The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s a very nice estate up in the hills, secluded and private. My understanding was that the current owner was forced into allowing the grounds to be open to the public on weekends as part of the historic designation of the property. Supposedly the owner was a very wealthy young woman who only visited occasionally.

The grounds are beautiful, with some exquisite collections. I enjoy walking the estate. It’s never crowded, most likely because so few know about the place. Even though they don’t allow photography, I find myself there almost every free weekend. Photography is more than a hobby with me, it’s a passion. Possibly in a few years it can even support me.

Their collection of cacti is amazing, especially for Northern California. I knew quite a few would be blooming in a few weeks. I spoke to one of the horticulturists, a young beauty named Suzanne. I’d been talking to her for almost a year; she’d given me access to some normally off-limits portions of the grounds.

When Tina left me, I’d tried to get better access to Suzanne, with no luck. This time though, she gave me the estate director’s business card.

It was a “don’t know until you’ve tried” thing. I put together a letter requesting permission to photograph the grounds. I included a list of my shows and photo placements, copies of my last two spreads in Sunset Magazine, and some 8 x 10 prints. Okay, I’ve asked. It’s up to them to respond.

Interview

While photography is my passion, it doesn’t pay all the bills—not yet. I was at work when the phone rang.

“Good morning, Banister and Crun,” I said.

“Mister Flynn?” asked a pleasant female voice.

“Yes, this is Rob Flynn. How can I help you?”

Ellen was the estate director. They’d reviewed my request, the information I’d supplied, and wanted to talk to me further. Would I be available for lunch at the estate tomorrow, and could I bring more of my portfolio? Of course! What aspects of my work were they particularly interested in? Oh, horticultural, but also those that you feel show your spirit, or are important to you. Ah, a challenge... What time, then? Promptly at eleven forty-five, ring at the gate. Fine.

As I picked out images that night, something told me this could be a Big Deal. I picked some interesting ones. The timing was great—Banister was out of the office all day on a client call. I imagined quite a few folks would be taking long lunches.

I arrived at the gate a few minutes early, display easel and large portfolio case in the back of the car. I was wearing my office-mandated sport coat and tie. A curt female voice instructed me to proceed through the gate, around to the right, and park in staff parking space number twelve. Someone would come out to meet me.

As I drove on to the property, I knew that it would be quicker to go left to get to the staff parking area—the visitor parking spots were near there. But, I’d been told to go right, so that’s what I did, taking the somewhat scenic route around the back of the main building. The designated parking spot was in full sun—other empty spots, including visitor spots, were shaded. Hmmm... I parked in the suggested spot, leaving the windows open a bit.

A young woman in business attire walked out to greet me.

“Mister Flynn?” she asked, extending a hand and a warm smile.

“Please call me Rob,” I responded.

She reached for my easel. “I’m Kathryn. Let me help you.” I followed her in.

The main house had been built in the 1880’s, and redone in the 1920’s. The woodwork was superb, the rooms spacious. We went to the dining room. A number of easels were set up along one wall, evidently awaiting my pictures. The table had been set for a very formal meal.

“If you’d like to display your work, the others will be down momentarily,” she suggested.

I nodded and started to unzip my case. She smiled and stepped out of the room.

Six easels, including mine—I put up five horticultural shots, and an architectural montage of Mission La Purisima.

Kathryn returned with five other women. I recognized the horticulturist I usually spoke to, Suzanne. Surprise—Vivian, the editor I usually worked with at Sunset was with them. I was introduced to the others, including Ellen, the woman I’d spoken to on the phone. All the women with the estate seemed to be in their early to mid thirties, and all beautiful. Vivian looked to be the oldest and plainest of the lot, which was surprising in itself—Vivian is quite attractive.

Ellen stepped to one of my pictures. We all followed. As we discussed the images I’d selected, a younger woman came in with a tray of wine glasses. Ellen took one, followed by the other ladies. One was offered to me.

“No thanks,” I replied.

“Sure you won’t join us?” one of the ladies asked.

I smiled. “At dinner, yes, but I have things I need to complete this afternoon.”

“What would you like?” the server asked.

“Iced tea would be very nice, if it’s not a bother. Otherwise water will do fine.”

She nodded and left the room.

By the time we’d moved down the line of pictures, I had a glass of iced tea.

Ellen moved to the table. I saw a space where the wine glass had been removed, and stepped to it. Ellen was about directly across from me, Suzanne on my right. The ladies waited for Ellen to be seated. I seated the two next to me, Linda and Suzanne, then took my seat.

What a wild lunch! Multiple small courses, superb presentation, and I felt as if I was under a microscope. They’d evidently talked quite a bit to Vivian and the folks I work with at Sunset, and a few others besides. They might not know about the scar on my right heel and how I got it, but I wasn’t sure.

We went through the usual things—why I was interested in shooting at the estate, my interests in photography, why I’d picked these particular images.

Linda was on my left. Her perfume, smile, and the cut of her clothes dazzled me.

“Do you have other works which show more of your spirit?” she asked.

I nodded. “If I may?” I said, folding my napkin and looking to Ellen.

Ellen nodded, so I stood and moved my easel over closer to the table where everyone would have a reasonable view without having to stand.

“As I said earlier, I mainly use a view camera, which is large and somewhat cumbersome, but produces high quality results,” I told them as I placed one print in my case and pulled out another. “This was taken by a friend of mine; we were shooting wildflowers in the high desert.”

In the picture I was on my stomach on the ground, head alongside the bellows of the view camera, everything very close to the ground. One of the ladies gasped, others laughed.

I pointed to my mid-back in the photo, where the lizard was sitting. “I wanted a certain combination of sun angle and wind, and as I was waiting, a lizard decided I’d be a good place to collect some sun. I didn’t notice at all.”

I put up another, taken on the same trip. I was shooting a small group of flowers growing out of the side of a rock face. One of the camera tripod legs was on the side wall, up about five feet off the ground, the other tripod legs on the ground. One of my feet was just below the tripod leg on the wall, my other foot on the ground as I mimicked the tripod. I liked the two desert pictures, even if they did send a pang through me; Tina had taken them.

“Nice legs,” Suzanne said. I was wearing shorts in that picture. The ladies laughed.

“Portraiture?” someone asked.

I took a large print out of my case. It was of a young woman in an Empire setting. The look of poise and authority on her face reminded me of most of the women in the room.

“A friend of mine is an author. I did this for one of his stories.”

That got murmurs of approval. I showed two more from that series, the one of her standing in her plain dress, and the one of her standing wearing the fur coat, arms outstretched, a book in one hand, a rose in the other. While there’s very little skin visible in that image, it’s still filled with erotic power. My gaze locked with Linda’s for an instant; I saw her nostrils flare.

I turned back to my portfolio and pulled out one of the last of the images I’d brought. It was a large print, showing a gray cat poised most attentively a few inches from a hole in the ground. To me at least, the image radiates power, focus, tenacity, and so much more. Vivian had seen it before. She smiled and nodded, approving of my choice.

One of the ladies whispered, “Oh my!”

I smiled and nodded. “Yes—right there along the edge of the hole. See it?”

I pointed to an area of the image. Whiskers were barely visible poking out of the hole.

“This was taken at the Huntington estate in Southern California. I’d finished my work for Vivian on their begonias, and as I was walking out, I saw her. I got my 35mm camera, and dropped down to the ground. She was totally focused on her prey. Every so often the whiskers poking out of the hole would move, a bit further out, then in, a brief glimpse of a small nose, then vanish. She didn’t move. I didn’t move. Such patience! Such tenacity and focus! At one point I moved my left arm a bit; my elbow was on something sharp. Her prey zipped out of sight. She didn’t move, mocking me with her resolve. And I resolved to learn from her.”

