. I’m glad that my family adopted me; I don’t think I would have wanted to be an orphan in New York. My adopted family is truly wonderful. Having Katie a part of me is just like having a second mother around whenever I need her.”

I thought about living with my real father and shuddered.

Will noticed my reaction. “Kristen said that your mother remarried.”

I nodded.

“Your father was an alcoholic.”

My head turned toward Will. I never told that to Kristen. I knew that my mother didn’t talk much about my real father much either. “What makes you say that?”

Will shrugged. “That was just a hunch.”

Staring at Will, I said, quietly, “That’s the second lie you’ve told me since I’ve been here.”

We stopped walking, and intently looked at one another. Finally, Will nodded. “Yes. I have lied to you twice.”

“I know the reason for the first lie.”

Will changed the subject. “You don’t believe in auras, Jim.”

I answered truthfully. “I used to think things such as E.S.P. and all that were just foolishness. Nowadays, I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

Will smiled. “That’s a start.”

Will told me everything he knew of his real mother. Nobody ever told him anything, it seemed as if he always knew. She was a fortuneteller in Greenwich Village. She would tell fortunes simply by analyzing a person’s aura and interpolating how that person would react in a given situation.

Will added, “As I said, Jim, this may all be wishful thinking. It may be that every adopted person has some wonderful dreams about their real parents, but to me, Katie isn’t a fairy tale. She was a fortune teller and part-time prostitute.”

I didn’t have anything to say about this.

“You believe in magic,” Will pointed out.

“I might,” I agreed.

“That’s the aura I see around you: magic. I saw it once before, and my instinct was to run from it. The person with the magic was not a good person.”

I shrugged.

“You are different,” Will said. “I see in both Kristen’s aura and yours that the two of you are truly in love with one another. Her aura has changed significantly since I saw her this past summer, and it’s definitely due to your influence. I’m really happy that Kris has found true love.”

We ended up once again on Massachusetts Avenue, and found Kristen a little while later. We ate lunch at a small Cambodian restaurant. I found that I was falling in love with most ethnic cuisines; Cambodian consisted of a lot of grilled foods.

Will told me that there was another city north of Boston called Lowell with a large Cambodian population. Lowell was the birthplace of the beat poet Jack Kerouac. I made a mental note to add Lowell as a potential destination for a future visit; I didn’t think there would be many Cambodian restaurants in my hometown.

After lunch, Will left Kristen and me at the “T” station, and the two of us took the subway system into Boston to the Boston Common. Our hotel, the lavish Ritz-Carlton hotel, was a short walk away and it was as opulent as its name suggests. We were given a suite that overlooked the public gardens.

The suite also sported a lovely bathtub that Kristen insisted on using. It was the first time I saw Kristen take a bath since my birthday, as we usually loved taking showers together. On this day, Kristen helped me rediscover the lovely joys of sharing a luxurious bath with the one you loved. The bathtub was smaller than the one in Chicago, which made the experience even more intimate.

A concierge brought up our luggage (Will dropped it off earlier in the day), and after we cleaned each other in the tub extremely thoroughly, we put on robes and went to the queen sized bed.

We invented a new sex game in that room, which we called “Fifteen Minutes.” The rules were simple, each player was given fifteen minutes to fondle, caress, lick, or even fuck the other one, who could not return the favor until the time was up and the other player took his or her own fifteen minutes. The game would continue until both players were thoroughly satiated.

I let Kristen start, and she got into a sixty-nine position on top of me. She took my penis into my mouth and swallowed me deeply. Although her crotch was inches from my face, according to the rules of the game, I couldn’t lick her. I could see the glistening of her juices forming between her legs, and I could smell the heady aroma of her musk.

I decided to return Kristen’s torture in spades when her fifteen minutes were up. I told Kristen to lay down on her back. I knelt next to her on her left, and with my left hand, I started to finger her crotch. With my right hand, I started to quickly masturbate myself. Looking at Kristen’s body writhing from the assault of my left fingers soon coaxed my balls to churning intensity in about five minutes. Sure enough, I felt the contractions and pumped my seed onto Kristen’s stomach and tits.

