The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You can’t do this!” The girl tied up in the chair was indignant. “Just wait! When my daddy finds out—!”

“I’ve already done it, little girl,” the man standing over her observed. “And I want your rich-ass daddy to find out. When he does, the two of us will find out how much he cares about you!”

“What do you mean?” The girl’s defiant attitude was suddenly shadowed by fear. Her blue eyes widened.

“It’s simple,” came the reply. “We get to find out how much he’s willing to pay to get his darling daughter back.”

“Ransom?” Debbie Munson laughed. “You want my daddy to pay ransom? He doesn’t even pay his lawyers or his accountants if he can help it, and they’re the ones keeping him from going to jail for tax fraud!”

“Then you’d better hope he cares more about you than he does about them.” Her kidnapper scowled. “I’m going to ask for a million dollars, and he’d better pony up, or else. I’m not kidding around.”

He looked down at Debbie again. For a moment, his eyes seemed to lock onto her considerable bosom, which was covered but not concealed by the tight blouse and sweater she had on. Then his attention was redirected as a voice came from the phone. Debbie couldn’t make it out; she could hardly hear it, but it sounded like a man’s voice.

“Never mind who this is,” her captor admonished. “I’ve got your daughter, Mr. Munson.” He listened for a few seconds and then went on. “No, she’s all right, at the moment. Here.” He held the phone down to Debbie. “Say something for daddy dearest, girlie.”

“Daddy, it’s me!” Fear colored Debbie’s voice now. This was real! “No, Daddy, I’m all right. He hasn’t hurt me. He just wants money.”

“What do you want?” Munson’s voice on the other end of the line shook with worry. “I’ll pay anything!”

“A million dollars,” the kidnapper said. “In twenties, fifties and hundreds. Unmarked and non-sequential. I’ll contact you when I’m ready to arrange the exchange. And if you want your pretty daughter back, and still pretty, don’t screw with me.”

Debbie’s eyes widened again. “And still pretty”? What did he mean by that? Her imagination began conjuring up frightening possibilities.

Ray Donaldson tucked the phone away and looked his captive over. She was doing pretty well for somebody tied up in a strange place by some guy. His eyes dropped to her chest again and he jerked them away, angry at himself. But those breasts just seemed to pull at him!

Suddenly his captive spoke up. “I don’t even know your name,” she said.

Grateful for the diversion, he focused on Debbie’s face. “Just call me Ray, girlie,” he replied. “Ray, that’s all you need to know.”

Debbie smiled. She’d noticed now her kidnapper—Ray?—seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes off her chest. Lots of guys did; last year she’d even gotten out of getting a traffic ticket because the cop who’d stopped her had gotten so focused on her boobs that he’d forgotten to write one before climbing back onto his motorcycle and riding off. She’d always wondered whether he’d gone someplace private afterward and jerked off.

This was different, of course. She was actually tied up, and the guy who’d tied her up was after a million dollars! He might be too concentrated on that to be . . . persuaded . . . by her tits. Still, the way he was looking at them said they—that is, she—might be able to talk him into at least untying her and not tying her back up the way he’d done after she’d used the bathroom.

Well, it was worth a try.

Smiling, the arched her back as much as she could, tied up and all, and began breathing deeply, in and out, in and out, straining the fabric of her blouse under her tight sweater.

Ray watched his captive carefully. Not that she could do much with her hands tied behind her back and her ankles tied together as well, but just looking at her was a treat. Long, wavy chestnut-brown hair, a pretty face, narrow waist flaring into long, elegant legs exposed all the way down by the tiny white skirt she had on, small feet encased in high-heeled strappy white sandals.

And of course those tits! He’d been fighting not to let his eyes wander to them, but it was getting harder and harder. Staring at them, he was getting harder and harder.

Why had he ever wanted to look away? He couldn’t remember.

Debbie stared at her kidnapper, who was now standing there with this hands dangling at his sides and a stupid expression on his face. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes looked weird, their pupils dilating and contracting in time to the in and out of her breathing. She smiled. Wow, she thought. He looks like he’s totally out of it. Like he’s hypnotized or something. She giggled as she remembered the traffic cop again. This guy’s even more spaced out than that cop was! She giggled again. He’s not even trying to look away from my boobs anymore! It’s like he can’t even think of it! Her smile broadened. Or anything else either.

