The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

La Contessa’s face filled the screens of every TV in San Finzione. She started making goofy faces at the camera, before suddenly being whacked over the head with a rubber chicken. Rita Delvecchio, in her La Contessa makeup, pretended to have been knocked silly and collapsed beneath the camera’s view. The real Contessa Helena de San Finzione stepped in and took her place, letting the rubber chicken slip from her hand onto the floor.

“Good Morning, San Finzione!” She cheered in Italian, as stagehands pretended to drag Rita off camera. Another collected the rubber chicken. The main government television channel showed subtitles in English, with a notice that subtitles in the other two official languages of San Finzione; Spanish, and French, were available on other State channels. “I don’t usually come on the air and address you like this, but it’s a very silly and very special day, so I thought I’d explain what will be happening today. On this, San Finzione’s first annual Festival of Cupid!”

Although she didn’t have an audience present in Castle Finzione’s studio, the crew cheered well enough.

“Of course, you’ve all seen the signs and commercials about how it’s going to work.” She said with a grand smile. “But since today’s the day, I thought I’d refresh everyone. To help me explain, here is San Finzione’s Minister of Science, Dr. Miguel Rocco, live from the Ministry’s Loveology Labs.”

The camera cut to a man in a lab coat with a clipboard. In the background behind him, people poured various liquids together to turn them red. A pair of men in lab coats pondered an elaborate equation with a lot of hearts and arrows in the formula.

“Gracias, Contessa.” Dr. Rocco said, being more used to panel discussions on television than this sort of thing. “As you’re aware, top… er… Loveologists at the Ministry have been working closely with Señor Cupid for many months; analyzing the letters that the People of San Finzione and touristas visiting our lovely nation from around the world on this day, have sent to him this past year.”

He walked as he spoke, past a man and a woman behind him, who distilled a strange fluid into a bottle marked “Attrazione.”

“Of course, although San Finzione is not a large nation, as we all know, Señor Cupid has very tiny wings; and so, we cannot possibly expect him to reach every lonely heart in San Finzione in a single day by himself. That is why science has come to his aid with this!”

Dr. Rocco approached a supercomputer that someone had stuck a big, heart-shaped sign onto that said “Agapetron 3000.”

“Behold, the Agapetron 3000! Capable of calculating over two hundred billion possible romantic scenarios per second. For months, it has been analyzing your letters to Signor Cupid to find the most ideal matches possible.” He turned to the computer. “Good morning, Agapetron 3000!” He said to the computer in French.

“Bonjour, Doctor.” A mechanical-sounding woman’s voice said from a speaker behind the sign, which lit up a heart-shaped light in time with her voice. “Je t’aime.”

“French, of course,” he turned to explain to the camera. “Is the optimal language in which to program a Love Computer.” He turned back to the Agapetron. “I love you too, Agapetron 3000. Have you calculated which lucky citizens or visitors are going to receive a surprise visit? Are you ready to send the lists to Señor Cupid’s helpers?”

“Oui, Mon Cheri.” The speaker in the computer responded. “Sending them now.”

There was a mix of whirring, spinning, old-timey computer sound effects for several seconds, which culminated in a “Ding!” at the end. Dr. Rocco blushed a little as he patted the computer and the French woman’s voice cooed from the speaker. The camera cut back to La Contessa.

“Thank you, Doctor.” La Contessa said back in the studio. “Now, of course, some have asked if there will be another… heh…” Helen chuckled to herself. “’Gathering in the park’ like last year. Now, the Government of San Finzione cannot condone such activities. However, as a precaution for the sake of… er, enthusiastic revelers, St. Francis de Sales park will be closed to minors from 1800 hours tonight until 0600 tomorrow. La Policia will, of course, be making regular patrols if any citizens should require assistance; and respecting the privacy of any masked couples who do not request it.”

A page emerged from offstage and handed La Contessa a thick envelope.

