The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Day — 93

Her eyes pulse richly.

There is only hypnosis, and it never ends.

It is endless.

Her pupils swell open. Pulses of light pour in.

The sounds and images touch her thoughts and feelings.

Her pupils contract from the dazzling lights.

A hypnotic pulse passes through her eyes and kisses her mind.

Pleasure blooms in her. Her pupils swell open. Pulses of light rush in.

The sounds and images reach deep into her thoughts and feelings.

Her pupils contract from the sparkling lights.

A hypnotic pulse passes through her eyes and kisses her mind.

Pleasure blooms in her. Her pupils swell open.

In and out, her pupils dance to the lights, to the pulses that kiss her mind. Caress her mind. Open her mind. Irresistible pulses of pure pleasure, dressed in dazzling hypnosis, overwhelm her mind.

Her lips purse and she moans.

Endless.

Pulses in her eyes. Her eyes pulsing in return. Her mind pulsing in response.

It never ceases, never weakens. Never.

The hypnosis opens her, touches her thoughts, quiets her thoughts. Helps her go deeper.

Makes her go deeper. Makes her submit. Makes her more receptive, so she can feel it more, so she can accept it more, so she can submit more, so she can submit deeper.

Makes her submit deeper so she can be controlled. Being controlled makes her submit deeper. Submitting deeper makes her feel it more, makes her accept it more, makes her more receptive to being controlled.

Her lips purse and she moans.

Endless.

In and out, her pupils dance to the lights, to the pulses that kiss her mind.

It moves her mind. Shapes her mind. Gives her thoughts. Takes her thoughts.

Everything is feeling. Everything is accepting. So accepting.

No confusion. She breathes deep. Guiding her thoughts. She breathes deep. Taking her thoughts. She breathes deep. All her thoughts.

It makes her breath so deep as it takes her thoughts.

Her mind accepts. Her body accepts. Her lips, her eyes, her ears, her thoughts, her memories accept.

Her breasts accept. Her hips accept. Her thighs accept.

Her sex accepts.

Her lips purse and she moans.

In and out, her pupils dance to the lights, to the pulses that kiss her mind.

It never ceases, never weakens. Never.

Her eyes pulse richly.

It pulls her in, the endless dance, the whirling lights, her whirling mind, seducing her whirling, twirling mind, pulling her along, pulling her in.

Seducing her mind and taking her thoughts. All her thoughts. She has no thoughts. No thoughts. She submits as it takes her thoughts. There are no other things. She submits with all her mind. There is nothing. She submits with all her thoughts.

Her mind is still. No thoughts. No will. She goes deeper. Hypnosis rocks her, washes over her, and seduces and soothes her. She goes even deeper. Controls her. Only deeper. Controls her mind. Always deeper. Controls her thoughts.

Endless.

There is only hypnosis. It kisses and guides her mind. Makes her submissive and receptive, so she can be more deeply controlled.

Pulses in her eyes. Her eyes pulsing in return. Her mind pulsing in response.

Her lips purse and she moans with a tame, mellow voice as she accepts her hypnosis, as she sinks deeper under hypnotic control.

There is only hypnosis.

And it never, ever ends.

Never.

Day 86

A sudden jerk moved her body. Her head slips to one side and falls against her shoulder. Her legs twitch but are in a tight place and feel restrained.

Here a rhythmic drone of a nearby motor. There a dull rumble. Somewhere a faint hiss. A tickling vibration, barely felt, underneath it all. Her body feels heavy. Something tight is around her waist. A warm, pungent smell fills her nose. She opens her sleepy eyes into a dimly lit room and slowly remembers where she is. And who she is.

Rose is on a plane. The lights in the cabin are dimmed. Emily’s voice is laughing in the background. Hot meals are being served and their aroma fills the cabin. The plane hits another patch of turbulence, shaking Rose’s seat. The movie continues to flicker on the seat in front of her. The window shades are drawn, but the cabin lights suffuse everything with a dull yellow-brown glow. Rose’s seatbelt is still clasped around her waist. Her legs are squeezed under the seat in front of her.

She is flying to Milan. They are flying to Milan. Catherine’s company that is. Catherine and Emily were sitting together in First Class at the very front of the plane.

Rose is seven rows behind them.