Smirking now, she looked up at her captor, who very obviously was now her captive instead. He was really kind of good-looking. She could think of a few things she’d like to do to, er, with him. But first things first.

“Come over here, Ray,” Debbie purred. “I know you want to do more than just stare at my tits. You want to feel them, too. You want to feel them in your hands, don’t you, Ray? Come over here and you can feel my tits all you want. I can’t stop you, because I’m all tied up, but that just makes it better, doesn’t it, Ray, feeling my tits and knowing I can’t stop you.”

Ray moaned and started toward Debbie.

“That’s right,” the girl said encouragingly. “Come here to me and you can feel up my breasts, and I can’t stop you because you have me all tied up, but you’ll stop when I tell you to stop because if you do I’ll let you feel them some more later.” What she’d just said was nonsense, of course—with her tied up hand and foot the way she was, Ray could grope her anytime he wanted—but with him the way he was, she figured he wouldn’t be able to think of that.

Ray obeyed. Blank-eyed, he walked over to Debbie.

“Now put your phone away,” directed Debbie. “Put your phone away so you can use both hands to feel up my breasts. Put your phone away; you don’t need it right now.”

Ray tucked his phone into his shirt pocket and folded the pocket flap over it.

“That’s right,” Amanda smiled. “Now you can feel my tits all you want, Ray. Feel up my tits until I tell you to stop.”

Ray placed his hands on Amanda’s breasts and began kneading the soft flesh. He kept on mechanically, mindlessly, and under his touch Amanda whimpered with pleasure.

“Stop,” she moaned at last. “Ray, stop now. Put your, oh God, hands down.”

Ray stopped. His hands fell to his sides. Still on his knees, he waited for Debbie to tell him what to do next.

After a moment, she did. “Ray,” she commanded, “untie me. Untie me now, Ray, and we can do all kinds of things we can’t do if I’m tied up.”

“All kinds . . . of things,” echoed Ray. He reached down and untied Debbie’s feet, then stood up, walked around behind her and freed her wrists. Debbie’s instructions completed, Ray just stood there, arms at his sides and eyes staring glassily ahead.

Debbie stood up, rubbing her wrists a little; the zip tie had kind of chafed. She walked around Ray, inspecting him. Yes, she decided, he’d do just fine. Somewhere in his late thirties, sandy hair, blue eyes in a rugged face, muscular build. I bet he lifts weights, she thought. He wasn’t stupid, either. His brain might not be working at the moment, but he’d been clever enough to know she was worth snatching because her daddy had loads of money and to actually do the snatching.

She smirked again. She wasn’t a virgin, technically, thanks to that time with her boyfriend Deke a few months ago—and she sure hoped Daddy never found out about that!—but with her father watching her like a hawk, she wasn’t getting a lot of opportunities. Even that one time she’d almost gotten caught. But here she was now, out of Daddy’s sight with a good-looking guy who’d do just anything she wanted!

But there was something she needed right now.

“Ray,” she said. Her kidnapper’s blank gaze shifted toward her voice. “In a minute I’m going to snap my fingers.” She couldn’t believe she was actually going to get to use that hypno cliché in real life! “When I snap my fingers, Ray, you’ll be wide awake. You’ll remember untying me, but you won’t remember I made you do it. You’ll think it was all your idea because you decided you didn’t need to tie me up because I couldn’t get away no matter what.” She smiled. “Besides, this way you don’t have to untie me every time I need go to the bathroom or eat, and then tie me up again. Do you understand me, Ray, and will you do what I’ve told you to do? Say ‘Yes, Debbie mistress’ if you understand and will do what I’ve told you.”

“Yes, Debbie mistress.” Ray nodded, but while his chin bobbed up and down his eyes remained locked on Debbie’s chest.

“And Ray, even though you’ll be wide awake, you’ll listen carefully to everything I say, and everything I tell you to do will sound like a good idea to you, so you’ll want to do it.” She took a breath and went on, “But if I want to make you relaxed and obedient again the way you are now, all I have to do is start breathing hard, in and out, in and out, and you’ll stare at my tits, keep staring at my tits, get lost in my tits, and you’ll go under again, just the way you are now. You’ll do all this for me, won’t you, Ray?”

“Yes, Debbie mistress.”

Smirking again, Debbie snapped her fingers.

