Strange Love
Sara didn’t need to be told she was different. It was a fact she’d been aware of since she was very small. Yet, everyday there was some unsubtle reminder -a stare held for a little too long, a nervous or snide remark, or worse. Living as an albino had enough challenges as it was without worrying about other people’s prejudices. Every time she went outside she had to make sure she was properly covered, even in summer (well, especially in summer) when everyone else was wearing short sleeves and shorts, for fear of terrible sunburn. Her eyes had a tendency to shake, and it was hard to focus.
She’d defiantly done all she could to overcome these handicaps, refusing any special schooling. Still, there were days she’d wished she hadn’t been born this way, to just be an ordinary girl. Sara’s mother would tell her time and again how special and pretty she was, but that’s the sort of stuff mother’s are supposed to say. Was her long, slightly curly white hair really so nice, or just an excuse for bullies to call her an ‘old lady’? And forget about trying to wear makeup. Needless to say, she wasn’t exactly spoiled with offers to the upcoming high school formal.
Stretched out by herself on the couch in the living room, the television went completely ignored. Instead, Sara stared blankly out the front window, watching the evening twilight fade away. She’d have been lying if she said she didn’t want to go to the formal. It was the current buzz at school, with lots of covert plans to smuggle in booze, and hotel rooms being booked for afterwards, where no doubt any would end up losing their virginity -all the sort of wonderful nonsense that high school was supposed to be about. But, it would have been awkward and embarrassing to have gone alone, especially for her.
Of course, the consequences would be worse if she turned up on the arm of who really wanted to date. It’s one thing to simply look different than everyone else, but this was a secret she’d have an even harder time dealing with if other people knew.
Completely engrossed in her thoughts, she didn’t hear her mother step into the room. Being a single parent to an only child, and one as special as Sara was, the two were probably closer than most. Even so, it wasn’t too difficult for anyone to read her daughter’s mood. Sitting beside her on the couch, she laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh, mom, I...” Sara stammered, snapping out of her reverie.
“It’s alright,” she said, “it looked like you were a million miles away. Is there anything you wanted to talk about?”
Sara shrugged, turning to look back out the window. “I think I understand,” she said, giving her daughter a supportive shake. “I don’t know if it will cheer you up any, but there’s something I wanted to show you.”
Sara’s frown of puzzlement grew as her mother pulled down the ladder to the attic. About the only things they kept up there were old Christmas lights and clothing they hadn’t got around to sending to the Salvation Army.
“I’ve debated with myself about showing you this for a long time,” she explained. “I hope you won’t be too upset with me for keeping it a secret until now.”
Now Sara was really intrigued.
Switching on the overhead light, her mother pulled forward a small trunk. It was made of canvas covered wood with brass fittings, obviously quite old by it’s faded appearance. Sara crept forward as she undid the latches and opened the unlocked lid.
“This stuff all belonged to your great-great grandmother,” she said, reaching inside. “Here’s a photo of her.”
Sara held up the old photograph, which was of an elegant young woman in a black and white lace trim dress, standing before a painted backdrop. Holding it closer, she examined it in more detail. Even through the sepia monochrome, it was easy to tell she had white hair, pale skin, and most telling of all, stark white eyebrows and eyelashes. Beneath the actual photo was printed on the card, ‘Millie La Mar, mind reader’, and the New York studio’s stamp.
“My God,” Sara gasped, tracing the woman’s features with her fingertips. Until now, the very few images she’d seen of other albinos had been of men. This was the very first time she’d ever seen anyone like myself.
“She was a bit of a minor celebrity in her day,” her mother told her, sitting back. “She’d perform little mental tricks and such. I guess if there’s any cause for embarrassment, it’s because, well, the sort of circuses she traveled with... weren’t...”
“I know,” Sara nodded, “they were freak shows, right? I understand. It was like a hundred years ago, right?” It didn’t matter to Sara. For the first time, she had a sense of where she came from, that she wasn’t the only one.
“Anyway, this is all yours now. Most of it are journals that she wrote, and souvenirs from her travels. I don’t think all of it survived very well, but the books should still be legible.”
“What’s this white cloth down at the bottom,” Sara asked, getting very excited as she went through the trunk’s contents.
“That’s what’s left of her wedding dress.”
“Really? She got married...”
