The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

We were waiting for Christina when she got off work a few days later, her long mahogany hair blowing in the breeze. She called out that if I stepped any closer she would get a restraining order.

I pouted and tried to look hurt. “Awww, Christina! No hard feelings. You did what you had to do. I know that. Have you met Ryan?” I knew she had. The bitch.

“Yeah, a couple times when he came and got you for lunch.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “So you mean to tell me that you are not pissed off?”

“Me? No. The job was way too hard anyhow. And you were just joking with me and I overreacted, right?”

“Yes, that IS exactly what happened!” Christina looked at Ryan as she said this. She was actually trying to make points with him right in front of me.

Ryan held up a hand. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me. I know all about the way Brynne is but she feel awful about trying to assault you. There is only one logical thing to do.”

“What’s that?” Still looking suspicious.

“Come to our apartment and we will bury the hatchet.” Ryan said this as if it made perfect sense, friendliness in his tone but it was a statement, and not a question.

“Oh? OK.” She looked confused as she agreed. It was hysterical. she was still looking confused as she climbed into the back-seat and Ryan said “Hey, look, a woman other than you in our back-seat. I still bet you hold the record for over all numbers of back-seats though!”

I laughed and Christina looked at me like she could not believe I was allowing him to talk about me like that. “Aw, Christina, Don’t worry. I am not mad. I love Ryan ... and what can I say, I AM a typical blonde.”

“Huh?”

“You were right about me. I fucked Malcolm, and Alan, oh, and Jason, and Jeff. Jeff was HUGE—not as big as Ryan though!”

Ryan smiled. “Thank you, Baby.”

“Wait a second here. What is going on? You are saying the rumors were true?”

“Well, duh. It is not like I had brains or talent, at least not OFFICE SKILLS. I mean, I am blonde! You know what? That reminds me of that joke. Ryan—YOU know the one. The one that you had to explain to me?”

“There are a lot of those, Baby.”

“Yeah, but the ONE that was about ... oh, yeah ... how do you know a blonde works in an office? There is a bedroom in the boardroom and all the men are smiling!”

“OK, now I KNOW you are fucking with me!” She looked pissed and a little freaked out as I met her gaze in the rearview mirror.

Ryan spoke soothingly. “Calm down, Christina. Just take a deep breath and calm down. Neither one of us means you any harm. We would never harm you—we really just want to be friends. You can trust us.”

“Absolutely. I was just trying to tell a joke. I am sorry if I upset you.” Like hell!

“Ah, Muffin, I am sure she knows that you did not mean any harm. I am also sure that Christina also realizes how true blonde jokes tend to be. Why would they exist if they were not true? Blondes tend to be slutty little ditzes. You know that, right, Christina? Where there is smoke there is fire. And if you know it, why wouldn’t Brynne know it? Although it took her a little while to catch on.”

Christina smiled subtly and I could tell that she was really accepting everything Ryan said. Good.

“She does not mind if you think she is stupid. She is the first one to tell a good joke. Tell her another one, Brynne. Try not to screw up the punchline.”

“OK,” I said in my perkinest, most cheerleaderesque tone, “how many blondes us it take to screw in a light bulb?”

Christina asked with a faint, watchful smile, “How many?”

“Blondes screw in back-seats, not light bulbs!”

Everyone laughed and Ryan announced that we were home. AS my rode the elevator up Ryan pointed out that I much preferred going down. At least THAT statement was true!

As we walked in the apartment, after we all kicked off our shoes, Ryan said, “Two such beautiful girls fighting, what a shame. But from now on the two of you will be the best of friends. I know it.” Christina’s smiled warmly at Ryan and then at me, like we were really good friends. I hugged her tightly to me and she responded. We both giggled a little.

I clapped my hands together as if I just had a great idea. Everything I did I tried to inject with the utter most blonde bimbo attitude allowed by law. “I know! I know! You have such pretty hair, let me wash it and condition it and style it for you!”

“I ... I ...”

“Pretty please!”

Ryan spoke, “Ah. Let her do it or she will just whine about it all night. In fact you might as well do whatever the Little Ditz says.” That last part made me stick my tongue out at him to which he responded, “Promises, promises!”

“Oh, ok, but it is just a little weird.”

“Weird? Do you think so? Does any of this seem weird, Brynne?” Ryan looked surprised that she would say that.