I looked to Linda. She was smiling, nodding her head. She gave me a look of focus, tenacity, power...

“And?” she said.

I took out the next image. It was of the gray cat in midstride going away from the camera, hindquarters and tail of her prey hanging out of her mouth.

“Focus on what you want,” I said. That got murmurs of approval.

I went through the remaining prints I’d brought. At the end, Ellen asked if I’d mind leaving some with them for a few days. I raised an eyebrow, but agreed. I’d brought my best; a substantial amount of effort and expense had gone into each.

She wanted one of the flowers, a hummingbird shot, the mission one, the lady in the chair, and the two of the cat. The tone of the conversation turned to pleasantries bringing our time to an end. Ellen thanked me for coming. I thanked her and her staff for their hospitality, and the devotion they showed. Somehow that brought murmurs and some chuckles.

Suzanne and Linda walked me out to my car. Surprisingly, both gave me warm hugs. Linda left me dazzled once more.

I drove back to the office bewildered. I’d left $900 or so in prints with them, and still had no idea if I’d get to shoot the grounds.

I laughed. What else could I do? It had certainly been entertaining. And I wouldn’t need much dinner tonight; it had been quite the lunch. Then I sighed—almost two in the afternoon. Old man Banister would be pissed if he found out.

Follow Up

I spent Saturday in the office, making up for my long lunch earlier in the week. Sunday afternoon was cool and overcast. I thought about going in to work, but couldn’t see doing it. Besides, Banister frowns on us working Sundays. I decided to go walk at the estate once again.

They seemed to have a crowd—three other cars in the visitor lot.

I walked to one of my favorite spots, pretty much at the other end of the property, an old wooden bench underneath a very large, very old tree. I sat down, looking out over part of the grounds. I took off my watch—time doesn’t matter when I sit here.

“May I join you?” I heard some time later.

I looked up to see Linda standing a few feet away. I smiled, stood, and said, “Please do!”

Today she was wearing slacks, a silky looking top, and a light sweater. The slacks put a nice emphasis on her waist; she filled and curved her top and sweater quite well.

“I hope you’re not working today,” I offered.

She laughed, freely and easily. The breeze filled me with her perfume.

“Oh no—a number of us live here. Do you like this spot?”

I leaned back, closing my eyes and enjoying her scent. I could feel her warmth nearby as well.

“Yes; I like to sit here.”

“And?”

I sighed. I was tired after the long week. “That’s the nice part. I don’t have to do anything, be anything. I just sit. That’s all.”

I heard her sigh, and felt her move a little closer.

“That’s important, so important,” she said softly, touching me on the arm.

I could feel her warmth, and took a deep, slow breath of her scent.

“It’s so important to take time out to relax and let go; so many people don’t know that. We need time to relax and let go, yes, breathing slowly and deeply, relaxing with each breath, with my touch, letting go...”

She was right—and it had been a while since I’d come here to just sit. Her voice was so soothing, her scent and warmth enveloping me. It was nice to relax, let go, relax a bit more with each breath...

I opened my eyes slowly. The breeze had picked up, cooled and sharpened. I felt the warmth of her arm on my back, her hand at the back of my neck. Her touch filled me with warmth and comfort. I turned to her.

She smiled slightly. “I think we’re in for rain. We should head in.”

I shook my head a little; I felt lost. It smelled like imminent rain. I looked at her again—I wanted to let go and lose myself in her warmth and perfume...

I shook my head again. I saw droplets in the dirt out away from the cover of the tree. I stood up, taking her arm. “Yes. We’re going to get wet.”

We started out walking quickly, and ended up running, holding hands and laughing like a pair of kids. We weren’t too wet as we ran up under the shelter of the porch and collapsed into a porch swing, still laughing and trying to catch our breaths.

She slid over next to me, a big smile on her face. I felt her hand go up the back of my neck again, and I closed my eyes. Somehow I felt as if I was flying, floating, and dropping all at the same time.

When I opened my eyes again, the rain had stopped. Linda was sitting next to me still. It was so nice to be next to her, rocking gently.

It was getting dark! I sat up. I looked at her. She smiled, looking at me intently.

“Thank you for a very nice afternoon,” she said.

I took a breath. “Thank you, Linda.” I think.

She put her arm in mine and walked me to my car. The air was fresh from the short shower. She gave me a hug, and walked to the house.

It was almost six! Where had the afternoon gone? Normal visitor’s hours ended at five! I laughed again. Pizza for dinner tonight, or take-out Chinese?

I missed Tina, and almost called her. I hoped she was doing well in Seattle. It rained again as I sat in my study, a window slightly open. I started rocking gently in the chair, and closed my eyes. The cool damp smell of the rain, the sound, filled me. I could almost feel a hand at the back of my head and hear a soft voice as I rocked.

I don’t nap like that very often; maybe I should change that. I woke up refreshed, but still feeling empty. Empty with a tingle—something was just over the horizon, just out of reach, but it was there; I knew it.

As I got ready for bed, stripping off my sweatshirt, I noticed a bump on the inside of my right elbow. Hmmm—a little mark, and a bump, like when I give blood. I slept well, dreaming of rocking with Linda, her warmth, her scent.

I got into work early Monday morning, feeling rested, and almost resigned somehow, a curious feeling.

Mister Banister came into my office about ten, wearing his usual strict face. “Weaned on a pickle” shot through my mind. He was holding the report I’d completed Saturday.

“Mister Flynn,” he started out.

“Yes, sir?”

He nodded, gesturing with the report. “This is very good work, Mister Flynn. It shows what you are capable of when you aren’t wasting time on frivolities.”

I was happily surprised and yet shocked at the same time. Praise from the old man himself—yet he still considered my photography a “frivolity.”

“Thank you, sir. I hope the client finds it useful.”

“Oh, they will, Mister Flynn—that’s what they hire us for. Carry on.” He stepped from my office.

I turned to the window. As a senior staffer, I had an office with a window, not a cube in the middle of the floor.

“Frivolities...” That stung. I knew the work I did as a CPA and an analyst was important, and useful, but it didn’t have a soul. The detective work which had gone into that report had been hard, and the report was good, but it was devoid of feeling. I felt the tears forming as I remembered the joy in capturing an image on film, and the satisfaction of seeing one of my images on a magazine cover. The looks on those women’s faces at the image of the cat—through the images I made, I touched people’s hearts and souls.

I closed my eyes and tried to go back to that bench under the tree. I breathed slowly, imagining Linda next to me again, her scent, her touch.

And I was rocking, rocking gently, feeling her caress, almost hearing her voice.

My phone rang. I wiped the tears from my eyes and turned back to my desk.

Later that afternoon, I got another call.

“Rob, this is Linda. How are you doing today?”

I sighed, relaxing at her voice. “Much better, hearing your voice,” I said.

She chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it. I enjoyed sitting with you yesterday.”

“So did I. What can I do for you?”

“Rob, would you be able to drop by this evening? We have some questions about the prints you left with us.”

“Certainly. Should I bring any more of my work?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. When could you be here?”

I thought rapidly. “Six fifteen or six twenty.” It was closer than my apartment.

“That would be fine. Ring at the gate. We’re looking forward to seeing you again.”

Her voice filled me with hope, especially as I glanced at yet another spreadsheet on the computer screen. “I’m looking forward to it as well. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

Driving up to the estate again was curious. I’d talked about this problem before with Vivian, my internal split between the analytical and the artistic. What had she said? The analytical feeds my body and the artistic feeds my soul? The analytical work couldn’t feed the hunger I felt in my thighs, in my chest, and in my throat.

“Park anywhere you like in the staff section,” was a welcome change. I grabbed my sport coat, but left my collar unbuttoned and my tie a little loose. I laughed—open rebellion in Banister’s eyes.