Rose rubs her eyes. Unclasps her seatbelt and stretches. And immediately goes back to worrying. She couldn’t be seen receiving that much favoritism. That must be the reason. That’s what Catherine told her was the reason, so it must be true. Right? It’s not as if Catherine hadn’t already announced their relationship?

Why did Emily put this in Catherine’s ear? She was sure it was Emily that convinced Catherine to share a row with her and exclude Rose. It couldn’t have started with Catherine, could it have?

Rose glanced at the film, fidgeted and adjusted her clothes (loose and more casual, but more revealing than she’d worn in recent weeks, skirt short and with a plunging neck line. Overcompensating again?) and tossed her braided hair out of the way. Thinking about all this made her heart clench. Maybe she should have remained asleep.

What did she want? Wasn’t it to get into fashion? Isn’t her relationship with Catherine just a stepping stone into the world of fashion? Or was the world of fashion just a stepping stone to… Catherine? Catherine… and Emily? It was all so confusing to think about.

And why was Emily always in the back of her mind?

Deeper in Rose was an acceptance of this confusion. Deep and dark, still and strong. There was nothing wrong with not understanding. She didn’t need to understand. She didn’t understand. She very much wanted that part of her to guide her now, and felt warm and comfortable as it arose from her depths and did.

Sighing, Rose picked up a book next to her. It had a fit woman’s graphic outline sitting in a yogic lotus pose on the cover. A crescent moon haloing her head, stars over her shoulders. She was blindfolded and smiling.

Rose had developed a compulsion to study astrology recently. She didn’t know from where this urge came but she never paused to wonder about it. It felt right to study astrology and it didn’t bother her at all.

[… during the lunar eclipse let go and feel the new moon’s shadow reveal hidden possibilities in your relationships. Surrender in the stillness and let yourself be transformed. Listen to the voice of the cosmic magic whispered to those listening during its passing. Do not fear the changes others desire but approach them with cautious enthusiasm…]

“WHEN did you start reading about astrology!?”

Rose startled and looked behind her. “Oh my god!? You scared me Emily!”

Emily had been standing behind Rose, walking to the front of the plane from the back. Rose noticed she was wearing the transatlantic uniform of her age, a frumpy jumper with yoga pants. She was still hot, even dressed down. Emily would have had to deliberately sabotage her looks not to be.

“Well??”

“I mean, it just looked interesting, Emily.”

Rose felt defensive. “Can’t I read about it?” At least, Rose thought to herself.

“I guess I can’t stop you.”

“You can stop me from…” and Rose suddenly caught herself speaking her mind, flustered.

Emily’s name kept bouncing around her head. She always had this strange effect on Rose, but she couldn’t understand why. Rose’s vision blurred for a moment and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Emily smiled wide as Rose squirmed under her gaze.

“Aren’t these great seats though? Have you ever been to Europe? I love European cities! I’m sure you’ll have a great time too. Mom and I will be sure to meet up with you once we have time and take you out to dinner, or something! Italy can be so romantic—who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone!” And she spun around and laughed.

It was everything Rose could do to stay composed.

Emily started to walk away, but paused a row up and turn around. “Oh, by the way, since you like astrology, which three planets are in your houses?”

“Oh… um, I think …” and Rose felt like she were being quizzed in university again and groped for an answer “Venus, Neptune and Mercury?”

Emily laughed. “Oh, Rose, you have so much to learn! But I’m so proud of you for trying! Keep at it! Ta ta!” And wiggled her fingers and hips and walked away, leaving a flustered Rose behind. Emily walked back to the first class section, plopped in the window seat next to her mother. and began to idly thumb through a fashion magazine.

“And how are your friends doing back there?”

“Oh, you know them. Give them too many drinks and they’ll make a scene. I told the stewardess to cut them off! Now they hate me haha!” Emily’s phone dinged. “Look at this!” Emily showed her a picture of a young man, shirtless in the mountains, doing some outdoor thing. “Isn’t he hot! Ugh!” Emily groaned. “Selfie time!”And she leaned in to her mother, held her phone up with their heads together, and snapped a pic, tagged it and posted it online.

“Your boyfriend is cute, Emily. But how many has it been this year?”