I wrinkled my forehead in concentration. “Um, no, I have not noticed anything.”

“Sure, but you are a blonde,” quipped my good friend Christina, “and not all that quick on the uptake.” We all laughed. Ha Ha!

Ryan said, “No, I really don’t think any of this is weird but maybe it is just because we are getting used to one another. But we are becoming closer friends all of the time and I really do not think anything else that goes on will be weird, or unusual, or strange in your mind. Trust is what friendship is built on and we are all friends.”

I asked Christina to excuse us for a second and Ryan and I went into the kitchen. There was something that I wanted to tell him and it was really my last chance to say it.

Ryan frowned, “Changing your mind?”

“No way! You fixed any chance of that. What I want to say is that she is really rather pretty ... right?”

“Sure.”

“And you used to be able to get any woman that you wanted. And, well, tonight you can again. I will not tolerate you running around on me but if anything occurs tonight it is OK—nothing held against you.”

Ryan pointed to the door. “I don’t need anything that is in there.”

“No, but you might want it. And I might want you to have it.” I looked him right in the eye so he would know that I was serious. “I might, well, I told you that I am a little curious about women ...”

He smiled. “It’s OK. Whatever happens to either of us happens. Deal?” He made his face look somber and reached out a hand in order to shake.

“Yeah, right, Kiss Me!”

A few minutes later we called Christina into the kitchen and she seemed completely unsurprised to see a barber’s chair by the kitchen sink and just asked, “Are we washing my hair in here?”

I tried to look like I was concentrating. “Hmmm. Sure. I guess we could use this barber’s chair. You know what though, that is a great suit you are wearing and I do not want it to get wet or stained so maybe you should take it off.”

“Brynne, shampoo does not really stain.” Christina said this as if she was talking to someone that was not all that bright. But she took the subtly pink jacket of her business suit off to reveal a thin satiny white blouse. I had planned for her to take off more but decided to go a different direction immediately. Instead I pulled the couple pins holding Christina’s hair back out and watched her luxurious mane fall loose.

“OK, sit in the chair and let me adjust it. Good, OK lean your head into the sink. Let me try getting your hair wet with the sprayer thingie. Oops!” I missed Christina’s hair almost completely and instead doused her blouse, making it cling to her ample chest.

Christina began to sit up and so I very gently pushed her down again and muttered that I would be more careful. The blouse fit her breasts, hugging every curve, the chill of the water making her nipples pucker, her neck was arched up and back to reach into the sink. We took in the sight for a minute and then our eyes met and Ryan smiled at me knowingly.

The thing is that I love men, always have, but I have always enjoyed looking at a beautiful woman and the sight started to get to me. My primary goal was still revenge but my hormones started to say that there was no reason why the revenge could not be friendly.

I made the motions of trying again and reached my body across Christina, pressing my chest across her. I made it seem like I was reaching for something as our bodies touched. The wetness of her clothes began to soak through mine. I knew how it felt to me, and I knew how it must feel to her—any woman with wet clothing and hard nipples can tell you how the friction of the two can feel—well, pleasurable. After a minute of this I turned on the faucet again ... and missed again.

“Crap, you know what. This is just not going to work unless you get naked,” I suggested, “and I doubt Ryan would mind the view.”

“You are ok with him seeing me naked?” She did not sound really surprised, just curious.

“No. I love and trust him. And you have flirted with him enough—don’t bother to deny it, I am not mad, that I cannot see you minding him seeing you that way.”

Christina sat up, “Really? OK. With your crappy aim I guess it makes sense.” There was no protest. She trusted her friends and there was nothing weird about the request. A couple damp tendrils of hair clung to her cheek as she unbuttoned her blouse and revealed full breasts virtually spilling out of a thin bra. No wonder the blouse showed so much, the bra only provided a token covering. Her nipples poked through the bra that was wetly semitransparent as she reached back and unhooked it. Even though we knew that she would take it all in stride we tried not to gape.

“God,” I thought, “how could such a completely nasty bitch have such an amazing rack.” They were big, but not huge. Firm but with a most pleasant jiggle that indicated that they were real. I walked over next to Ryan as Christina continued.

Next she removed her skirt, panty hose, and thin white panties and stood there completely nude and blushing slightly. Not perfect. A few extra pounds ruined that but still it was going to be an entertaining night.

