The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Oh Claire, that’s a wonderful idea ... you’re so generous ... I’ll get her right now ... Bridget, pick up the phone!”

“Who is it?”

“Claire, she has something she wants to ask you!”

Bridget eagerly dropped her magazine and ran for the nearest phone. 10 years ago, Claire had spent a year with Bridget’s family as an exchange student from England and they’d all stayed in regular contact ever since. As the youngest of two children, Claire was like the sister Bridget never had.

“Hello?”

“Bridgy, darling, how are you?”

“Great! How are you?”

“I’m doing wonderfully, thank you.” The connection was so clear Claire sounded like she was in the next town over and not half a world away. “I just bought a new condo in London, as you may have heard.”

“Yeah, we got the change of address card the other day. Congrats.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I was talking to your mother, and she tells me you’ve gone through a few changes lately?”

Bridget paused despite herself. There was no way her Mom could know about The Association, but still, “What kind of changes?”

Claire laughed, “Changes for the better, from the sounds of it. Your grades are up, you’ve got a steady job, it sounds like you’ve become quite the responsible young lady.”

Bridget shrugged, “As usual, Mom’s making too much out of nothing. You know how she is.”

“Nevertheless, it sounds like you’ve earned a little reward,” Claire said in a way that she knew exactly how Mom was. “How would you like to come over and spend the summer with me?”

Bridget was breathless, “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” Claire assured. “You Mum says your last day of school is next week, which gives me just enough time to get your room ready.”

“I’d have my own room?”

“Of course. In fact, you’ll have quite a bit of free reign, what with me having to work and all. And there are a few girls your age in my building, so I’m sure you’ll make some new friends. Sound like fun?”

“Definitely!” And then reality set in. “But I’ll have to ask my boss to see if I can get the time off.”

“I understand,” Claire replied. “Your Mum tells me you’re working for Victoria Tastick, is that right?”

“Yeah, you remember her?”

“Vaguely. Was she the one that lived in that gigantic house near the river?”

“That’s her!”

“Interesting. What do you do for her?”

“I’m her assistant. I run errands for her, do special assignments, basically anything she needs done and doesn’t want to do for herself.”

“Do you think she’ll let you go?”

Bridget nodded, “Yeah, I think so. She’s really cool about this sort of thing, expanding my horizons and all.”

“Wonderful,” Claire said brightly. “I’ll get to work on the room. Pop me an e-mail and let me know what she says.”

“Will do.”

“Later, love.”

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” Victoria exclaimed.

“So I can go?”

“I insist that you do. London is a wonderful city,” Victoria said. Bridget clapped her hands in glee. “But there are, of course, some conditions.”

“Like what?” Bridger asked.

“Well, I insist that you visit as many museums and sites as possible. And I’ll expect to hear all about them when you get back. The more photographs, the better.”

“Okay.”

“And we’ve been practicing quite a bit with the four basic ways of controlling another person’s will. Those are ...”

“Suggestion, foreign object, chemical and domination,” Bridget answered immediately.

“This seems like a good time for you to put those lessons into use, to fly solo, so to speak. So I expect you’ll practice what you’ve learned over there and report to me regularly with your results.”

“Alright.”

Victoria smiled, “Then have a wonderful time, and I’ll see you in August.”

Bridget sipped her coffee as she flipped the page of the guidebook. For the past 90 minutes she’d been working her way through Fodor’s London and each turn of the page served only to increase her anticipation. As much as she disliked flying, she couldn’t wait to get on that plane and across the Atlantic.

Then again, there’d be a lot she’d miss at home. No sweltering hot days on the beach, no barbeques, no baseball and probably no Fourth of July Celebrations to speak of. And she’d miss this, sitting in the coffee shop, just reading and relaxing. Ever since Catherine had introduced her, Bridget had become a regular at this place, always sitting at the table in the corner near the front window. She’d miss friendly and familiar places like this, and she’d miss her friends. Then again, her friends had already started to leave her.