This was also a relatively new experience for me; I rarely masturbated in front of Kristen. However, I wanted to achieve orgasm, and this was the easiest way for me.

Kristen was a bit surprised to feel the warm jets of my sperm hit her body. Almost reflexively, she moved her hand to capture the essence to which she was addicted, but I took her hand and slapped it, reminding her of the rules.

Instead, I found a small puddle on the breast closest to me, and licked at it, capturing it onto my tongue. I then bent down and kissed Kristen, depositing the bit of sperm onto her tongue.

My lovely Goddess realized I didn’t have any desire to deny her a taste of my semen, and she smiled in appreciation. I found the process of scooping up the semen to be surprisingly difficult. I used more or less the same technique that Kristen used when cleaning up a similar mess on my body, and kept kissing Kristen afterward.

After Kristen was clean, she informed me that I took two fifteen minute periods.

“Damn!” I said in mock indignation.

“I have a better idea, Jim. Let’s fuck!”

We made love, face to face with me on top. Kristen’s body was still a bit sticky from the mess I made earlier, but I didn’t care. There was a wonderful tub to clean us up again afterward, if necessary.

After we made love, Kristen took me once again in her mouth, cleaning my shaft of our combined secretions.

It was late afternoon when the two of us walked to the Common. I talked to Kristen about what Will told me earlier.

“Will’s always been into the occult,” Kristen said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But some of the things that he says seem to correspond to things that I have been thinking about.”

“Do you believe in his auras?” Kristen asked.

I answered, “Will seems to think of them as colors. He told me that his mother Katie would tell him about them, but he never really saw them until March 1970. The image of the solar eclipse that year was the missing link for him. You know how the corona seems to shoot out from behind the moon, which is blocking out most of the sun?”

Kristen nodded.

“That was the image he needed in order for what Katie told him to start making sense to him. He was looking at the people, when he discovered that he should have been looking at what was being radiated out from the people.”

Kristen looked at me. “Will never told me that.”

“He knows that I believe in magic. He says that my aura shows magic in me.”

“Do you think he means the tickets? I have found that I can never talk about them with him, and I sometimes get frustrated.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. What else could it mean?”

From the Common, we walked around the city near the hotel until dinnertime, where we found a small restaurant and ate a simple meal of hamburgers and French fries. Later on, we explored a bit more before returning to the hotel.

Kristen enjoyed watching me masturbate earlier, and she asked for a repeat performance with the exception that my aim be for her open mouth; Kristen didn’t want to have to get my semen “second hand” as she put it.

Later on, I would think of Kristen’s comment as being weird. The big argument we had last Autumn was over her tasting my semen second hand—from the crotch of another girl!

I felt a bit awkward performing this time, being able to see Kristen watching me. After a few moments, I saw Kristen start touching herself through her lingerie, which got me more in the mood. Kristen knew how excited I got seeing her clad in her naughty bras and panties.

When I reached my peak, Kristen noticed and she sprawled out on the bed, her mouth open in expectation. I moved as close as I could, and my aim was true. Just about every spurt landed on her tongue or her teeth; one errant spurt hit her lips, but a quick swipe of her tongue removed all evidence of the missed shot.

Will met us for breakfast the next morning, and I told Kristen that the two of them should go without me. I didn’t feel like eating breakfast, and wanted the two of them to have some more time alone together. Kristen kissed me warmly before she left.

The two of them arrived about an hour and a half later, and Will accompanied us via the “T” to Logan Airport.

Once again, we found our flight delayed, and the airport was packed. Kristen and I got into the First Class passenger check-in line, and we made it through the throngs to our gate.

Will offered us a drink at a lounge, and both Kristen and I went in, although we only consumed soft drinks. I was now a seasoned traveler and a member of the Mile High Club. I knew that I didn’t need the liquid courage this time. The three of us chatted, and made plans to visit again for another stay near Easter, when our school was on vacation.

When we heard our flight announced, Will said good-bye. He gave Kristen a big hug and a kiss, and then offered me his hand. Instead, I surprised both him and his sister by opening my arms and pulling him into a tight hug as well.

