The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Beth met me outside Customs. I fell into her arms, holding her, feeling her, breathing her. She took me home. I insisted on showering when we arrived—I’d been up for so long. When I got out of the shower, as I was drying off, she said, “Andy, you’ve grown, and you’ve changed.”

“But I still love you,” I told her, stepping closer. She was wearing the robe I’d given her, perfume, and nothing else. We made gentle love. I went to sleep on her breast, home once more.

We held each other in the morning. “How many women did you make love with?” she asked, as we nestled together.

I held her head to my shoulder. “Beth, I’ve only made love with two women.”

She sighed and looked up at me with a very interesting smile. She shook her head slightly, sighed again, and pulled my head to her chest, holding me so gently, so wonderfully.

I held her closer. I told her about Bridget, about her training me, and me training her. I told her of rending the silence in Notre Dame with a cry of ecstasy, something we repeated at the top of the Tour Eiffel, and even in a crowded car on the Metro. That had been a wild one—she’d dared me, then threatened again to not let me near her nipples. I’d laughed at that—I knew how much she enjoyed turning me into putty in her embrace. Then as we were jostled along in the throng, I gave her what she wanted. Many eyes followed us when we got off that subway car. I told her of haunting the chateau, startling the Japanese.

Beth touched my cock, and rolled to straddle me. We plunged together, and as I was reveling in the sensation, her hands slid up my shoulders and to the back of my neck. She took me slowly, deliriously, intensely.

Drying off after showering, she hugged me and asked, “Andy, will you do to me what you did with her? Please?”

“Would you like that?” I asked. The thought was making me hard again.

“Mmmm.... Yes, I would—and so would you, it seems.” We made joyful love on a pile of towels on the bathroom floor.

After that, I mentioned I hadn’t had to ask Bridget’s permission before hypnotizing her. Beth smiled and told me she’d changed that so I’d be able to do whatever I needed.

My first full day back was interesting. After driving in Europe, L.A. was easy. I dropped in on the high school, but I wasn’t a part of that any more—I could feel it—I was a visitor, an outsider. I saw Sherry, Donna, and Betty at lunch. They admired my clothes, and hugged me. Sherry whispered in my ear that she needed help—when could I come over. Thursday afternoon for a while? Later, Betty thanked me for all the postcards I’d sent during my trip.

I delivered things to my high school French teacher. She was happy to see me. She complimented me on my accent—I laughed and told her I felt more comfortable speaking French, and was even dreaming in French. She asked if I’d return and speak to her classes. Of course.

Mid-afternoon, jet lag caught up with me. I knew what I wanted—I called Rachel’s number. I got her answering machine, and left a message. Sherry had a cheerleader practice. Oh well, I’m on my own. I laughed to myself—what had I told Greg, some months ago? You wouldn’t die if you didn’t get off?

God, how I’d changed—Beth and I had made love last night, twice again this morning, and undoubtedly would this evening as well. When was the last time I’d jerked off? I shook my head—that one evening with Beth’s coat. What a change from a year ago. Maybe celibacy would be good for me to practice—I couldn’t expect things to be so easy when I got to college. I could go home, wrap myself up in that coat.... Nah—the world won’t end.

I called Ben’s office. When I asked for him, his secretary said, “What?” I remembered I was back in the U.S. I repeated my request in English. “Oh, Andy—I thought I recognized your voice. Welcome back! I’ll get him.”

We spoke in French. I told him the flight was good, but I was still getting over jet lag. The biggest problem I had was driving. Why is that, he asked? I was grabbing for the gearshift, and stabbing for the clutch. He told me he could fix that. He also told me I had a lot of work to do next week, and a lot of visits to make. I told him I was looking forward to it.

Beth had asked me to give Carl a call. I did, and he suggested I stop by. I drove over to his office. After driving the Peripherique with Bridget in a little car with a funky clutch, and maneuvering on a scooter through the Latin Quarter, L.A. traffic is tame—dangerous, but tame.

Carl and I spoke about my trip. I kept lapsing into French. I kept asking him questions about contracts—I’d been translating a lot of contracts in the last few weeks. After a bit he pulled two books off his shelf and handed them to me. When I’d finished those, if I had more questions, he’d put me in touch with someone who practiced in that area. He asked me with a twinkle in his eye if I was contemplating a different career. I laughed.

Then he got somber.

“What is it, Carl?” I asked.

Beth had told me of my dad’s surgery—it had been long, and his recovery was rough. Carl told me the rest. Two weeks after surgery, dad went into seizures and died. He’d been cremated and the ashes scattered at sea. His estate had settled. I was the sole beneficiary on his life insurance. Carl was proposing to roll that money into the trust. I told him I might want to get a car. He nodded, and told me to be sure to check insurance prices and factor those into the cost of ownership.

I asked about my mom. He sighed and shook his head. “Andy, our only contact is with an attorney in San Diego. She’s taken herself off the face of the earth. Evidently she’s recovering from her breakdown, but doesn’t want anything to do with us. Beth and I specifically asked to see her, to speak to her. She doesn’t want to. She’s made her decision, and walled us off.”

I nodded and sighed. May she be at peace. I knew I couldn’t be at peace by ignoring problems. Maybe her answer was different. I hoped so, for her. I thought about Karen—I wished her peace as well.

Leaving his office, I headed back to the house again. Maybe I should take a few days and visit Stanford. Going up there with Beth would be nice.

I laughed to myself. What had the sage said? Before enlightenment, cut wood and carry water. After enlightenment, cut wood and carry water.

I drove to Ben’s office. He invited me in. I told him I needed to talk. With a smile, he asked if I’d called Emily. I shook my head. I told him about dad, and mom. I wanted the name of the restaurant in Oxnard—I wanted to take Beth there for dinner, unless he knew of some place better in the area. He smiled and said he’d look into things for me.

Standing up to leave, I told him that he and Beth were my family now. We hugged.

American money is so funny—all the same size and color. How can you tell quickly what you’ve got? I was looking for particular cuts of meat at a butcher shop, and lapsed into French. The guy behind the counter told me, “This is America, Mac. We speak English.” I laughed and got what I could.

Cooking is good therapy. I made a complete mess in the kitchen, and just about had it cleaned up when Beth got home. She stepped over to me quickly and hugged me.

