The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

They say trouble wears a skirt. They’re right.

What prompted this unsolicited observation? The hangover hovering around me like bad credit, for one. Mostly, though, it was the blonde sitting across the desk from me. She was bad news.

In case you’re wondering what qualifies a mook like me to make that call about a bird I had met seconds earlier, I’ll tell you that, too.

My name is Jack Wolfe, and I’m a P.I. Sometimes I’m good, more often I’m lucky, but either way, no one’s tied a tag to my toe yet. For anyone keeping score, that means I must know a little something about this lousy business.

She had opened the door ten seconds earlier, a blonde drink of water stacked in all the right places. I knew it was my lucky day.

Then she walked in. She didn’t look at me...she looked through me. And when she sat down, it was like Barney the Dinosaur lighting a smoke. Something didn’t fit.

It took me a moment. My hangover made thinking feel like gymnastics in a swamp. But then I checked out her rounded little bottom.

My plush angel was a svelte creature probably weighing in around a buck ten. So why was her chair creaking like I had dumped last month’s unpaid bills on it?

It finally clicked.

“You’re a robot,” I said.

If she was ruffled, she didn’t show it. “My name is Stephanie,” she said, “and I’m not a robot. I am, however, cybernetically enhanced.”

I make it a rule to never argue with computers or car engines, and this dame was both. “Fine,” I said. “You’re not a robot. Is your cybernetically-enhanced ass going to break my chair?”

“Unlikely, Mister Wolfe,” she said. “My primary alloy is titanium, which is relatively light. The lead lining for my power core, however, is heavier, which is why your chair is registering distress. Regardless, this chair is strong enough to hold a cuffed and gagged Andromedian for over an hour.”

A kinky cybernetically-enhanced blonde angel? Perhaps I had been hasty in writing her off as trouble. The Wolfe libido apparently had opinions about titanium dominatrixes.

“All right, Stephanie,” I said, trying not to leer...at least, not obviously. “What brings you to me?”

“We’d like to hire you for a case, Mister Wolfe,” she said.

Something was tickling the back of my mind. I left it alone for the moment and leaned back in my chair. “You say ‘we,’ Stephanie,” I said. “I take it you’re not the principal?”

“No, Mister Wolfe,” said Stephanie, “my employer is.”

“I see,” I said. “Any reason your boss didn’t come in himself?”

“Yes, Mister Wolfe,” said Stephanie. “My employer didn’t come in because she is...otherwise occupied.”

I shrugged. Chauvinism’s part of my charm. “Fair enough,” I said. “What does your employer do?”

“She’s in the same line of work as yourself, Mister Wolfe,” said Stephanie. “My employer is Carmine Belch.”

Carmine Belch. I knew her. Everybody did. She worked out of Slough. Rough burb, but Belch had a rep as a tough berk in tight corners. Liked to chase tail and had a thing for tentacles, but doesn’t everybody? Still, she was good AND lucky, and she had friends.

“All right,” I said. “So what’s a Sloughie like Belch want with me? We don’t have much by way of tentacles out here in the Heights.”

“She’s not looking for a playmate, Mister Wolfe,” said Stephanie. “She just wants to hire you.”

All right, so I was suspicious. The bird in front of me was Belch’s right hand- sometimes literally- but she was ice cold. Robotic, even. Nothing wrong with that, since she was “cybernetically enhanced,” right?

Except her rep said different, and in a big way.

Word on the street was that Belch’s assistant ran on two settings...hot and real hot. This dame was set on frosty. So either the rep was wrong, or the girl was. It was time to find out which.

“Right,” I said. “So you say. Tell me about the case.”

“There’s been a bimbification, Mister Wolfe,” she said, “and Carmine feels you might be better qualified to look into it.”

I shrugged. “I might be. I might not be. But why don’t you tell me why Belch is ducking this case. She afraid she might end up with cotton candy between her ears and some juice in the caboose?”

“No, Mister Wolfe,” said Stephanie. “Carmine isn’t taking any cases at the moment. You see, the Fortress has fallen.”

The Fortress has fallen.

I sat back, gut-kicked. The Fortress...the creator. Fallen?

The world was a little darker now. But an incredible legacy.