“I’ll miss you, Will,” I said.

Will smiled, although I could see the sparkles of tears in his eyes. “Me, too. Take care of my kid sister.”

“I will make it my life’s endeavor.”

Will and Kristen smiled at my response.

“Will?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“I wish that you find the perfect person that will make your life complete.”

Both Will and Kristen looked at me strangely, and I finally jarred Kristen enough to get into the jet way with our first class tickets.

Kristen and I were a bit tired from our trip, and we decided to spend most of the time on the jet snuggling against each other.

I overheard a flight attendant—a different one than on the last flight—mention our row number and the words “five bucks” and I smiled. This was probably a bet that she’d lose. I’d already earned my wings.

When we arrived back in Chicago, Kristen pulled out an envelope and gave it to the flight attendant before we landed. I saw her open the envelope and watched her blush. Kristen told me that she also overheard the bet, and left a note of apology and five dollars to cover her bet.

On the way out of the plane, the flight attendant tried to give the money back to Kristen but my Goddess wouldn’t accept it.

November merged into December as Christmas season came upon us. I didn’t have a lot of money of my own to spend, as I spent most of the money I had on souvenirs and gifts in Boston. In addition, there were a lot more people this year on my Christmas list.

I earned some spare cash at a nearby grocery store, helping people bring packages to their cars. I also started earning my allowance again by helping out around the house, eating into the sudden windfall that Merry was reaping while I was spending all my time with my blonde Goddess.

Of course, this new work ate into the amount of quality time that I could spend with Kristen, but I explained things to her. Although Kristen told me repeatedly that she didn’t have any problems giving me any money I wanted, I knew that she understood that it meant more if I was spending my own money.

Luckily, I didn’t have to spend very much.

Deciding on a gift for my step-father was the easiest. I found an exact duplicate of the tackle box that I remembered him checking out repeatedly at the flea market in the local sporting goods store. Since it wasn’t fishing season any longer, the tackle box was on sale; I got a hefty discount that almost rivaled what the vendor at the flea market wanted for the used one.

For my mother, I selected some old photographs from her photo albums. Some of the pictures were from when she was a child; some were from the good times of her first marriage; and some were more recent. I picked out my favorites, marking the locations in the albums so I could replace them properly, and then went to a camera shop to have my favorites reprinted at various sizes, and then enlisted Patty’s artistic help in setting up a montage of all those photographs. The result was a loving look at my mother’s life that I hoped that she would enjoy.

I found out from Toby McConnell—the trumpeter that caught Patty’s fancy—that he was pretty skilled with woodwork, and we spent a Saturday in his basement at his father’s workbench fashioning a wooden heart from a four inch two by four wood “discard.” We cut it with a coping saw and then sanded it down, and used some Minwax to dye it a medium brown. A few days after the dye was dry, we then engraved it with a wood-burning tool. Over the next week, I would stop over and we would give it a new coat of shellac after the current one dried. The result was a shiny wooden heart for Merry that said “My Favorite Shortcake” on it.

Kristen and I did some mail order shopping for presents for Patty, Camille, and Wendy. I insisted on paying, but I soon found that my tastes in lingerie were expensive, most likely due to Kristen’s influence and her occasional modeling them for me. Kristen helped me find deals that were more reasonable and used her status as a “frequent customer” to eek out a few more percentage points in deals. When the items arrived, I wrapped up the three scandalous lingerie sets for the girls as a reminder of the day that we met. Inside each present was a handwritten note, “To one of my favorite lingerie store customers.”

I knew that Patrice was fond of small dogs, so I purchased her a cute little stuffed one. Kristen helped me pick out an appropriate one. In addition, I got four new “Olympic” Frisbees of varying weights for her brother, Jack.

I arranged a special present for Toby. Of all the people in the jazz band with the possible exception of Amy, Toby seemed to work the hardest. He didn’t have the natural talent that some of the other members had. In addition, he was willing to help me out in just about any way that I asked, doing some construction work for props for our jazz concert as well as helping me out with Merry’s heart. I owned a couple of trumpets, and, after explaining to my mother, I decided to give my special silver one to him as a gift.