But those thoughts faded as I saw Linda walking toward me from the house. I felt almost a tingle go through me as I sighed.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said smiling, offering me her hand.

Touching her was electric, exciting and yet soothing, relaxing, yet peaking the hunger. “My pleasure,” I said, taking in her gaze.

She put her arm in mine as we walked back to the house, going in a side door this time and walking to a small comfortable parlor. Ellen was waiting for us, with another woman I hadn’t met. She was a tall, dark-skinned beauty with a full figure.

“Rob, I’m Bernadette,” she said, extending a hand.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, shaking her warm hand.

My mission picture was on an easel, two different images on the floor. As we sat down, I almost laughed—I knew what the three images had in common.

To my surprise and delight, I was seated on a loveseat with Linda beside me. I took a cautious breath, expecting/wanting/needing that scent I associated with her. It was faint or not present at all.

“Rob,” Ellen started out, “We like your work very much. We visited Vivian today, and she showed us more of your work, including your next two layouts. You have quite a talent.”

I smiled, but the tears were forming again as “frivolities” stabbed at me again. “Thank you,” I said, my voice not too surprisingly choked up somewhat. Linda put a hand on my arm.

I glanced to her, but couldn’t say anything.

“We especially like some of the details in your images,” Ellen said, almost laughing. She moved over to the Mission picture and gestured to one area. It was a doorway, seen almost from the side. If you looked carefully, you could see a sandal-clad foot just about to disappear into the doorway, as if catching the last glimpse of someone walking in.

Linda’s hand moved to my back. I sighed.

“You have similar elements in many pictures. Where do they come from?” Linda asked.

I closed my eyes to enjoy her touch more.

“Henri Cartier-Bresson,” I said softly as her hand stroked my neck. “He’s a famous French photographer. At an exhibition of his work, I was drawn to one image, and I wasn’t sure why. Then I saw it—just like in the mission picture, that last glimpse of a foot going into a doorway.”

“What does it say to you? What does it mean?” Linda asked, caressing my neck more.

I sighed again, letting go. “It’s an invitation—to mystery, to explore, inviting those who notice to explore more.” I was smiling; I hadn’t understood it that way until now. “It says there’s more here, if you open yourself up to it, if you let yourself see it.”

Her hand moved away. Slowly, I opened my eyes. I looked at the others in the room as I sighed and shook my head, wiping moisture from my face.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered.

Bernadette was leaning forward and looked at me intently. “No, that’s quite all right.”

“Yes, it is,” added Ellen. She exchanged glances with the others. I sat back, relaxing again, feeling my shoulders let go.

“It’s hard to explain,” I told them. I felt tired.

Ellen nodded. “We’d like to purchase larger prints of these, and look at more of your portfolio. Vivian says you have quite a series on people’s hands?”

I took a breath and nodded. “Yes, it’s more a multimedia show now.”

“We’re interested in 36-inch prints of these, archival quality. We can have the framing done, with your approval, of course.”

I took a breath. “Okay, I have to order them, as they take some time.”

Ellen smiled. “We understand. Would a thousand per print be acceptable?”

I took another breath. “Ah, quite.”

Gentle laughter filled the room. Linda’s hand returned to my shoulder.

“I’m still waiting for confirmation, but I think we are interested in commissioning other work as well; if you’re interested, of course.”

I wanted her hand to go up the back of my neck again, squeeze me, fill me again. My head arched back a bit on its own, my eyes closing a bit. I blinked and straightened up a bit. “I would be very interested,” I replied.

Bernadette asked, “Would you be interested in joining us for dinner?”

I sighed once more, smiling. “How could I refuse?”

I got home late. I looked at myself in the mirror as I was getting ready for bed. I looked and felt tired, bewildered, yet relaxed. Dinner had been very good, simpler and less formal than the lunch I’d attended. After dinner I ended up in another parlor with Linda and Bernadette, sitting between them on a couch in front of a fire. About all I could remember was their warmth and the warmth of the fire, being held, the empty feeling in my chest, hunger and tears. How the hell had I managed to get home? I didn’t know. It could wait—it was late, and I had a meeting with Banister at a client’s place early in the morning.

That meeting went on through a working lunch at the client site. Dave and I were there supporting the old man. Dave and I exchanged glances occasionally, knowing we were in for a lot of work.

Vivian called late that afternoon.

“Have you talked to them?” she asked right away.

“Who?”

“The people at the Palsgraf estate.”

I sighed, something I’d been doing quite often lately. “Yes—I was there last night for dinner. They ordered some prints.”

“And?”

I shrugged. “They mentioned there might be more.”

“That’s all?”

“Why don’t you call me at home tonight. I can’t really talk about it now.”

“Okay, I think I understand. This is an exciting opportunity for you, I hope.”

“So do I.”

I heard Banister’s voice out in the hallway, telling off an associate.

“Talk to you later,” I said softly.

Vivian sighed. “Take care, Rob.”

I hung up the phone and returned my nose to the grindstone. I glanced up as Banister walked by my open door, pausing to toss in a frown.

I was confused as I drove home that night. Yes, the work I did was challenging, at least intellectually. Vivian and I talked on the phone for over an hour. She became more upbeat as I became more depressed. The one thing that helped was putting together the print order, and packaging it up with my negatives. The weekend arts and crafts shows wouldn’t start for another two months; this was a nice order to tide me over.

I was nearly at the end of my rope Tuesday as I drove home late—work had appeared out of nowhere, and I hadn’t been able to take the time at lunch to take my order to the post office. I was so frustrated. I finally got off the freeway and got back on going the other direction, driving to the post office at the San Francisco International Airport—I knew they were open late. Traffic was hell at that time of day, but when I finally made it home, I felt better.

Wednesday morning, I was deep into a project when something made me tear my gaze from the screen. Had I heard Ellen’s voice? A few minutes later I took a walk to the men’s room, passing Banister’s office. His door was closed. I could hear him droning away inside.

I asked Nancy, his latest secretary, “Who’s in with the boss?”

She looked to be at the end of her rope as well. She shook her head. “Don’t know. Potential clients, I guess. The only time he tells me anything is when I’ve screwed up.”

I nodded and gave her a grim smile. “Hang in there... Thanks.”

I headed back to my office. Average life-span for one of his secretaries was seven months. That gave her two or three to go before she got fed up and quit.

I was on the phone with a client, and didn’t see who he was walking out a while later.

I thought I’d find out when he called me into his office shortly thereafter.

“Yes sir?” I said, walking into his office.

As usual, he didn’t invite me to sit down.

“Who were you on the phone with this time?” he demanded.

“Keller at Peabody Sherman,” I told him.

His frown deepened. “Did I authorize you to speak to them?”

I nodded. “You told me to return his call.”

That didn’t placate him. He picked up a stack of paper on his desk and thrust it my way. “Here,” he said.

I took it. Simple audit stuff, it seemed.

“Take care of that right away.”

I nodded. “And Peabody Sherman?” They were supposed to be my top priority.

“That too.”

I glanced at the paperwork again, delving into it a little.

“This would be a good opportunity for Pat Anderson, or ...”

“I told you to handle it, Mister Flynn,” he barked.

“Yes, sir.”

I walked out, knowing I’d been dismissed. Why was he shoveling this junior-level stuff on me suddenly? Anderson could handle it, and should.

I looked at it again sitting at my desk—oh shit—he’s pulled in the delivery date as well. That meant more long hours.

It meant long hours for the rest of the week, as more chickenshit got added to my pile. Something had the old goat riled, and he was making life miserable for us all. I saw Nancy running to the ladies’ room crying one afternoon. I worked all day Saturday, and as it was raining on Sunday, worked at home the whole day.

I went home early Tuesday night—nine in the evening. I’d just dropped my bag and opened a dreadfully sparse refrigerator when the phone rang.