And now everything made sense. This dame Stephanie wasn’t being ice-cold because she didn’t feel anything. It was her way of dealing with the loss. She was functioning so that Carmine didn’t have to.

She was very human.

“So, you see, Mister Wolfe,” said Stephanie, “Carmine is in mourning right now.”

“Drunk off her ass, you mean.”

“People mourn in different ways.”

“That’s the truth.”

“Will you take the case, Mister Wolfe?”

“Yeah.”

I sat back, finally alone. Stephanie had left moments earlier, cybernetic goodies jiggling. A lot of woman there.

The case file sat on my desk, beckoning me, but I ignored it for now. Instead, I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of bourbon I keep there for medicinal purposes.

I poured myself a slug, but didn’t touch it yet. First things first.

In the big scheme of things, I’m a nobody in Chrystal Heights. But I been around, and I know a few guys. There was something I had to do.

I picked up the phone and dialed a number. It was answered on the first ring.

“Hunter.”

“It’s Jack Wolfe.”

“So?”

“The Fortress has fallen.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. My source is legit.”

Silence. Then the line went dead. A man of few words, but then, he never needed more.

I drank my shot.

At 3:51pm, Chrystal Heights went silent.

For fifty-one seconds, no one spoke. No horns sounded. Radio play stopped. No sound was heard.

Headlights appeared in silent tribute. Pedestrians halted en route. For fifty-one seconds, the city came to a complete halt.

And then, after fifty-one seconds, a single horn sounded. Another horn joined in, and then another. A fireboat on the river sounded its alarm bell and a police station blared an air horn. Then a cacophony of car horns, sirens and bells sounded as the city of Chrystal Heights came together to salute the fallen Fortress.

Slough wasn’t much to look at, but neither was I. That was fine. It was a date, not a marriage.

The case file didn’t give me much to work with. Leanne Brinks, twenty-two years old, no occupation, had been found at home in a bimbified state; specifically, a heightened state of sexual arousal coupled with a significant drop/loss of intelligence and certain physical changes. The I.Q. drop was so severe that Leanne was no longer able to communicate in any meaningful manner.

Leanne lived with her sister- Diane Brinks, twenty-six years old, pharmaceutical chemist for SloughMed Labs. It was Diane who had found Leanne in her discombobulated state.

SlughMed Lab (SML) was the client. Because Leanne had been bimbified so thoroughly, it was likely a chemical assault. This made the sister an automatic suspect, so it was in SML’s interest to supply a means of proving her innocence...or guilt. Either way, SML had to be proactive. So, step one was drive out to the ‘burbs and interview the sisters.

I was driving a rental car so small, I wouldn’t have to park it...I could just slip it into my pocket. It buzzed along, mosquito-like, as I made my way out to the ‘burbs where the sisters lived. The radio didn’t work and the high-pitched whine of the engine set my teeth on edge, so I distracted myself by going over the meager details of the case.

The law had snooped around a bit and the uniforms had interviewed the neighbors. Leanne’s condition was almost assuredly not a natural condition, which pointed large neon arrows at the scientist sister, but the neighbors assured the officers that Diane and Leanne Brinks had been very devoted to each other. In fact, more than one neighbor suggested that perhaps they were very, very devoted to each other.

Very devoted, eh? This case suddenly seemed a bit more interesting.

“Can I help you?”

Short dark hair, rimless glasses. White tank-top, dark shorts, sandals. Smallish breasts that didn’t suffer for it. This had to be Diane Brinks, the older sister.

“Jack Wolfe, Miss Brinks,” I said. “I’m a private detective. SloughMed hired me to help prove your innocence.”

Diane crossed her arms. “Or to find proof I’m guilty. No need to mince words with me, detective.”

No frail bird, this one. A straight shooter. We’d get along swimmingly.

“Then I won’t,” I said. “I’m here to find out the truth, whatever that is. I’m a detective, though, not a judge or a cop. I don’t give a damn if you’re guilty or not. My job is only to find out what happened.”

“How fucking noble, Mister Wolfe,” she said, rolling her eyes. Then she threw open the door. “Fine. Come in. Would you like to check the attic to see if I hid any bodies up there?”

“Did you?”