Another special present was for Amy. I took the original piano score that I copied for Amy and gave it to Kristen, who knew what my plan was. She wrapped it and made it a present to the piano player from the two of us.

For Sherry, I purchased a silver charm bracelet, and bought her two charms: a silver pair of pompoms and a silver megaphone.

I was mostly out of money by the time I decided on a present for Kristen. After all, what do you get for the girl that could have whatever she wanted? I talked it over with my parents, and they loaned me some money in order to have the manuscript that I used for the “Hooked on a Feeling” session earlier that year professionally bound. Patty helped me letter the first page, featuring a giant fishhook. Two sterling silver necklaces, each with a two-inch fishhook made of sterling silver, accompanied this. The custom silver work required me to do a lot of running around to be able to get the job done before the holiday.

Before the Christmas concert, Kristen and I found Amy and gave her our present of the sheet music. She looked at it, and then dug through her concert music at the piano and found the copy that I made. That song wasn’t on the schedule, and I was surprised and a bit pleased that Amy brought it with her. Amy looked between the original and the copy that I made for a couple of minutes and finally said, “Thank you. I love them both!”

As the rest of the band started to gather, I presented Toby his trumpet. A round of applause from all of the band members accompanied my presentation, since every one knew how hard Toby worked at his craft. At first, he didn’t want to take it, but we all insisted. To top it off, I presented Toby with a dozen sets of earplugs, “So your parents won’t mind it when you are practicing.” Good-natured laughter and applause accompanied my announcement.

Toby used my trumpet at the concert, and his performance was nearly flawless. I couldn’t have been any prouder of how he sounded if I played his parts myself. Amy’s piano work was markedly improved from her inauspicious start, thanks to her diligent work on the score I wrote for her, and to Kristen’s talented help. She even played a small, eight bar solo during the improv number.

At the end of our performance, we all received a long round of applause, and I startled everybody when I made an unannounced modification to our program. I signaled the letter “L” with my hands to Sam, my bass player, and Derek, who played the drum kit. I then wiggled my fingers at Amy, who looked at me confused. I then mouthed the title of the song to her, and she looked at me as if I was certifiably bonkers.

I ignored Amy’s response, and announced to the audience that there was a special encore. I then signaled to Amy. She looked at me nervously for a second, but she started the bass line when I signaled her with the baton. Sam and Derek picked up the song ”Linus and Lucy“ without missing a beat, either. The three of them practiced this song as a trio a lot during October and November, mostly as an exercise to help Amy learn the jazz riffs. Now, without any warning, I was having the three of them play it in public.

The three played admirably. I looked offstage to where my music teacher was standing. He was open-mouthed in his surprise at my featuring Amy in this way, and that she was performing flawlessly.

The encore brought another long round of applause, shared by the entire band that stood up to cheer the trio. I went back to where Amy was sitting and took her by the hand to stand up. The applause continued as I told her to take her bow. She really deserved it. I felt great as I left the stage.

Kristen met me backstage afterward. She was the only person that knew that I planned to have Amy perform that encore, and she hadn’t let Amy know.

Amy found the two of us backstage, and approached us. She looked at both of us and said, “Thank you.” Kristen moved over and hugged Amy tightly. I avoided doing the same to Amy, knowing her shyness. I was surprised when Amy looked at me and threw her arms around me in a brief hug. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I’ll keep both copies of that song with me forever.”

I was about to leave with Kristen when Mr. Proilet found me. “If I didn’t see Amy playing that song, I never would have believed it, Jim.”

I shrugged. “It wasn’t me, so much. I just figured that the song was one she’d know and would be a good introduction to the rhythm.”

“You’re showing a remarkable talent for somebody your age, Jim,” my teacher said.

“No, Mr. Proilet,” I protested. “Amy did all the hard work.” I gestured toward Kristen, next to me. “Kristen helped her as well; the two of them are close friends and Kristen is surprisingly good on the keyboard as well. I can’t take any credit, really.”

My teacher shook his head, and handed me a wrapped tube. I looked at him curiously, and he said, “Open it!”

I did. Inside was a beautiful conductor’s baton.