“Double ugh!” And she threw her head back. “Don’t start! I should be the one chiding you! Shacking up with that female intern, n’importe quoi!” Emily tried her rusty French. She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes and took on an air of faux maturity. “It’s all just a phase anyway dear, you’ll grow out it.” And condescendingly patted her mother’s hand.

Catherine was bemused and shocked. Beshocked? “I’m sorry? Have we switched places again? Aren’t I supposed to be the conservative, intolerant one? As if I haven’t already humored you enough letting you get between Rose and I. I heard you talking to her, you know.”

“Look, we both know that underneath that suit you’re a hopeless romantic who will get swept off her feet at the first opportunity. I’m just looking out for both of us.”

Catherine fidgeted a bit. She often worried about that herself.

“Besides, I told you Rose creeps me out. I’m glad you made her sit behind us!”

“I think you’re just jealous for attention and don’t like me dating.”

“Moi?” Emily said theatrically. “Why do you say such hurtful things to me?” and put her hand to her cheek in pretend offense.

“Because, Emily…” Catherine spoke more seriously. “You said the exact same thing about the last person I dated.”

Emily and Catherine looked at each other, and in that second they communicated everything. Content with their mutual understanding, or mutual disagreement, Emily turned it back on.

“SLANDER!” She gasped, and then went back to reading her magazine. Emily’s phone dinged again. “Look, posted and already a hundred likes. Haha! And twenty new followers!”

“Emily is it safe to post pictures of yourself? You never know who is watching.”

“You can’t be anybody if you’re not in social media. Everyone sees everything anyway. As long as I don’t hear the creepers or see the creepers, I don’t care.” Emily tossed her hand in dismissal, never looking up from her magazine.

“You should’t trust in the goodness of strangers, Emily.”

Emily’s face became just a bit more serious and more genuine. She looked up and smiled. “Don’t worry. You’re the only person I really trust.”

After their tête-à-tête not even Rose’s deep acceptance could steady her nerves. She fidgeted with nervous energy and after a while of staring at the back of peoples’ heads, noticed Madeleine.

Madeleine was seated a few rows ahead her, facing forward and doing her makeup with a compact mirror in one hand. Yet Rose could see Madeleine wasn’t looking at her face but behind her, using the mirror.

Looking at Rose.

Rose’s gaze was drawn to the reflection of Madeleine and they looked directly at one another.

Not a crease on Madeleine’s face moved. Her eyes did not twinkle like the stars.

Something deep in Rose felt panic.

Madeleine lowered the mirror.

Day 87

As the plane descended its occupants looked about with bleary smiles and red-eyed camaraderie, wincing in disheveled grumpiness as the window shades were pulled open and the too-soon morning light streamed in, revealing the unseasonably warm and green Italian countryside, glimpses of which snuck through the partly cloudy skies. While disembarking they were treated to the smell of a just-passed late summer rain which left the air humid and sticky and the ground wet.

Catherine’s company flocked back together as they filed out of the plane, each pulling travel luggage and carry-ons, pillows and shoes which they had variously outfitted for the flight. Emily had already migrated back to her circle of friends and Catherine was at the head of the group, speaking on the phone in heavily accented Italian.

Catherine smiled and beckoned to Rose as she approached.

As soon as she lowered her phone however one employee after another pulled her attention away.

“No, the second luggage group is delayed. Yes, downstairs look for the driver with the sign BOLLORÉ. No, I can’t do that. Yes. Wait! Listen. Go with her to the pharmacy. We’re rearranging the dinner! Wear something of ours Isabel! Twenty five!, look…”

Emily grabbed Rose’s arm from behind. “Oh, Rose, could you be a dear and grab our luggage for us? My friends are just useless at this sort of thing! Here’s some change for a cart. Girls, tell her what your luggage looks like.”

As Emily’s hangers-on rattled off the pink and sequined and fabric descriptions of their bags, Rose looked plaintively at Catherine and nudged toward her direction.

“Catherine!” Rose whispered.

Catherine looked back just as pleadingly.

“Oh Rose, please, let’s just humor Emily, she’s in such a mood. I promise I’ll make it up to you! As soon as we’re free we can…”

Emily tugged Catherine away from Rose and took the lead in pulling Catherine’s company down the airport, leaving Rose with a handful of Euros and a heart full of questions. Catherine’s apologetic face getting further away as she was swept by the momentum of the crowd that followed her. Rose thought she saw Emily’s face glance at back her smiling devilishly.