“You’re the detective, Jack Wolfe,” she said, turning and walking away. “You tell me.”

Yeah, we were getting along swimmingly.

Despite her surliness, Diane spoke easily enough. Yes, she was aware of how precarious her position looked. Yes, she was aware of the neighborhood gossip about her relationship with her sister. No, she had no idea what had happened to her sister.

She did offer one interesting piece of information, though.

“Some guys came by last week looking for her,” she said. “Big guys. I told them she wasn’t in. They didn’t believe me. I got the feeling they’d have forced their way in if the neighbors hadn’t been watching from their porch.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“Of course I did,” she said tiredly, “but they didn’t believe me, and I could hardly blame them.”

Of course they weren’t going to believe her. Too convenient.

I sighed. “I don’t suppose they gave you their names?”

“No,” she said. “All they said was that Sharky was losing patience.”

I looked up from my pad. “Sharky?”

“Yes,” she said. “I think that’s what they said.”

I snapped my pad shut. “Thank you, Miss Brinks,” I said. “Mind if I chat with Leanne for a few minutes?”

Her eyes were blue glaciers. “Hell, yes, I mind, detective,” she said, “but if it will get you out of here sooner, then go ahead. You won’t get anything out of her, though.”

I shrugged. “I’d like to try just the same, Miss Brinks.”

She pointed down a hall. “Suit yourself. She’s in the door at the end of the hall,” she said. “Go right in. If you don’t mind, however, I’d like to take a shower while you’re speaking with Leanne. I’m going to ask that you remain with her until I’m back in the room.”

My confusion must have been obvious, because she gave a long-suffering sigh. “Look, she requires constant supervision, okay? I haven’t had a chance to take a freaking shower in three days, and I’d really like to take advantage of having a babysitter available, even if it’s you.”

Ah. I felt a momentary stab of sympathy for Diane, but I rose above it. Too dangerous. Still, a chance to snoop in Leanne’s room without being observed by her sister was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Sure,” I said. “Go right ahead. Glad to help.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said, her expression indicating she wasn’t fooled a bit. “Good luck, though. You’ll need it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turned and headed for what I assumed was her shower. “You’ll see.”

I started down the hall. There were two other doors besides Leanne’s. One was locked, though, and the other was a closet. Nothing interesting. Or at least accessible.

I knocked on Leanne’s door and received no answer. I waited a reasonable amount of time- nearly three seconds- and walked in.

A very naked redhead lay on the bed. One of her hands was pinching the nipples of her quite impressive breasts. The other hand was working a vibrator in and out of her very wet sex. Her knees were wide apart and her hips writhed in obvious heat.

“Leanne, I presume?” I said. Sometimes I love my lousy job.

Leanne Brinks looked at me and giggled.

“Miss Brinks, can we talk for a minute?”

She giggled again.

I sighed. I wasn’t getting anywhere.

I gave the room a quick going over, a difficult feat considering the redheaded bint was working her magic button the entire time. Despite the show, I was fast, but thorough.

Leanne suddenly hopped off the bed and scooted over to me, pressing her big, bimbified breasts against my chest.

“Hi!” she said.

“Hello,” I said. “How are you?”

“Hi!” she said, giggling. She pressed herself tighter against me, practically humping my leg.

I had no idea what to do. This was crazy. Did Diane really trust me with her naked, bimbified sister?

“Leanne,” I said. “Why don’t you be a good girl and go back to—”

“Hi!” she said. Then she dropped to her knees.

I blinked. “Ah...Leanne...you really should...ahh...get up...”

I felt my zipper go down. A moment later, that crazy bird had my favorite toy in her mouth.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, think what you want, but I’m not a statue, okay? That girl’s mouth slid up and down my rod like nobody’s business and soon I was past caring about the moral or ethical questions our conversation was raising.

Her red hair bobbed up and down as her hot, wet mouth devoured the steel bar jutting from my pants. I briefly wondered if she had sucked cock this well before her brain got fried, but the thought faded as my balls swelled. Moments later, I exploded into her mouth. She swallowed my huge load with such enthusiasm, it was almost unnerving.

“More!” she said. “Please?”

My heart was still pounding. I reached out and ruffled her hair.

“Maybe next time,” I said, pulling up my zipper.