“Jim, I have seen a lot of conductors take credit when a performance is great, when it was the orchestra that he was directing that was doing great in spite of the conductor. You are the real thing. Maybe one or two of those students would have played as well without you, but nobody else, including myself, could have pulled off what you did tonight. I had faith in you, which is why I made you people the last set of the evening. It would have been anticlimactic for any of the other students to have followed you.”

I watched as Mr. Proilet walked away, too stunned to respond.

I looked at Kristen, trying to protest that Mr. Proilet was wrong. She anticipated this, and simply reached up and gave me a kiss that lasted a minute or so.

When the kiss ended, there was a polite smattering of applause. All my jazz band students were there, and started to pull the two of us back on stage.

I felt overwhelmed with emotion, and didn’t fully understand what was going on. I let the rest of the band drag me back on-stage, and saw that the house lights were now on. Most of the audience was still there, and almost everybody in the audience was holding up mimeographed sheets of paper on which one word was written: “OOGIE!”

I started hearing the students in the audience chant that name. I looked at Kristen and I could see in her eyes that she knew about this, and might even have been one of the architects. I gave her a quick kiss and finally accepted the applause from the audience with a small bow.

I heard the curtains descend and the students with me pulled the two of us back until we were behind the curtain. It was my first performance as a conductor, and I finally admitted to myself that I guess I did a good job, even if I received quite a lot of help from my talented band members.

Due to their schedules, it took Kristen and I some work to get Patty, Camille, and Wendy together for a holiday snack at the mall. At the food court, I made a formal presentation to the girls of their presents. They all blushed a bright red—which Kristen caught on her camera that she brought with her—when they saw what they received and read their notes.

They got me back, though. Together, the three of them handed me three notes, mimeographed copies of the handouts from the Christmas concert that read, “OOGIE!”

“Good,” I sighed. “Just about five hundred more for me to find before everybody finally forgets that nickname!”

We all had a good-natured laugh at that.

During the week before the vacation, people in the halls, even people I didn’t know, kept saying “Hi, Oogie!” to me.

Learning to like that nickname may take some doing, I thought. However, the people that called me that all smiled at me when they said it. Some people even shook my hand. After it turned out that I was now a minor school celebrity, I decided that there were worse nicknames to have, like “Stinky.”

I found Sherry in History class the day before the Christmas vacation started. I handed her my present, and she seemed shocked. She opened it, and loved the pretty charm bracelet. “Thanks, Oogie!” she said with a giggle after she opened it, right before giving me a tight hug.

I gave my family their presents on Christmas day as we opened up our gifts. My step-father was surprised at the tackle box, and my mother looked at the montage for a long time. I saw her smile in recognition of the events that she recognized in the montage. Finally, she looked up and thanked me, and I ran over and hugged her. (Later on, my mother would thank me even more when I explained that the pictures in the montage were only copies; the originals were once again safe in her albums.)

Merry hung her heart around her neck creating a makeshift necklace made of used ribbon from other presents. She came over to me and gave me a big kiss. That night, she would hang that heart using that same ribbon in her room over her bed, where it would remain for a long time.

Kristen came over at about eleven o’clock and brought gifts for everybody. She spent a bit more than I spent on her gifts, but like me, she made sure each of them was special for the person receiving it.

For my parents, Kristen gave them tickets to a charity event that her mother was sponsoring for New Year’s Eve in Chicago.

Merry received a charm bracelet from Kristen. It was similar to the one that I bought for Sherry. On Merry’s, there were four charms.

Merry puzzled over the charms for a bit. Finally, I said, “The first one is a sack of sugar.”

“OK,” Merry said, a bit confused. “That makes sense. What about the next one?”

Kristen answered, “That one I needed to order special. Those are spices. Do you see? Cinnamon sticks and an onion?”

I saw Merry work it through her head. “I see: sugar and spice. I get it.”

The third charm was actually half of a charm that originally said, “Merry Xmas.” It now just contained the first word.

Merry got it. “Hey! I’m everything nice!”

“Yup,” I answered, smiling.

Merry puzzled at the fourth one a bit, trying to make it out. “What’s this tiny one? It looks like a circle with a stick on it.”

