The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Angie Cordero squirmed. The plastic bucket seat in which she was sitting was uncomfortable. So was having other people around. She was used to staying at home. But Daddy had decided to take her to the doctor again to make her well. She didn’t understand why. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing wrong with her; the problem was with other people, who had been mean to her ever since her mommy had—gone away. Angie knew there was another way to say what had happened to her mommy, but she didn’t want to even think it. It was a scary word, a bad word.

She supposed that she could have made her daddy forget about taking her to see the doctor. She could make him do just about anything she wanted if she showed him her pretty pendant, her magic stone. And the last time he had taken her to a doctor, before she’d found her pendant, it had been no fun.

But she had been bored. So when her daddy had said he was taking her to the doctor, she had let him. Now she was wishing she hadn’t. She had been waiting so long!

Then the doctor came out of his office and Angie smiled. He was tall and handsome, with brown hair and a nice smile. Angie could tell he had a nice build under his doctor suit. He wasn’t there for her, though; his—Angie struggled to remember the word—his secretary, a pretty lady with red hair and boobs almost as big as hers, called for the only other person in the waiting room besides her daddy and her, an older lady with gray hair, and the lady went away with the doctor.

Angie thought. It would be nice if she got to have some fun with the doctor, she decided. And she had her pendant, her magic stone, with her. These days she wore it almost all the time.

She thought some more. What if the doctor’s secretary went back to his office and saw them while they were having fun? She might get mad, and Angie might get in trouble.

Angie knows what to do. She smiled. She and her daddy had been in the office waiting all morning. Every time somebody went back to the doctor’s office they stayed there for a long time. The old lady had just gone with the doctor, so she wouldn’t be coming out for a while. That gave Angie the time she needed. “Time out, Daddy,” she said.

Just like always, those words made her daddy go to sleep with his eyes open. He’d stay like that until she woke him up, and he’d do anything she said. Now Daddy won’t notice what Angie’s going to do next.

She stood up and walked over to the front desk. “How long until the doctor comes out?” She struggled to sound grown-up as she pulled her magic stone out from its nesting place between her breasts and let it swing gently on its chain, catching the light from the overhead fixtures and sending it into the secretary’s eyes in rainbow flashes, causing her to blink. Her eyes began to follow the pendant’s motion, back and forth, back and forth.

“I, I don’t know,” the older woman answered, already sounding confused. “Sessions are, are supposed to be—supposed to be—an hour long.” She tried to take her eyes off the swinging pendant to glance at the wall clock, but she couldn’t, and after a few seconds she forgot about looking away. “An hour long.”

“That’s all right,” Angie said. “You can just rest then, and keep on watching Angie’s magic stone swing back and forth, back and forth, that’s right, keep watching Angie’s magic stone and rest, back and forth, back and forth, rest, forget about everything but Angie’s magic stone and Angie’s voice. Nothing is important right now except Angie’s magic stone and Angie’s voice. You understand that, don’t you, sex-re-tary?” Angie struggled with the long word. She knew she’d gotten it a little wrong this time, but it sounded funny this way. It has sex in it, she thought, and giggled at the naughty idea that came to her.

“Yes,” came the answer. “I understand.”

Angie tucked her pendant away. She’d need it again later, but for right now it was obvious that the doctor’s secretary was under its power just like her daddy.

“What’s your name?” Angie asked.

“Marcie,” came the reply. “Marcie”—the secretary’s brow furrowed as though she were having a hard time remembering the rest—“Jackson.”

Wow, thought Angie. Angie keeps forgetting how dumb people are when they’re hypnotized. It’s like she almost didn’t know her own name.

“Okay, Marcie,” Angie responded. “You like the doctor you work for, don’t you? The—the—head doctor?”

“Psy-chi-a-trist,” Marcie answered automatically, sounding out each syllable. She giggled. “Yes. I like Doctor Pelham. Michael.”

“Does he like you?”

“He likes . . . my boobies,” Marcie replied. “He looks at them . . . when he thinks I . . . don’t know. I let him look . . . on purpose.” She giggled again.

Angie considered what Marcie had said. Goodie, she thought. Angie knows just what to do!

“Angie bets you’d like to make Doct—Michael—jealous, wouldn’t you, Marcie?” Angie smiled at the hypnotized woman staring glassily at her. Marcie’s head bobbed up and down.