Then Diane’s voice said, “Enjoying yourself?”

I turned. Diane was in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed.

Oops.

“I apologize, Miss Brinks,” I said. “I just walked in, and she tried to sit on my lap while I was standing up.”

Diane waved off my stuttered defense. “Don’t worry about it, Mister Wolfe,” she said. “I already figured you for a lech. However, it’s the only thing Leanne enjoys now, so I’m making sure she has a supply.”

“Ahh...you might have said that before I walked into the room.”

“Yeah, I could have,” she said. “Or not.”

I told you...trouble wears a skirt. Every time.

I tried to talk to Leanne for a few more minutes, but finally had to conclude that Diane was right...the girl’s brain was fried. I wrapped it up quick then and Diane was more than happy to escort me out the front door.

I stood on the porch and considered my next move. I knew what I had to do, but I wasn’t happy about it.

I had to talk to Sharky.

Diane Brinks, of course, wouldn’t recognize the name, but I did. He was a local bookie who headed up a gang that worked out of a dive called the Lucky Charm. Sharky ran a game room in the back of the club, and I don’t mean an arcade.

I made my way out to the rental and corkscrewed my way into the front seat. I’d have to be careful, but was par for the course on this crazy case. Then, as I prepared to put the crate in gear, I made another discovery...that crazy bird Leanne had stuck her vibrator in my pocket.

This case was a frickin’ cuckoo clock.

The Lucky Charm was a dive. The mooks that drank here had to look up to see rock bottom. But the action was hot, and there was plenty of it.

Smoke hung heavy in the air. Vices were for sale here and sob stories weren’t worth a wooden nickle. At one table, men cheered as a drunk woman used a Benevian Lactation Inducer to great effect. She was going to be embarrassed tomorrow when she woke up with perpetually lactating breasts. A man lay face-down on another table, empty glowing test tubes next to his head indicating Geiger-17 as his choice of recreational chemical. A topless woman shuddered in helpless ecstasy as a pair of Kintovian electro-clamps stimulated her thick nipples. Rigelian technology- the most perverse in the universe- was on display everywhere. Every desire was available, on a cash-only basis...checks and credit cards not accepted.

This was a hangout for the bilge water of Slough. It was easy to spot the grifters, the flim-flam artists and the cheap con men. A couple dollies milled around, serving drinks and lighting smokes. You could own ‘em for the night with the change from a vending machine.

One of the chippies marked me and walked over.

“Hey, Tiger,” she said. “Is that a vibrator in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?”

“Who’s asking, doll face?”

“Trish. They call me Trish the Dish.”

“Nice place, Trish.”

“It’s all right. You here for business or pleasure, honey?”

“Business. I’m looking for Sharky.”

“Try upstairs. But when you’re done with business, maybe you’ve got time for a little Trish.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Ask for me when you do, honey.”

Some minor navigating got me to the staircase. Unfortunately, it was blocked by a gorilla in a suit.

The gorilla gave me a once-over.

“Whaddaya want?”

“Looking for Sharky,” I said.

“So? He ain’t looking for you.”

I sighed and took out a C-note. “Is he looking for me now?”

His eyes flickered. “Might be,” he said. “Benji there got any friends?”

So I slipped him another half-C, and he finally moved to the side. SLM wasn’t gonna be happy with my expense sheet, but that wasn’t my problem.

“So, what are you looking for in my establishment, Mister Wolfe?”

I raised an eyebrow, a great calculated maneuver if you know how to use it. “You know who I am?”

Sharky shrugged. “Sometimes, a man hears things, detective.”

Sharky bit off the end of a cigar and lit it. He was in his early fifties. This was a businessman, not some hot-headed thug. More dangerous. He made decisions with ice-cold clarity. Trying to goad him was asking for an extended vacation in Slough General, eating through a tube.

“What do you know about Leanne Brinks?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Sharky. You sent a couple boys over to strong-arm her last week.”

“Ahh, Miss Brinks,” he said. “Of course. Yes, Miss Brinks has been by my establishment a number of times recently.”

“What did Brinks do when she was here?”