“Oh, it’s so good to have you back! I missed you!”

I held her and let her rock me. “I saw Carl this afternoon,” I told her softly. She put a hand on the back of my head. “I’d like to drive down to the beach tonight after dinner,” I said. She rocked me and answered softly, “Okay.”

We talked about the difference in driving styles, money, dress, a lot of things. I showed her my pictures. She liked the large one, and told me she’d get it framed for me. She looked at Bridget in the pictures, and told me she looked quite special. I took her hand and kissed it. “She can’t compare to you, Mistress,” I told her. She gave me a wonderfully lusty smile.

We went to the beach after dinner. It was more crowded than when Karen and I walked along it. There hadn’t been a service for my dad. Beth and I stood on the shore and said goodbye to him. We hugged and cried. I told Beth of talking with Ben, and that I saw him as my father now. Beth thought he was a good choice. I told Beth of sending cards to her, and to Betty along the way. I’d thought of Karen at first, but hadn’t thought of her for weeks now. I hoped she was happy.

Beth ambushed me when we got home, and took me to the edge time after time before releasing me. We both needed that.

Ben called me the next morning. He told me about a French place in Redondo Beach I should check out. I told him that sounded good. What was the number? He asked when I’d like to go. Hmmm—I could grab Sherry tonight, she was free. That would be fun. “How about tonight, for two?” He said he’d get back to me. He called half an hour later and said we were on for six thirty, and gave me the address.

I met Sherry for lunch at school. When I told her I was taking her to dinner, she beamed, and told me to meet at her house at three.

I met her at three, and we came for the first time about ten minutes later. Eventually I helped her dress, and we got on the road.

We arrived a few minutes early. The Maitre’d gave us the hairy eyeball. I went immediately to abusive Parisian French, pointing to our reservation in his book, telling who had made the reservation for us, and that Ben would be quite disappointed when I spoke with him. I wasn’t shouting, but I was forceful. I didn’t know if he understood a word I said, but he clearly caught my meaning.

Another man appeared and spoke to us in classic Burgundian tones. Yes, we were expected. The chef had selected a menu for us. Would that be acceptable? I apologized for my language and thanked him very much—it would. Would we like to see the kitchen? Perhaps afterwards. We were shown to our table.

“What the hell was that all about?” Sherry asked me quietly as we were seated.

I smiled. “Oh, just the Parisian style of introduction. Our menu has been selected. We’ll most likely have a number of small courses in different styles. Relax and enjoy—you’re beautiful.”

We started with a fizzy fruit juice drink with a sprig of mint on top. “Sherry, it’s good to be back. I missed you.” She sighed, smiling with the rosy glow of our afternoon together. The drink was good.

The guy came back serving us the different courses, describing them in French. I translated for Sherry. He seemed happy with us. When I asked questions about one of the sauces, he beamed.

The place filled up. We had a nice table in a corner, and were the youngest in the place by far. Sherry was out of her element, but the most attractive, and handled things well—I reminded her to slow down, take her time, and savor every bite, every sip.

With the soup, a very nice leek soup, our host stuck around to chat. He asked when I’d been to France last with Mr. Carmichael. I told him. He asked where we’d eaten, and I described some of the memorable places and meals, and the lessons I’d had with Grand-mère. At one point, seeing that Sherry was tuning out from not understanding what we were saying, I described a sauce in French, “as smooth and soft and creamy as the inside of her thighs,” nodding her way. A nearby guest turned his head wide-eyed at that one—Sherry caught the tone of our laughter, and blushed very nicely.

“Yes, I was talking about you,” I whispered to her as our host walked away, chuckling. I held her hand and she growled at me. I thought the male guest was going to drop his fork.

As we sipped coffee at the end of our leisurely meal, our host asked how we’d enjoyed it. I told him it had been superb, and asked the chances of making a reservation for two on Mother’s day in a few weeks. I told him I realized they were probably quite busy, and would understand if they couldn’t take us. He walked away and returned a few minutes later, with a card showing reservations at five. I thanked him profusely.

We met the chef. I greeted him with a Parisian hug. I asked about preparation and some of the sauces. We were invited back to the kitchen. “Would you like to see the kitchen?” I asked Sherry. She nodded. I helped her from her chair. As I did, I whispered, “After we see the kitchen, you should give the chef a hug, okay?” She smiled.

I asked more questions about sauces and preparation. Everyone was most helpful. They even gave me the name of a market that had fresh herbs. Leaving the kitchen, I thanked the chef once again. Sherry hugged him quite nicely and gave him a peck on the cheek, saying, “Thank you, that was delicious.” He beamed.

I pulled out my wallet as we walked with our host to the front. He told me in French that it was taken care of. I pulled out a hundred dollar bill and handed it to him, telling him that may be good hospitality, but it was poor business—was this enough? He smiled, took it, and thanked us again. He looked forward to seeing me on Mother’s day.

We got in my mom’s old car again. I wanted something nicer. But, this one ran, was paid for, and I’d be leaving in a month or two again.

“What did you think of that?” I asked Sherry, after I gave her a kiss.

“Andy, that was great. I’ve never had a meal like that before. Is it really that expensive?”

I nodded as we headed out of the parking lot. “Yes—and once we got past the door, we were treated superbly.”

She ran her hands over me. “Oh, how am I going to thank you for that....”

She put on quite the show describing the event to her parents when we got to her place. She’d eaten things she didn’t even know were edible, used more silverware in one meal than she did in a week, we were the center of attention, on and on.

“So, would you like to do that again some time?” I asked her when she paused for a moment.

She grabbed me and kissed me, in front of her parents.

“I’ll take that as yes,” I said, to their laughter.

“How was dinner?” Beth asked when I got home.

“Wonderful,” I said, holding her. “You’re going to love it. We’ve reservations.”

“Oh? When?”

“Five in the afternoon on Mother’s day.”

The expression on her face was complex, but happy. We hugged again, and kissed.

In bed that night, she started holding me, but I wiggled out of her grasp and pulled her legs to the side of the bed. She sighed. I spoke softly, and stroked softly, taking her deep. I got the coat and did to her what I’d done to Rachel, and to Bridget. She came quivering and moaning, time and again. I took her deep again, put the coat away, and went back to bed. I took her up and into normal sleep, and curled up at her breast. She sighed as my mouth made contact, and moved a hand to hold me.