“Hello?” I said, probably sounding half dead.

“Rob? This is Linda. Why haven’t you returned our calls?”

I sighed and pulled up a chair, sitting down. “What calls?”

“We’ve called your office, but always ended up leaving messages. Is something wrong?”

I closed my eyes and rested my head on a hand.

“Evidently. I haven’t seen any messages from you.”

“You haven’t?”

“No, really. Not a one.”

Banister decries voicemail as “impersonal,” so the phones are answered centrally, with messages taken on little slips of paper if we’re busy. I guess I’ve been busy.

“Ellen and I have been calling, practically every day.”

“I think that helps me understand why the receptionist has been avoiding me...” It also explained the amount of chickenshit I’d been dealing with.

“Rob, what’s the matter? Are you interested in doing some work for us?”

“Yes, very much so,” I sighed. “It’s just... Right now I’m being drowned in petty assignments at work. I think there may be a connection.”

“So getting together at lunch is pretty much out of the question.”

“During the week, yes.”

“Could you meet with us Saturday morning then?”

I shook my head. I’d expected to work Saturday.

“I’d like to see you,” she said softly.

That hurt, and almost brought me to tears. “I’m not sure.”

“Sunday then?”

I sighed. Banister decried “working on the Sabbath.”

“Yes, I can make it for sure Sunday.”

“Rob, are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“I wish I could see you sooner than that—I want to help.”

Oh, how being with her helped! I wanted to feel her touch again. “I know,” I said softly.

I heard her sigh over the phone.

“Okay then, we’ll see you Sunday morning. If you can come over earlier, please do. I’ll let Ellen know we shouldn’t call you at work. Please take care, Rob.”

“I’ll try; thanks for your concern. I’m interested, very interested. See you Sunday.”

“Okay Rob. Good night.”

“Good night, Linda.”

I put down the phone and rested my head in my arms. College, MBA, CPA, all those hours, for this? Was it worth it? I glanced up. I’d left the fridge door open. Didn’t matter, there wasn’t much to eat. Why had I let Tina go? I got up, kicking myself a little more. I let her go because I was more devoted to the damn job than I was to her.

I picked up my keys. And that’s why I’ll be dining alone at McDonald’s, again.

Rubicon

I thought things evened out, possibly lightened a little at the salt mines. Dave mentioned in passing that all incoming phone calls were all being screened by Banister, and even client calls were vanishing. Dave had talked to a client that morning, and the client wanted to know why his earlier calls hadn’t been returned.

I made courtesy calls to three people shortly after that, getting the same story, and getting back in synch with them.

I was called in Friday morning.

“Yes, sir?” I asked.

“Who were you talking to on the phone just now?”

“Tax counsel for Ponsby Britt.”

“Did they call you?”

“I called them. I’d called earlier in the week and had expected a reply by now. I needed the information.”

“They could have faxed it.”

I thought about mentioning that this was a matter which the attorneys didn’t want in writing, but he should know that.

“Here,” he said unceremoniously, handing me another pile.

I looked it over. More chickenshit.

“I won’t be able to get to this until next Wednesday at the earliest,” I told him.

“It has to be done before then.”

“Pat Anderson is fully capable of handling this matter.”

“I’m assigning it to you.”

This had gone far enough. “Mister Banister, you expect us to exercise sound business and professional judgment in our work. Assigning this to me is not cost-effective, for the client or the firm. This should be handled by an associate.”

“Are you questioning my judgment?” He was practically fuming.

I dropped the folder back on his desk. “In assigning this to me, yes.”

His right hand was trembling. His voice quavered as he spoke. “And you should carefully consider your future at my firm, Mister Flynn. That will be all!”

I turned and walked out of his office.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him walk by my door around a quarter to seven that night. I left around eight, a bit early for the last few weeks.

Even though I didn’t set the alarm, I woke early Saturday morning. I flopped around, getting up after conceding I wasn’t going to get back to sleep. I cleaned up and had breakfast.

Now what?

I went into the office, arriving before eight.

Dave wandered into my office about nine thirty, a big cup of Starbucks in his hand. He’s one of the other senior analysts, and a friend.

“Do you know what the hell is going on?” he asked, parking his lanky frame in a chair.

“Not a clue,” I told him.

He shook his head, then nodded down the hall. “He’s piling crap on us that should go to associates. I’ve told him so.”

I smiled. “So did I.”

“And?” Dave asked.

“He told me I should seriously consider my future with his firm.”

Dave smiled and nodded. “Thought so. I’m interviewing. I figure anything better than associate wages and I’m gone. Want me to see if they’re interested in a package deal?”

I paused and considered. The job market was tough, but not that tough. “Yeah, I’d appreciate it.”

He smiled. “Will do. I’m trying to take Nancy with me as well. She deserves better.”

I chuckled. “We all do, I think. When’s your interview? Who?”

“One this afternoon. Los Gusanos Country Club with PwC. Wanna tag along?”

I smiled, making up my mind. “I’ll pass. I’ve got another appointment.”

Dave stood up. “Okay. Just wanted to warn you—the way he’s been acting, who knows what’s going to happen when I bail out.”

I shook his hand. “Oh we know; we’ve seen it before. Thanks for the warning.”

I worked until noon, tidied up, and left.

I arrived at the estate about a quarter to one. I parked in the visitor section, and walked back to the tree. I needed time to unwind.

I heard people approaching on the gravel path. I glanced at my watch—I’d been sitting for about twenty minutes. I hadn’t solved the world’s problems yet, or my own.

Bernadette and Linda came into view. I smiled and moved more to the middle of the bench, but didn’t get up—what the hell.

“We saw you drive in,” Bernadette said.

“And wondered why you didn’t ring at the house,” Linda added.

I looked up, then let my head drop back down, elbows on my knees. “Needed time to unwind,” I sighed.

“Can we sit with you?” Bernadette asked.

I sat back. “Please...” Oh, please—I felt that hunger pang in my chest again.

They sat down, squeezing me deliciously between them. I caught the strong scent of that perfume, or it caught me—I may have moaned.

“What’s wrong, Rob?” Linda asked, as they held me gently.

My eyes closed and I relaxed back, floating for a while.

I told them about the weirdness at work, the split it was causing in me.

The scent got stronger, they held me tighter, and I drifted off. I felt the pangs again, and cried. I felt a hand on my chest, soothing, calming. I floated in warmth, soft embraces, and soft voices.

The three of us were walking back to the house. I felt wiped out, yet relaxed.

“Wait for us for a few minutes?” Linda said as we stood outside Ellen’s office.

I nodded. “Of course.” I looked to the small parlor behind me. “In here okay?”

Bernadette said, “That would be fine.”

I shook my head. “Good time for a bathroom break.”

I visited the loo, then sat in the parlor, where I’d been some time ago, one of them on either side of me. I closed my eyes again. What was happening? I didn’t know. I felt so hungry, so needy, and so fucking tired. I could be tired here. I could rest here.

“Rob?”

I forced my eyes open. Bernadette was standing a few feet from me. Her smile turned quickly to a concerned frown. She sat down next to me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

The feeling came back in my chest and in my arms—that empty, hungry feeling. I sighed and shook my head. I wanted to drown myself in her somehow, give myself to her.

She reached into a pocket with one hand as she moved her other hand to the back of my neck and said, “Close your eyes.”

My eyes closed and I sighed again at her touch. I thought I heard a hissing or spraying sound, but it didn’t matter as I was filled with that scent again. I started to slip down, and felt myself being pulled into Bernadette’s embrace. She held me and rocked me, speaking softly.

She helped me sit up. I wiped my face. I’d been crying again. I saw a damp spot on her blouse, above her full breasts. I let my eyes close as part of me remembered.