“Detective, I hope you understand that I normally respect the confidentiality of my patrons,” he said. “Furthermore, I am not required to answer your questions. However, I understand that Miss Brinks was found in a distressed state, so I will answer your questions to the best of my ability to do so.”

“In that case, Sharky, let’s cut to the chase. Why did you send your goons over to the Brinks’ house?”

Sharky shook his head. “Miss Brinks began patronizing my establishment only recently. She engaged in a number of games of chance and hit an unfortunate run of bad luck.”

“That happens,” I said. “So what then?”

Sharky spread his hands. “I offered to help. I extended her house credit, and at a generously modest interest rate, I might add.”

Yeah, right.

“Unfortunately,” continued Sharky, “Miss Brinks failed to pay back the loan. I sent some associates to speak with her to see what arrangements could be made to ensure I get repaid.”

“So, she didn’t pay back and you made an example of her?”

“No, Mister Wolfe,” said Sharky, “I did not. I’ve heard what happened to her, of course. But I had nothing to do with it. Why would I? A person in her condition is unable to conduct any...business transactions.” Sharky shook his head. “I would have done it, of course, had that been an effective method of getting my money back. But that, in actuality, would have been a poor business decision.” He blew a stream of blue smoke into the air. “So no, Mister Wolfe, I did not perpetrate Miss Brinks condition.”

“Any idea who did?”

“None, I’m afraid, detective,” said Sharky. “I hope to find out, however. They’ve cost me a good deal of money.”

There was nothing else to learn here. Sharky was either lying or he wasn’t. I thanked him for his time- politely- and left his office.

It was time to go. Before leaving, though, I stopped at the bar and ordered Nycillian bourban, a double, straight up. I raised the glass.

“To the Fortress.”

And the guys next to me, who probably had no idea who I was talking about, raised their glasses and said, “To the Fortress!”

The toast caught like wildfire and suddenly everybody in the joint was drinking to the Fortress. It was the kind of wacky, weirded-out scene that could only happen in Slough. And certain parts of Chrystal Heights.

I got into my rental matchbox and drove back to my hotel.

Once in my room, I made myself a tall bourbon and bourbon. I even added a bourbon chaser. Then I kicked off my shoes and lay back on the bed, thinking.

A lot of people think solving cases is a simple matter of A plus B equals C. They’re only partly right. Cases like this actually break down to A plus B plus C equals D. A is motive, as in why the perp did it. B is means, as in how the perp did it. C is opportunity, as in when the perp did it.

My problem right now was that none of the suspects fit the formula. Big sister scientist Diane had the means and the opportunity, certainly...but what motive could she have? According to the neighbors, Diane and Leanne were “very devoted” to each other. Sharky, on the other hand, certainly had motive and likely had access to the means...but opportunity was unlikely, as there was no signs of forced entry at the Brinks’ house. Also, even the motive was shaky. As Sharky had pointed out, he had nothing to gain from Leanne becoming bimbified. In fact, it cost him the price of the loan.

Wait a minute. It cost Sharky the price of the loan...but had saved Leanne the same amount, not to mention the potential for injury. What if...

What if Diane had bimbified her sister for Leanne’s own protection?

I slept on that.

The next morning, I crammed myself into my rental one-seater (I was estimating based on interior space). I was also swearing off bourbon. Until lunch, anyway.

Despite settling on Diane as my primary suspect, I still had a feeling that I was missing a chunk of the equation. I decided to speak to my patron, who also happened to be Diane’s employer. I was going to SloughMed Labs.

Diane’s supervisor had more letters behind his name than actually in his name. He also had thick-rimmed glasses and greased-back hair. He had a lot going on in the brains department, though. I suspected he could even use the Force. He also probably made in a week what I made in a month. His name was Doctor Gary Rensome.

“I was hoping you’d already solved the case, Mister Wolfe,” said Rensome. “I’ll be honest with you. The only thing stopping us from firing Diane and possibly pressing charges is that we’re waiting for your report.”

“I’m working on it,” I said, as lackadaisical as I could manage. I love flustering the eggheads. “To that end, I’d like to ask a few questions.”

“Sure,” he said.

“All right, then,” I said. “First off, you mentioned pressing charges.”

“Yes,” said Rensome. “If she used our chemicals to assault her sister, that’s theft.”