“Oh!” She said to the audience in mock surprise. “It appears my own list from the Agapetron 3000 is here. Yes, I, too, will be out there amongst you, assisting my dear friend Cupid today! As will three of his other helpers in the special red Zorro masks, whom you may also see walking around San Finzione today and tonight. Please do not interrupt them with other business or attempt to remove their masks, as they will be on official business for Signor Cupid and may be secretly watched over by both him and soldiers of La Squadra de Ultimados as they perform their duties. We will not be able to get to every letter sent, and of course, there are bound to be some who have asked more than Signor Cupid’s tiny hands can deliver. But who knows? It might be me knocking on your door tonight, your letter in hand, to speak to you about your special request for my friend. I hope to see you out there today, San Finzione! And if we don’t meet today? You don’t need to wait for me or Cupid to come knocking. Get out and see what San Finzione has to offer you, too. And however this day ends for you, know that you already have La Contessa’s love. Ciao!”

Troy Equals walked back into the taverna where, a year and a few days prior, he’d performed Dean Martin’s “Mambo Italiano” on the stage. The bartender recognized him, went to turn on the stage light, and asked “Mambo Italiano?” Troy shook his head no and ordered a Greek coffee. It was too early in the day to sample the Raki he’d had when he and Julie came here before; however, he might be a while. The bartender remembered that sexy wife of Troy’s and asked where she was. Troy told him they had plans for later. He also made a display of not noticing the emerald-green iPad that Troy carried under his arm, and told him the drink was on the house, welcoming Troy back to San Finzione.

Contessa Helena de San Finzione was known for giving gift baskets to her overnight guests, and the quality of the company and the evening was reflected in the quality of the items in the gift baskets. Her very best gift baskets contained iPads colored Emerald Green, the royal color of San Finzione. It was, therefore, common knowledge that any attractive man or woman walking around San Finzione with an emerald-green iPad was a “special friend of La Contessa’s,” and because Troy and his wife and girlfriend all owned them, the occasional complimentary drink, special discount, or “express line” opened up to them when they carried them in public in the city.

He took a table where he could see the door, fished the red Zorro mask from his pocket, and put it on. Troy turned on his iPad and re-read the letter that had been scanned into it. A letter to Signor Cupid from a customer named Giacomo, who was smitten with the waitress. He’d longed to say something to her for ages and hoped Signor Cupid might be able to have a word with Ramona on his behalf.

There weren’t many customers at this hour, and only one waitress. He drank his coffee and waited patiently for her to come by his table. The waitress took note of the mask that Troy wore and made her way to him.

“Something I can get for you, Signor?” The young woman asked in Italian, with barely-contained glee; the way she might have if Troy had been someone from television or the movies walking in and sitting at one of her tables “like it was nothing,” and she was fighting everything inside her to keep from blurting out his most famous character’s big catchphrase that everyone came up and said to him when they recognized him on the street. Troy wasn’t anyone famous, though his wife had been in the news back in the States recently.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Troy responded, also in Italian. “However, if you are Ramona, there may be something I can get for you.”

Ramona fought a squeal as Troy gestured to the seat next to him, offering it to her. Her glee made Troy smile, too.

“I must say, Ramona.” He said, standing to hold the chair for her. “I wasn’t sure what sort of reaction to expect. I mean, you’re a beautiful woman, working in a place like this, you get told as much a hundred times a day by a hundred men.”

“Oh, si.” Ramona said with a smile, as Troy sat back down and opened up his iPad. “I hear this all day. That’s why it is so flattering to know someone is sincere enough to write to Signor Cupid about me.”

Troy smiled at that.

“Well, thanks for making my first one of the day easy for me, Ramona. Now, Cupid has sent me on behalf of Giacomo. Do you know him?”

Ramona wrinkled her forehead a bit. Troy brought up a picture on his iPad and turned it to show her. Ramona recognized him but appeared to have just now learned his name.

“Him? He comes in often. He is polite, very quiet. Sometimes, he brings in a flower and just sits with it until closing time.”

“He’s been trying to work up the nerve to give them to you.” Troy said, tapping a note. “We talked last night; Cupid wanted to make certain he was a good guy before I approached you, so he sent me to meet Giacomo. He was nice, answered my questions truthfully. He said some lovely things about you, he just gets nervous when you’re actually around. I had a talk with him about that; he’s feeling better now.” He turned the picture back to Ramona, then looked at her with an intense gaze.

“However, Ramona, I need to ask you a few things too before I can sign off with Mr. Cupid on this, so it’s important that you answer me truthfully, like Giacomo did last night.” She nodded, understanding the importance deeply. “Good. Let’s start with the most important question first: Are you already married and/or seeing anyone?” Ramona shook her head no. “Ok, good. The other questions aren’t very important without that one. Or this next one, I guess. Would you like to get to know Giacomo better? Study the photo, take your time.”