I looked at Kristen. “Do you want to tell her?”

Kristen smiled. “That stick is a candle. It’s as close to a ‘short cake’ that Jim and I could find.”

This drew laughter from my entire family, Merry included.

Kristen had a small present for me. The foil wrapping was perfect, and unlike any of the other presents that I opened that day, I felt that I needed to be careful with the wrapping on this gift.

The wrapping revealed a box, and inside the box was a gold pocket watch. I looked at it, and then up at Kristen.

Kristen said, “Read the inscription.”

I looked on the back of the watch, and it said, in beautiful calligraphy, “For my love.” I read it a few times, and then realized that there was something hanging from the stem. It was a lovely and long braided lock of blonde hair.

I looked up at Kristen. “O Henry! That’s one of my favorites!”

Merry was confused. “The candy bar?”

Kristen and I both laughed aloud at that. I showed the watch to my parents, and they smiled in recognition of the reference.

“It’s from ‘The Gift of the Magi,’” Kristen explained to Merry.

I quoted, “’Of all who give gifts these two were the wisest.’”

Merry still didn’t get the reference. I made a mental note to see if there was a copy of that particular story in my room.

I looked under the tree and found Kristen’s presents. I gave Kristen her first gift. I watched as she carefully removed the wrapping from the gift, revealing the manuscript. “Oh, Jim!” Kristen said, full of emotion as she opened it. “It’s wonderful! I love the cover!”

I handed her the second present. Kristen opened it and found the necklaces. “Two necklaces?” she asked.

Without answering Kristen, I took one out of the box, and moved around to place it around Kristen’s neck. I then took the other one, and placed it around my neck—with a little technical help from Merry.

“There,” I explained, intertwining our two necklaces. “We’re hooked on each other.”

This earned me an almost-R-rated kiss from my favorite kisser. I imagine that this may have caused my parents, or Merry, or all of them for that matter, to blush. Neither Kristen nor I minded at all.

Our family ate our traditional turkey dinner with Kristen there as guest of honor. During the meal, Kristen and I tried to recount the O Henry story for Merry, who finally understood the meaning of Kristen’s gift. Kristen surprised everybody by reaching into her pocket book and pulling out a coin purse. She showed Merry the eighty-seven cents—with sixty-two of it in pennies! Apparently, when Kristen researches a present, she makes every effort to impress.

Kristen and I helped clean up the dishes, allowing Merry and my parents some time to sit and talk and watch TV, and also allowing Kristen and I some private time alone.

Kristen said, “I hoped you’d get the reference to O Henry.”

“Like I said, he’s one of my favorite authors!”

Kristen looked at me. “I’m also surprised you knew the quote.”

I sighed. “I’m a hopeless romantic. That also cost a bit more than twenty-one dollars! Now I wish that I thought of giving you a set of combs,” I said, smiling. “But then you would need to shave your head, and that I would never allow, my fair Goddess!”

Kristen shook her head. “I love the fishhook necklaces!”

We kissed, knowing that there was nobody watching us to be worried about the rating. (Some readers may want to avert their eyes for a few minutes here.)

Later on that evening, Kristen and I drove to her house, my parents following us in their own car, to a party that Kristen’s parents were throwing for their close friends. My parents felt honored at the invitation.

In Kristen’s mostly remodeled apartment, I received some more presents from Kristen. One of my gifts was a formal tuxedo.

“That’s the tuxedo that you’ll be wearing at our wedding,” Kristen told me.

“Hmm,” I pondered. “What if I don’t get married in that tuxedo?”

Kristen looked at me sweetly. “That’s no problem, Jim. It will then be the tuxedo you will be wearing when they bury you.”

Oh, fuck. Why did I say that? I hadn’t really meant that. I looked at Kristen; I saw a sparkle in her eyes, but behind it, I knew that she wasn’t really joking. I quickly backtracked, quietly wondering why I would blurt out such a stupid remark. “I would be happy to be married in that tuxedo, Kris.”

That earned me a grudging kiss. Afterward, Kristen pointed out the watch pocket. I smiled.