Rose sighed. She looked up for a Baggage Claim sign.

From the corner, some young men leaning against the wall whistled at her as she walked by. Italy for sure. She straightened her clothes and strode forward, long legs and braided hair swinging back and forth, catching so many eyes.

Catherine couldn’t help betraying an occasional furtive glance over her shoulder as her group spilled out of the terminal doors out onto the pavement and waiting taxis and vans. As bags were sorted and people were being seated, Madeleine drifted in and whispered.

“Oh don’t fret over her, dear. She needs to be trained! And a little humiliation is good for a girl like her.” Eyes twinkling with her toothsome smile.

Catherine blinked. “What exactly do you mean?”

“What is her role here? She has all the fun of an executive assistant without any of the responsibilities. She has all the opportunity of a junior designer without having to design anything herself. And how you fret over her! You must be careful—resentment and jealousy are poison for those in power at the top!”

“Your daughter’s instincts are right, let the staff see Rose wipe the floor a few times. Preferably on her lovely knees, of course! And you know she wouldn’t hesitate for a moment, would she?”

Catherine watched another van get loaded, pull away, and tried her hardest to think about something else.

“She’s just so supple isn’t she?”

Catherine groaned and even got the tiniest bit angry. “Oh, not this again!”

“Non! Haha, non, I meant she is putty in your hands, isn’t she? Moulding herself to your every whim. So eager, so willing! But my dear!” Madeleine met Catherine’s eyes. “She’s using you, isn’t she? Just as you are using her? She shares her body with you in return for you giving her opportunities. Don’t let yourself forget!”

Catherine looked off into the distance.

“I don’t know Madeleine. With Rose everything is just pressed to the surface, like she has nothing to hide. Almost like she can’t hide. If I scratched her more than skin deep, would I see anything there?”

Rose suddenly walked out, pushing a large cart loaded with bags, looking glamorous and appealing as ever.

Catherine brightened and turned away from Madeleine.

“Maybe you’re right. And yet part of me just doesn’t care. It’s like she was made for me.”

Day 89, evening

Rose’s hair seemed to glow in the Milanese sunset as she climbed the steps with incautious haste as her heels, clapping on the natural stone steps, felt like they might slip and break with every step.

She was in a hurry for so many reasons, only some of which she was aware.

Rose’s dress, a modern design of Catherine’s own, embellished by 3D floral decorations forming a vague sash like effect from one shoulder to her waist, swayed and hugged her body with every step.

Rose walked through manicured patios and gardens, each a scene to themselves, filled with dozens of people dressed to the nines. Cut flowers and white tablecloths fluttered in the cooling breeze, innumerable strings of twinkling white lights were strung round canopies and topiaries and iron railings, and army of waitstaff rushed here and there with cocktails and canapés which statuesque women mostly ignored and grey haired paterfamilias greedily wolfed down.

To Rose it seemed that everyone in the fashion industry must be here.

“You’re late, as usual.”

Isabel was standing in a corner alone near the entrance, awkwardly fussing with her clothes with one hand while holding a barely-sipped glass of champaign in the other. With her foot she pushed a random woman’s lapdog away that had strayed too close.

“I’m sorry Isabel, there were so many errands to run!”

Rose apologized as she walked and stood beside her, watching the crowd and looking around furtively. Isabel was wearing a striped blazer with buttoned down shirt, suit pants and fashion sneakers; but she wore them awkwardly.

“You look great, Isabel! Part of our professional line?” But Isabel just scowled.

“She’s over there. By the fountains, hob nobbing with some Asian distributors.” Isabel took a sip.

“Do you think our show is going to go well? I think our lineup is fantastic, don’t you?”

“Rose, we all know how you contribute.” And she took a larger sip than usual.

Rose’s head fogged, embarrassed and confused and… worried? Her thoughts raced trying to find the right thing to say.

“I’m sorry Isabel that…” Isabel seemed to suppress a yawn. Rose stopped and they stood in awkward silence. Finally Rose couldn’t take it anymore and blurted out.

“Isabel! Dammit!” She said uncharacteristic sharpness. Isabel started, surprised. “What have I done to you? Haven’t I tried to help you at every opportunity? Haven’t I always supported your ideas, even worked after hours with you to finish them?”