“Of course,” she said, giving her daughter a warm hug, “if she hadn’t, neither you nor I would be here right now.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Gathering as many of Millie’s diaries as she could, she took them down to her room. Since Miss La Mar had the same affliction, her beautiful hand writing was very large and bold, making it easier for Sara to read. If it wasn’t for her mothers authoritative knock on the bedroom door, she’d have probably stayed up all night just reading and reading.
Lunch period found Sara seated at her usual table in the cafeteria. But, so far most of her food remained untouched. “What on earth do you have your head buried in now,”
Michelle quipped, putting her tray down opposite her friends.
Sara grinned, lowering the open book she had pressed close to her face.
“You’d never guess.”
“So, tell me.”
Sara pulled out a trading-card sized photo from the inside of the front cover, handing it to Michelle. She frowned in puzzlement, then realization broke over her.
“Oh, hey!”
“Yep. That’s my great-great-grandma, Millie La Mar,” Sara explained .“She was, well, I guess nowadays she’d be what’s called a Mentalist. You know, like Kreskin.”
“That tall, goofy looking guy who spazzed out on Letterman?”
“Something like that,” Sara sniggered. " I gather he was more popular in the ‘70s.”
“A mentalist, huh,” Michelle said, handing back the photo. “But, I thought you hated all that kind of stuff.”
“Not ‘hated’ exactly,” Sara demurred, making an odd face. “It’s only because I look this way people assume I must have some stupid psychic powers or something.”
“But, your great-great-grandmother did?”
“No, no, there’s nothing magical about it,” Sara held up the book for her to see.
“This journal contains all her trade secrets, everything she learned.”
Michelle was, without doubt, Sara’s best friend. She had the sort of looks Sara couldn’t help but envy; shiny black hair, soft brown eyes, and the light tan complexion that bespoke a Mediterranean heritage. She had such a warm and gregarious personality too. She could make friends with anyone, it sometimes amazed Sara how she still chose to hang around with the unpopular kids. It was yet another quality that, well, she loved about her.
“So, what’s the secret?” Michelle pressed, leaning closer.
“I can’t just tell you,” Sara said, holding the book close to her chest. “I’d be betraying a professional trust. Besides, I haven’t read it all yet. But, the one interesting thing I’ve learned is it’s not all a shill game. You can get people to tell you information without them ever realizing it.”
“Clever,” Michelle nodded. “So, it’s not really mind reading at all.”
“She did some other stuff too. I’m reading now how she studied Mesmerism.”
“That’s like hypnotism, right?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I don’t think they’re exactly the same, but it’s a similar idea.”
“Very cool. If you ever want to try some of that stuff out, you should give me a call. I could be your guinea pig.”
“I don’t know about that...”
“Hey, you never know. Maybe you have a talent for it,” Michelle said, finally taking a bite of her lunch.
“Hmm. Maybe.”
After dinner, Sara was still pouring over Millie’s journal, her homework left untouched. It was completely fascinating. For all the times she’d seen Penn and Teller or those so-called psychics perform these sorts of tricks, she could never guess how they were done. Evidently, not a lot had changed in the business in the hundred years since Miss La Mar plied her trade.
Millie herself was a rather interesting figure too, with an inner strength and intelligence that shone through the stolid Victorian style script. It was almost like she was talking directly to her through the generations, saying she had nothing to be ashamed of.
Millie was also a very advanced student of her profession. Later in life, she even met the great Harry Houdini , whom she admired greatly. But, before that, she made a study of the works of Mesmer, trying to de construct his secrets. It wasn’t easy to cut through his more arcane theories of ‘animal magnetism’ and such, but she eventually succeeded. She recounted in vivid detail how she experimented with various members of her troupe, inducing them into mesmeric trance. Sara ran over the text again and again, mouthing the words.
‘Maybe you have a talent for it,’ Michelle had said. The more she thought about it, the more she was tempted to try. The very idea of being able to subjugate someone to her will was, well, too tantalizing to pass over. Biting her lip, she hesitated a moment, then picked up the phone.
“Hello, Michelle? Listen, are you busy after school tomorrow?”
It was Michelle’s little joke to refer to her parents downstairs rec-room as the ‘80s room’, for they way they’d furnished it with the wood paneled walls, stand up mini-bar and the old couch which had probably been around those days. If nothing else, it was a cosy little place to hang out.
“C’mon, I’m dying to get started,” Michelle said, thumping her hands on the low table.
Sara flashed her a pained expression. “It does help that you want to be put under,” Sara explained, “but, if you’re that excited, you’re never going to be relaxed enough to enter a trance.”