“Angie thought so.” Angie nodded. “Well, Angie knows just how to do it “ She pointed to her daddy, sitting in his chair, his head nodding, eyes blank. “Do you see that man over there?”

“Yes,” Marcie replied calmly, looking at Phil Cordero.

Angie frowned. “From now on, Marcie, when you talk to Angie, say Angie’s name. Do you understand, Marcie?”

“Yes, Angie.” Marcie’s voice was perfectly calm. “I understand. Say your name . . . when I talk to you.”

“That’s right, Marcie.” Angie paused, thinking, then went on: “You like the man sitting over there next to where Angie was sitting. You like him a lot! Just looking at him makes you want to have sex with him. You just can’t help it!”

“But Angie,” Marcie protested, her basic instincts warring with Angie’s suggestions, “he’s so old! He’s . . bald!”

Angie frowned, then brightened as she had an idea. “Marcie,” she said, “Angie wants you to close your eyes and picture the handsomest man you can. Make him real in your head. Tell Angie when you have imagined the handsomest man you can.”

Marcie went silent for a minute or so. Then: “Ohh, yes, Angie!” Her breathing grew fast and ragged. “I can see him now. He’s . . . gorgeous!” Her lips parted.

“That’s good, Marcie.” Angie smiled wickedly. “Now when Angie says to open your eyes, Marcie, you must open your eyes and look at the man sitting over there. When you look at him, you will see your handsome man. You will see your handsome man every time you look at that man, and not remember he ever looked different. Do you understand, Marcie, and will you do like Angie said?”

“Yes, Angie,” the stupefied secretary sighed.

“You want to have sex with that man,” Angie instructed. “You want it more than anything. His name is”—Angie hesitated a moment to remember—“Philip Cordero, and you want to have sex with him right now! Isn’t that right, Marcie?”’

“Oooo,” Marcie warbled. “Yes, Angie!” She began to stand up, clearly meaning to go to Angie’s father.

Angie stopped her. “No, Marcie,” she said, “sit back down. Angie needs to talk to Daddy—Mr. Cordero—first.”

‘Yes, Angie.” Marcie sat down, pouting.

Angie went over to her daddy’s chair. She took out her pendant, started it swinging and said, “Look up, Daddy. Look up at Angie’s shiny pendant, Angie’s magic stone, as it swings back and forth, back and forth. Follow it with your eyes, back and forth, back and forth, and listen to Angie.”

“Yes, Angie,” Phil Cordero answered. His eyes began tracking the motion of the pendant, blinking rhythmically in response to the flashes of light it reflected into them as it swung.

“Do you see the woman sitting behind the desk?”

Phil nodded. “Yes, Angie.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen,” Angie told him. “You want to have sex with her more than anything. You want to have sex with her right now!”

Phil moaned. Before his eyes Marcie became a pornographic fantasy version of herself, her face beautiful, her breasts massive and straining at a blouse whose top two buttons popped open as he stared. He forgot that she had ever looked any different. His pants strained visibly over a massive erection.

Angie turned to the stupefied secretary and asked, “Marcie, is there someplace private here? Someplace you and Daddy—Angie means Philip—can be alone for awhile?”

“Yes, Angie.” She nodded toward a side door just off the entrance. “In there. No one’s . . . going to be in there . . . today.”

Angie was curious. What’s that room for? she wondered. It didn’t really matter, though, she decided. What counted was that nobody was supposed to be in there today.

She had a thought: “Is that room locked, Marcie?”

“No, Angie.” Marcie’s voice was utterly calm.

Perfect, Angie gloated. Just what Angie needs! Aloud she said, “Daddy, Marcie, listen to Angie. Listen to Angie and do what Angie says.”

“Yes, Angie,” two voices said in unison. Two heads nodded.

“When Angie snaps her fingers, you will go into that room.” Angie pointed and smiled. “You will go into that room and have sex together, wherever there’s room for you”—she hadn’t asked if there was anything like a bed in there; maybe they’d have to do it on the floor—“until Angie tells you to stop or until you fall asleep.” Another thought: “If one of you falls asleep and the other is still awake, the awake one will fall asleep too. You will stay asleep until Angie pats your heads and says”—she paused a moment to think—“’Nap time’s over.’ Then you’ll listen for Angie to tell you what to do next. Do you both understand what Angie said, and will you do what Angie told you to?”

“Yes, Angie,” Phil and Marcie answered together. “I understand. I’ll do . . . what Angie told me to do.”