“No, awake and alert for now, Rob,” she said, tapping me on the forehead.

I lifted my head and forced a smile, my head surprisingly clear all of a sudden.

“Sorry to be such a pain,” I managed to say.

She smiled and stood up, pulling me up. I wanted to fall into her arms, into her...

“Let’s go talk to the others,” she said.

I followed her to Ellen’s office.

Ellen and Linda had hard looks on their faces. My stomach tightened as I flashed back to being called to the principal’s office as a child, and realized that’s what Banister did to me, filling me with that same feeling.

Ellen nodded. “Rob, have a seat, please.”

Things didn’t seem to match her expression—I was confused as I sat in the office chair in front of her desk.

She started out by questioning me about my education and work background—BA, Masters, MBA, CPA, working as a financial analyst for Whitehall & Marx, then joining Banister. Banister’s firm worked as a troubleshooter for larger firms, going in as a SWAT team to handle tricky areas or do intensely focused inquiries—interesting, challenging, but soulless. We moved on to my photography work, getting the attention of Vivian and others, working with them, doing the art show circuit.

Something happened, I’m not sure what, and I got into Banister and his “frivolities” remark. Linda’s hands were on my arm and neck; that helped.

Ellen’s scowl increased. “Rob, after meeting that man, I have to say he’s one of the most Calvinistic, Chauvinistic, repressed individuals...”

I nodded. “The business does attract a certain anal-retentive, detail orientation.”

Ellen shook her head. “Have you ever seen that man smile?”

“Once—at his partner’s funeral,” I answered quickly.

Linda gasped.

Ellen said, “He’s a real piece of work, Doctor—from a pathological point of view, you might be interested in what makes him tick.”

“Not worth the effort,” I said. Softly I added, “Some people make their own hell.”

I felt warm hands on me, pressing gently, squeezing.

“All too true,” Ellen said, the tone of her voice changing.

I looked up to her. She was smiling now, confusing me a little more.

She stood up, walked around her desk and sat on the corner.

“Rob, I’m going to take a chance. I haven’t gotten the full go-ahead from our owner, but she said she trusts me, us, on this one.”

I looked over to Bernadette, and tried to look up to Linda.

“Rob,” Ellen continued, smiling a little more, “Our owner, our Mistress, has this estate, one near Sedona, one outside Toronto, and one near Lucerne. We are held through trusts and a foundation. Could you handle the financial aspects of the U.S. parts of the organization?”

I concentrated a bit. “I think I understand what you mean structurally. I’d have to look at how things were established, and would need to work with local experts, but yes.”

I thought I heard Linda sigh behind me.

“I’d need to look things over, and expect that what I’d be doing would mainly involve coordinating the efforts of others.” Was I volunteering for a job? “What’s going on?” I asked out loud.

Bernadette chuckled, and Linda moved up closer to me, her hands on my shoulders, her fingers going down on to my chest.

Ellen nodded, smiling. “That’s good. We don’t expect that it would be a full-time job.”

I was getting more confused by the moment.

Ellen chuckled. “Rob, the other part... She wants you, we, I want you, to put your artistic skills to use, starting with our estate here. I’m close to getting an editor, but publication is already lined up.”

I took a deep breath. “That’s wonderful!”

Ellen got a more somber smile. “Rob, it means becoming part of our family.”

I nodded.

“Rob, it means giving yourself to Her, to us. Once you start on the path with us, there’s no turning back.”

“When do I start?”

She smiled and nodded. “Would you believe I can be worse than Banister?”

“No. Never,” I answered instantly. Bernadette and Linda laughed.

Ellen tried to recover. “Our mistress can be very demanding...”

“And very rewarding,” Bernadette added with a sigh.

“Are you ready for that, Rob? Ready to give yourself to us?”

I almost cried, the feeling in my chest was so strong and sudden. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Pay,” Bernadette said.

Ellen nodded, straightening a little. “Linda,” she said.

Linda did something, and my mind cleared. Her hands held my shoulders.

“Rob, if you join us, we’ll start by matching your current salary...”

“I’ll take it,” I interrupted.

Ellen smiled. “But there are some important catches...”

“Such as?”

“You have to live with us,” she told me.

“The place I’m in is leased—no problem.”

“We expect you to continue and to build your photography business.”

“So what’s the catch?” I asked.

“Physical,” Bernadette said.

“You’ll have to complete a very thorough physical exam—our Mistress insists on only the healthiest of specimens.”

I started to say I hadn’t been sick in years, but Linda broke in.

“That’s not fair,” she said, surprisingly emotional, squeezing my shoulders.

Ellen almost laughed. “It’s all right; I agreed that his training would be shared.”

“Training?” Had I said that out loud?

“We could complete the physical this afternoon,” Bernadette said.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the full genetic screening results?” asked Linda.

Ellen took a step back. “Doctors, please... Rob, when could you start?”

I thought a moment. “My lease was up two months ago—I suppose that could be quick. I’ve a real-estate person I could check with. I’d need two weeks notice at work.”

Ellen sighed and shook her head, her smile disappearing. “Rob, what’s going to happen when you give two weeks notice?”

I nodded. “The bastard will throw me out instantly.” I could almost hear him screaming. I chuckled. “But that’s the good news.”

“So we could...” Bernadette started in, only to be interrupted by Linda.

Ellen held up her hands, almost laughing.

“Rob, why don’t you wait in the drawing room for a bit?” she suggested.

I stood up. I looked at Linda, and Bernadette. Those feelings came back—the hunger, and the peace I found in their embrace.

“I want to be part of the family,” I whispered. I gave Linda a hug. I think we were both reluctant to let go of each other. I turned to Bernadette. “I do,” I whispered.

When we hugged, I was lost in her embrace. I didn’t know what to do—moan, cry, let go...

Ellen’s hands on our shoulders separated us. I hugged Ellen as well.

“I want you in our family as well,” she whispered. “Go... Now...”

I walked out, closing the door behind me, and walked back to the drawing room.

I was trying to figure out what was going on when Suzanne walked in. She had something in her right hand and was slipping it into a pocket as she entered the room.

“Rob, let’s take a walk,” she said with a smile.

“Ellen said...”

She nodded. “Ellen asked me to talk to you. We can walk by her office, okay?”

I sighed and stood up.

We walked back down the hall. I could hear loud voices inside. Suzanne practically leapt ahead and knocked loudly on the door. The voices inside went silent.

“Yes?” came Ellen’s voice.

Suzanne hooked my arm and pulled me to the doorway. It looked as if Ellen, Bernadette, and Linda were having quite the “discussion.”

“We’ll be in the private gardens,” Suzanne said.

“That’s fine, dear. I’ll call you on your radio. Rob, don’t worry,” Ellen told us.

Suzanne took my arm, closed the door, and led us out of the building.

We walked in silence, back to my favorite tree, and sat on the bench.

Suzanne took both my hands, looking in my eyes.

“I feel so hungry, so empty again,” I whispered.

“I know. Do you want to join us?”

“I think so.”

“Do you know what that means?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She sighed. “I’ve only been a member of the family for a few months.”

“But I’ve seen you here, and talked to you for more than a year, it seems.”

She nodded. “And they, we’ve watched you for almost as long as well.”

“What?” I started to ask.

“This is one of your favorite spots, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You showed it to me.”

“I’ve seen you here lately, with them.”

“Them?” She placed such a strange emphasis on that word.

“Yes, Linda and Bernadette. What do you know about them?”

I squeezed her hands. I wanted to be in her arms. “I know how I feel when they’re next to me, holding me...”

She sighed. “I’ve seen you with them... Do they fill you with desire?”

I shook my head. “No, they soothe the pain, the pain I feel...”

That seemed to surprise her. She smiled. “I know I should have believed them,” she whispered, “But it’s hard some times... Oh Rob, you are so lucky—we are all so lucky...”