Ramona took a good few seconds looking at his photo, remembering her interactions with the man, before nodding in agreement.

“Ok, very good. Mr. Cupid will be quite happy to hear that. Now, Giacomo’s going to be coming into the taverna in about half an hour, and I think it’d be a nice surprise if you took the initiative and asked him out, Ramona. Don’t be nervous, I’ll stick around for a while, just watch from here; make sure my impressions about him last night were right before leaving you two alone. For the most part, you’ll be able to pretend I’m not here.” Troy thought a second, then changed his statement. “Unless I need a drink or something, you know. Still watch for that.”

Ramona smiled and nodded again, and they both laughed.

Susan Bailey knocked on the apartment door. She reached out and squeezed the hand of the woman she was escorting for moral support before the door opened.

“Si?” The woman answered, confused by the sight of her dear friend whom she wasn’t expecting to stop by, but more so by the red-masked woman accompanying her.

“Hi, my name’s… er… Cupid’s Helper. Are you Angelique?” Susan asked in Italian. She nodded. Susan turned back to the woman she’d approached the door with, a look from behind the mask asking her “Is this the right Angelique?” Her companion nodded, and Susan turned back to Angelique. “I’m sorry, I only speak English, Italian, and Klingon, not French. That won’t be a problem, will it?

“No, I know English.” Angelique responded in that language. Most of the people of San Finzione spoke at least two of the four official languages of the country. Susan exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Ok, that’s going to make this much better for me, anyway.” She responded in English. “I’m guessing you know Emilia?” Angelique nodded. “Well, Emilia has had some things she’s wanted to tell you for some time, Angelique. Badly enough to write to Cupid about it, and he sent me along to help. If this isn’t a bad time, we’d like to come in and have a word. Well, Emilia would, anyway. It’s nothing to worry about; she’ll tell you what’s been on her mind, you’ll listen, and I’m just going to be here to make sure that whatever comes of it, everyone’s still friends afterwards. That won’t be a problem, will it.”

Susan stated it as a fact, rather than asking it as a question. Angelique felt the need to listen to whatever it was that Emilia needed to tell her, and she knew that whatever it was, even if she didn’t like it, everything would still be good between them.

Angelique invited Susan and Emilia in. They followed her inside.

La Contessa’s helicopter descended onto Fort Ernesto, San Finzione’s Armed Forces headquarters, and home base of La Squadra de Ultimados; San Finzione’s elite Special Forces unit, and personal guard of Contessa Helena and Lady Maria de San Finzione.

A brass band was playing the national anthem of San Finzione on the edge of the helipad below, losing the sound battle to the helicopter’s engines; and Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez, supreme commander of San Finzione’s Armed Forces, stood in his parade uniform, next to Capitan Gregorio Ortega, commanding officer of La Squadra de Ultimados. Behind them, on the surrounding field, every available soldier was in attendance. As she landed, and the engines died, the band started up again. Ramirez and Ortega ran up to assist La Contessa out of her vehicle.

“This wasn’t supposed to be anything official, Hernando.” Contessa Helena de San Finzione told the Generalissimo as she accepted his hand out of the vehicle.

“La Contessa does not make official visits to the base.” Ramirez replied, under his breath. “The troops wanted to show their support on her special day.”

Helen allowed herself a tiny smile as they walked toward an awaiting Jeep.

“It’s not my special day, it’s theirs. And yours. You and Violeta have something planned?” She asked Ramirez, debating lighting a cigarette, then deciding to wait until the Jeep had reached its destination, rather than try to smoke in an open-air vehicle.

“We have a sitter for the Niños tonight. I’ll try to be on time for dinner for once.”

“Well,” Helen replied, as they got in. “Tell her I’ll do everything I can to keep some psycho from blowing up the world tonight without you.”

Ortega remained silent but nodded sternly, as if his Contessa had just given him that order. The Generalissimo smiled and responded.

“I will tell her this.” His tone changed to a slightly more serious one. “And what are La Contessa’s plans for the evening?”

“Probably the same thing I was doing all morning before coming here.” Helen replied. “Going out there, finding people who look like they’d make cute couples, and telling them ‘Don’t move. Are you seeing anybody right now? Well, what do you think of her?’”