Ever since she’d come back from Italy, ever since her induction to The Association, her fellow inductees on that trip had been her closest friends. The Association had brought them together, and now it was bringing them apart. Allie and Connie had left last year. Allie had gone to Florida State and the thought of the short haired brunette with all those hottie co-eds made Bridget smile. The poor girls probably never knew what hit them, though Bridget doubted any of them would be complaining afterwards. Connie had become the “traveling secretary” for a local businesswoman, and thus was almost always out of town. The thought of that made Bridget smile also; though a good person, Connie just wasn’t mentally qualified to be anyone’s so called “traveling secretary”. Her real job was to keep her employer “relaxed”, in other words, to provide thunderous orgasms whenever the boss felt she needed one. Now that was a task Connie was more than qualified to meet. Tammi, Ashley, Nadine and Jill would all be going to college in the fall. Tammi, in fact, had already moved to Cambridge in anticipation of her freshman year at Harvard. Ashley and Jill were away on family trips. Nadine, much to her surprise and delight, had been accepted at the University of Virginia. She’d be taking a year off to save for school and establish residency and had left for Charlottesville the day before yesterday. Just because it was summer didn’t mean the work stopped for Asha. She’d be spending the summer at some sort of science camp her parents were making her go to. Poor Asha, never a moments rest. Her parents were sooooo paranoid she wouldn’t get into an Ivy League school; they just didn’t seem to understand that once they got a look at her application, Harvard, Yale and Princeton would be at each other’s throats to get her into their school. That left only Leslie, and to be honest, Bridget wasn’t going to miss Leslie that much. Leslie liked to be in charge, and she’d had trouble accepting that, where The Association was concerned, Bridget called the shots. They’d clashed more than once since their return from Italy, and each time, Leslie had been forced to back down. Leslie hadn’t had much of a choice, the chain of command was very clear in The Association, but that didn’t mean Leslie had liked it. No, Bridget wasn’t going to miss Leslie much at all.

“Something bothering you?” Jesse asked as she refilled Bridget’s cup.

Bridget looked up and smiled. When Catherine had brought Bridget to this coffee shop, the first thing she’d done was introduce the teen to the mouthwatering Jesse. Not for the first time, Bridget reflected on what a clever woman Catherine was. Induction into The Association had been problematic for Catherine; basically her libido went haywire. She’d, literally, been fucking herself to death. The solution had been simple enough, Bridget and Victoria had simply found Catherine a girlfriend to live happily ever after with. And it had worked. Michelle and Catherine were crazy about each other. But the solution had created another minor problem, namely that quite a few of the women Catherine had seduced in the meantime (such as Jesse) were not so willing to let Catherine simply walk out of their lives. Catherine had solved the problem in the simplest way possible; she’d just introduced all of these women to each other. Most of these gals had happily taken to that solution. Bridget herself had spent more than a little time with Jesse. The busty blonde was a great roll in the hay.

“Not bothering me. I’m just thinking about how things change,” Bridget answered.

“Speaking of change, Catherine tells me your plans for the summer have changed.”

Bridget held up the book, “Yeah, I can’t wait.”

“When are you going?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Are you going to have a going away party?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Jesse smiled, “Oh, that won’t do at all.”

Bridget smiled back, “What did you have in mind.”

“Well, if you can hang out a little bit my shift will be over soon. We could go back to my place and I could show you.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“And what fun is a party without a present?”

“What do you mean?” With a shake of her head, Jesse indicated for Bridget to look over at the side wall. A Hispanic looking brunette was staring directly at them. The girl was gorgeous, with a thick mane of auburn brown hair that extended all the way to her firm, massive breasts. Bridget looked back to Jesse.

“She’s been coming in here for a couple weeks now. I think she’s got a little crush on me, but she doesn’t know what to do next. Maybe we could throw her a bone?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Great. Hey, Erica, c’mon over here for a second.” The brunette came over, bringing her cup with her. “Erica, this is my friend Bridget. Bridget, this is Erica.”

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Bridget is a very good friend of mine,” Jesse landed heavily on the word ‘very’, “and she’s going to London for the summer.”

“Lucky you,” Erica said.

“I know!”

“Anyways,” Jesse continued. “I’m having a little going away party for her, and we thought you might like to come.”

A confused look washed across Erica’s face, “How many people are going to be there?”

“Oh, it’s going to be a small party,” Jesse giggled slightly. “In fact, it’s going to be just you, me and Bridget, you know what I mean?”

Erica didn’t say anything, but it was clear she knew exactly what Jesse meant.

“Sound like fun?”