She threw her arms around me, holding me tight. I held her, trying to fill the emptiness I felt with her warmth.

“Tell me what you need,” she whispered.

“Hold me,” was all I could say.

She pulled away, leaving me with that empty feeling again.

“You don’t know, do you?” she asked.

“Know what?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “How they... How we do it.”

“Do what?”

She moved closer, sliding an arm around me, sliding a hand up the back of my neck. My eyes closed and I sighed, relaxing into her.

“Oh, so deep already... Hold you like this and you’re helpless. Do you like that?”

“Oh yes,” I moaned.

She pulled away quickly and slapped my face.

I was stunned, and backed away. She reached for me and I moved back a little more.

“Rob, I’m sorry. Is your head clear now?”

I frowned. “I think so. What’s going on? Why did you do that? Did I do something wrong?”

She sighed. “Ellen told me to explain things to you. I don’t know what I’m supposed to explain, and what I’m not. Rob, they train us using hypnosis and drugs. The hand at the back of the neck and head...” She fumbled in a pocket and pulled out what looked to be a small perfume sprayer. “Even now, so early on, one whiff of this, and you’re putty...”

I moved closer to her. “And I love it... I want it... Oh, I’m so hungry for it...”

I slid a hand up her shoulder and up her neck, cradling the back of her head. She sighed and started to wilt in my arms, her head going back, a relaxed and dreamy smile forming on her face. I leaned her back, supporting her, protecting her, rocking her slightly.

“Do you like it, Suzanne?”

“Oh yes,” she said huskily.

“Why are you so concerned about me?”

Her breath caught; I squeezed the back of her neck slightly and she sighed. “I want you to be sure... Don’t want you taken against your will... I want you...”

I held her, rocking her head gently, knowing somehow what was right.

“Suzanne, I think I want this... Help me be sure... What do you need? What can I do?”

She gave me a moan that didn’t need much explanation.

I sighed, and said, “Suzanne, awake and alert again.”

Her head lifted and she blinked. So that’s how I looked—I understood a bit better.

She frowned a little, then smiled. I took her hands.

“Suzanne, hold me, use the spray, help me find out if this is right, what I need, please...”

She smiled more, and nodded. She slid both hands up my back to my neck. I moaned and my head dropped back. Her hands lifted my head, and we kissed. My arms were weak going around her.

She moved me to my back, my head in her lap.

“Close your eyes, darling,” she said, running her fingers down my forehead to my eyes.

My eyes closed as I sighed, relaxing more.

I felt coolness of the spray, and breathed deep, taking that fragrance into me. I felt one hand on my forehead, and the other touched my chest. “Let go and relax,” she said, and I dropped into softness.

She held me and talked to me. I tried to explain the pain, the tension I felt, how much “frivolities” still hurt me. She pushed me, digging into me, questioning. I couldn’t answer a lot of her questions. Finally she asked me what I needed. That I could answer.

A warm nipple filled my mouth, a hand rested on my chest. I was safe. I could relax.

“Waking up slowly, safe and comforted...”

I slid my arms around a warm body, enjoying the nipple in my mouth, so fulfilling.

“Open your eyes now, so safe and relaxed...”

I opened my eyes as the nipple pulled away. Bernadette pulled away from me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I was back in the house, on a couch in a different room.

She was sitting beside me. She let her top down again, covering her breasts.

“Thank you. I need to be held like that, a lot,” I whispered.

She looked to me and smiled. “Oh, you don’t have anything to worry about there...”

She helped me sit up. She straightened out her clothes a bit more. I saw Linda sitting a few feet away.

“Will you hold me too?” I asked, with surprising hunger in my voice.

She smiled. “Oh, I will; I will.”

Bernadette chuckled. She tapped me in the middle of the forehead. My head cleared instantly; I was amazingly alert. I was also amazingly confused.

“Wow...” I said.

Linda moved closer. “Suzanne explained things to you? How we’ve used hypnosis and drugs on you?”

I nodded. “I don’t know how much she explained, but that’s what she said.”

Bernadette jumped in. “When you held her—did you know you had her hypnotized?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“And did you know she would do anything you wanted?” Linda asked.

I looked to her and said, “Yes.”

“But you didn’t take advantage of her, do anything,” Linda said, tilting her head a little to the side.

“I couldn’t,” I said, shaking my head.

A hand snuck up the back of my neck. I sighed, giving myself to the feeling, letting it take me again.

“Why?” Linda asked.

“I couldn’t hurt her,” I said.

That hand moved, squeezing the back of my head and neck. I let go, drifting.

I was back at the bench with Suzanne. I had her deeply hypnotized. I wanted her so much, and she looked so luscious. We were alone, nobody would bother us; I could do anything I liked. She’d said she wanted me... I could... No! I wouldn’t do that. Look at her breasts, so full, so firm, so inviting. So nice to hold, to squeeze gently...

“No!” I called out, shaking my head. I was in the house, Linda beside me, holding me. What was going on? I started to move, but something happened, and I sank back to that floating place.

I was safe. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do. I could rest and relax again, rocking gently. No—I needed to get back to Suzanne; I’d left her at the bench. I couldn’t leave her alone like that. A voice told me she was safe. I had to see for myself; I was responsible.

She’s not there anymore, the voice told me. That only made me more agitated—I had to find her, to make sure she was safe. I tried to get up and walk away, back to the house, but my arms and legs wouldn’t work right. I had to be sure she was safe; I had to.

“Where is she?” I asked, opening my eyes and sitting up. I was in the house again, with Linda and Bernadette.

“Rob, she’s okay,” Linda said. I shook off her hands and started to stand. “I have to be sure she’s safe,” I told them.

I was having trouble with my balance; I felt confused, disoriented. I looked up to see Bernadette in front of me.

“Help me find Suzanne, please!” I appealed to her.

She put her arms around me and held me to her chest, pulling my head between her breasts. I started to struggle, but that perfume filled me again. I didn’t want to go there again; I didn’t—I needed to make sure Suzanne was safe. Hands held me; I was pressed between soft, warm bodies. I had to find Suzanne, to make sure she was safe.

“I’m here, Rob—I’m okay. I’m right here with you.”

It was hard for me to open my eyes. Suzanne was there, in front of me. Someone was still holding me, preventing me from getting up.

Suzanne reached out and touched my face. “Relax, Rob—I’m here, and I’m safe.”

I tried to reach out to her, to wipe the tears I saw on her face. “I’m sorry I left you,” I cried.

“You didn’t leave me. We’re both safe here. Relax, Rob; let go and relax for me. We’re both safe.” She sat next to me and moved to hold me. I smelled something like rubbing alcohol. Suzanne looked to someone behind me and said, “No, please; not yet.”

I tried to turn but she held me. Bernadette was still holding me as well. I got my arms around Suzanne. “I’m glad you’re safe,” I told her.

I was being held again. She told me we were both safe. More hands held me. Someone asked me if I could let go and relax again. I told them I wasn’t sure.

It was hard to do, but I was helped by soft voices and soft, warm hands.

They were sorry. They were testing me. I didn’t leave Suzanne alone; she had been safe all the time. It was a dream, and we were safe. I held on.

I woke again, relaxed this time, to Suzanne holding me. She squeezed me to her, then helped me sit up.

I was confused still. We were alone in the same room, but the lights were lowered.

“What?” I started to ask.

She scooted over next to me on the couch.

“Rob, you didn’t leave me. Oh, you are such a catch! You held me and protected me. Back here in the house, they wanted to test you, to see what you’d do. They insisted—they didn’t believe what I told them, that you had been so gentle, so protective.”

“But I needed to find you... I had to make sure you were safe...”