Rose’s voice sent piercing notes through the scene and she glanced around in embarrassment. She met the eyes of several curious onlookers. One especially caught her breath, a gorgeous model with wine-dark eyes and almond skin. She had a mane of frizzy thick hair decorated by gold pins arranged in a halo and a gossamer dress possessed of a lusty eagerness to betray its wearer’s modesty.

Isabel meanwhile fussed with her outfit uncomfortably as the crowds continued to stream in.

“It’s not about you Rose, god! It’s what Catherine hasn’t done! I’ve been here for years and it’s like I’m invisible, as if she didn’t see how…” She looked down and took a breath.

“This will be our biggest show we’ve ever had, Rose, and if we’re to survive as a company it has to go well.”

“That Catherine has ever had you mean?” Rose asked. Isabel tried to suppress a grimace at that comment and only half succeeded.

“Look, Rose, in fashion you’re either en vogue or you’re off the rack. Last year our profits were stagnant. With a couture company if we don’t continue to grow we’re likely to be seen as a target for a hostile acquisition by one of Catherine’s competitors.”

It struck Rose that Isabel wanted to be more than just be a simple designer.

“Does Catherine have enemies? Why would they…”

Suddenly the crowd parted and Madeleine appeared before them.

Hello mes filles!” Madeleine walked up to them both. She was dressed in a mature black dress below the knee, golden necklace and earrings and exactly as much makeup as would be appropriate for a woman her age.

“Don’t you look fantastic Madeleine!” Isabel remarked. Rose agreed.

“And you as well, Isabel. And stunning as always, Rose! You flatter our clothes rather than the other way around. You should have been a model!”

Madeleine face betrayed no guile.

“Isabel, I’m ashamed at you! Look at all the attractive people here! Don’t be so bashful.”

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“What a thorny weed you are! Go mingle on behalf of the company, if that suits you better. Don’t be jealous at the models, it’s their job to be beautiful after all, and it is our joy that they are.” Isabel’s posture shifted and she shook her head meekly.

“Well, Catherine sent me to tell you we’re about to have a company toast! Please make your way to the atrium soon.”

Madeline pulled Rose aside.

“Oh, and Rose, please forgive Catherine! I’m sure she’s sorry she’s been so preoccupied this trip. You must forgive her, you must!” and she took Rose’s hands and smiled. “What with our expansion plans, business has never been busier. Or more fraught with danger!”

“Danger?” Rose questioned.

“Fashion…” and she patted Rose’s cheek, eyes sparkling with intention.

“…can be a ruthless business.”

Suddenly a passing group of older people wearing ballroom masks cheered with delighted surprise when they noticed Madeleine, and embracing and speaking like old friends, pulled her into their passing orbit. Madeleine waved goodbye to Rose and Isabel and left them with a laugh.

It occurred to Rose she didn’t know what language Madeleine’s friends were speaking.

Isabel downed the rest of her drink.

“Well, let’s go. We shouldn’t keep Catherine waiting for you, should we?” And setting the champaign glass down on a passing waitstaff’s tray, walked away.

As Rose followed her she noticed the model with frizzy hair stealing a glance. She smiled with happiness at a friendly face and the model blinked then smiled back.

Somewhere in the background the laugh of a ruggedly handsome silver-haired man was followed by the bell-like ring of a lovely woman, their voices carrying over the crowd.

Isabel walked briskly ahead and vanished though a door and Rose followed behind. She entered a kind of reception room with a dance floor and wet bar. Suddenly Rose heard Emily cry out.

“Rose! Come here!” Rose hesitated and looked around.

“Rose!” Emily’s voice cried out again.

Emily was at the center of a small crowd of her friends. “Rose I need to show you something!”

“Emily!” Rose waved back, and walked toward her.

Emily… Emily… the name bounced around Rose’s head, made her dizzy. Rose lost her balance for a moment as she cut through the crowd.

“What a dress Rose, you’re gorgeous! But you’re wearing BOLLORÉ, so of course you look great!”

“Anything Catherine makes is wonderful, I hardly have to try. But aren’t you cute tonight!”