The look on Erica’s face, half fear and half desire, made Bridget and Jesse both cream ever so slightly. Erica didn’t say a word. She only nodded.

“Ohhhh ... ohhhh ... yes ... yessss ... like that ... right there ... Erica ... Ericaaaaa,” Bridget groaned happily. Sitting nearly straight up, her weight supported by the pillows piled under her back, her legs spread as wide as they would go, Bridget’s hand snaked through Erica’s thick hair. Her other hand she used to massage her own breasts. For a newbie, Erica was doing an outstanding job, but then again, she’d received the very best of instruction. Once they’d reached Jesse’s apartment, the two of them had stripped Erica bare. No gentle words or preliminaries, Bridget had just latched her mouth to Erica’s quim and licked her out until she’d screamed. Or she would have screamed, had her mouth not already been full of Jesse’s breasts.

Erica was now on all fours, her ass high in the air, Jesse pounding away at her from behind. Bridget took in the scene, Erica with her eyes shut, her head bobbing up and down, Jesse with her head thrown back, grunting like an animal, her breasts bouncing wildly. The site of it all was just what Bridget needed to push her over the top.

“Huuuuhh ... huuuuh ... oh God ... Gooodd ... fuck ... fuck me ... ahhhhhhhh!” As Bridget screamed, her feet slammed down on the bed lifting her ass off the mattress. Erica tried to keep her mouth on Bridget’s pussy, but the force of the redhead’s thrust lifted her up also. At that moment, Jesse reached down, gathering Erica’s breasts in her hands. Jesse pulled, bringing the both of them upright. At this angle it was impossible for Jesse to maintain her thrusting, not that that was a problem for Erica. The brunette began bouncing up and down on the plastic cock as fast and hard as her legs would go, all the while loving the feel of Jesse’s hands on her tits.

Bridget opened her eyes. Erica’s eyes and teeth were clenched shut as she bounced. Behind her was Jesse, sweat plastering her bangs to her forehead, her tongue thrust in the brunette’s ear, panting in time with Erica’s motions. Though exhausted from her orgasm, Bridget sprang back up. Knocking Jesse’s hand away, her lips wrapped themselves around Erica’s nipple.

“Fuck yeah!” Erica hissed, hardly believing she’d said the word. She rarely cursed, but then again, she’d never had sex with two beautiful women either ... all sorts of firsts today. Bridget’s mouth on her tit felt so fucking good, but so did Jesse’s tongue in her ear and the dong sliding in and out of her pussy. Erica’s thighs ached, but still she drove herself up and down, she was so close now. So damn close. Even though Bridget was working wonders on her breasts, Erica grabbed the girl by the hair and pulled her up. When Erica did come, she liked to do it with her tongue jammed down someone’s throat.

Bridget melted into the kiss. Arching her back, she thrust her chest into Erica’s, reveling in the feel of their breasts pressed together. Erica’s hands slid down Bridget’s back, coming to rest on the redhead’s ass. Gathering a cheek in each hand, Erica pulled, nearly lifting Bridget off the bed. Bridget locked her arms under Erica’s, their bodies now moving in unison. Erica came, hard, screaming into Bridget’s mouth. The teen fell back onto the bed, followed almost immediately by the still spasiming Erica, with Jesse still draped against the buxom brunette. The three lay unmoving for many moments, a pile of sweat drenched, satisfied flesh, their sighs of contentment slowly replaced by soft panting.

Eventually, Bridget disentangled herself from the other two girls and sat up on the edge of the bed. When her strength had sufficiently returned, she began picking through the various pieces of discarded clothing, dressing herself as she found what was hers.

“Where are you going?” Jesse asked.

“Back to my place. I haven’t quite finished packing.”

“Do you have to go?” Erica pouted.

“Yeah, I really do,” Bridget smiled at the beautiful brunette. “How are you doing?”

“Great!” Erica answered immediately. “I feel so ... like ... I don’t know how to put it.”

“Dyking it and liking it?” Jesse suggested. Bridget laughed. Jesse had such a delightful crude streak.

“Exactly!”

Jesse rolled atop Erica, sliding the tip of the dildo along the entrance to the brunette’s pussy, “You don’t have to leave right away, do you?”

“No, I ... ohhhhh,” Erica’s legs spread, then wrapped around Jesse’s hips as the waitress slowly pushed forward.