The Generalissimo had worked alongside La Contessa long enough to tell when she was trying to avoid answering a difficult question with humor.

“Troy, Julie, and Susan are all in town.” He replied, musing in a way that was clearly not idle. “As is Señorita Sullivan.”

“So is Jeanne, and any hot man or woman who happens to catch my eye. Well, Jeanne was at the Ministry of Science, pretending to be a computer, last time I saw her. She’s got the night off, so I don’t know what her plans are. And there’s every chance that Jeanne made dinner plans with the Agapetron 3000, so I presume she’ll be busy. The Equals, Susan, and Colleen are all busy helping with the Festival. Julie did something like this last year, so she’s got some experience; if we’d thought to make it a contest to see who could get to the most people today before the four of us left the castle this morning, she’d be winning. This isn’t about me, though, this is ABOUT the People. And right now, it’s about two very important ones to me. Apart from all the ones I usually say are important. Besides, it’s still sort-of Troy & Julie’s anniversary, so they have something planned tonight. I think Susan and Colleen do, too.”

Ramirez nodded. The Jeep came to a stop, and he escorted La Contessa to the office where two Ultimados stood at attention. Ramirez left her with them, and Helen lit a cigarette and sat behind the desk, opening her black Prada Arcade bag, looking for something.

Primo Tenente Marisol Velasquez and Dr. Tenente Paul Maisson of La Squadra de Ultimados stood at attention until she motioned for them to be seated. Maisson had just sent a text and put his phone away. She then found the item she was looking for in her purse and set it on the desk.

“You wanted to see us, Contessa?” Primo Tenente Velasquez asked after a few moments.

“Yes, I did.” Helen said at last. “You’re both aware of what a special day it is in San Finzione, right?”

The two of them nodded. La Contessa continued.

“Letters have been pouring into the address we set up for Cupid a year ago, from San Finzione and from tourists planning to visit us on this day, asking that Cupid hear their plea. We’ve been reading them, analyzing them, doing background checks where possible, to weed out the creeps and perverts. Most of the letters have been addressed to Signor Cupid. A few have been addressed to me.” La Contessa smiled before picking up the object she’d removed from her purse earlier; a small blue envelope. “And then there’s this one. Left on my nightstand about two months ago, written on my stationary.”

Velasquez began to blush as Helen took out the letter and began translating the Spanish to English out loud.

“Dear Señor Cupid, I hope that this letter finds it’s way to you and that you are able to help me. I know that you are a close, personal friend of La Contessa’s, so it is my hope that leaving my letter with her might bring my plea to your attention more directly.

“I have been in love with a man for some time now, and I know that he returns my feelings. I have seen him thinking I have not noticed him watching me when I am trying not to be noticed watching him. Last night, thanks to a special honor by La Contessa, we were able to explore these feelings for the first time. It has been discussed before, but not seriously. I do not know what you are cleared to know about our job, Señor Cupid, but he and I work in a dangerous profession, with lives more important than our own to consider at every moment. He is concerned that his feelings might compromise his judgment on the job; that men might bleed to death while he is running across a battlefield to treat a splinter in my finger. And we are both too devoted to our duty for either of us to quit working; so, I fear that this problem shall never be resolved without your direct aid, Señor Cupid. Please help me.” Helen returned the letter to the envelope.

“I won’t reveal the name, of course.” Helen continued. “That wouldn’t be Cupid’s way. But the last people in my bedroom before this showed up were you two and Jeanne. Jeanne’s the one who brought it to my attention, so I don’t think it was her. And I have a good idea of what her letter would say. I will say, Marisol, that my life is in no way more important than yours. My jewelry’s just more expensive.” She took her iPad out of her purse and brought up a file.

“There is an ongoing Ultimados operation, providing subtle protection for some vital overseas interests of San Finzione. The assignment is in a civilian setting, so it calls for an undercover operation. I’m certain you know that this is an area in which La Squadra de Ultimados does not have the best of track records.” They both nodded. “The problem, as far as I can see, is that the two Ultimados I assigned to this task, while certainly skilled enough for it, were unable to believably pose as a married couple, and the subjects made them almost immediately. I’m certain they’d like to come home. But I’m also certain that selling the cover story is vital to this assignment. This leaves me in the position of needing to find two Ultimados who could believably pose as a married couple to watch over these highly valuable foreign assets of San Finzione’s. As one of them has told me in the past, the secret of a successful undercover operation is to maintain appearances, even when you’re certain you’re not being watched.”