“Any idea what was used on the sister?” I asked.

“Not really,” said Rensome. “In fact, that’s the only thing that stopped us from charging her outright with theft. We don’t produce any kind of bimbification elements.”

I looked at Rensome closely. “None at all? I’ve seen the sister, Doctor Rensome. No smarts, aroused like a cat in heat, big bazoombas...it’s all there. Physical, mental and sexual. It’s definitely a bimbification.”

“Exactly, detective,” said Rensome, “and that’s my point. We don’t make anything that could produce that effect.”

Now that was interesting.

“What about Diane’s co-workers?” I asked. “Can I speak with them?”

Rensome suddenly looked distressed. “That...isn’t really possible at this time.”

“Why not?”

Rensome sighed. “Because, detective, Diane’s lab partner left town after the news broke out about Diane’s situation.”

I stared at Rensome curiously. “Why?”

“Apparently Jaime Devlin was worried about being caught up in the scandal,” said Rensome. “We’re assuming she was afraid her name would be connected to Diane’s.”

“I see,” I said. “Any idea what they were working on when everything went south?”

Rensome looked uncomfortable. “I’d rather not say, Mister Wolfe.”

“Doctor Rensome,” I said, “I can’t work this case without knowing the details.”

Rensome sighed. “I suppose not,” he said. “Very well. I have to ask you to keep these details absolutely confidential.”

“Of course, doctor.”

“I can’t go into details, obviously,” he said. “Security and all. All I can really say is they were working with living-crystal psi-crowns.”

“Living-crystal psi-crowns,” I said. “Is this significant?”

“Good heavens, yes,” said Rensome. “They’re shipped here from Tau Ceti V. The raw forms alone are worth a fortune, and their conversions even more so.”

“I see,” I said. “Any chance that psi-crystals caused Leanne Brinks’ condition?”

“Unlikely, detective,” said Rensome. “From what you’ve described, the physical effects eliminate the psi-crowns as a potential agent. The mental effects could theoretically be caused by psi-crowns, but even then, it would seem unlikely.”

“Thank you for the information, doc,” I said. “Mind if I look around?”

“Of course I mind,” he said.

“I knew you would. Can I do it anyway?”

“No. Well, yes, but I’ll go with you.”

“Fine.”

So we started walking around. It was interesting, but what I really needed was the thinking time.

All right, we had another player on the field now. Jaime Malcolm, Diane Brinks’ lab partner. After speaking with several of their co-workers, a picture was emerging.

Diane and Jaime had apparently been disagreeing a great deal lately. In fact, the arguments were said to be getting downright vicious. What they were actually arguing about, however, no one could say.

We finally finished walking around. “One last thing, doctor,” I said. “Do you have Diane Brinks’ DNA sample on file here?”

Rensome looked at me like I had grown a second head. “Yes, we do,” he said. “We have all our employees’ DNA on record. The nature of our work makes it a good practice. Why on earth would you ask?”

I told him why. He thought I was crazy. He did what I asked, though. And afterward, he still thought I was crazy. He agreed, however, that my fee was money well spent for SloughMed Labs.

I had one more stop to make before wrapping up this case.

I mixed in easily with the crowd at the Lucky Charm. Apparently they were already embracing me as one of their own. Lovely. I spotted my mark and moved in.

“Hello, Trish the Dish,” I said.

“Why, it’s the businessman,” she said. “What’s up, sweet ‘ums?

“Ever seen this girl before?” I asked, holding up a picture.

“I might have,” she said. “I’m not sure, though. My memory’s not so good sometimes, you know?”

I pressed a double sawbuck into her hand. “There’s more where that came from, sweetheart. How’s your memory now?”

“Getting better, sweetie.”

I pressed another sawbuck into her hand. “That’s it until you start deliverin’ the goods, doll.”

The greenbacks disappeared into her cleavage. “Relax, sweet ‘ums. A girl’s gotta make a living. Yeah, I’ve seen her here before.”

“I thought you might have. Now, this part’s important. Did she ever sit down and talk to someone? I mean, really talk.”

Trish looked nervous then. I peeled off a C-note. When she looked around, I peeled off another. Finally, she leaned against me, those big, soft breasts pressing against my chest, and she whispered in my ear.