Her clothes back on, Bridget took one last look at the scene unfolding on the bed. For a second, she considered rejoining Jesse and Erica. It looked like they were going to have fun ... a lot of fun. But responsibility called.

“I’ll just show myself out,” Bridget finally said, to no one in particular. Jesse and Erica weren’t listening to her anyway.

60 minutes. 360 seconds. In 60 minutes she’d be leaving for the airport. Then, of course, she’d have to cool her heels for another two hours going through security, waiting at the gate, etc. etc. etc. And then, assuming everything was on time, she’d be on her way. And she couldn’t wait. Her tickets and passport were in her jacket pocket, along with $50, £100 and even a few Euros, just in case. In her wallet was the brand, spanking new debit card her parents had given her for the trip. They’d be making deposits to that account on a weekly basis. Between that and her savings, she’d have plenty of cash for the summer. Now all she had to do was wait for the summer to get started. To top it off, Victoria had arranged a special going away present; she’d called British Airways and arranged for Bridget’s ticket to be upgraded to 1st Class. That was going to be awesome.

“Brig,” her mother called from the kitchen, “you’ve got a call!”

“Who is it?”

“Someone who wants to wish you ‘bon voyage’!”

Bridget went to the kitchen and took the phone from her smiling mother, “Hello?”

“Hey kid!”

“Chris!” Bridget exclaimed. Her brother lived in Chicago now, and she didn’t see him anywhere near as much as she would have liked.

“I am so jealous of you right now.”

“I’m going nuts, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get over there.”

“Well, I’m not going to keep you. I know Mom is worried about the traffic and wants to get started, but I just wanted to call and say have a great summer ... and to ask a favor,” Chris’ voiced lowered to a conspiratorial tone.

“I promise I’ll bring you back a Manchester United shirt.”

“Since you offered, I’d rather have an Arsenal shirt,” Chris said. “But that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“What is it?”

Chris paused, “I know you’re going to be busy and having all sorts of fun, but if you get a chance, would you drop me an e-mail and let me know how Claire is doing?”

The request, and Chris’ tone, struck Bridget as odd. Chris and Claire had become close over the course of the year Claire had spent in the US. And there’d been more than a little gossip that they’d been something more than “close”, not that there’d been anything to those rumors. If something had gone on between the two, Bridget would have known about it by now. But still.

“Why? Do you think something is wrong with her?”

“No, no ... not at all. It’s just,” Chris sighed, “It’s just that sometimes I worry about her.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s complicated and there isn’t time to explain just now. You know, if you have a free minute, just drop me a line and let me know how she’s doing.”

Bridget shrugged, “Okay, if you really want me to.”

“I’d appreciate it, thanks. And have a great time.”

Bridget’s plane took off, on time, at 9p, which Bridget took as a good omen. The food in 1st Class was pretty good, actually. For the most part, though, she tried to get some sleep, which was tough. 1st Class or not, she didn’t particularly enjoy flying. When she wasn’t sleeping , she half watched the two in-flight movies: Legally Blond (stupid, but cute) and Evolution (which was just plain stupid, though she decided that Julianne Moore was a major league hottie). Mostly, she just watched the clock tick off the seconds, minutes and hours. It was 7a when they landed at Heathrow, and after 6 or so hours in the air came the part of the trip that seemed to take the longest; taxiing to the gate, grabbing her carry on and getting off the freaking plane. Once off the plane, Bridget just followed the crowd to Customs, where the lines were mercifully short. She handed her passport to an elderly, very British looking, man.

“Your reason for visiting the United Kingdom?”

“I’m visiting a friend.”

“Ahhh, how nice,” the man said kindly. “And how long will you be staying with us?”

“The whole summer.”

“Even better,” the man punched at a keypad, then frowned slightly as he looked at the screen. “Before you pick up your baggage, I need you to go right over there, through that door marked number 3.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all, luv, don’t worry,” the man assured her with a smile. “If you were in any trouble, the police would have scooped you up by now. It just looks like someone wants to talk to you.”

He handed over Bridget’s passport, “And we’re all done.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, and enjoy your stay. Be sure to spend lots of those lovely American dollars you Yanks always seem to have, help out our economy and all.”

“I will, I promise.”