Emily’s younger cut mini slip hung like wrapping around a glittering prize, meant to be ripped off and tossed aside. Her hair was sculpted into gorgeous frozen splash of waves and curls that fell from one side of her face and lay on her shoulder.

“I always wanted to ask you Rose, when did you decide you liked… you know!” And she winked and batted her eyes and hip bumped her.

Rose felt confused. “When I…?”

Emily leaned in conspiratorially. “Liked women?”

Rose thought a moment. Rose felt something come to life deep inside her and take her mind by the hand. A soft feminine hand that guides, that caresses. Like a woman laughing with a pleasant sing-song voice whose words sink into you like a stones.

“Oh I’ve always liked women!” She said confidently.

“But when did you know it, Rose? How old were you?”

“Are you asking about… I mean… how does a person know these things, sort of question?”

Emily found her answer funny. “I mean you! Like, how old were you?!”

Rose submitted even deeper as the feelings guided her thoughts.

“Oh, Emily, it’s been for so long I can’t remember when I didn’t! There wasn’t really a single moment, you know. You sort of grow into accepting that part of you! It’s always a part of you. Always.”

A shiver of pleasure flowed through Rose. Like a lover running their hand across her body, a welcome familiar feeling Rose invited in.

Emily glared at Rose, unsatisfied and questioning, her emotions in wild confusion, just under the surface. Then like a snap decision Emily seemed to make up her mind and the season now was Spring. Her face became bright and sunny.

“Let’s drink together Rose!” And she handed Rose a mixed shot. “To… ah… to Europe!” And she downed hers. “Come on!”

Rose hesitated. “Emily, I’m not really in the…” but Emily wouldn’t take no for an answer. Rose found that Emily and her friends had circled around her. After several attempts at excusing herself were refused, Rose downed hers as well. Emily and her friends cheered.

Rose noticed the sweetness couldn’t completely hide the alcohol. It was very strong.

“Another! This place is such a graveyard, too stuffy for girls like us, why does mom drag us out to these anyway?”

Emily handed her another drink.

“Emily I don’t want to…” but before she could say anything, Emily was nudging it to Rose’s mouth.

“Drink up buttercup!” Rose seeing no way of escape, took the shot. Emily and her friends cheered again.

“Fantastic Rose! I knew you weren’t an old lady yet! I don’t know why you hang out with old ladies anyway.” Emily and her friends was bouncing around the bar loudly.

“Look, Rose!” Emily held up a large green crystal mineral, polished and smooth between her fingers. “It’s real jade! Do you know how much this costs? Rich Chinese people snap it up for huge prices!” Rose pondered the object.

“Where did you get that, Emily?”

“Oh, I got it from a businessman. He was propositioning me!”

“What?! What did you do?!…”

But Emily and her friends just laughed.

“Oh, Emily took him to the cleaners!” One girl chimed in. “She followed him into the bathroom and then locked the door shut!”

“I did it for you Rose, because I wanted you to have it!” And she grabbed Rose’s hand and placed it in it.

“Go give it to her, over there!” And she pointed out a model with long hair. “I know her and she’s crazy for gemstones. She’ll die for this!”

“You mean drop her dress for it!” Another friend chimed in helpfully.

Rose looked at the jade in her hand. “Emily, wait… is that businessman here?”

“Rose, I’m not fresh fish! It was back when we were visiting the warehouse yesterday. I’ve been saving it for you, go on!” And she nudged Rose in the model’s direction.

“But Emily I’m not interested…”

“Show her that jade, give her a kiss and she’ll melt for you! I’ve heard though the model grapevine she’s fantastic.” She leaned close and whispered conspiratorially. “Like, next level. Don’t worry, I won’t tell mom.” She pushed Rose toward her. “I put myself in danger just to make you happy Rose, don’t forget! Go get some!”

So this was her game.

Rose was being pushed forward by all of Emily’s friends toward the model only to Isabel walking to them and rolling her eyes at whatever nonsense they were up to.

“Come on you.” Nodding at Rose. “All of you, and including you, Emily!”

Emily whined childishly but herded up her friends anyway. Emily pointed the model out to Rose again and then crossed her fingers in a sign of hopeful encouragement, then scurried off with Isabel.

Rose held the expensive jade ornament up then looked around.