Kristen also showed me a suit with another watch pocket for me to wear for the party, and we dressed each other to make our fashionably late entrance to the Swift’s holiday party.

Kristen proudly showed everybody the necklace that I ordered for her, and told the story that went along with it (with the addiction part removed, of course). She even managed to embarrass me sufficiently by having the cassette that I made for her in her purse, and she played it for everybody at the party.

For my part, I showed everybody my gift of the Magi that I received from my lovely blonde Goddess, nicely fitting in my new watch pocket.

Being around the adults, especially wearing that suit, made me feel so much older and more mature. During the entire evening, however, I kept on yelling at myself about that stupid, stupid, stupid remark that I made about the tuxedo. I thought I was making a wisecrack, and it backfired on me. I needed to watch my mouth in the future.

I wasn’t able to spend the days after Christmas with Kristen.

Kristen went on a skiing trip to Austria. She planned this trip over a year, and since I never skied before, I decided not to go with her. The decision was even easier because I didn’t have a passport or a visa for traveling, despite Kristen’s assurances that she could have such things expedited.

Kristen offered to cancel her trip, but I told her to have a good time. I’d get to see her on New Year’s Day.

One of the gifts that I received from Kristen was a used Yamaha keyboard that Kristen bought from a friend of her brother’s who was nicknamed “Sludge.” I didn’t have an amp to plug it in, but there was a very useful quarter-inch jack into which I could plug a pair of headphones.

Kristen’s absence and the new keyboard gave me the opportunity to spend a lot of time alone in my room, hashing out chords. I remembered my desire to want to write my own music, and this was a good time for me to get started without driving my family up the wall.

My step-father and I cobbled together a stand for the instrument that used wing nuts and hinges so it could collapse easily for storage.

The electric piano had a tactile feel that was very much different from the upright piano that I normally played in the house—it was almost like an organ. However, it was very easy for me to get the hang of that. Another difference was the way the notes would blend tonally in a way that only an electric piano with an electronic sustain pedal could accomplish.

Despite having almost a week to myself, I didn’t get very far with writing my “Symphony to a Goddess.” Instead, I found myself doodling around, playing bits and pieces of songs that I fancied.

I paid a visit to the Williams’ house on Monday, and gave Patrice and Jack their presents. Patrice smiled at the stuffed puppy, and Jack seemed to appreciate the Frisbees. We promised each other that we’d make time to throw them around when the weather got warmer.

During my visit with Patrice and Jack, the doorbell rang, and Jack ran to the door. It was Doreen, and Jack brought her downstairs where Patrice and I were sitting around.

“Hi, Jim,” Doreen said as Jack brought her into the finished basement.

“Oh, hi!” I said, happy to see that Jack and Doreen were still seeing each other. “I haven’t seen you since the party.”

The four of us talked for an hour or so before I started to head out. Before I left, Doreen reached into her pocketbook, and rummaged through it and found an envelope. She handed it to me. “It’s a Christmas card from Marla.”

I looked at the card, and decided that it might be a good idea for me to open it up later. I still felt guilty about Marla; not only did I take advantage of her using the lucky tickets, but I stood her up on an informal date we made at the mall right before she needed to go back to her home in California.

“Thanks, Doreen.” I looked at the card and it contained a return address. “I see her address is on the card. Do you think she’ll mind if I write?”

Doreen looked at me for a few moments and pulled a pen out of her purse. She took the envelope and wrote a number on the back of it. I could easily see that it was Marla’s phone number. “Marla would love to hear from you.”

I thanked Doreen, and said good-bye to my friends.

Walking home, I kept staring at that envelope. Finally, I decided to open it. There was a card with a picture of Santa on it with a standard holiday greeting. Inside the card was a short note:

Dear Jim,

I don’t know if you remember me, but we met last summer. If you remember me, I would really like to hear from you again.

Ask Doreen if you need my phone number.

Love and happy holidays,

Marla

I spent the rest of the day thinking about Marla and my behavior toward her. I wasn’t very happy with myself. I couldn’t get up the nerve to ask my mother to call long distance that night, so I decided to think about writing Marla a letter.