“Goodie,” Angie said. She snapped her fingers. As she had suggested, Marcie and her daddy got up and went into the room. Watching them, Angie giggled: her daddy held the door open for Marcie before going inside. Even hypnotized, he was polite.

The gray-haired lady Angie had seen go with the doctor came back out. She looked toward the reception desk with a faintly puzzled expression, then collected her handbag from the chair where she’d sat waiting for the doctor and left the office.

Dr. Pelham followed her out. He, too, looked toward the desk. Where’s Marcie? he asked himself. It wasn’t like her to leave her desk unattended. Oh, well, he thought, maybe she just had to use the ladies’ room.

Angie spoke up. “Doctor?” she prompted. “Angie thinks you’re supposed to see her now.”

Startled, Dr. Pelham jerked his gaze upward away rom the impressive bosom of the dark-haired girl who’d addressed him. “Who’s Angie? Is she here with you?” But there was no one else in the reception area . . . !

“Silly,” Angie cooed. Waving a hand toward her chest, she went on, “Angie is Angie! Angie’s right here!”

After a moment the psychiatrist remembered what Marcie had told him about the young woman he’d been scheduled to see this afternoon. Angie Cordero, that was her name, and apparently she was suffering from some sort of age regression brought on by her mother’s death. That explains her childlike speech pattern, he thought.

Her body certainly wasn’t childlike, though. Her breasts were even larger than Marcie’s. Once again he had to fight to look up into her face. She was pretty, he saw: full, pouting lips in a smooth baby-doll face framed by a halo of curly black hair. Bright blue eyes looked at him innocently. He felt himself getting hard and tried to concentrate on something else, hoping the girl didn’t notice how she was affecting him.

Angie did, of course. She knew the look. Her daddy looked like that sometimes when he looked at her. She knew it meant he wanted to do naughty fun grown-up things with her, even though he never really tried to do anything unless she told him to when she had him hypnotized. Daddies weren’t supposed to want to do things like that with their daughters.

The doctor probably wouldn’t either, she realized. Doctors weren’t supposed to do it with their—Angie struggled to remember the grown-up word—patients. But if Angie can make Daddy do it, she thought smugly, Angie can make her doctor do it too.

With an effort, the therapist pulled himself together. “Angie,” he said, “come with me, please. Your daddy told me you and I need to have a little talk. That’s all right with you, isn’t it?”

Angie nodded. “Angie doesn’t mind.” She smiled at the doctor, who didn’t notice the knowing look in her eyes. She held out her hand. Dr. Pelham took it and led her back the way he’d come.

Angie looked around. The room to which the doctor had taken her had a couple of chairs facing each other and a big comfortable-looking couch, and was warmly lit by overhead fixtures. There was a window with blinds, mostly drawn, she saw. A low table with a glass top sat to the left of the couch. Dr. Pelham motioned toward one of the chairs and Angie sat in it. The doctor sat in the other. When they were both settled, the doctor—Dr. Pelham, she reminded herself, Michael Pelham—asked, “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

“Angie’s birthday is in June,” offered Angie. “June sixteenth. Last year Daddy took Angie to see the horses at a horse show.” She frowned. “We had to leave before the show was over. People were looking at us funny every time Angie got excited about the horses. Angie didn’t like it, and Daddy didn’t either.” The frown faded, replaced by a smile. “Daddy took me home and we had cake and ice cream, though, so it was okay.” As she spoke, she pulled out her pendant from its hiding place inside her blouse, lifted it a little so the doctor was looking right at it and began fiddling with it, letting it sway gently between two fingers. As it swung, it twirled a little. Flashes of light bounced off it into the doctor’s eyes. At first, he blinked every time the pendant flashed, but after a minute or so, as Angie went on about her childhood, he stopped.

“Angie,” Dr. Pelham probed carefully, “where is your mother? She didn’t come with you today.” It seemed difficult, somehow, to get the words out. His eyes had begun to follow the motion of Angie’s pendant, back and forth, back and forth. He didn’t notice.

Angie suddenly felt scared. She didn’t like to think about why her mommy wasn’t with Daddy and her anymore. Bad doctor, she thought. Bad. Aloud she answered. “Mommy went away. Angie’s sad that she went away. Angie wants her to come back. Daddy does too.” She didn’t mention the game she played at home where she used her pretty pendant, her magic stone, to hypnotize her daddy and make him think she was Mommy and do fun grown-up things with her.