She got up in the middle of the night. When she returned to bed, I held her. “Okay?” I asked. She snuggled in. “The good news is I’m not pregnant,” she told me. “I understand,” I whispered. She had her period again.

In the morning when the alarm went off, she held me to a nipple. She took me down into trance gently, then rolled me to my back. She took me between her breasts, controlling my body with her voice, her hands, and her breasts, and when I came, I saw stars. She got up from the bed laughing softly.

I went in to Ben’s office around ten. “What do I do, Boss?” I asked him. After he grilled me on the meal I’d had with Sherry, including a detailed description of how she’d been dressed, he gave me a stack of orders to go through. I worked with Kelly in the office, getting them done. Ben had a lunch appointment. Kelly and I went to In-N-Out Burger—I hadn’t had a burger fix in months!

Kelly is a kick. She’s in her early thirties, short red hair and freckles. She’s a Canadian transplant, from Montreal, and bilingual from birth. She told me how happy Ben had been when he got back, telling people how this had been his best trip in years. He also talked about me as if I was his son, and a son he was proud of. I told her we were lucky to work with him.

I got home about five thirty on that Friday night. Beth got home about fifteen minutes later. We hugged and kissed. “I need Mexican food,” I said. She laughed. “And, I need to be held,” I told her. “That’s better,” she said.

We had to wait to get into our favorite place, but it was worth it. I’d gotten quite used to drinking wine or beer with meals, and missed it. We went to a mall afterwards. I had grown on the trip, and the pants I’d gotten in September didn’t fit any more—they were too short. Beth was glad to see I’d stayed in shape on the trip. I told her that Ben and I had practiced an ugly American habit—running in the morning. She laughed and rolled her eyes.

Saturday morning the phone rang, and Beth answered it. After a moment, she handed it to me and said with a puzzled look, “This has to be for you.”

The guy on the other end barraged me with rapid-fire French. He’d spoken to the people I’d spent the afternoon with at the Sorbonne, had reviewed my application, and my choice of major was unacceptable. After a bit of give-and-take, he told me he was part of psychiatry department at Stanford, and why the hell wasn’t I going pre-med?

I tried to explain to him that I hadn’t decided, I’d never set foot on the campus, but I would like to talk to people about it. When would I like to come up? Week after next? He’d be happy to host me for three or four days, to help me make the “right” decision.

I laughed at that. We spoke some more. He wanted to know what I’d read. I told him of what I’d done with Emily, and then of the two books I’d been given, and going through those. I was interested in reading more. He harrumphed and told me I could write better. We talked about Paris, and how I’d liked it—fine, except for the dog shit and the smoke. We argued about which area had the best brasseries. I was partial to the Latin Quarter. We talked about wines and cheeses.

Our conversation wound down. So, he’d talk to me mid-week, and send me some material right away. He gave me his name and phone numbers, which I wrote down. He looked forward to meeting me.

I hung up, and laughed. Beth laughed as well, and hugged me.

“Andy, what was that? I’ve never seen you so animated!”

I leaned against the counter. “I think I’m visiting Stanford week after next, and being arm-twisted into pre-med. God, that was intense!”

She gave me another hug. “I’ll say! You think he could see your gestures over the phone?”

I laughed. “It’s part of the language. What’s up for today?”

“Fun stuff—groceries and laundry. And some of us have to study—classes, you know.”

“Oof... Okay, let’s do the shopping, and you study while I do laundry. I’d like to cook tonight.”

“It’s a deal. Pre-med will be a lot of work. Sure you want to do that?”

“My math teacher at City told me I’d have to start studying hard sooner or later.”

We did our shopping. I wanted to try the place the folks at the restaurant suggested. It was out of the way, but Beth and I loved it. I even got to haggle some in French, thanking Grand-mère once more.

While Beth studied, I did laundry, made pasta, and pesto with fresh basil. It smelled glorious. “God, Andy—is there enough garlic in that?” she asked at one point. “Impossible!” I replied, with an overemphasized Gallic laugh.

I massaged her shoulders, and her feet after dinner. I eased her into trance and fingered her to a delicious orgasm, talking to her all the time. We snuggled together in bed, like two cloves of garlic.

There is something special about the morning, about being held in the morning. After breakfast, I went to a local nursery, and spent quite a while working in her small yard. I planted basil, rosemary, and thyme. Afterwards, I went for a run. I was really getting into running.

I felt really good when I got out of the shower. I dried off and stepped back into the bedroom.

She was waiting for me. I felt the tingle of her hands running up my body, and then she did something, said something, and I fell onto the bed. Everything was so sensuous, thick—her taste, her perfume, her body pressed against mine. I came with a shudder and a moan, and she held me again, carrying me off to sleep.

I woke up, naked on the bed with the comforter over me. I’d slept an hour or so. I smelled sausage cooking. I dressed and went into the kitchen.

“Was that fair?” I asked, sliding up to her.

She laughed. “Not at all, and it was a lot of fun. You seemed to enjoy it.”

I hugged her.

Dinner was simple and good. We talked about what she was studying this semester.

We both read after dinner. She smiled as we got into bed. Her period wouldn’t be over for a few days yet. I tossed the covers back, and straddled her. I caressed the sides of her breasts and started speaking softly, relaxing her. She sighed and closed her eyes, smiling. She moaned and shuddered a few minutes later as I continued stroking her sensuous, soft skin. We curled up and went to sleep.

Monday morning, I thought I’d go to Ben’s office, and we’d take off from there. He surprised me. For one, he showed up at the house about twenty to nine. And, he showed up in a Mazda Miata, with the top down.

“Let’s go,” he said, tossing me the keys. “Seal Beach and South today.”

I asked him about the new wheels. It was rented—he wanted to try something new. We had a lot of fun in that car. I’d driven a stick shift in France with Bridget, and it was good to do it again. We drove back at the end of the day along Pacific Coast Highway. I practically danced Beth around the kitchen when I got home. Even though I’d spent most of the day driving, it had been a gas.

The next morning, he showed up with a BMW roadster. When he tossed me the keys, he said I wouldn’t be driving all day. We went inland, and the roads weren’t as much fun. But the car was—a lot more zip than the Miata. I told him we really needed to take this one up to Santa Monica, and come back around Portuguese Bend and San Pedro. He laughed and agreed.