“Sorry. I’ll try to settle down,” Michelle said sheepishly.
Going over a few last lines, Sara finally put the book down, repeating it all again in her head. It was kind of like rehearsing for a play.
Taking a deep breath, she endeavored to get relaxed herself.
“Don’t be surprised if this doesn’t work,” she warned, “it’s going to be my first try.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine. What do I have to do?” Crouched at the opposite end of the table, Sara held out her left hand.
“Okay. I want you to hold your arms out, resting both of your thumbs on my palm.”
“My thumbs?”
“That’s right. We’re completing a sort of circuit, you see.”
Michelle did as instructed, not at all sure what sort of circuit they were meant to be completing.
“Now, you’re going to have to listen very carefully to what I say,” Sara told her, “You must clear your mind and think of nothing else. I want your attention entirely focused on my eyes.
Look directly into my eyes, Michelle.”
Michelle did so. Although Sara’s eyes usually looked pinkish-red from a distance, up close like this they appeared a translucent blue. But that wasn’t the only difference. Sara’s eyes were now deathly still, the pupils widely dilated. The change was so unsettling as to be frightening; if the eyes were indeed the windows to the soul, then Sara’s shutters were thrown wide open. Michelle quickly brushed aside these thoughts, reminding herself to keep her mind blank as instructed.
“Alright. I’m going to lead you into mesmeric trance,” Sara intoned, voice subtly deeper than before. “Let your body relax, all stress and pressure flowing from your thumbs into my body. With every word I say, you can feel your energy slowly drain away, drifting down into sleep.”
Very simple words, plainly stated, yet Michelle could not help but feel their effects. The intensity of Sara’s uncanny stare possessed a power all it’s own. Raising her free hand, Sara formed her fingers into the proscribed gesture.
“I’m going to begin leading you down,” she told her, “every time my hand passes your eyes, you will feel one step closer to deep, irresistible sleep. Every pass of my hand, your will slips further and further away from you. Every pass...”
Sara timed her words to motion, sweeping her hand down with slow repetition over Michelle’s face. After each mesmeric pass, she lowered her voice, deliberately ‘stepping down’, leading Michelle under.
When the actual moment came, it was with a palpable sensation, a sudden change of pressure of Michelle’s thumbs on her palm. Sara held her breath, watching and listening. Michelle made no sound, her expression slack, her dark hazel eyes moist and half-lidded.
“Michelle,” Sara hesitantly asked, gently laying the girl’s hands down on the table, “Michelle, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” she replied, voice dull and flat.
“Are... are you asleep?”
“Yes.”
Sara frowned to herself. No, it couldn’t be, not for a first attempt like this. Michelle must only be playing along.
“Alright then. Stand up.”
Michelle did so. Sara came up beside her, arms crossed in mute annoyance. She hated it when people patronized her. Still, Michelle didn’t appear to be fooling; it was so hard to tell.
“Stretch your arms out.”
Michelle obeyed, hands dangling slightly.
“Um. Now, twirl in place, ‘round and ‘round.” Arms still held out from her sides, Michelle quickly spun herself around, like a kindergartner playing some odd game. Sara’s hand leapt to her mouth, stifling a laugh.
“Okay, stop, stop!”
Sara leaned in closer, squinting to try and read Michelle’s face.
“Say, ‘I’m a big poo eating wench’.”
“I’m a big poo eating wench.”
Sara couldn’t contain a short snigger. Surely that would have caught her up if she was faking. But, the idea seemed impossible to accept. Sara stood right up to her friend, who was perhaps half an inch taller than herself, peering into those soft brown eyes. There was no trace of response, no sign of active intellect.
Sara’s smile of amazement faded as she realized the full extent of what she’d accomplished. But, there had to be some way to be absolutely sure. Maybe now was the time to take a chance, do something she’d always wanted to do. If Michelle was only pretending, then that was her excuse -to try and catch her out. And, if it turned out she really was mesmerized...
“Close your eyes,” she told her.
Now or never. Wetting her dry lips, Sara paused, then bravely pressed them against Michelle’s in a gentle\ kiss.
Taking a step back, Sara’s heart skipped a beat. Michelle hadn’t even flinched, continuing to stand as she was, eyes closed.
“Kiss me,” she ordered Michelle, “kiss me as passionately as you possibly can.”