“She went . . . away,” echoed Dr. Pelham. “How do you . . . feel about that, Angie?” He’d asked her that already, hadn’t he? But he couldn’t seem to remember her answer. Back and forth his eyes swung, following the motion of Angie’s pendant, and each swing seemed to wipe away a little more of his awareness of anything but Angie.

The school-age spellbinder smiled. Her magic stone was working, just like it always did. The doctor was relaxing, forgetting about everything except her. Soon he’d do anything she told him to—and she knew just what she wanted him to do. And afterward, he’d remember only what she told him to. Thinking about that always got her all excited.

“Angie wants Mommy to come back,” she repeated. “She was so nice, especially when Angie was little, and if she were here Daddy wouldn’t have to keep Angie out of school, because she wouldn’t let people be mean to Angie.” Back and forth went her sparkling pendant. Back and forth went Dr. Pelham’s eyes, following it.

“You like Angie’s pendant, don’t you, doctor?” Angie smiled. “Yes you do! Angie knows. Angie sees you following it with your eyes, back and forth, back and forth.” She paused. “It’s very important to keep following Angie’s pretty pendant with your eyes, back and forth, back and forth, and keep listening to Angie. You want to help Angie, so you need to listen to her and follow the pretty pendant with your eyes and let everything else just go away, relax and let everything go away except Angie, Angie’s voice and Angie’s pretty pendant.”

“Yes.” The doctor’s voice was low and calm. “Relax. Let everything go away . . . except Angie. Angie’s voice. Angie’s pretty pendant.”

Angie looked into Dr. Pelham’s eyes. No one looked out at her. Goodie! she thought. He’s hypnotized, just like Daddy and the sex-re-tary. Marcie. A memory surfaced and Angie smiled again. And like Carl. She laughed softly. Daddy didn’t know their next-door neighbor boy was her secret boyfriend. She didn’t let him. Even Carl didn’t know; she always made him forget after she called him over and they did grown-up stuff together. It was easy. After all, didn’t her magic stone hold his soul now? At least she remembered telling him it did, the first time she’d hypnotized him, and he believed it, because when he was hypnotized he believed anything she said, and when she woke him up he still believed it.

“Yes, doctor,” she said, leading the psychiatrist deeper under her spell. “Nothing is important right now except Angie, Angie’s voice and Angie’s pendant. Angie’s magic stone.” The dazed doctor nodded.

“Now tell Angie,” the bewitching brunette went on. “Do you like Angie? Do you think she’s pretty?”

“Yes,” agreed Dr. Pelham, nodding up and down as his eyes continued to follow Angie’s pendant back and forth, back and forth. Angie giggled; she suspected that if he’d been standing up he’d have lost his balance and fallen. She didn’t want that. He might have hurt himself, or even worse, come out of trance. “I like you. I think you’re pretty.”

“You especially like Angie’s boobies, don’t you, doctor?” Angie followed up. “They’re even bigger than”—she needed a moment to remember the doctor’s secretary’s name—“Marcie’s, and you like her boobies a lot, don’t you?”

“Yes,” the dazzled doctor moaned. “I like your boobies. I like big boobies. They . . . turn me on.”

Angie smiled. She had pretty much known that already, though she was pretty sure the doctor would never have admitted it if he were awake. But hypnotized people would blab anything if you asked them right.

“Then doctor”—she had a sudden thought and changed what she’d been about to say. “Doctor, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Best friends. We’re best friends.”

“Yes,” came the reply. “We’re best . . . friends.” Dr. Pelham smiled a glassy-eyed smile.

“That’s right,” Angie agreed. “So from now on, when you say anything to me, you’ll say my name, Angie.” I should have thought of that before, she scolded herself. Like I did with Marcie. “And I’ll call you Michael. Best friends call each other by their names.”

Michael nodded. “Yes, Angie. Best friends call each other . . . by their names.”

“That’s right, Michael.” It was time, thought Angie, to get to the fun part. “Now Michael, Angie’s going to do something for you. Something nice. Something fun.” She cupped her breasts with her hands and pushed them up and out.

Michael moaned. In trance, it didn’t occur to him that Angie shouldn’t be doing this, that he shouldn’t allow her to do this. All that mattered was that big, beautiful boobs here being thrust in his face.