When I got home that night, just as exhilarated as on Monday, there was a Federal Express package waiting for me. Beth hadn’t opened it. When we did, it had some psychology books, in both French and English, more information on Stanford, including the pre-med program and the medical school, and a plane ticket for next Monday morning. I waved it and rolled my eyes at Beth. She smiled.

The professor called at about eight. Yes, I’d received the package. Yes, I’d seen the ticket. Okay, I’d be met at the airport. Okay, I’ll see you next Monday.

I looked at Beth. “I’ll be picked up at the airport, and delivered back there Thursday morning. I think I’m set. What words of wisdom can you give me?”

She smiled. “Be yourself, but be careful. You’re still a babe in the woods.”

I nodded. “Undergrad, med school, residency, specialization—what is that, ten or twelve years?”

She nodded.

“Shit, that’s as much time as I’ve spent in school so far.”

“I think you’re getting the idea,” she told me.

We had the BMW again the next day, and headed to Santa Monica. I told Ben I’d be out the next week, up at Stanford. We talked about school. He made a strong push for working with him, telling me I had a good nose for the business. I told him I was torn—spend the summer working with him, or be with him in Europe and spend the rest of the time at the chateau. He nodded and told me we’d be hitting different parts of Europe starting mid June. I told him I had to be around for both the Junior and Senior Prom, and graduation.

Beth called me during the afternoon, letting me know she was going right to school from work, and wouldn’t be home until late. When Ben dropped me off, I went out for a run, jumping into the swimming pool at the end, not even bothering to take off my shoes.

When Beth got home, I was on the couch reading. I had my French-English dictionary, my note pad, and one of the books I’d been sent.

“How was your day?” she asked.

I stood up and stretched. We hugged. I rubbed her back. She sighed and I laughed a little.

“What?” she asked.

“After dinner, I talked to Emily—thought I’d find out something about Henri, my Stanford host.”

“And?”

I chuckled. “When I mentioned his name, I could practically hear her bristling over the phone.”

“Oh?”

“It was weird. Her words and her voice told two wildly different stories. He’s well known and well respected, and having him interested in me is a very good sign. But....”

She nodded. “Could you put a finger on it?”

“Not sure, but I’d take a guess at male chauvinist pig for a start—I think that’s something that gets her hacked off.”

“Yes, it does. Tread carefully, Andy.”

Thursday Ben showed up with a Honda roadster. It didn’t have the zip of the BMW, but was more refined than the Miata. We went up to Thousand Oaks, and I learned that stick shifts are not always fun—especially in stop-and-go driving.

I got home late. Beth had dinner going. I tried reading after dinner, but my heart wasn’t in it. She smiled said it was time for bed.

She ambushed me as we entered the bedroom. I remember her crying out, her weight on top of me, her moaning as I pumped into her, and her soft cooing as she held me and we drifted off to sleep.

Rolling out of bed and to the shower the next morning, she said, “My period is over.”

I hugged her in the water. “I guessed. Thank you.”

We drove the Honda to Westwood on Friday. It was a more leisurely day. On the way back Ben asked which had been my favorite. I told him the BMW, but it was totally impractical.

He laughed and asked why. I told him I’d checked insurance costs—and they were staggering for the BMW. A turbocharged Volvo was just as fast, carried more, cost less, and was far less expensive to insure. He clapped me on the back and told me I should stick to business. So, did I want to drive around in Europe this summer in a Volvo? Hell no! A BMW, or a convertible Mercedes! We both laughed.

Beth and I went out to dinner Friday night. We walked on the beach afterwards.

“Beth, what’s my biggest weakness? What should I worry about? How can I fuck up this trip?”

She sighed and held me closer, her arm around my waist as we walked on the packed sand.

“Don’t be overconfident. Beware of arrogance. Be strong, be yourself, be careful. You’re stepping into another world.”

“Am I getting arrogant?” I asked.

“You will, if you’re not careful. You’ve had a lot of successes recently. But, you’re not infallible. You’re not Superman, or Casanova. You’re Andy, who has just turned 18, and has a lot of possibilities open to him.”

I sighed. “Thank you. Keep me on my toes. I do have so much to learn.”

She smiled. “Anything else?”

I sighed again, hands around her waist, touching hip to hip as we did so often.

“Some times I know you so well, and other times not at all.”

She sighed, and held me close, putting her head on my shoulder. “Oh, Andy.... This has been such a wild, wild ride.” What did I feel in her? Holding back?

When we got home, we made gentle love. I held her head to my shoulder afterwards, and though of Karen as I went to sleep.

Sunday night was another packing night. We talked softly. We made love softly. She dropped me at the Orange County airport the next morning.

I met Beth back in the Orange County airport Thursday night. I hugged her fiercely.

“That must have been some trip,” she said as she took my bag, and we kissed again.

I shook my head. “There’s quite a difference between First Class on Air France, and Southwest Airlines.”

She laughed. “I believe the proper response to that is ‘No shit.’ But how was your visit? Tell me about your host.”

“Beth, the campus and the school are fantastic. But that man—I’ve never met a more pompous, self-centered, egotistical, arrogant, know-it-all—male chauvinist pig doesn’t even start...”

“Sounds like a psychiatrist to me,” she interrupted, hugging my waist.

I shook my head as we walked along to her car. “That’s what worries me. I need to talk to Emily, and to Vivian Hsu and her husband—maybe to some of the docs you work with. I met a few others just like him. Yet others seemed to be almost normal people. Which group predominates? I don’t understand.”

“Andy,” she asked, “Do you know what M.D. stands for?”

“Yeah, it’s Latin for doctor of medicine.”

She shook her head and smiled. “No, it stands for Minor Deity. Andy, medical school teaches you to play God with people’s lives. Psychiatry teaches you to play God with their minds and souls as well.”

I shook my head. “That explains a lot. Beth, at one point, I was ready to get on the next plane back here, tell Ben I was his, and go to Cal State and study business—that or go back to the chateau and be a chef.”

“So what changed your mind?”

I sighed. “He took me around at first. The way he introduced me to a woman psychiatrist, a faculty member no less, was so offensive to me that I sought her out afterwards to apologize. We talked quite a bit. Her husband teaches internal medicine—I got to meet him as well. And, they’re the reason I’m late getting home.”