Reaching out, Michelle put one arm around Sara’s waist, other hand beneath her long white hair, and kissed her with open lips. Sara felt weak. Their tongues touching, Sara savoured this long embrace, her hand brushing against Michelle’s breast, before finally breaking it off.
“S... say these words, ‘I love you’.”
“I love you.”
Michelle said it, yes, but with the sort of dull intonation that revealed the lack of emotion behind them.
“If only...” Sara shook her head, coming back to her senses. This was going too far. It was time to put an end to this.
“Give me your hands.”
Laying Michelle’s thumbs on her open palm as before, Sara fixed her attention onto Michelle’s eyes. “I’m going to bring you out of the trance now,” she told her, raising her hand. “With every gesture, your will feel yourself rising from the abyss, back into feeling and consciousness. Watch my hand, and with every pass, you feel yourself coming awake and aware...”
Sara made the reverse passes, and within short order, Michelle gave a sudden start, blinking her eyes.
“Wha... Hey, I’m standing up now.”
“Yes.”
Michelle glanced at her watch.
“Ten minutes. I’m missing like ten minutes,” she said with great enthusiasm. “That’s incredible! You actually did it! You put me under.”
“Yes. It... um, seemed to work.”
Michelle clasped her friend in a swift hug. “I’m so proud of you. That’s so cool.”
Sara blushed, a reaction her complexion made it impossible to hide.
“I trust you didn’t make me do anything too embarrassing,” Michelle joked.
“Yeah, right.” Sara fought to maintain her composure. “Uh, listen, I’ve got to get going. I forget to tell my mom where I am, so I don’t want her to, you know...”
She quickly gathered her stuff together.
“Oh, well, alright then. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Sara turned over restlessly in her bed, unable to fall asleep. She’d been distracted for pretty much the entire evening. Her homework suffered another night of neglect, and she was too afraid to go near any more of Millie’s journals. Well, the truth was she was more afraid of herself.
She’d never forget that moment, when she finally realized that Michelle was under her power. It was at least as strong as the feeling she had being kissed and embraced by her.
Sara’s hand automatically moved between her legs as she relived the experience. She’d fantasized about making love to Michelle many times, but she knew how futile it was; Michelle had a crush on some boy in her math class, and would never willingly do any of those things. Again, not willingly, but...
The insidious idea wormed it’s way into her thoughts. She could make Michelle do anything she wished, could have that afternoon. Even as Sara knew what a terrible thought it was, her fingers worked her clit harder as she imagined the scenario in her mind.
Turning onto her front, clutching her pillow in one arm, Sara rebelled in the perverse thoughts of her new power, how she could use them to attain what she’d always wanted; Michelle wrapped naked in her arms, moaning in orgasm just as she now made herself come. In the aftermath, she reflected that she must never let this come to pass. Deep down she knew that, given the chance, she might not be able to resist the temptation.
A couple of days later, Sara was standing at the bus stop after school. Glancing at her watch, she heard a familiar voice calling her name from behind. She turned, peering through her sunglasses at the swiftly approaching Michelle.
“Hey, finally, there you are,” Michelle said brightly, “I haven’t seen you for a while. I was starting to think you might be avoiding me.”
“Oh, no, no,” Sara shrugged, “I’ve just been really busy, you know. Final exams coming up and all.”
“Are you busy now?”
“Er...”
“It’s only that my parents are gone for a few hours, and I don’t feel like hanging around the house by myself. C’mon, be a sport. We can make french fries.” There wasn’t much Sara could argue with there.
“Alright, sure.”
Michelle too was an only child, and by her own admission, something of a spoiled one as well. Her bedroom was like a miniature apartment, fully furnished. Her television was about as big as the one in Sara’s living room, and her stereo system was certainly a far cry from the little portable she had on her bed stand. Seated on the carpet close to the TV, Sara couldn’t see what Michelle was doing around the book shelf behind her.
“Is it my imagination, or is MTV getting worse all the time,” Sara remarked.
“I think folks have been saying that since day one,” Michelle said, joining her on the carpet. “But, you know what I really want to do?”
“Hmm?”
Michelle held out her hands, thumbs first.
“Oh, er, I’m not sure I want to do that stuff anymore,” Sara said uneasily.
“What? You’re kidding,” Michelle replied, obviously disappointed. “You seemed to have such a natural knack for it too.”
Sara shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a real strain to keep my eyes still for that long,” she said. “Can I ask you something? Why are you so eager to be put under like that?”
Michelle sat back on her heels, tilting her head.