“Wow, Christina, who KNEW! You have a great body—go ahead—do a spin. I can tell Ryan likes it from that little bit of drool on his lip.” Ryan swatted my ass playfully and chuckled. “You know what, Honey, I bet she is one of those people that likes being naked—what are they called? You know?”

“Strippers?” suggested Ryan.

I stamped her foot. “Nooooo! The other one!”

“Blondes?” He tried again, deliberately guessing wrong.

“No! No! No! The biiiig word!”

“Exhibitionist,” Christina said, now blushing furiously and trying to cover herself.

“That one! See, she knew what I was saying. Do you like showing off? Honestly ‘cause we are all friends.”

“Yeah, I guess a little.”

“See, I knew it.”

Ryan said, “Baby, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist. Look at the skimpy bra she had on. She is a horny girl.”

“Ryan, you are embarrassing her.” I laughed. I might be blonde but I am not dumb. That was not merely a comment—it was a “command.” If she had not been a Horny Girl before the comment she would be after it. “Christina, sit back down in the chair and let’s get back to work. Hey, why do blondes wash their hair in the kitchen sink?” I asked this while being a good girl and actually wetting down her hair. Her breasts were arched up into the air and she moved more into the range of the water.

“Why?”

“Like, duh, where else would you wash vegetables! OK, another one. Hear about the dyed blonde buying Clairol? She bought a double batch dyed her snatch to match. You have really thick hair—ever consider going blonde?” I ran my fingers through her luxurious brunette hair and smiled.

“Well, a couple times. I don’t think I ever will.”

“You might be surprised. Want to hear another joke?” My elbow lightly rubbed a nipple and she shuddered.

“Sure.” Her voice was slightly husky.

“Why can’t you give a blonde a coffee break? Give up? Because it takes too long to retrain her! Nobody had to explain that one to me,” I added proudly

Ryan spoke. “Blondes really are ditzy. The jokes prove it. Ditzy and forgetful. Even dyed blondes—it is as if the blonde hair signals a low IQ. Amazing really. They all are all amazingly good at blow jobs, though.”

I turned off the water, lifted her up to towel out the excess moisture, and grabbed the bottle of dye, um, I meant SHAMPOO and trilled, “There is a joke like that. Why are blondes so good at blow jobs? Give up? Oh crap, how does it go?” I began adding the contents of the bottle to her hair.

Ryan answered patiently, “Years and years of training. Sweetie, I have told you to concentrate. Try again and try to keep the same theme.”

I massaged the gel in. “We have to let the shampoo sit for a while because there are a lot of bot ... um, bot... plants in it that make your hair soft. It should be ok, because I love getting MY hair washed—it is very sensual. OK, let me think. This one is kinda like the last one. Why do blondes always drink from straws?”

Christina called out cheerfully, “PRACTICE!” We all laughed.

Ryan asked, “What does the Bermuda Triangle and a Blonde have in common? Both have swallowed a lot of semen!”

I made myself look perplexed until Ryan said, “Sweetie, it is a pun. SEAMAN like sailors and then SEMEN like sperm.”

“OH! I get it! OK, how do you know if a blonde has been in your refrigerator? There are lipstick rings around the cucumbers!”

Christina chirped, “OH, that’s a good one! How can you tell if a blonde has a vibrator?”

“How,” Ryan and I asked enthusiastically.

“By the chipped tooth!”

Ryan said, “See, you know it must be true that blondes love sucking cock. Why else would there be so many jokes about it if it was not a fact. I bet Brynne knows more ...”

“Sure! Why did the blonde get fired from the sperm bank? She was caught embezzling! Wait ... how about—how does a blonde prepare for sex? She wears a rubber based lipstick!”

“See? It must be true. Blondes and blow jobs. They cannot help but love it. Even blondes with dyed hair. And more than that the jokes tell us that blondes love to guzzle cum.” Ryan said this with the authority of Walter Cronkite. God, I love that man. “That is why blondes sometimes like men to wear rubbers—they like a doggy bag for later!”

“Grooooss,” Christina moaned. It was very interesting to see how she was accepting the whole conversation as normal. Even though she pronounced it gross it was very obvious that all this talk of sex and sitting around naked was making The Horny Girl hornier.