Rose noticed lurking in the darker corners a few pairs of people in masks like those worn by Madeleine’s friends. One pair was speaking to a very young and lovely woman, who was nodding and flush with embarrassment or some other feeling. Another was standing watch and nodded to Rose with a strange formality when she caught Rose’s gaze, as if they had already met. Rose watched the young woman’s body language change as she yielded to their desires. Finally acquiescing completely the pair turned and led the young woman away.

A bit later, unnoticed in the crowd, the model with wine-dark eyes and almond skin began to follow Rose.

Day 90, early evening

“Oh Rose, take me now!”

Even while laying on her back with her legs waving in the air, Catherine wanted to be in charge.

Rose stroked Catherine’s thighs slowly, sometimes letting the tip of her fingernails catch her skin, then pushed her legs up and open wider. Doing this made Rose a little dizzy for some reason. Something about being opened and accepting... surrendering...

But it was Rose’s lips Catherine craved now and Rose knew exactly how to use them.

As Rose begins to run her tongue close, and around… and around… Rose could feel Catherine breathing deeper and her head around, leaving her sweat-wet hair flicked across her eyes. Her whole body trembling, flush and sweaty and needy and so close. Catherine’s phone rings. Rose’s full, soft lips. So close! so close… Ring ring! Rose’s lips, her tongue, her breath. Ring! Catherine’s moaning, quivering, ring! Catherine cries out sharply and... ring! and…

…pushes Rose away.

“Ugh! Sor…Sorry. I just… can’t…” Catherine groans in disappointment and reaches for her phone. Rose slides out of bed and walks to the window. Their room is still dark.

It was a quarter of an hour before they had a chance to speak again.

“There just so much going on right now I can hardly keep it together.” Catherine apologized. “I… it’s not personal! You know that, right? I had to reschedule some work just to get us this little tryst.” And she swung a nearby empty wine glass to and fro, looking for more of what was already gone.

“I know Emily doesn’t like me…” Rose admitted.

“Emily! No! I mean, … it’s not that. I mean it is. But not exactly that, Rose! Ugh!” Catherine tossed her head back. Rose thought she looked amazing. Catherine stared at Rose for awhile, then suddenly asked,

“What do you want?”

The open window of the third story suite near the Via Savona let the sounds and humid smells of the night drift in. Rose watched headlights flash and dim, dim and flash, as cars drove down the busy streets for a moment before she spoke.

“You know, the usual! I want to see the world, going into fashion, meet someone like you…” Rose batted her eyes in a jokey way. Catherine ran her fingers between Rose’s legs and touched her playfully.

“I mean Rose, why are you here? With me? With fashion? What do you want?”

“Are we just having fun?” And she poked Rose with her fingers playfully, making Rose laugh and squirm.

“I…want…” Rose felt strange at such a question. She’d rather help Catherine relax than think about it. A feeling deep inside Rose her always guided her so she never had to think about it herself.

“I want to help you! Relax, not worry about things.” Catherine’s face seemed unconvinced, but Catherine’s fingers acted convinced enough. Rose moaned a little, then spoke again. “I think you’re just working too hard. You’ve got so many things to worry about…”

Rose wrapped her arms and legs around Catherine and drew her close, and Rose purred happily. She leaned into Catherine’s ear and whispered close, letting her words fluttered against Catherine’s skin.

“I think…” Rose let the words drip out “the problem is… you are… just…”

“...thinking...” kiss

“…too…” kiss

…much…” kiss

Catherine laughed a bit at that suggestion but nuzzled into Rose anyway. Rose could feel in Catherine something unresolved, a change in her energy somehow.

Rose and Catherine fell back into each other’s arms, both staring out in thought.

Rose dreams later that night.

It is the same dream she has every night but she never remembers it.

She dreams of women. Their minds, like their legs, are wide open. She feels their minds being shaped, feels bodies and minds blossoming open, feels their desire, feels their growing obedience, feels them moaning, feels them coming, feels them becoming.

Rose somehow knows that she is one of those women.

Rose somehow knows that she is all of those women.

And like every night she feels a hand closing her mind’s legs and stilling her thoughts.

And every night Rose accepts her mind being stilled and closed and obediently forgets.

Day 91

Rose wakes up to a misty morning.

And this morning, like every morning, Rose doesn’t remember what she has forgotten.

But this morning she remembers that she has forgotten.