She nodded. “Things seem so real, deep in hypnosis. Your response was very strong, and very positive. It surprised them. I was upstairs when I got a panic call to come down here. They were getting ready to sedate you, and would have if you hadn’t settled down.”

I shook my head. “Then it was you who saved me... Thank you...”

She laughed and hugged me. “Thank you, Rob.”

After a few moments she sat back though, and gave me a serious look.

“Rob, do you find me attractive?”

“You’re getting me confused again,” I told her.

“Would you like to make love with me?”

I held her hands. “Yes, I would.”

She smiled. “Good. I was beginning to worry.”

I was still confused, but not too confused to laugh. “And I want to hold you, and be held.”

She hugged me again. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that.”

“Ready to talk to the others again?” she said after a not long enough hug.

“Sure,” I said.

We went back to Ellen’s office. Linda and Bernadette were there. The three of them gave me slight smiles.

Linda stood up. “Rob, I’m sorry for what we put you through.”

I hugged her. Bernadette got up and I hugged her as well. She held me and I sighed. “Thank you for holding me,” I whispered to her. “Please hold me.”

We managed to sit down. Once again I was between Linda and Bernadette. Suzanne started walking to the office door.

“Suzanne, stay, please,” Ellen requested.

With a surprised smile, Suzanne turned back to us and pulled up a chair.

“Rob, you continue to surprise us,” Ellen said, sitting in a comfy looking leather chair next to the couch Linda, Bernadette, and I were sitting on.

“Oh?” was the most intelligent thing I could say.

Ellen nodded. “You took Suzanne into trance. Why? How did you know what to do?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know why. I guessed the same cues would be used.”

Ellen nodded and smiled. “And you didn’t take advantage of the situation.”

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. “I couldn’t.”

Bernadette moved a hand across my shoulders, holding me gently. “That’s what we explored here at the house. The strength of your reaction surprised us. It’s a test many men...”

“And many women,” Linda interjected.

“...Don’t pass,” Bernadette continued, rubbing my back.

I sighed and chuckled, letting my head go back again.

“What is it?” Ellen asked.

“Chris at our office—I think that’s one of the reasons why I reacted so strongly.” I opened my eyes and looked at the lovely ladies around me. “He would not have passed up such an opportunity. You wouldn’t have been safe with him,” I told Suzanne.

Ellen sighed and shook her head. “We’re very lucky...”

“What now?” I asked.

“What are you going to do about your job?” Ellen asked, smiling once more.

I sighed, leaning back. I liked the way Bernadette slid closer to me. “Prepare the customary letter and see what happens this week.”

“You won’t give notice Monday?” Ellen asked.

I shook my head. “No. One of my colleagues is interviewing. Whoever announces first, the rest of us will be called on the carpet within the following half-hour. I’d just as soon let him start things.”

“Have a lot to clean out of your office?” Linda asked.

I shook my head. “Our desks must be clean at the end of the day. Only ‘approved’ items may be displayed in our offices. I have some clean clothes in a file drawer, and that’s it.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You won’t have any such restrictions here. Seriously though, when would you be able to start?” Ellen asked

“I’ll talk to Dave on Monday. I’ll give him until the end of the week, and give notice Friday if he hasn’t done anything. I have some things I should finish up. I guess I need to schedule a physical, too. I haven’t seen a doctor in years.”

“Yes you have,” Bernadette said, rubbing my back again.

The ladies laughed, probably at the look on my face.

Bernadette said, “Both Linda and I are medical doctors—I do bodies; she does minds.”

I looked to Linda with more respect. “I’m in very good hands, then.”

“What a practical individual you are!” Ellen said. That got us all laughing.

A half-hour later I was following Bernadette to her office, which was in one of the newer buildings. Next to her office she had a quite thorough looking infirmary.

“Rob, get undressed and we’ll get started. Your preliminary blood tests look very good, and I expect the others to be fine. Now, let’s start with family history...”

I answered her questions as I got undressed, then sat up on the exam table. It was so weird, looking over at her as she wrote down information, watching her breasts jiggle under her blouse. Oh, that had been so nice...

“Rob?”

I shook my head, trying to clear out the wool. “Sorry, brain fart,” I said softly. “Where were we?”

She put her pad down and moved next to me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

“What’s the matter, Rob?” she asked softly.

I sighed, closing my eyes. “I don’t know,” I whispered.

She held me closer, sliding a hand up the back of my neck.

“Does that help?” she said.

“Oh yes,” I sighed in response.

She held me closer. “I’ve got you, Rob,” she said, holding and rocking me.

We spoke for a while. I went through the rest of the exam in a dreamworld.

A tap on my forehead with a finger, and the world snapped into crystal clarity. I was still naked, sitting on the edge of a bed in the infirmary. Bernadette was sitting next to me.

“Rob?”

I turned to her. “Yes?”

“Rob, would you like to make love with me?”

“Yes...” I whispered.

We joined in a kiss and slipped back on to the bed. As we rolled around, she rolled partially on top of me. I moaned and pulled her more on to me.

“What is it? What do you need?” she whispered, moving more on top of me.

“You feel so good on top of me...” I told her.

She pulled off her top and moved up on me, offering me a nipple again. I took it, and soon her hand held me to her, taking me back to that cloud.

We made love on that cloud, with her riding me, holding me. Afterwards she held me again, and we started talking. I don’t know what I said, but parts hurt and were full of tears.

I woke slowly on my stomach, feeling a hand rubbing my back through the sheet covering me. I sighed and turned.

“What is it?” Linda asked.

I blinked and closed my eyes as I relaxed on my back. A hand rested on my chest.

“You looked surprised,” Linda said, her hand moving on my chest a bit. “What was it?”

I managed to chuckle. “The transitions—one moment Suzanne is holding me out by the tree, the next moment I’m in the house with Bernadette. Then it’s Bernadette, and I open my eyes to see you... It’s a little confusing, that’s all.”

“Open your eyes, Rob—calm and relaxed still,” Linda said.

I opened my eyes, slowly.

She was smiling. “You told Bernadette some things which worried her; that’s why I’m here. I’d like to explore those with you.”

I was afraid. “Will it keep me out of the family?”

She smiled, shaking her head, and pressed a little more with her hand on my chest. “No, Rob—it won’t. If you’re hurt, we want you to get better, to heal. As Bernadette said, she takes care of bodies, and I take care of minds.”

I was less afraid, but felt strange—like I was ten years old. “Will you hold me?”

She nodded. “Yes, Rob—I’ll hold you. Would you like to explore with me? Parts of it won’t be a lot of fun, but I’ll be right here with you.”

I put a hand on her pants leg. “Hold me afterwards?”

“I’ll hold you afterwards, as well as before, and during. I promise.”

“Okay,” I said.

She leaned over me a little, her face filling my vision. Her hands moved up my body to my neck. I moaned as my eyes closed and I started falling back. I didn’t feel ten anymore, more like fourteen...

She was right—we went to some difficult places. But she was with me, and I knew they couldn’t hurt me now. The memories still hurt though, but she held me and rocked me afterwards. Then she let me float in her embrace while she talked to someone about things I didn’t need to remember.

I woke up on my side, my knees pulled up toward my chest. I felt a hand on my side. I straightened my legs and rolled to my back once more. Linda was still there.

“How are you doing?” she asked, a hand going back to my chest.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Understand what?”

“Why your hand on my chest, why being held feels so good.”

She smiled and nodded. “We’re meant to be held, and hold others.”

I sighed. “I know.” Something prodded me. “What happened? I’m not supposed to remember something.”

She leaned forward again, her hands sliding up to my neck. She squeezed me lightly as she said, “You don’t have to right now. You’ll remember when it’s time. It’s better for you now this way. You need time to heal. Close your eyes now...”

I closed my eyes and drifted again, with her holding me.