Ryan said, “You only feel that way because you are brunette. If you were a blonde you would be licking your lips thinking about it.”

I couldn’t help it, I looked at Ryan and licked my lips. He laughed, looked at Christina and said, “See! I told you! She loves it. Maybe even more than she loves to fuck—but blondes love that naturally, too.”

“Why did they call the blonde, Twinkie?” I was really rather glad I finally had a use for all the jokes people had told me over the years. “Because she loved to be filled with cream!”

“Blondes love to screwed! Especially in the back-seat of cars.”

I said, “A blonde turns on the light after sex by opening the car door. Blondes also have a hard time passing driver’s ed because when the instructor opens the door they jump into the back-seat.”

Ryan nodded, “Exactly. Another great thing about a blonde is that they accept their role in life ... as something to use and discard!”

My turn. “Why do blondes have vaginas? So people will talk to them at parties.”

“Yeah, nobody keeps a blonde around for her brains.”

“The difference between an inflatable doll and a blonde is two cans of hairspray,” I pointed out.

“Exactly. They are inept at work because they are always horny.”

“OK, that is why only 2% of blondes are touch typists—the rest are hunt’n’peckers.”

“They are just good for one thing ....”

“What is the difference between a blonde and a trampoline? Lean your head down into the sink so I can rinse out the shampoo ... Where was I? Oh, the difference between a blonde and a trampoline is that you take off your shoes before using a trampoline.”

“Exactly. Once you use them you do not really care what happens to them.”

I ran the water over her hair and the water began to run clean after a minute. “The difference between a blonde and a toothbrush is that you don’t mind sharing the blonde with your friends.”

“Um hmmm, because it would be a shame not to pass her around and it would just make her grumpy and resentful.”

I jumped in, “Christina, is the angle you are on uncomfortable? ... she looks uncomfortable, Ryan ... maybe we need to adjust the chair.”

“Adjusting the chair is a pain in the ass, Brynne. She will be much more comfortable if she did not feel so cramped—spread your legs, Christina ... it will help. See? You have been quiet for a while. I bet that such a horny girl like yourself likes talking about sex—is your pussy wet, Chrissy? By the way, Christina is such a formal name so we are going to call you Chrissy from now on. Is your pussy wet because of the talk and because you like being naked?”

“Yes, ... it is.” She sounded mortified as she answered truthfully.

“I think she has a blonde buried deep inside of her that is just dying to get out,” I bubbled as I leaned down and flicked my tongue across as erect nipple. She arched her back and moaned. I straightened up, turned off the water, wrapped a towel around her head as she sat up and said, “Ryan, is right, you ARE a horny girl, aren’t you?” I adjusted the chair lower and kept it reclined.

Ryan moved closer and whispered, “You can and will be completely truthful with both of us. Trust us.”

“Yes, I am”

I prodded her. “You are ... ?”

“A horny girl.”

I knelt down beside the chair. Her ankles were dangling off of each side. I took my index finger and ran it in between her legs. “A horny, wet girl. Tell me...”

She couldn’t seem to look at either one of us. “Yes, a horny, wet girl ...”

“Go on ... tell us ... why do you think you are so turned on?”

“I am not sure. Probably because I am nude, and I guess it did feel really good when you washed my hair, and sometimes you would rub up against me and that felt really good too.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, well, as you both were telling the jokes I began to get images in my mind. Images of you doing those things ... of them being true. Because they HAVE to be true or why else would there be so many jokes about them?” She faltered.

“Don’t stop ...”

“I could imagine you sucking off all the guys at the office and Ryan ... and it really started to get to me ...”

Ryan moved in even closer, “So you like giving blow jobs?”

“No, because I just feel like I am not that good ...”

Ryan said, “Any blow job is a good blow job but you are right—some are better than others. If you were blonde you would be naturally talented at it ... it would just come to you, no pun intended. And you would want to be good at it—you would work at it.”

“You know what I did? Beyond practicing a whole lot,” I said, “I watched lots of pornos and actually studied them. But even though you are not comfortable with it you like thinking of me doing it? Why, do you find me attractive?”

“Of course! You are beautiful!”

I flicked my tongue across her nipple again and I noticed that Ryan reached over and cupped her other breast. I looked up and smiled. “Thank you. Speaking of porn. Were you aware that somebody actually planted dirty magazines in my desk?”