“Well, it’s kinda funny. I’d always wondered what it’d be like, to be put under someone’s absolute control. It was interesting. After I came out of the trance you put me in, I felt very relaxed; as if I’d been asleep for a long while, but also very alert. I guess it’s like driving in a car and letting someone else take the wheel for a bit.”
“And... you honestly don’t remember anything at all from when you were under?”
“Nope, not a bit,” Michelle smiled, “I think that’s part of the fun too.”
Sara half wished her friend would shut the hell up. At this rate, she wasn’t going to be able to say no anymore.
“Hey, what’s with the serious look,” Michelle said, shaking her shoulder. “If you don’t want to, I’m not going to make you or anything. It seems to me like a really great skill to have and develop. I mean, the ability to control people like that... I’d love it. Think of everyone you could get back at.”
“It doesn’t quite work that way.”
“Maybe not, but you could probably do all sorts of good things, like helping people to stop smoking, you know. They’d actually pay you for that sort of service, I’m sure.”
“A.. alright then,” Sara heard herself saying. “I’ll give it another shot. Give me a second to prepare.” Sitting cross legged opposite each other, television muted, Sara took a few deep breaths.
What she told Michelle about it being a strain wasn’t entirely a lie, though it had less to do with her eyes than the sheer amount of concentration and will the process required in general. From Millie’s journals she knew that once a person had been successfully mesmerized, it was much easier to put them under the next time, but this was a secret Sara chose to keep to herself.
“Okay, give me your thumbs.”
Sara commenced to make the mesmeric passes as she’d done before, leaving all reservations behind. For her part, Michelle almost immediately felt light headed, blinking to maintain eye contact with the intense stare of her friend.
As Sara proceeded, Michelle slouched forward, her body becoming increasingly slack. Sara didn’t even have to say a word, the suggestion already planted in Michelle’s mind, her hand moving across her face being the trigger.
This time there was nothing subtle about the moment Michelle went under. Her eyes closed shut, and she lurched over to one side, forcing Sara to catch her in her arms to stop her falling over. Carefully laying Michelle on her back, it was clear she wasn’t simply in any sort of trance, she was fully asleep. This was different than before. Sara worried she might have done something wrong, but ultimately there wasn’t any harm done. Sitting back, Sara reflected this might be for the best. Let Michelle have her nap, then head on home afterwards, everybody happy.
Sara picked some of Michelle’s long black hair away from her face, thinking how pretty she was. Both were still dressed in their school uniforms, consisting of a crisp white shirt, burgundy tie, and knee length plaid skirt. The only difference were the dark cotton leggings Sara wore to protect her skin from sun exposure. Looking at Michelle’s bare calves, Sara’s mouth went dry as she thought about what lay beneath that pleated skirt, and how easy it would be to find out.
Michelle had said she didn’t remember anything from the last time. Millie wrote that very few of her subjects ever recalled what happened to them too. It was her belief that a mesmerized person experienced everything as if in a dream, with a sense of reality that was just as ephemeral. On awakening, all details would melt away just as the content of our nightly dreams are often lost; because, to them, none of it really happened. Sara didn’t know if that theory was correct or not, but it gave her a powerful sense of freedom to believe that it was.
Sara stopped playing with Michelle’s hair, her fingers trailing down the line of her chin. Her thumb brushed across Michelle’s lower lip, as if in a kiss, then moved her tie aside to undo the first button on her blouse. In all her fantasies, Michelle was the aggressive one, seducing and ravishing her. This role reversal was exciting and strange all at once.
Halfway through unbuttoning Michelle’s shirt, Sara’s paranoia got the better of her.
“Michelle,” she said, leaning close to her ear, “can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
Sara froze, catching her breath in panic. But, Michelle was still lying just as she was, eyes closed. “Are you awake,” she asked.
“No.”
Now Sara understood. She hadn’t made any mistakes. Michelle really was in a proper trance after all, open to any suggestion Sara wanted to implant. Hand shaking, Sara resumed undoing Michelle’s top.
“Michelle, I want you to lie perfectly still,” Sara intoned, sliding her hands under the loose folds of her now open blouse. “Whatever happens, you will only feel warm and safe.”
Sara gently squeezed Michelle’s breasts through the thin barrier of her bra, pulling one of the cups down to expose the tiny dark circle of her nipple. Michelle was so lucky to have been born beautiful. Sara’s hand wandered down over the smooth flat surface of her stomach, feeling the texture of her warm tan skin.