“There’s a good girl,” the man chuckled. “Hurry along now. Mustn’t keep who ever it is waiting.”

Bridget walked the short distance to the door the man indicated. It appeared to be some sort of meeting or examination room. Bridget put her carryon on the table, took a seat, and waited. She didn’t wait long. The door opened, and an elegant looking blond woman entered. She placed a small bag of her own on the table.

“Hmmm, yes,” the blond said after closely examining Bridget. “I can see why Victoria thinks so highly of you.”

Bridget introduced herself, and offered her hand. The blond took it.

“I’m Tara,” the blond explained, then pointed to the bag she’d brought. “Victoria wanted you to have some things. I trust you know what to do with them?”

Bridget quickly examined the bag’s contents, “Absolutely.”

“Very good. I won’t keep you, then,” Tara answered. “My card is in there also. Do feel free to ring me if you need anything.”

Just that quickly, Tara left and Bridget was back on her way. She followed the crowds through the rest of the customs area and past the gate.

“Bridgy!” A voice called. Bridget turned just in time to see Claire run up and then enthusiastically hug her with a most un-British exuberance. “Oh darling, let me look at you.”

Claire took a step backwards and examined Bridget closely, “My God how you’ve grown. Going to break a few boys hearts this summer I dare say.”

Bridget took the opportunity to examine Claire as well. The British woman had always been stylish, and Bridget saw immediately her friend had lost none of that. Claire was wearing black pants and a light, grey, v-neck sweater that showed only a hint of impressive cleavage. Her straight, dark brown hair just touched her shoulders. Perched on the top of her head was a pair of silver and black, horn rimmed glasses.

“It’s so great to see you,” Bridget said, hugging Claire again. She copped a quick thrill as their breasts pressed together. “This is going to be a great summer.”

“We can talk all about it on the ride back into the city, but let’s hurry and get your luggage. The crowds can be dreadful at the baggage claim.”

Claire led the way, and the suitcases were retrieved with a minimum of hassle. The two walked a decent distance to Heathrow’s light rail station for the ride into London. They made small talk as they waited for the train. Once they were on, and had stowed the bags, they collapsed into a seat.

“The train will drop us off at Paddington Station, and I live right around the corner from there,” Claire explained.

Once the train was moving, Claire did most of the talking. Bridget replied as needed, but mostly she stared out the window and took in the city that would be her home for the next two and a half months. In her excitement, Claire’s conversation was all over the map, alternating from plans she’d made, to questions about Bridget’s parents, to what she was doing at work lately. Bridget hardly noticed the gap in the conversation until Claire asked the question.

“So, how’s your brother?”

Something in Claire’s tone made Bridget turn away from the window. Claire looked like some trying hard to look casual.

“He’s fine ... more than fine, actually. He really loves Chicago.”

“That’s good.”

That certain something was still hiding in Claire’s voice. Curious, Bridget decided to press the matter a little further, “He asked about you, actually.”

Claire flinched, ever so slightly, “Did he?”

“Yeah. He sounded almost worried about you.”

“That’s sweet,” Claire smiled, Mona Lisa like.

Bridget studied that smile carefully, “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Claire opened her mouth as if to speak, stopped herself, then started again, “Well, you know Chris and I were close when I lived with your family?’

Bridget nodded, but said nothing.

“I wonder if you know how close we were?” Bridget only shrugged. “Chris and I were rather taken with each other.”

Bridget nodded again.

“One night, right after our Prom, I believe it was, we ... acted on that.”

Bridget’s jaw dropped, “You mean you guys ...”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Claire hastened to say. “We stopped ourselves before it came to THAT.”

“I had no idea.”

Now Claire shrugged, “That’s how we wanted it. We decided it was a little too weird. Almost incestuous, if you will, what with me living under your roof and all. And, of course, I was going back to England, so there was obviously no chance of it ever working out.”

Bridget screwed up her face, “I understand that part of it, but you know, none of us would have thought it was incest. My parents loved you. If anything, I think they would have been thrilled.”

“Yes, I know. But we were both so young and I think we were a little afraid of how we felt. So we decided it would be better to stop and try to forget anything had happened.”

“That’s so sad.”

“It gets worse, I’m afraid,” Claire grumbled. “We wrote to each other while we were both at university. It was obvious neither of us were forgetting. So ...”

“So ...” Bridget prompted.