“Um, yes”

“In fact, now that I think about it, you were the one that told Stephanie that she could find staples for the stapler that was suddenly mysteriously empty by going in my desk. Gee, Chrissy, was it you that planted the magazines?”

“Yes, I am sorry, it is before we were friends!” She arched herself more into Ryan’s hand.

“Oh, I forgive you. Did you look at the magazines at all?” I cupped her other breast and began to tweak and play with the nipple.

“A little bit ... ok, a lot.”

“See anything that appealed to you?” I kissed the edge of her jaw line.

“There was a picture of two women together ... please don’t be mad but one of them looked like you and I almost thought of trying... mmm ... trying to convince people that it was you?”

My tongue flickered out and touched the side of her mouth, “Really? Did it really look like me or did you just want it to look like me?”

“B,both ...”

My tongue ran itself over her lower lip and she moved closer but I retreated back, “What were the two women doing? Were they both blond?”

“No, one was br,brunette. One was eating the other, mmm, one out.” She was practically panting.

I kissed her then, just briefly, my tongue darting into her mouth, and then I pulled back. My one hand was still playing with her breast as Ryan licked and suckled the other breast. “Which one was doing which?”

“The Blonde was eating out the Brunette .... oooooh ...”

“You imagined that it was us?” I kissed her again. “That I was eating you out?” I removed my hand from her breast and covered Ryan’s hand which was resting on her stomach. I pushed, his, and by extension OUR hands between her legs. “Tell me...”

“Yes, yes, I imagined it!” Her hips bucked a little. Even though Ryan’s hand was the only one touching her pussy directly she was so wet that my hand was covered with her juices just because of the copious amount. I kept my hand lightly covering Ryan’s hand as he stroked her.

“Wanted my face between your legs?”

“Yes!”

“You want that still don’t you? You horny, dirty, little slut!”

“OH, YES!”

“There are just a few problems with that ... one is, I am not saying I would never eat you out, but not tonight, Chrissy because I will be way too busy being eaten out by you. The second problem is even more to the point ... in the picture ... you love what Ryan is doing to your pussy don’t you ... don’t bother to answer, we know ... in the picture one was a brunette and one was a blonde ... and we are both blondes.”

Chrissy gasped out, “No, no we’re not—I have brown hair.” She was too into what was going on to really be alarmed.

I stopped Ryan’s hand and she made a frustrated sound. Ryan and I looked at one another over her reclining little body and smiled. I stood up, took her hand and pulled her out of the chair, “A blonde, brunette, and a redhead walk into a bar ...” I led her out of the kitchen. “The brunette says to the bartender ‘I will have a B and C,’ the bartender asks what a B and C is and she replies, ‘A Bourbon and coke’ ...” I pulled her toward the bedroom. “The redhead said ‘Well, I will have a G and T’ and then the bartender asks and explains that it is a gin and tonic”

Chrissy protested a little at the sudden change in events, “What ... I...”

“Shhh, I am telling a joke. Do you want me to forget it?” I asked as I kept pulling her. “Anyhow, the blonde said ‘I will have a 15’ and so the bartender asked what that was and the blonde ....” I dragged Chrissy over to the mirror ... “The blonde said, ‘A 7&7, of course!’ ...” I turned her to face the mirror and the new Chrissy.

Her jaw dropped as she saw two blondes in the mirror, a smiling blonde in jeans and a T-shirt and a naked blonde with wet hair. She reached up and grabbed a lock. “Oh my God, what did you do?”

“It is not like I dyed ALL your hair,” I said as my eyes flickered down to the appropriate area in the mirror. “Let me shave that for you in a while.”

She could not seem to look away from her image. “Why would you do that and not ask?”

Ryan’s reflection joined the two of us and he said. “Because we knew you would like it ...”

“And we were right ...”

“You love it,” Ryan added.

“It suits you!” My reflection glowed with delight.

“The slut you are ... " Ryan commented/commanded.

“The slut you were born to be ...” It was fun to watch her eyes in the mirror go back and forth between us as we took turns.

“Even before you knew you were a blonde you acted like one ... couldn’t wait to be naked, couldn’t wait to spread your legs, couldn’t wait for us to use you ... because that is Who You Are ... Listen as we tell you all about yourself and know that we are telling you the truth... Believe us fully as we tell you the truth” Ryan’s eyes sparkled.