“Oh, another long chat?”

“A long chat, but not with them. They introduced me to a local therapist, a psychologist. He actually studied with Assagioli. We spent almost three hours together today. God, it was wild. He lives in an older residential part of Palo Alto—two or three blocks from a main drag, a short bike ride from campus. But you go in this side gate to his place, and he has a bungalow around back—that’s his office. I told him I’d want to see him regularly. Can I afford it?”

She sighed and rubbed my shoulders. “Yes, you can. You’ve decided on pre-med?”

I shook my head. “Not completely. I want to talk to Emily, Vivian, at least. The program is actually pretty well rounded. And since I’ve had two years of math and a year and a half of French, plus the other courses, I’ve got some leeway. The psychology people will let me challenge some classes—I talked to one of the people who participated in the phone call from Emily’s office a while back. God, that seems like years ago.”

“And did the teenager have some fun?”

I laughed. “Yes, he did. I ran every day. They’re going to put me in a Francophile dorm. I talked to a lot of students—first year pre-meds, med school students, and random kids. I spent Tuesday evening talking and drinking wine with a group of them—I was walking across campus, looking around, and a couple of them walked up to me, speaking French. Guess it was the clothes I was wearing. They really liked the bawdy songs I picked up in Marseilles. Oh, and I didn’t have a hangover the next day—thank you so much for that birthday present, and thanks to Ben for what he did to me. My interview with some of the psych school folks was early Wednesday morning, and if I’d been hung over, it would have been very bad.”

“What else did the teenager do?”

“Ate pizza, drank beer, talked to pretty girls. Oh, I cooked some as well. That was fun.”

“Looking forward to it, then?”

I nodded. “I am. It’s going to be a lot of work. I won’t be able to cook as much as I’d like.” I put a hand on her leg. “And I won’t be able to hold you.”

“Yes, I’ll miss that as well. What now?”

I shook my head. “Talk to people. God, that man—you know, for all his arrogance and ego, I’m positive he’s scared of the dark?”

“What?”

“Yeah. He’s got these nightlights all over his house—little plug-in things with batteries—they light up if the power fails, two in a room, most places. There were two of them in the room I was in. I unplugged them so I could sleep better, and I thought he was going to come unglued when he noticed it the next day. Talk about feet of clay! Makes me wonder what my blind spots are.”

“What do you think they are?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m watching for arrogance. I know I’m as ignorant as a brick, but that’s why I’m going to school. I need to be confident, but not over-confident. I need to take the chance to be me, to take the path with heart.”

My voice and my eyes clouded up a bit. “Tuesday night, one of the girls asked about memorable moments from my trip, and I started describing that drive, that afternoon, being cold and tired driving along, and seeing the spires of Chartres in the mist ahead of us, of attending services with the locals the next morning...” I paused to wipe my eyes, laughing a little. “I couldn’t talk about it then without breaking up, either. God, Beth—I can imagine what it must have felt like to travelers hundreds of years ago, going along that same road, seeing it in the distance.” I had to stop talking. I felt her hand on my shoulder.

We made it home. I dumped my dirty clothes into the washing machine. Beth chided me for not separating the whites and colors. I stuck out my tongue. She laughed, and held me.

Our laughing embrace turned more needy. We were both needy in bed.

The alarm went off in the morning. Beth whacked it. I groaned, “Do I have to go to work?”

She laughed and pulled me close. “No, silly—it’s your choice. Tell Ben you need time off. Take time off.”

I started to answer, but when I opened my mouth, she filled it. She used me, and I loved it.

Ben showed up driving a Volvo wagon—a turbocharged all-wheel-drive Volvo wagon, a dark metallic blue. He tossed me the keys, and said, “Thousand Oaks, then Oxnard.”

I adjusted the seat before setting off, and set the mirrors. It was a very nice car, and I told him so.

“Andy, you were right again.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been driving this thing all week—it’s great. And you were definitely right on the insurance—even for me, this is much cheaper. The fools actually think this car is safe!”

It was a gas to drive. There’s a long hill on 101 North going to Camarillo. Ben’s car had done okay on it, but this thing—I stomped my foot to the floor, and when the turbo kicked in, we flew up the hill.

In Oxnard at the end of the day, we spent half an hour or more talking about our trip. Our hosts were interested in my opinions. I remained soft spoken. We reviewed orders, booked a new order, and went to dinner.

On the way home, I was about to play lead-foot again, going up the hill near Camarillo, when Ben, who was still awake, muttered, “un flic,” and nodded to a California Highway Patrol car.... I stuck to pretty much the speed limit. We got better mileage that way.

On that drive home, I talked with Ben about the Stanford trip, and the people I’d met. He agreed with Beth on what “M.D.” meant. The psychiatrists he’d met had been bright people, and devoted to their work—you had to be, to survive the training. But it was wrong to assume, he told me, that brash character traits and competence were incompatible—Emily had great respect for some people he couldn’t stand, and evidently she couldn’t either, for other than short periods. Henri fell into that category. But there were good ones as well. After all, he’d married one.

The way he looked at it, Emily had a great need to help people, and to understand people. Some times, though, she had her own agenda, insisting the client was too screwed up to see that she was correct. Not that she talked about her work with him—they’d agreed long ago on that. But some of her work did leak over into their lives. He looked to me and smiled. “Andy, she’s more involved with you than with anyone I can remember. She’s interested in your whole family.”

“Why?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Why? She has a drive to understand and to help. That much I know. Why is a question I can’t answer—I don’t know if anyone can.”

I nodded, and we drove on in darkness. When we got home, we started out shaking hands, but soon hugged. He told me he’d see me Monday. “Driving what?” I asked. He laughed and waved.

Inside, Beth was sitting at the dining room table studying. I walked up behind her, and started rubbing her shoulders. She sighed and put her head down on the paper she’d been writing on. I worked on her shoulders and neck for a while, then leaned over and started whispering in her ear, whispering for her to relax. She sighed, smiled, and I continued.

I eased her into trance, and then brought her to what I hoped was a memorable orgasm. She sounded as if she enjoyed it, at least.