Angie let go of her breasts and reached for her pendant. She pulled it off over her head, walked over to the table next to the couch and gently put her secret weapon down on it. She wouldn’t need it for a little while. Then she moved back in front of the doctor—Michael, she reminded herself—who was still standing with his arms at his sides, staring blankly ahead, waiting to be told what to do and what to think next. She reached for the top button of her blouse and slowly unbuttoned it. Then she moved on to the next one down. Michael’s eyes lost their blank look and locked onto her blouse, following what she was doing.

She wished she had some sexy music to play as she peeled her blouse open. She had a sudden idea and began to hum a song from one of the videos Daddy sometimes watched at night when he thought she was asleep in her room. Once or twice he’d caught her watching, but she had shown him her magic stone and told him to forget and that had fixed things.

Michael liked watching her just as much as her daddy did. She could tell. The bulge which had appeared in his pants when she’d pushed her boobies up and out at him got even bigger and he started breathing really hard, like he’d been running.

When the last button had been unfastened, she slid out of the shirt and twirled it over her head, then tossed it aside. She pulled her skirt down over her legs slowly, slowly, and Michael’s eyes shifted to follow the motion. When it fell around her ankles, she kicked it off. The high-heeled strappy sandals she was wearing stayed on. She knew girls her age weren’t supposed to wear shoes like that, but she had seen grown-up women on TV wearing them and she’d . . . persuaded . . . her daddy to get her some. He liked to see her wearing them, even though he tried to pretend he didn’t. He liked the stockings she had on, too, really high ones that reached almost all the way up her legs and were almost see-through. Angie liked them too; they made her legs look sort of tanned. They were something else she knew only grown-up women were supposed to wear, but she’d seen women wearing them on TV and convinced her daddy to buy them for her the same way she’d gotten him to get her the shoes.

Next came the bra. She wore a special one she’d seen in a catalog Daddy had, with sparkly things all over it. The women wearing it and other stuff like it were all very pretty and mostly had big boobies like hers. She unsnapped it and twirled it a couple of times over her head the way she’d twirled her blouse, then tossed it aside. She reached to lift and massage her breasts. It felt good, and she could tell Michael liked it too. The doctor’s face was all scrunched up and he had started to squirm, like he was going to come any second.

Angie doesn’t want that, the school-age spellbinder thought. Not yet. Aloud she said, “No, Michael. It’s not time for you come yet. Angie knows you want to come now, but you can’t come until Angie says to.”

“C-can’t come until . . . Angie says to,” the trance-bound therapist gasped. He continued to wheeze and shudder and his face stayed scrunched, his eyes shut tightly.

Angie didn’t want that, either. With his eyes shut, Michael couldn’t see her strip out of her clothes. “Open your eyes and look at Angie, Michael,” she commanded. “Keep your eyes open and keep watching Angie. You want to watch Angie, Michael, so open your eyes and watch.”

Michael obeyed. Angie smiled. It wouldn’t be long before they got to the really good part. She posed briefly, arching her back and raising her arms to bury her hands in her curly hair. Then she bent over and tugged down her briefs, which had sparkles all over them just like her bra.. When they got past her knees they fell down around her ankles. She kicked them off, leaving herself clad only in her sheer stockings and high-heeled sandals. She bent down to unstrap the sandals so she could take them off.

Suddenly a naughty thought came to her. Why take them off at all? Michael’s eyes were getting bigger as he looked at her like this, and so was the bulge straining his pants. He liked this! She giggled.

“Michael,” a voice said from somewhere. The voice, the one which told him what to do and what to think. “Angie needs you to take off your clothes now. You must take off all your clothes now, Michael, because Angie says to and you must do what Angie says.”

“I must do . . . what Angie says.” The words emerged by reflex. Dr. Pelham didn’t even notice them as he spoke. The voice he must obey had told him only Angie’s voice was important.

The dazzled doctor reached for his jacket, slipping out of it and laying it down carefully over the back of his chair. Then came his tie, which he draped over the jacket. He reached for his shirt collar and unbuttoned the button there, then moved down to unbutton the rest, one by one. When his shirt was open, he took it off and laid it over the jacket and tie. He kicked off his shoes. . . .

Very soon he was completely naked. His pants, underwear and socks all rested neatly on his seat with his shoes on top of them. Angie looked him over and smiled. His body was every bit as nice-looking as she’d thought. She led him over to the couch, pushed him down onto it and climbed onto him, straddling him and arched her back, pushing on Michael’s upper arms with her hands for support. Blank eyes stared upward at her.