“You are every blonde joke ever ...”

“A ditz who can only keep her job by whoring herself to her bosses ...”

“A slut who cannot wait to be fucked ...”

“A good little cocksucker guzzling cum ...”

“Someone to be fucked and used and passed around ...”

“Like a postage stamp you lick ‘em, stick ‘em, and send them on their way.”

“Oh, and don’t forget—vain ... want to drown a blonde? Put a mirror at the bottom of the pool. You cannot look away from yourself, can you? You stupid, blonde bimbo! What’s your name?”

“Christina.”

“Nope! Try again ... Christina takes up too much time when you could be doing other things with your mouth.”

“Chrissy ... My name is Chrissy.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Goood. Why will Chrissy be wearing lots of tight skirts from now on?”

“I ... don’t know ...”

“To try and keep your legs together—only it won’t work because you are a blonde. Hmmm, let’s try again ... What is the capital of California?”

“Sacramento?”

“Um. NO! Maybe for other people but we are blondes! The capital of California is C. What is the capital of Michigan?”

“La ... um? M?”

“Better!”

Ryan spoke. “If you try to remember what you USED to think the capitals were it will just give you a headache. In fact whenever you think really hard it will give you a headache and the only thing that will make the headache go away is to think about sex instead, or how you can make yourself more fuckable—you can think as hard as you want about those things and you won’t get any headache.”

“Chrissy, what’s the difference between a rooster and a blonde?” I continued.

She tried to think of the answer and ended up grabbing her temples as an apparent headache began.

“Give up?”

She nodded tearfully, still caressing her temples.

“A rooster says, ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’ and a blonde says, ‘Any Cock’ll Do.’ How about this one—how do blonde brain cells die?”

“Owww, I don’t know.”

“Alone ... don’t you get it?”

“No!”

“Figures. Does your head hurt too much? Remember how to fix that?”

“Think about sex?”

“There you go. Thinking a lot is boring unless you are thinking about sex. What is your computer good for, Chrissy?”

“Um ... oww ... I don’t know.”

“Lots of cool stuff! Cybersex, meeting people willing to fuck you, oh, PORN SITES! In fact when nobody is around at work you will surf the net looking for porn sites, unfortunately you will get caught eventually.”

Ryan asked, “Name five things that might appear on your credit card statement now that you are blonde ...”

You could tell that she was really trying. “Sexy clothes, lingerie, sex toys, dirty magazines ... and, um, um ...”

I took pity on her. “Collagen injections for your lips. Guess why.”

“So they make people think about me wrapping my lips around big hard dicks?”

“Good girl! Now that didn’t hurt at all, did it?”

“No!” She beamed as she realized that her headache had gone away completely.

“Why don’t you practice on Ryan as we keep schooling you in the typical life of a blonde ... no, dear, don’t walk—get on your knees and crawl, that’s good, no—don’t use your hands to undo his zipper, use your teeth. Wow, you do have Ryan a little excited, don’t you? Oh, no need to answer ... Did you hear about the blonde who had two chances to get pregnant ... poor thing blew it both times ... don’t worry, I’ll explain it to you later ... slowly!

I am sure you get the idea how the rest of the evening went and every once and while even now we have her over for dinner or even go to a club with her. Chrissy is a lot of fun to watch in action at a club. Especially when she sneaks out into the parking lot with some guy and we sneak out after her to watch.

I see her around the office still. You see, I got my old job back after Chrissy screwed everything up and Malcolm got desperate. It was so bad that nothing that she could say—or do—could stop him from demoting her. Chrissy is now part of the secretarial pool but she really is just the most absent minded thing. I wonder how she keeps her job. Of course there ARE rumors. Aren’t there always?

Sometimes I wonder if I would feel guilt or regret if I hadn’t asked Ryan to make sure I didn’t have those emotions. I am glad he took care of it though because it really is so much fun to hear the whispers and rumors and to wonder if some part of her remembers.

As for me, with Chrissy as the office ride, I am treated with a lot more respect. Nobody has made a blonde joke that referred to me in a good long time. Sometimes I wish they would so I could have them over to the apartment ... and we can discuss it.