Maisson and Velasquez nodded again, seeing where La Contessa was going with this, and letting her talk as they stole glances at each other.

“I assigned two heterosexual men to live together and pose as a gay married couple, and that’s why the mistake is mine. The assignment calls for two Ultimados who are more comfortable with each other that simply being ok sleeping on separate beds in the same room. In addition to their surveillance duties, the Ultimados for the job would need to be able to keep up the façade at all times; they’d have to be completely comfortable with each other physically, of course. They may even have to go on dates or give each other romantic gifts to maintain the illusion. All on their expense accounts, naturally, justifiable in the course of maintaining appearances. One of the assets can even help with those! And who knows, physical intimacy may even be required of them. That’s a thing that they’d have to be comfortable enough with each other to be able to perform on command. If, say, an enemy were ever to point a gun at them and demand that they prove that they’re married, or he’ll shoot someone; you have to consider possibilities like that when you’re Contessa, you know. Forced to think about it now, I can’t say for certain that I might not, at some point, conduct a drill around that very scenario.

“There’s no hurry, though. The assets in question are in San Finzione for the Festival. They’re secure for now. If two Ultimados wished to volunteer for this indeterminate-length mission that should take them far away from any active combat duty but is nonetheless vital to the security of the Sovereign County and Independent Nation-State of San Finzione. And to La Contessa de San Finzione personally, I’m certain Ortega would approve a pass for them. I also believe that the La Contessa suite at the Hotel de Riviera Finzione is open at this time, and available if two interested Ultimados wished to take the rest of the week practicing for the assignment and report to my office… say, Monday afternoon/Tuesday morning-ish, for further orders. Again, on the government, in the interest of training for the vital duties before them.”

Velasquez fought to contain her glee and avoid nodding foolishly to volunteer, Maisson’s hesitation to do so, the only thing stopping her. Helen lit another cigarette while he thought for a moment before answering.

“I see only one impediment to my volunteering for this important mission, Contessa. In addition to my duties to La Squadra de Ultimados, it is also my honor to serve as Personal Physician to Contessa Helena de San Finzione. A deep cover operation in another country would affect my ability to perform my duties to La Contessa.”

Helen took a long drag as she thought about this.

“That IS, indeed, a consideration, Maisson. We couldn’t well have you traveling back and forth between San Finzione and Seattle all the time and maintain appearances. Did I mention the assignment’s near Seattle? That might’ve been ‘need-to-know,’ but yeah. I suppose La Contessa could accept the burden of making regular day trips to Seattle; which would also give her a perfectly good excuse to regularly look in on the assets you’d be guarding. We may even be able to set you up with a private home practice to provide you with the best possible cover story and an excuse to be home and awake at all hours. As a matter of fact, one of the assets would probably appreciate having a doctor with a nice, friendly, non-clinical-looking home office just across the street, making your job even easier. Marisol, the only other cover job we have right now would be taking over the do-nothing operation of the unspecified dotcom business that the previous Ultimados ran. Maybe you can help us come up with something better for that, too. Turn it into a real business, for the sake of the operation, of course. I can recommend a good web designer in the area if you’ve got any ideas.”

The two of them stood forward and saluted. La Contessa rose and returned it.

“I’ll go inform Ortega about the assignment. You two may wish to go pack civilian clothes for your training mission. Or don’t. The shops in the hotel will open at any time, day or night, for a call from the La Contessa Suite, and you can charge any special equipment or clothing you might need to the room. You’ll undoubtedly need new wardrobes for the mission, anyway. You also might want to read up on the Equals and Bailey files… eh, you know those guys; you’ll have plenty of time for that later. Dismissed.”

That evening, Contessa Helena de San Finzione entered the La Contessa Suite of a different hotel in downtown San Finzione. She opened the door to find a red ribbon leading up a path strewn with rose petals to one of the suite’s bedrooms.

“Mr. Stromberg?” She called out to the empty room. “Sorry about not knocking, it’s a law you might not be aware of that I’m welcome everywhere in San Finzione, so it slips my mind sometimes.”