Repositioning herself, Sara knelt close to Michelle’s feet, taking hold of the hem of her skirt. Pulling it up past her waist, Sara swallowed hard, staring at the expanse of Michelle’s bare lean legs, and the powder blue panties that covered the space between.
“Nothing to fear,” she quietly repeated, hooking her fingers under the waistband and brusquely pulling Michelle’s underwear down to the socks at her feet. At last, the dark triangle of her pubis lay open to her view. It was startling to see such a forest of curly dark hair. Sara’s own pubic hair was relatively sparse, and of course entirely white. She’d never seen another woman’s private parts like this before. It was completely fascinating. Pushing one of Michelle’s legs to the side, she stared at the dark coral lips of her cunt, then gently pried them apart with her fingers.
As the old cliche said, it really was all pink inside. Licking her fingertips, she began to stroke and rub over the supple skin of her labia, gradually centering on the noticeably stiff ridge of her clitoris.
Michelle’s mouth opened of it’s own accord, her breathing becoming deeper and more ragged with her arousal. The lips of her cunt became slack, the wetness seeping out in a thick smear. Sara slid two of her fingers up inside her, her own cunt giving a sympathetic spasm at the moment of penetration.
Michelle lay perfectly still as ordered, but the grunts she made betrayed the extent of her sexual excitement. The idea that she was so close to making her beloved Michelle orgasm made Sara feel elated and weak. Pulling back on Michelle’s foreskin, she exposed the tiny pink tip of her clit. Kneeling down, Sara planted her lips around it, gently sucking the way she’d always imagined Michelle doing to her.
Suddenly every muscle in Michelle’s body went tight. Her breath caught on itself, and then Sara could feel the tell tale spasms inside Michelle’s cunt as she was brought to inevitable climax.
Sara looked up with adoration on her friends face, which apart from the small beads of sweat on her brow, was as placid as when they began.
Sara though was far from placid -her own arousal had become impossible to ignore. Seeing Michelle laid out on the floor in a state of half undress, the dark hairs around her cunt matted and damp from her climax, had her rubbing herself roughly through her clothes.
Quickly pulling off her tie, she began to unbutton her own shirt. Standing up, she tossed her top to one side, which was swiftly followed by her bra. This was a big step. For obvious reasons, Sara was very self conscious about her body. To strip herself naked like this was not an easy thing, having only done so before in the presence of doctors or her mother. Plus, she’d been such a late bloomer, and still felt rather scrawny and underdeveloped. But, she wanted Michelle to see her, very badly.
“Michelle, sit up,” Sara ordered, “look at me.” She did so, her soft brown eyes flickering open. Unzipping her skirt, Sara let it fall to her feet. This left only her dark tights and underwear, which she promptly pulled down and off, finally revealing her stark white body to Michelle’s unconcerned gaze. Sara hugged herself, feeling very vulnerable even though she knew that she was the one in power. “Michelle, I want you to tell me something,” she said, “and you must not lie. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“When you look at me, do you think I’m beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“Wh... Really? Do you really?”
“Yes, I do.”
Millie had written that it was nearly impossible for a mesmerized person to lie. This didn’t always mean they told the absolute truth, but if Michelle believed that it was, then that was enough for Sara.
Stepping forward, Sara lay a hand on Michelle’s head, once again focusing her will on her.
“Stand up,” she said, “undress yourself.”
While she did that, Sara retreated to Michelle’s narrow bed, lying back on the smooth covers. She knew that what she was about to do was extremely selfish, but at the moment she didn’t care.
“Come, join me,” Sara said, patting the space beside her. Now as naked as she was, Michelle obediently lay flat on her back. Sara enveloped her in her pale limbs, nuzzling her face against her neck, caressing her. Michelle gave no reaction, her body inert even as Sara stole her hand in between her legs.
“Make love to me,” Sara whispered into her ear, “make love to me as if you were angry with me, as if making me come were the greatest punishment you could inflict.”
With very little pause, Michelle grabbed Sara by the shoulders, turning her over so that Michelle now lay on top, glaring with intensity into Sara’s narrow eyes. A breathless second passed, then Michelle pressed her lips against hers in a fierce kiss, one of her hands clutching at Sara’s small breast with an almost painful grip.
Sara let out a whimper, which was joined by yet more as Michelle moved her hand down to her sopping cunt. Compared to the rest of her pale white skin, Sara’s labia had become shockingly red with the rush of blood from her arousal.