When she raised her head later on, looking at me with a dreamy smile, I couldn’t help but laugh. When she asked, I helped her up, and took her into the bathroom. Ink from the notes she’d taken had transferred to the side of her face. We got ready for bed, and curled up together. Her hand found the back of my head, holding me close. I tried pulling away at one point, and she held me tight, did something, and I fell into trance, fell into her. She rode me slowly and sensuously, and then whispered me to sleep, floating in her arms.

We made unhurried love the next morning. We went out for a short run, then showered, and had some breakfast. Beth gave me a shopping list, some money, and told me she needed to study—she’d been interrupted the night before.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” I told her.

She laughed. “I didn’t—not one bit.”

I was ready to go shopping after lunch when I had an idea. I picked up the phone, and called Betty’s place. I talked to her for a bit—she was glad to hear from me. Then I asked if her parents were home. Her mother was home, and I asked to speak with her. As best I could, I told her I’d visited Stanford, and would like to talk to her, and her husband, if possible, trying to decide if pre-med was for me. Would she have a time that was convenient?

She sounded delighted—that afternoon would be fine, if I could make it. Her husband would be home in an hour or so. I told her I’d be over.

Beth looked up and raised an eyebrow as I hung up the phone. I kissed her on the head. “I love you. I’m going to do talking before I do shopping, okay?”

She smiled and gave me a squeeze. “Sounds good. Take your time—you don’t have to decide right away.”

I drove over to the Chan’s house. While Betty participated in the conversation at the start, things began to get quite a bit thicker. She excused herself just about the time I think one of us was ready to ask her to leave.

Doctor Hsu knew Henri, my host—and respected what he’d done, but not necessarily who he was. Our conversations were so open—more so than I’d been with Emily in a while. Her husband, Doctor Chan, got home and joined in. We talked more about pre-med, and med school. They were both remarkably frank with me—admitting to the tendencies to play God.

We’d been hearing the violin in the background—Betty was evidently practicing. Little Gary came in, and with a pouting lower lip, asked in English what was for dinner. I looked at the clock—it was almost five! We’d been talking for over three hours!

I apologized, and told them I should be going—I still had grocery shopping to do, and I was supposed to fix dinner.

Doctor Chan suggested I stay—he was going to barbecue, had plenty, and suggested I invite Beth. I agreed, after a little arm-twisting, if I could fix dessert. I called Beth on the phone—she agreed to come over in about an hour.

I asked if anyone was allergic to milk or coconut—nope. Then I asked Gary if he’d like to help me make a coconut pie. Yes, he would. Okay, first I needed to go to the store with Betty.

In the car we talked about school. She was doing well. When I pointedly asked if anyone was giving her trouble, she smiled, and told me she’d had a problem once, but the girl who had bothered her apologized the next day—looking roughed up. Sherry had turned into a very good student.

We held hands through the store. On the way back I asked if she had a date for the Junior Prom. She sighed, looked at me, and said she did. I could see the questioning in her eyes. At the stoplight, I had the time to kiss her hand. She sighed again. She told me one of her orchestra friends had asked her, and she couldn’t turn him down. I told her she did the right thing.

Back at the house, I had Gary crush graham crackers for the crust. He really enjoyed that. The pie I made was simple—Grand-mère would have been horrified. Well, maybe not—it was appropriate for the meal.

We were all drinking either pink lemonade or iced tea. Betty’s dad cooked pork ribs. I helped with salad. Betty and Gary set the table.

Beth arrived, coming in with something large, thin, and rectangular, wrapped in brown paper. I got her some iced tea, and we sat down together outside. She picked up the package and handed it to me. I gave her a questioning eyebrow and she nodded slightly.

I unwrapped it. She’d framed the large sepia print, and framed it very nicely. Was that really me in that picture? I doubted it, but at the same time, I could close my eyes and feel the weight of the platter in my hands, the sweat on my forehead, Bridget’s hand on my back, smell the onions and the sauce on the meat.

I showed it to everyone, and talked about the meal I’d prepared, with help from Bridget and Grand-mère. That had been a big event for me—preparing and serving a dinner for six, our hosts and four guests. Bridget had helped me serve. Grand-mère had been there as support, coaching me, making sure I kept things simple. It had been a success, and at the same time, an ordeal.

Gary wanted to know who the two ladies were. I told them they were my teachers. Grand-mère taught me to cook. Bridget taught me art, history, and language.

Betty looked at me and asked, “What else did she teach you?”

I smiled and looked in her eyes. “De l’amour, de la vérité, de lumière,” I whispered. She gave me a wistful look, and a sigh.

Doctor Chan broke the spell by asking Gary if he wanted to help start the barbeque. Gary jumped up. I went back to the kitchen with Beth, Betty, and Doctor Hsu. I finished up on the salad, showing them some of the preparation skills I’d been taught.

We had a good meal. Beth helped rehash the conversation I’d had with the two doctors. I brought Betty into it as well, asking what she thought, for herself, and for me. The pie was a good choice, fitting the meal well. Both doctors told me they’d arrange conversations with colleagues for me. We left a little after eight. I followed Beth home.

“I’m sorry—I never got the things we needed,” I told her as we walked into the house.

She hugged me. “That’s okay. What you did was more important. Any closer to a decision?”

I sighed. “Other than wanting to be in bed with you? A little closer. I need to call Sherry. Betty has a date for her prom.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

I held her closer, relaxing into her, yet staying with the feelings. “I could see the mix of feelings in her face when she told me. I’m happy for her. I made the decision to remove myself from that world. I can’t expect them to put their lives on hold for me.” Another thought crossed my mind. “Any more than I can expect you to put your life on hold for me. We all need to move on, to live and grow.”

I was surprised by the intensity with which she held me.

“Oh Andy, but when you’re with me...” she whispered. She gave me another squeeze. “Will you let me study for about an hour?”

I held her and kissed her neck. “Sure. I should do some reading as well.”

“Any desire to see Emily, professionally?” she asked.

I sighed. “Not sure. I need to let things percolate for a while.”

We kissed and I let her get to her reading. I walked outside, walking over by the pool. It was nice out, with a cool breeze. I opened my phone and called Sherry’s house. Her dad answered.

“Hi, this is Andy. I don’t suppose Sherry is home on a Saturday night?”

He chuckled. “No, she isn’t. She went out with a few kids earlier. How are you doing?”