I parked the rental briefcase in front of the Brinks’ house. This promised to be an interesting conversation.

She answered after three knocks.

“Hello again, Diane Brinks,” I said.

“You’re back already?”

“Yep. Part of my charm.”

“I hadn’t noticed your charm.”

“I noticed you not noticing. May I come in?”

“Why not?”

She just turned and walked away from the door. Hard dame, but she probably had a lot on her mind.

I followed her to the living room. “So I’ve talked to a few people, Miss Brinks, and learned a few things,” I said.

Diane sat down on the couch. “And what have you learned, Mister Wolfe?”

“Let’s speak to Leanne first.”

“Why? You need another blowjob, Mister Wolfe?”

“Is that so much to ask?”

“Very funny, detective.”

“You injure me, Miss Brinks.”

“Let’s get this over with, Mister Wolfe,” said Diane, standing.

I followed her down the hall, past the closet and the locked door. She opened Leanne’s door.

Leanne squealed and came running over, creating an interesting jiggling effect. She immediately pressed herself against me.

“She’s a bit edgy today,” said Diane.

“No doubt,” I said, “since she accidentally left her favorite toy in my pocket yesterday.” I took out Leanne’s vibrator and handed it to the girl.

Leanne squealed and immediately stripped. Within moments, she writhing like a slut-in-heat as she ran the vibe over her hot clit.

“Hot,” I said. “Now, I’d like to speak to Leanne, Miss Brinks.”

“Go ahead, Mister Wolfe,” said Diane. “Good luck.”

“Actually,” I said, “I’d prefer to speak to your sister.”

“She’s right there, detective.”

“Miss Brinks,” I said, “that is your ex-colleague, Jaime Devlin. I want to speak with Leanne.”

Diane went silent. Then we heard a door open and a moment later, there were footsteps in the hall.

Without turning around, I said, “Hello, Leanne.”

“Hello, Mister Wolfe,” said a voice from the doorway. “I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.”

The tone of her voice warned me. I turned slowly. Sure enough, there stood Leanne Brinks...the real Leanne Brinks.

And in Leanne’s hands were a pair of Total Incapacitation Tasers.

“Well,” I said. “Nice TITs, Miss Brinks.”

“Thank you, Mister Wolfe,” said Leanne. “Kind of you to notice.”

“Too bad they’re not Nerve Induction Pistols. We could have had fun if you were flashing a pair of NIPs.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, detective.”

Diane said, “Well, what are we going to do with you, Mister Wolfe? This is a bad position you’ve put us in.”

“I don’t really see where you need to do anything with me, Miss Brinks,” I said.

“Quit trying to be funny, Mister Wolfe.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Miss Brinks. I know what happened.”

Diane laughed. “I seriously doubt you understand the situation, detective.”

“How about I tell you a little story then, Miss Brinks?”

“Please do.”

“Before I do, mind if I help myself to a little bourbon?”

Leanne waved one of the tasers in the direction of the living room. “Be our guest, Mister Wolfe,” she said, “but no funny moves.”

We all walked out to the living room. I poured myself three fingers of bourbon and started talking.

“Once upon a time, there were two brainiac dames working together...Diane Brinks and Jaime Delvin. They were working with some high-brow stuff...living-crystal psi-crowns from Tau Ceti V, no less. Living-crystal psi-crowns, it seems, are really powerful...and valuable.

“Now, Diane and Jaime worked together, but that didn’t necessarily mean they agreed on everything. Diane was a true scientist. She created a formula that had an interesting- and potentially powerful-effect. The power to re-format a brain.

“Diane, of course, wanted to do the right thing and turn everything over to her employer, SloughMed. Jaime, however, saw the possibility for profit beyond anything she could previously imagine. How am I doing so far, sweetheart?”

Diane said, “This is fascinating, Mister Wolfe. Do go on.”

I took a swallow of bourbon. “Thank you. Now, Diane was prepared to turn over the research, but Jaime couldn’t let that chance for a fortune slip away. So Jaime started going to the Lucky Charm and identifying herself as Leanne Brinks, younger sister of Diane Brinks. She made sure everybody knew who she was while intentionally building up large gambling debts.”

Diane and Leanne both started. “You know this?” said Diane.