Michelle employed very little subtlety in her treatment of Sara. Using her three middle fingers, she forced them all at once up inside Sara’s tender vagina. Hips rising from the bed, Sara strove to accommodate Michelle’s fingers, having never been penetrated in this way before. Wet sounds escaped from her cunt as Michelle mock-fucked her, the cruel smile on her lips growing as she brought Sara closer to the moment of climax.
“Hnnn,” Sara’s teeth gritted, her internal muscles clamping down hard. It was the strongest orgasm of her young life, which was met with a contemptuous laugh from Michelle.
“Enough,” Sara said weakly, “lie down, be still, be asleep.”
Again, the transformation was nearly instantaneous. Michelle lie back, hands lying at her side, eyes closed. Sara shook her head, marveling how easy it was, like switching a light on or off.
Sitting on the bedside, hand clasped over her still throbbing cunt, Sara gradually regained her breath. Looking at the scattered mess of their clothes on the floor, she realized she’d have to deal with something she never considered in her fantasies; cleaning up the evidence afterwards. She supposed she could make Michelle do most of the work, but this felt to Sara like her responsibility alone. Grabbing some kleenex, she began to wipe the wetness from Michelle’s matted pubic hair. It was alarming to see the specks of blood on Michelle’s fingernails, but Sara cleaned that off too.
Before long, both had resumed their proper dress, Michelle sitting on the edge of the bed, Sara kneeling on the carpet. Making the reverse passes, Sara strove to break the mesmeric trance.
“Oh, um,” Michelle abstractly stammered, blinking her eyes.
“You’re alright?” It looked to Sara like Michelle was coming out of it much slower than before.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Michelle said, brushing back her hair, “It just feels like I’ve been asleep for a long time.”
“I did keep you under for quite a bit,” Sara admitted. “How do you feel?”
“Um, very well. Sort of warm all over,” Michelle smiled, “Even better than the last time.”
“I’m glad.”
The rest of Sara’s visit went by completely innocuously -at least until Michelle mentioned something important before she left.
“I almost forgot to tell you,” she said excitedly, “you know Mark, im my math class, right? Well, he finally worked up the nerve to ask me to the school formal. Isn’t that great?”
“Oh, er, yes. Yes it is.”
“You should come along with us. It’ll be fun with more people.”
Sara shook her head.
“No, I don’t think that’d be a good idea. I hate being a fifth wheel. Sorry.”
Sara lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Millie’s journal sat closed across her chest, folded in her arms in a futile effort to draw some comfort from her long departed relative.
The wasn’t exactly the ending she would have wrote her herself. She’d stolen a moment of passion she’d never forget for her entire life, but in the end, it was just like a dream. After it all, Michelle was back to her straight-as-an-arrow self, and she was back to being the same geeky albino closet lesbian who couldn’t get laid without deception and deceit. Sara balled up her fists, trying to dismiss those negative thoughts. But, the awkward truth was she had basically raped her best friend. It would take a while to get over that.
Things wouldn’t always be this way, Sara told herself. One day she’d leave this town, and even Michelle would only be a pleasant but distant memory. Maybe her future did lie with her new found skills. Kreskin and Uri Geller had all had their day; now, perhaps, the world was ready for another albino mind reader, a mentalist with pink eyes and white hair.
And, maybe Michelle would still let her practice on her some more. You never knew what the future might hold.
Michelle lifted the cam corder from it’s concealed spot on the bookcase, taking out the videotape. Popping it into the VCR, she began to rewind it back to the beginning.
Sitting back on the bed with the remote, Michelle recalled telling Sara that not knowing was part of the fun of being hypnotized. This was true -but, it would be just as fun to see what Sara’s nifty little mind had thought up for her to do.
Pressing ‘play’, Michelle watched the opening sequence of with great excitement as she convinced Sara to go through with it, then going through the process of putting her under.
The camera had been placed perfectly. It was kind of funny, even voyeuristic, watching herself be put to sleep. Then came the events after, Sara opening her blouse, and that smile of excitement faded. Crawling towards the television, Michelle watched as Sara manipulated her body on screen.
“You unbelievable fucking freak,” Michelle muttered, dull numb shock running through her was the action continued. She was torn between wanting to tear the tape out of the machine and ripping it to shreds, and watching every perverse moment of her ravishment. Even afterwards, she remained huddled in front of the TV, hugging herself tight as the screen went to white noise static.