“Oh, pretty well. Could you have her call me tomorrow? I want to talk to her about the Prom.”

I heard him sigh over the phone. “She still hasn’t told you, then?”

I looked up to the stars. A few were visible. I took a breath, slow and deep, exhaling and savoring the sensations. “Nope. I understand, though. Don’t mention to her that I called.”

“Andy, I’m sorry to break it to you. Is there anything we can do?”

“No, thanks. Please—don’t mention I called. I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay, Andy. Take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, sir. Good night.”

I turned off the phone and clipped it back on my belt. I sat down by the edge of the pool. That phase of my life was over. I needed to move on. What now? I thought about France, about Ben, about Stanford, and about Beth. So many chapters in my life had ended—my parents, Karen, high school. How would the other chapters end? Beth? Ben?

Closure—what did it mean? Beth and I had achieved closure with my dad during that walk on the beach. We’d said goodbye. I’d said goodbye to Karen. I needed to say goodbye to the high school. What about Beth? Do I take affirmative steps, or do I let things unwind on their own, fizzle out on their own?

Looking up into the night, I saw the flashing lights of an aircraft high in the sky. I stood up, sighing. What I needed to do now was pee. That was something I could do. I walked back to the house.

I pushed my nose into a book, but my eyes were going over the words, and nothing was sticking. I started to close the book. I chuckled softly, and flipped back to the start of the chapter. I’d better develop good study habits—Stanford wasn’t going to wait for my emotional roller coaster rides. I took another deep breath and focused.

We went to bed, made love gently and wordlessly, and went to sleep holding each other.

After breakfast Sunday, I went to the store and did the shopping I should have done the day before. Beth was coming up on exams again, so we spent most of the afternoon studying. I fixed dinner.

A while after dinner, Beth closed her books and announced, “I’m taking a hot bath.”

After about half an hour, I poured a small glass of cognac to take in to her. The lights were off in the bathroom, the only illumination provided by a candle at the foot of the tub. Her eyes were at about half mast as she turned her head a little and smiled.

I sat by the side of the tub, putting down the glass. I touched her forehead and spoke softly, taking her into trance. Her sigh was wonderful as her eyes drifted closed. I spoke her to orgasm, holding the back of her head so she didn’t slip into the water. After letting her float and relax, I brought her up slowly. I drank her cognac. I helped her out of the tub, and helped her dry off. Soon we were in bed, and as she started to reach for me, I took her into trance once again, relaxing her, and having her hold me and rock me to sleep.

I forgot to set the damn alarm, which made Monday morning a bit frantic as I showered, we had a bite to eat, and hustled out the door. On the front step, Beth hugged me and gave me a kiss. “Thank you so much for last night—I’ll get you for that!”

I was getting into my (my mom’s) car when Ben drove up in the blue Volvo.

It was good to talk to him as we drove around. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I had Mother’s Day the next Sunday, but after that, the next thing I needed to do was start at Stanford in September. When Ben asked about the prom, graduation, and the like, I told him I was done there. Sherry and Betty both had prom dates. Focusing on that was looking back, and I needed to look forward. He nodded and grunted.

That night after dinner I spent about an hour on the phone with an M.D., a colleague of Doctor Hsu, talking about things. I hung up the phone, and my hand barely left it when Beth ambushed me.

By the end of the week, I’d talked to more doctors. I also spend a morning talking to the City College French class. That was a lot of fun. I got into it at one point, looking into the eyes of a pretty girl in the class, talking about the sensuality and passion in truffles and cooking. As I spoke, I saw her nipples respond, her skin tone shift. I was definitely seducing her with my voice, from ten feet away.

Ben and I arranged things Thursday so we could meet a psychiatrist in Santa Monica for dinner. He and his wife hosted us (we brought wine, of course, and I didn’t drink any). He’d gone to Stanford, and knew Henri very well. It was a wild conversation. Part of it was inquiry and exploration—was this the path for me? Part of it was therapy, with him leading me to explore. Everyone, except for one person, was telling me I had to decide for myself.

I was quiet on the drive home. I thanked Ben for putting up with me. He grunted and smiled. Beth wasn’t due home for half an hour or so. I fired up the computer and sent a flurry of electronic mail to France. Could I come over early? In two weeks or so? Could I stay until late August? I’d have an answer in a few days, hopefully.

Beth got home late, looking tired. We cleaned up, went to bed, and I held her.

I checked email Friday morning—Beth had to leave a little early for work. I printed them out and read with a long sigh. I was welcome whenever I arrived, with M. Broussard in Paris, and at the Chateau. The sooner I arrived, the better. That quieted me down with Ben. After our second stop, he asked, “Well?”

I gave him a questioning look.

“What are you going to do?”

I nodded, took a breath, and told him. I wanted to go back to France, to the Chateau, for the summer, except for the time he was there, of course. I’d leave in a week or two, if things worked out. I had to pry an opinion out of him, but he finally told me I had the freedom and the flexibility. What things did I need to work out? Was I attending graduation? No, I wasn’t attending graduation. I had to figure out how to tell Beth. Ben sighed and nodded, then smiled. He told me I picked interesting problems. I chuckled, and he put a hand on my shoulder.

He asked if I was still taking Beth out on Sunday, Mother’s day. I nodded. He told me to drop him at his house, and take the Volvo. I raised an eyebrow. He nodded, and I thanked him.

That got me home after Beth had arrived. I’d no sooner walked in the door, and the phone rang. It was Henri from Stanford. Had I come to my senses yet? Did that mean pre-med? Yes—was I going to go pre-med, or was I going to throw my life away? I laughed at him. I told him I was going to change to pre-med, psychology. He told me he’d take care of that for me.

And what was I going to do during the summer? There were classes I could take. I looked around—we were speaking rapid-fire street French. Beth was in the office, or bedroom. I took the cordless phone out onto the small patio.

I told him I was going to France in a week or two, and staying until late August. And what the hell was I going to do there? I was going to be a cook at a private chateau. He was disgusted with me again—throwing away all that time. I told him that was his problem, not mine—his attitude was bugging me again. He backpedaled, and asked for details on where I’d be staying.

I expected to spend a few days in Paris, then go to the chateau. I’d spend probably two weeks in mid-June driving around Europe with Ben, then back to the chateau. Where was the chateau? I went back to the house, and gave him the address. He harumphed and told me he’d work out something to make my time over there worthwhile. I thanked him for his concern. We talked about trivia for a while, and the conversation ended. I hung up the phone with a headache.