“You want to have sex with Angie,” she instructed her spellbound psychiatrist. “You want it more than anything. You know Angie wants it too. Nothing else matters right now, except for Angie’s voice that tells you what to do and what to think and what to feel. When Angie snaps her fingers, you will have sex with her.” She lifted her left hand, held it up where Michael could see it, and snapped her fingers.

Michael blinked once and tried to reach for Angie to pull her down to him, but her hand on his arm held him down. Giggling, Angie reared back, lifting her hand. Michael reached, gripping her hips and then sliding his hands up her back. He tightened his grip and pressed the bewitching brunette down. She let him, shifting up his body a little so that when she arched back down her breasts pressed against his face, smothering him in soft flesh. After thirty seconds or so he began showing signs of distress; she lifted herself and slid backward, positioning herself for what the helplessly hypnotized and very aroused Dr. Pelham would do next.

Michael sank himself into Angie and began thrusting rhythmically. Angie responded by clamping her thighs around her spellbound stud and thrusting downward, driving his member deeper into her. Their movements synchronized and drove both of them toward climax.

Finally it arrived. They came simultaneously and Angie cried out, “Michael! Michael!” before collapsing onto the dazed doctor. Michael continued thrusting robotically for several seconds before his brain registered that Angie was now lying limply on to of him. He stopped and lay quietly, his mind, what there was of it, drifting in a universe of slowly fading fireworks.

It was several minutes before Angie pulled himself off of Michael. She stood up, gazing down at him as he lay unmoving on the floor. At some point the two of them had rolled off the couch, but Angie hadn’t noticed. Naturally, neither had Michael; he wouldn’t notice anything except her voice now, she knew, until she woke him up. And before that, there were a few things to take care of.

She dressed quickly. Her shoes had come unfastened and fallen off during her frenzied exertions with Michael, perhaps when they’d rolled off the couch; she set them aside so she could put on the rest of her clothes, then bent over and pulled them on. Next, she addressed her spellbound sex puppet. “Michael,” she said, “it’s time to get up now. Angie says to open your eyes and sit up on the couch, and you have to do what Angie says.” Michael Pelham obeyed mindlessly.

Looking down at him, Angie commanded, “Look up, Michael. Look up at Angie’s face and listen to what Angie tells you to do now.”

“Yes, Angie,” Michael responded meekly

Angie commanded him to dress and then to stand up facing her and wait for her to give him further instructions.

She studied him for a moment before cupping his face in her hands and gently pulling it downward so that he was looking into her eyes. “Michael,” she said, “it’s time for Angie’s visit to be over. Angie and her daddy need to go home.”

“Yes, Angie.” Michael smiled vacantly. “Angie and her daddy . . . need to go home.” He might have nodded if Angie’s hands hadn’t been pressed against the sides of his head.

“That’s right, Michael,” Angie responded. “So Angie is going to wake you up now.” She smiled. “You’ll remember that we had a nice talk, just like we were supposed to. Your sec-re-tary will make an ap-point-ment for me and tell me and Daddy when to come. Then she’ll come back here and tell you, and after that you’ll come out and say goodbye to Daddy and me. Do you understand, Michael, and will you do what Angie said?”

“Yes, Angie,” answered Michael. “I understand. I will do . . . what Angie said.”

Angie snapped her fingers.

“Goodie,” Angie replied, smiling. She took her hands away from the doctor’s face. “Now Angie is going to snap her fingers, and when she does, you’ll be all awake but you’ll do what Angie said, only you won’t remember Angie said it.”

“Yes, Angie.” This time Michael did nod.

Angie snapped her fingers.

Dr. Pelham blinked. That’s odd, he thought. When did I stand up? When did she stand up? He puzzled over it for a few seconds before deciding it didn’t matter.

He sat down again to think over what Angie and he had discussed. Nothing important, he decided; it had been a perfectly ordinary get-to-know-you first session. It didn’t occur to him to wonder why he couldn’t remember any details.

Angie left the room. Dr. Pelham didn’t follow her out as he would usually have done. Marcie will come back here and tell me about it, and I’ll come out to say goodbye. Thinking of Angie’s considerable assets, the doctor licked his lips. He looked forward to seeing the bosomy brunette again.