“Yeah,” I said. “Jaime went there pretending to be Leanne. You didn’t know this, of course, until Sharky sent over some boys to collect. Jaime, though, knew this would happen. Meanwhile, she was making arrangements to sell a shipment of living-crystal psi-crowns. It was pretty clever, actually. Jaime could sell the shipment for a huge payout while pinning the blame for the missing psi-crowns on Diane. It would be easy for the authorities to assume Diane sold the psi-crowns to cover Leanne’s gambling debts.”

Diane and Leanne looked at each other, than at me. “You’ve learned a lot, it seems, detective,” said Diane.

“Damn straight I have, sweetheart,” I said. “After Sharky’s boys left, you went straight to Jaime’s house and found her packing for a long trip. That confirmed your suspicions. You confronted her, one thing led to another and somehow you ended up injecting her with your psi-crown formula.”

Diane looked troubled. “She didn’t even try to hide what she had done. I showed her the needle and said I was going to turn her into a stupid slut, and she laughed and said to go ahead, do it, it would just make everything worse for me. I got mad and...well...slid the needle in and injected her.”

I looked at Jaime Devlin, who was still working her hot little box with the vibrator. “So you reformatted her brain to this?”

“Yes,” said Diane. She sounded tired. “I didn’t know what else to do. She hadn’t actually sold anything yet, so I couldn’t be accused of selling the psi-crowns. That Sharky was still after my sister, though, so I thought maybe if they thought Leanne was mentally gone, they’d stop going after her. So Leanne started hiding out and I told everyone that she had been bimbified. I dyed Jaime’s hair and presented her as Leanne.”

“I’m surprised that flew.”

“For anyone who came by that knew Leanne well, Leanne herself came out and played the part. For anybody else, we trotted out Jaime.”

“You played a dangerous game.”

“It was working until you came along,” said Diane. “How did you know?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t actually know,” I said. “Something just wasn’t right. When I went to SloughMed yesterday, I realized that ‘Leanne’ wasn’t actually bimbified, but rather mind-wiped. That being the case, her breasts were too big to be the real Leanne’s. Then I realized that no one had ever actually confirmed that the bimbified girl was Leanne Brinks. I gave Doctor Rensome that vibrator and asked them to run a DNA check on it.”

Diane said, “But Leanne’s DNA wouldn’t be in their computer.”

“No,” I said, “but yours is. Sisters share a lot of DNA markers. There would be enough to confirm that whoever used that vibe was related to Diane Brinks.”

“All right. That’s true.”

“But it wasn’t a match for your DNA at all,” I continued. “It was, however, a perfect match for one Jaime Devlin.”

Diane’s face fell. “Then Rensome knows.”

I shrugged. “All he knows is that I had a vibe with Jaime’s DNA on it. I didn’t tell him where I got it from. After that, I went by the Lucky Charm. I flashed Jaime’s picture around and confirmed she was the bird running up the gambling debts, not Leanne. Then I snooped around until I found Jaime’s business partner for the psi-crowns. I put the whole thing together, tied it up with a bow and presented it to SloughMed.”

Leanne sighed and set down the TITs. “So it’s game over.”

Diane shook her head. “It’s so fucking unfair.”

“Actually,” I said, “arrangements have been made.”

Diane and Leanne looked at me.

“The psi-crowns never changed hands,” I said, “so no laws were broken there. SloughMed thinks Jaime skipped town. Jaime owes Sharky a great deal of money and Sharky wants his money.”

Diane blinked. “You mean...”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sharky’s boys are coming over right now to collect Jaime. Sharky’s going to be renting her ass out of the Lucky Charm until her debt is paid.”

Leanne said, “What about me, Mister Wolfe?”

I shrugged. “What about you? You’ll have to wear some falsies and play dumb bunny for a couple days, but I think a slow, steady recovery after that would be in line.”

Diane and Leanne looked at each other, working it over in their heads. Finally they looked back at me.

“Mister Wolfe,” said Diane, “I don’t know what to say.”

Then Diane and Leanne Brinks walked over and leaned against me, pressing their lips against my cheeks. I reached out and put my arms around their tiny waists.

Sisters.

“Ladies,” I said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”