I woke up alert, and sat up. Linda was sitting in a chair next to me.

“What now?” I asked.

She smiled. “Get dressed and walk around with me? We’ve a while before dinner.”

I got dressed. As I was putting on my shoes, Linda moved over and sat next to me, putting an arm around me.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

I turned and hugged her. “Now I do. I feel like... I was little and took a bad fall from a swing—that instant after the sudden whole-body impact, before the pain and panic set in, like I’m suspended in time somehow. Does that make sense?”

She held me. “Yes, it makes sense. We’ll protect you. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

“That bad?”

She laughed and sat back. “No, that good—you’re an amazingly resilient person, Rob.”

I shook my head. “I still feel like I’ve been in a car wreck.”

She nodded with a grim smile. “You have been—it’s called growing up.”

With that I sighed and stood up. I helped her to her feet and we hugged again.

We headed back to the main house.

“Did Bernadette mention anything about your office?”

I liked having my arm in hers, or was it hers in mine?

“Just that it would be in the new building, where I’d have good air-conditioning for my prints and negatives.”

“Yes, that’s it. We can do a darkroom if you need it.”

“We’ll see. The services I use do a very good job, and save me a lot of time. Don’t know that it’s cost-effective to do it myself.”

We paused at the rear stairway.

“I can see that. Would you like to see your room?”

She was smiling again. “I like to see you smile,” I told her, then frowned.

“What is it?” she said, stepping closer, an arm around my back now.

“Confused again—I’m blurting things out, and I feel weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I’m not sure how old I am, if that makes sense.”

She nodded, rubbing my back, stepping closer. “Does that help?”

Her touch, her body against mine was comforting. “Yes, very much.”

“How old do you feel?”

I closed my eyes. “Six, sometimes ten, sometimes fourteen or so, but I’m almost thirty.”

“Inside, you’re all of those ages, and more. We’ll have plenty of time to explore them. Rob, when you and I are alone together, you’re open with me; it’s important. Is that still all right with you?”

Part of me remembered her asking about that, and I’d agreed. “Yes, it is,” I told her.

Then it was the tap on the forehead again. I laughed this time. She gave me a pixy smile.

“I like the way that works. Could have used it studying for the damn CPA exams.”

She chuckled and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”

“We have seven bedrooms upstairs, including Ellen’s suite, which is the only one with its own bathroom. The rest of us share two bathrooms.”

“That could be a problem in the morning...”

She laughed, holding my arm. “It hasn’t been so far. With you, there will only be five of us up here.”

She must have seen my puzzled look.

“When our owner visits, Ellen moves out, and we keep one room spare. So, you get your choice of two rooms. This one, and the one on the other side of the house.”

We went into the first room. It was spacious, with a high ceiling. It had a large and high four-poster bed. An old desk was in one corner. The furnishings, and the bed, were in dark, old wood. I liked it. I walked over to an old, mirrored door. The door and the mirror were both old. I opened it to reveal a quite large closet.

“This is nice,” I said. I could feel the smile on my face. “I’m turned around—is this a morning sun room?”

Linda smiled. “No, the other one is. Shall we look?”

I nodded and we went down the hall, around the corner to the other hall, going in to the other room.

It was probably evident on my face. This one didn’t have the feeling of the other one.

“You like the other one better,” she said.

“Yes—can’t put my finger on it, but I do. The other one has more detail, more history—in the plaster, the coving, the trim work.”

I checked out the closet. It was a little smaller. “This room must have been done later—the construction, while good, is newer.”

“You’re right. The three on this side were redone in the forties.”

A thought crossed my mind. “I suppose I should be practical and ask which is closer to a bathroom.”

Linda laughed, and I moved closer to her.

“Actually,” she told me, holding out her arms, “The other one is.”

We hugged again.

“Oh, I like hugs.”

“Mmmmm... Good—so do I.”

She moved back a bit. The look on her face was curious. A slight smile, but serious, and something else.

“Rob, I want you to spend tonight and tomorrow night here...”

I was confused again. I looked at the room, then nodded towards the other room.

She smiled more. “No, with me,” she whispered. We hugged again. “I don’t want you sleeping alone the next few nights.”

That sudden impact feeling loomed up again, but disappeared just as quickly as it had approached. “Please,” I told her, whispering in her ear and taking a deep breath at her neck.

She sighed, giving me a little squeeze, then stepping back. “I’ll show you the bathrooms. We can clean up a bit, then head downstairs. I need to talk to Ellen for a few minutes.”

I nodded. The bathrooms were quite nice, with modern plumbing, separate showers and tubs, and two sinks. I had funny feelings again. Being in the bathroom with Linda brought back memories of when Tina and I lived together.

We walked downstairs, taking the front stairway. Linda showed me the kitchen area, and I was introduced to the staff. I was surprised to see a man in the kitchen—Eduardo. He was married to Janice; they did the cooking. I complimented them on the meals I’d enjoyed so far.

As they started asking me about my likes and dislikes, Linda touched me on the shoulder and told me she’d meet me in the parlor later.

I don’t like broccoli, unless it’s well disguised. Feed me Brussel sprouts, cabbage, and the like, and people won’t like to be around me. Janice thought I’d do just fine.

Another woman came into the room, a redhead with a clipboard, looking relaxed and harried at the same time.

“I’m Rob—I don’t think we’ve met, although I’m not sure,” I told her extending a hand.

She smiled and swept me into a hug. “I’m Deb. Welcome to the family, Rob.”

“Oh, I’m going to like it here,” I said, holding her.

I turned a little red. So did Deb, as she, Janice, and Eduardo laughed.

“Let me show you around the house a bit more,” Deb said, taking my arm.

“Oh, we will be having champagne tonight,” she told Eduardo as we left the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” I started to say as we walked down the hall.

“That’s okay, Rob. I think I understand. I’m part of the family as well, and have been for about four years. It takes a while to get used to. Oh, I’m responsible for running the house. Did you see the bedrooms yet? Make a choice?”

We were at the back stairs again. “Yes, Linda showed me. I like the one on this side, with the coved ceiling.”

Deb nodded. “I like that one as well. I’m right down the hall,” she said, bumping me with her hips as she walked, and a gleam in her eye when I looked at her. Then she raised her eyebrows momentarily and added, “of course, Linda is next door to you.”

I sighed. “This will take some getting used to.”

She laughed and gave me more of the tour. We talked about getting me moved. When I mentioned taking a bunch of small loads, probably bringing some things over tomorrow, she told me she would take care of it all—I was family after all. She understood I had some things which had to be handled carefully, such as film, prints, and cameras; we could go over those tomorrow.

We walked over to the newer building, the one with Bernadette’s office. It also had Deb’s office, full of modern equipment. She showed me the one she proposed for me.

I nodded, looking at the room. “I’m in a two bedroom apartment, with one bedroom used as the office. This is bigger than that room, plus my office at work combined. It will be great.”

She nodded. “Oh, you haven’t met Annette yet—she handles bookkeeping for us. She sits with me. She’s family as well, and lives upstairs in this building. If you’d rather the two of you shared an office, we can do that, but from what I understand, you’re going to be busy with other things.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Okay, I guess. It’s going to take me a while to get up and running, understanding how things work. I won’t suggest changing things unless I can explain why I think they’re broken, or need changing.”

Deb nodded, leaning back against an old wooden desk. She had a full figure, long legs, a cute nose, and freckles. “I like that. Just as long as you understand Ellen thinks she runs things, but I’m the one who gets things done...”

“Unless She is here,” Linda added from the doorway.

Now it was my turn to laugh as Deb turned red.

“Of course, Doctor,” Deb said, somewhat chagrined.

“Shall we go?” Linda suggested with a smile, holding out an arm.

I put an arm around Deb and pulled her along. We walked back to the main house.