Beth was looking wistful, standing in the hallway.

“Mexican?” I asked her.

She nodded.

“Let me pee, and we’ll go. I’ll drive.”

Beth liked the Volvo. We had to wait a bit to get a seat at the restaurant. While waiting, I told her of my talk with Henri, at least part of it, and my decision to go pre-med. We had a good meal, and afterwards I drove us to the beach. We got out of the car, and I led Beth by the hand to a bench.

“Beth, I want to go back to France for the summer. I want to leave in a week or two, and stay through August, a few weeks before school starts. Does that make sense?”

She sighed and held me. After a bit, she said, “Oh, Andy—if that’s what you want to do. But who’s making these decisions?”

I leaned back a bit, pressing hip to hip. “It’s my decision. It’s how I want to spend the summer.”

She looked in my eyes, smiling slightly. “What you want to do, or an escape from something else?”

I sighed. “It’s definitely a change, from what I’m doing now, and what I’ll be doing when I get back. It’s a chance to learn, to explore, and to do. Beth, there’s something about cooking, preparing things with my own hands....”

She smiled, turning a bit, and holding my hands in hers. “How about graduation?”

I frowned. “I graduated in January.”

She nodded. “Have you looked for someone else to take to the prom?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Beth, I’m not part of that world any more. I won’t be here for the summer. Why should I intrude momentarily on someone’s life?”

“I want to see you reach closure with that part of your life. Graduation, the prom, those events give you the opportunity to celebrate, to mark completion, to take your victory lap.”

I nodded again. “I marked my victory when I signed that settlement agreement. Beth, if I went, I’d be there as an observer, and an outsider. I left that world in January, voluntarily. I said my goodbyes then.”

She nodded, smiling slightly. “Did you? It’s also your opportunity to show people how you’ve grown—you not only faced adversity, but have become stronger as a result of it. Remember the teachers, and the students who supported you? They staged an open rebellion—for you. You’d be showing them that their efforts weren’t in vain, and are appreciated. You’d have one more opportunity, a last opportunity, to thank them.”

I smiled and sighed, then chuckled a bit. “I thought you wanted me to make my own decisions.”

She chuckled with me. “I want you to make the right decisions.”

“Oh?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

She laughed openly, then looked at me again, smiling. “Andy, I want you to consider things carefully—choose actively.”

“Okay. I’ll see what comes up. Things are open.”

We sat looking at each other for a while, without words.

I raised a hand and brushed her face. “Oh Beth, " I said softly, “It would be so easy to stay with you, have Ben lead me around, spend the summer in your arms.”

She held my hand and kissed it. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. But that’s not what I want to do. There’s a world out there.”

She nodded, still holding my hand.

After a bit, I smiled and asked her, “Tell me—what’s the other shoe?”

She sighed. “Taking a page from Emily’s book?”

I nodded. “And yours, and Vivian Hsu’s. What is it?”

Her expression became more intense. “Who decided on pre-med?”

I sighed and shook my head, almost an exasperated sigh. “Beth, I did. Really. I’ll show you the course stuff and my work sheets. With the college credits I’ve got already, it’s a flexible program. I can do pre-med and psychology, and still take math. It’s pretty well rounded. From all the docs I’ve talked to, pre-med doesn’t steal your soul, med school does. So, I’ve got four years to decide, and in the process, I get a well-rounded education. I can even spend my Junior year studying in Paris.”

“In four years, I can graduate pre-med and psychology. Then I decide which road to travel—psychology, medical school, or something else entirely. I know Henri wants me to go pre-med, med school, psych specialization, the whole nine yards. I have not caved in to him. I have not decided on med school. I have a lot of exploring to do, internally and externally. I expect to set up a weekly schedule with John, the psychologist I mentioned. I expect to have fun.”

She nodded, holding my hands. “Okay. Remember, you’re eighteen, not thirty. You have the time to do wild things.”

I looked at her intensely. “That’s why I want to go back to France! Go back to the tiny, hot kitchen of an old chateau, with Grand-mère pulling on my ear and berating my choice of vegetables.”

She nodded, smiling again. “And Bridget pulling somewhere else?”

I sighed. “Beth, she’s a courtesan, and very skilled. I don’t expect her to be there. I’ll survive without her.”

She laughed and hugged me. “Yes, you will. And you’ll grow. Oh, Andy—I’ll miss you so much though. You’re so warm in the mornings, and I need to be held so much.”

“Beth, I need to hold you, and I need to be held as well. I love you, and I always will.”

She sighed and sat back a bit. I could see the moisture in her eyes. “I love you, Andy. Let’s go home.”

We walked back to the car. We kissed standing next to it.

“Thank you for talking to me, Andy,” Beth said, holding me.

“Thank you for teaching me. I needed to tell you.”

I opened the car door for her.

As she got in, she said, “Especially as you left printouts of your emails on the counter.”

I sighed and closed the door for her.

I got in and buckled up. As I started the car, I told her, “You could visit for a week or so. We could do Paris, stay in the countryside, or whatever you’d like.” I slid a hand over to appreciate her left thigh. “I can almost hear you haunting the chateau—that would be glorious.”

Her hand held mine. “Now that’s something to consider,” her words said, but I knew by the tone of her voice that wouldn’t happen.

Back at the house, I held her gently after I closed the door behind us. She gave me a hug, and a mighty sigh.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She held me and rocked me gently.

“Nothing, other than I’ve got to write a paper this weekend, and turn it in Tuesday night.”

I rubbed her back as I held her. “Can it wait until the morning?”

She sighed, a much more pleasant sigh this time. “Oh yes; it can wait until then.”

We got ready for bed. We were in the bathroom together, finishing up. She put on perfume. That gave me an idea—but as I turned to her quietly, turned to surprise her and take her into trance, she turned to me just as quietly, also raising a hand. We both laughed, then hugged and kissed.

That’s when I let my guard down, and she got me. I felt one of her hands steal up my neck as the other sought my cock, and felt her warm voice in my ear as she collapsed me into her. She used me so well, so intensely. After we came, she held me, nurturing and gentle, and whispered me to sleep holding her.