“Ja, I am being up hjere.” A man’s voice upstairs said. Helen could clearly hear the “j” he’d shoehorned into the word “here.” She smiled and followed the ribbon path past the master bedroom to the one where it led.

Helen stopped and slinked up against the doorframe seductively, looking into the room but not seeing anyone.

“Yes, I had a feeling you’d be up here, Mr. Karl Stromberg.” She squealed as Troy Equals crept up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. “Villain of the James Bond classic “The Spy Who Loved Me. Your name kind of stood out on my list!” She spun around and smooched the man she called “The Last Living Man That I Love.” “So, what brings us here?”

“A conversation we had a couple months ago, a text from Maisson earlier today, and this.” Troy took out a crumpled piece of La Contessa’s royal stationary and shook the cigarette ashes out of it. Helen turned bright red as Troy walked over to the bed and sat on it.

“Dear Cupid,” He read. “I have no fucking clue why I’m writing this. You’re not real, I’m making all this shit up. Well, Troy & Julie started it, but I took it from there. They’re who this letter is about, of course. In the name of all-powerful Athiesmo, I am writing a letter to fucking CUPID, because on the holiday dedicated to him, that I made up, he’s supposed to get it and come to my aid!

“A couple weeks ago, I was able to talk to them about the possibility of having a child with Troy. I know that I spent 27 years thinking ‘Why would I inflict this whole Life Thing this on another human being that I’d supposedly love?’ I don’t even have pets, because they’d just be another thing to love, lose, and bury. But it’s been on my mind a lot more. Hell, my dearest friends have to periodically remind me that I’m not alone in the world. I’d like to think that having a child with Troy would change that. That I’d find these ‘maternal instincts’ I’ve always read about, but only ever really caught a glimpse of at Julie’s house. Apparently, involves more than applying concealer while repeatedly, drunkenly slurring the words ‘everything’s fine’ at your broken make-up mirror. So, Marion Parker wasn’t much of a help there.” Troy skipped down a bit. “There’s more about her and Wade, then it continues. Cupid, there have been three men in my life whom I would use the word ‘good’ to describe, and two of them are dead. If there’s anyone whose genes stand a chance of mixing with my horrible, piece-of-shit criminal ones and have something good come out of it, it’s Troy; to say nothing of a human being worthy of the name and throne of Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione, Forever Does He Fucking Reign in MY Fucking Heart. I’ve spent months thinking on this now, Cupid. It’s Troy or nobody. My vow to never marry another man has always included an ‘except for Troy; like that would ever happen, because something would have to go bad with him and Julie and Susan first, and I love them all too much to allow that’ clause. And I’m pretty sure that IF I have a chance to get this right, I’m only going to get the one.” Troy put the crumpled letter away. “It gets a lot more insulting until you finally say ‘fuck this and fuck you’ in big letters on the bottom of the back page.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to answer a letter that rude at all.” Helen said with a drag of smoke, walking over to the bed to sit next to Troy. “Hell, I’d expect the person who wrote that letter to have gotten too upset to continue and thrown it in the trash instead of mailing it and might need to have a word with her maid about it in the morning.”

“I’m sure she was just following Cupid’s orders.” Troy said as he stroked Helen’s hair. “Acting out of concern for her Contessa.” He kissed Helen deeply.

“Speaking of concern, where are Julie, Susan, Colleen… probably a couple more you’ve met today?”

“Meeting up back at the castle. They’ve got something planned. As for my instructions from Julie, they are ‘This time, I don’t want to hear the story later. Tonight’s between you and that…’ Well, what she usually calls you.”

Helen nodded, removing her jacket.

“Yeah, and you know what to call her back.”

“Took care of it before I left.”

“Good.”

“She said that if Maisson’s message was right, that this night should be about you, not her. She didn’t command me or anything, however I’m supposed to put her out of my mind, too, and she’s ok if you want to do that. Just remember to put her back when you’re done.”

“How could I possibly fucking do that, Troilus?” Helen asked him in Greek while she unbuttoned his shirt. “Making you forget Julie would erase, like, 80% of who you are. We’d have nothing to talk about except money and James Bond all night.”

“We could talk about how happy I am to give My First Girlfriend something she wants so badly.”

“Or we could stop talking about it, and get on with it, Troy.” Helen replied, putting out her cigarette with a grin.

And so they did.