Angie opened the door to the side room she’d sent Daddy and Marcie to. She giggled; they’d both fallen asleep, naked and smiling, their clothes scattered all around. They lay on their sides on the floor facing each other, cuddled together. She reached down, patted their heads and said, “Nap time’s over, Daddy. Nap time’s over, Marcie.”

The hypnotized pair obeyed, opening their eyes and focusing on Angie, who told them to get up and get dressed. Again they obeyed. When they were fully clothed, they stood silently, glassy-eyed and smiling vacantly at the girl who was doing their thinking for them.

Angie inspected them for a few seconds. Yes, she decided, Marcie would be good for Daddy until Mommy came home. He wouldn’t be lonely anymore. And when her mommy did come home, she could fix it so that Marcie and Daddy both forgot what they’d been doing together and Marcie went back to just being Michael’s secretary. Mommy didn’t have to know anything about it. And if Mommy didn’t ever come home—a bad thought came to Angie and she pushed it away—then Marcie could just stay with Daddy and they would all be happy together. And of course any time Angie felt like having Daddy play butler or do grown-up stuff with her, she could fix it so Marcie wouldn’t know.

Next Angie led the pair out of the room. At her command, Marcie sat down behind her desk again and her daddy sat where he’d been sitting. Angie spoke to her. “In a minute,” she said, “Angie’s going to snap her fingers. When you hear Angie snap her fingers, you will wake up and be like always, but you don’t remember what you and Daddy did together. You’ll remember that you sat here quietly while Angie was with the doctor and nothing special happened. Do you understand, Marcie, and will you do what Angie said?”

“Yes, Angie.” Marcie nodded. “I understand. I will do . . . what Angie said.”

Angie smiled. “Goodie,” she said. She leaned over her father. “Time to wake up all the way now, Daddy. It’s time for us to go home. When Angie snaps her fingers you’ll wake up all the way, Daddy, and be just like you were when we came here, and you’ll remember what Angie said to remember and we’ll go home.”

“Yes, Angie.” Phil Cordero nodded.

Phil Cordero blinked. Angie was standing over him, though he hadn’t noticed her coming out of the therapy room. Well, no harm done. “How did it go, Angie?” he asked.

Angie smiled. “It was okay,” she answered. “The doctor and Angie had a nice talk. He asked Angie lots of questions about what happened when she was little and stuff and said he wants her to come back and talk more.”

Marcie blinked. I didn’t see Miss Cordero come out, she thought. I must have been daydreaming. She had no memory whatever of what she and Angie’s father had been doing while the girl had been with Dr. Pelham.

Mr. Cordero got up and came over to her desk. “Angie says the therapist wants her to come back,” he told her. “What time do you have available?”

The secretary riffled through the appointment book on the desk. “I have one o’clock on the fourth. Tuesday. Is that okay?”

Phil Cordero nodded. “I’ll speak with Dr. Pelham about scheduling further appointments and let you know what he wants to do,” Marcie advised.

“All right,” Marcie advised. “Just wait right here. I’m sure Dr. Pelham would like to say goodbye.” She got up and headed toward the interview room. A couple of minutes later she emerged with the therapist.

“Hello, Mr. Cordero,” Dr. Pelham said. He walked over to Angie’s father. “I’m glad you came. I’m sure I can help your daughter.” He hesitated, then cautioned, “It may take time, though. From what I understand, she was deeply traumatized by your wife’s”—he glanced at Angie—“passing.”

Phil looked over at Angie. She didn’t seem bothered by what the therapist had just said. Evidently she didn’t realized what he’d meant by “passing.” But that’s why we’re here, he reminded himself. To help Angie deal with Maria’s death and get over this—condition of hers. It was going to cost, but bringing his daughter back to normal would be worth it.

He nodded. “I understand, Dr. Pelham.” He drew a deep breath. “I just want my Angie back.”

Listening, Angie frowned, puzzled. Want her back? But she was right here! After a moment, though, she put the thought aside. Daddy said all kinds of things that didn’t make sense to her, but that didn’t matter. What counted was that she knew how to make him do what she said.

“I’ll do everything I can to help,” the psychiatrist assured Angie’s father. He shook Mr. Cordero’s hand. He turned toward Angie and smiled. “Goodbye, Angie.”

“Bye, Doctor,” Angie answered. Till next time, she thought. Then we can have fun again. Even though you won’t remember, after. Angie will. She smiled, looking forward to her next visit, and left the therapist’s office with her daddy.