“So, a couple years ago, I went to visit your brother in Chicago,” Claire paused. “I stayed at his apartment.”

Bridget was shocked, “He never told us.”

“I’m not surprised. It was a complete disaster.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh, it wasn’t Chris’ fault at all. I came down with something and was monstrously ill the whole time I was there. Chris was very sweet, taking care of me, staying up and talking with me while I threw up in his toilet. I think he got less sleep that week than I did. And by the time I was feeling better, it was time for me to go home.”

“Why didn’t you try again? Or why didn’t he come to visit you?”

“We always meant to,” Claire made a gesture with her hand. “But both out careers were taking off and there never seemed to be enough time. We e-mail each other regularly, technology is such a grand thing, and we call each other once a month or so. But by now, it all sort of feels like a near miss and not like something that could actually happen.”

For a second, Claire looked very sad. Then she clamped a smile back on her face, “Better you know this now rather than finding out in some awkward way. But that’s enough of that. Let’s talk about happier things.”

Shortly thereafter, the train pulled into the station. Bridget and Claire manhandled the bags the short distance to Claire’s condo. Once there, Claire led Bridget directly to a small room.

“Well this is where you’ll be sleeping,” Claire explained. Bridget liked what she saw. “Why don’t you unpack, and then we’ll do a little sightseeing.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Bridget unpacked slowly and carefully; she liked her space “just so”. She also took care to find a spot where the bag Tara had given her would remain unseen. She’d been at it a half hour when Claire called.

“Bridget, could you come out here for a moment?”

“Be right there.”

Bridget headed for the living room. She was surprised to find Claire there, along with three other girls who looked to be Bridget’s age.

“Here’s the lady of the hour,” Claire exclaimed. “Bridget, this is Laura, Marise and Porcia.”

Claire pointed to a to a lithe brunette, a stunning black girl with electric blue eyes and a short haired, bored looking blond. Bridget found all three of them attractive, in their own way. A great vacation was starting to look even better.

“I thought it might be nice if you met some girls your own age. We all live in the complex here.”

“Hello,” Bridget said.

“How do you do,” Laura and Marise said in unison. Marise’s lilting African accent was impossible to miss. Porcia barely roused herself to wave.

The door to the condo swung open, and another woman marched in. She wore tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Her auburn hair was fashionably unkempt, her full lips made all the more noticeable by the bright red lipstick she wore and her pale skin. Bridget prided herself on her control, but despite that, she felt herself getting a little wet at the sight of the woman.

Claire chuckled, “And this beastly character is my friend Susan. We work together. Get used to her barging in, Bridget. She thinks she has run of the place. Susan, this is Bridget, my Yank friend I’ve been telling you about.”

“Sono molto felice di venirli a contatto,” Susan said in good, though accented, Italian.

“Il piacere è tutta la miniera,” Bridget replied. The two shook hands.

“Susan worked for a few years in our Rome office. She’s looking forward to having someone to practice her Italian with, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Susan replied, looking directly into Bridget’s eyes. She smiled aggressively. The two were still shaking hands.

Bridget returned the smile with as much sweetness as she could muster, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Come along Susan. Let’s let the girls get to know each other.” Claire and Susan headed off to the kitchen. Bridget dropped into a chair that let her look at the three other teens all at once.

Almost immediately, Porcia stood up, “Well, I’ve done my part.” Without another word, or a look back, she walked out of the condo. Bridget’s mouth hung open in amazement. Laura and Marise looked stricken.

“What the hell is her problem?”

“We’re sorry,” Laura said immediately.

“She can be like that,” Marise explained.

“She doesn’t like you.”

“But it isn’t your fault.”

“She just doesn’t like Americans.”

“She thinks they’re ghastly.”

“Then again, she thinks everyone is ghastly.”

“Porcia is a bit of a snob, you see,” Marise said confidentially.

“And don’t get her started on the Germans,” Laura warned.

“Oh, goodness no!”

Bridget’s head ping-ponged back and forth as the other two girls talked. She couldn’t figure out what was more incredible; Porcia’s rudeness or Laura’s and Marise’s ability to finish and propel each other’s thoughts. After a while, she decided to just forget about Porcia, for the time being. After all, she’d ended up doing Bridget a favor. However unintentionally, the ice had been broken.