She’s loose! Ray thought. How the hell—? For a moment panic swept him. Then he relaxed. Oh, yeah, he reminded himself. He’d untied her himself. After all, this way he didn’t have to untie her every time she needed to go to the bathroom or eat and then tie her back up. And it wasn’t as if she could get away, after all. How could he have forgotten, even for a second? The stress must be getting to me. He headed for the apartment’s tiny kitchenette and pulled a beer out of the refrigerator.

“Bring me one too,” a feminine voice called from the main room. Why not? Ray asked himself before realizing he’d already taken a second one out. He came back into the main room, handed one of the beers to Debbie and sat down in the chair to which she’d been tied. She came over and stood in front of him, looking down into his upturned face as they both drank. A fantasy image flashed through Ray’s mind of him tied up the way the girl had been and her standing over him—just the way she is now, he thought—as though she’d kidnapped him instead of the other way around. He squirmed, feeling himself growing hard, and frowned. He was in charge here, not her. It was one thing if he indulged her a little, but business was business. There was a lot of money involved, after all, not to mention staying out of prison.

Ray took out his phone. “Time to set up the drop, sweetcheeks,” he told Debbie. “I’ll tell your daddy where and when to leave the money, and once I have it and I’ve gotten away clean I’ll call and tell him where to find you. And he’d better not try anything; I wasn’t kidding before when I warned him what might happen to you if he did.”

Debbie smiled. Ray’s threat wasn’t nearly as scary this time. She knew how to handle him now.

And she’d been doing some thinking. Now that she was in control of things, maybe there was a way she could take advantage of the situation. Besides what I’m going to do with Ray, she thought smugly.

“Just a second,” she called out. “Before you call Daddy, Ray, there’s something you need to see.” Her kidnapper automatically looked toward her, just in time to see her pull her sweater off over her head. The sweater was tight enough so that pulling it up pulled her blouse up too, scrunching it under her bosom and pulling that up as well. The top two buttons were undone, displaying ample cleavage the sweater had barely hinted at. The effect was to turn that garment into a brief halter, almost a bikini top. She began breathing deeply again, in, out, in, out.

Ray stared, the phone in his hand forgotten. Just then, he wouldn’t have remembered what it was for anyway. His jaw dropped slightly. It dropped more when Debbie unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way slithered out of ad tossed it aside on top of her sweater, then struck a pose with hands locked together behind her head and back arched to thrust out her bust, waist turned so her left leg stretched a little behind her. “You like?” she asked, certain she knew.

“Buh-buh-buhhh . . . !” Ray blabbered. At the moment, lost deep, deep in Debbie’s double-D’s, he couldn’t muster the brainpower to speak, although he could understand Debbie perfectly.

“Good boy,” purred the chestnut-haired charmer in front of him. “Now this is what I want you to tell Daddy. . . .” She went on, issuing her instructions. Finishing up, she said, “Now remember, even after I wake you up, everything I say will seem right to you. You’ll want to do what I want, because if you do what I say and believe anything I tell you, you’ll get to see my tits bare again, feel my tits again, and maybe do more. We can do just anything here and nobody will know, so it’s okay for you to do anything I say.” She purred, “If you’re good and do everything I say, you’ll get to see my tits again, feel my tits again, and when I tell you, fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.”

Debbie picked up her discarded blouse and sweater, put them back on and paused briefly, looking down at Ray as he looked up at her with wide, trusting eyes. “Now I’m going to wake you up, Ray honey,” she purred. “I’m going to wake you up. But first, I need you to stand up. Stand up, Ray.”

Ray stood, letting his arms fall limply to his side.

“Good boy,” Debbie said. “Now next, I need you to take three long steps forward and turn around to face the chair.” Once again, Ray obeyed.

Debbie put her blouse and sweater back on and sat down in the chair. “Now, Ray baby,”—she was getting into calling him things like that—“I’m going to snap my fingers. When I snap my fingers, you’re going to take your eyes off my tits—I know you don’t want to, but it’s what I want, so you’ll do it—and come out of the wonderful haze my tits put you in. You won’t remember sinking into that wonderful haze; you’ll just remember you enjoyed looking at my tits. You won’t remember me giving you instructions while you were drifting in that wonderful haze. But even though you won’t remember, you’ll follow those instructions, because if you do you’ll get to see my bare tits again, feel them again, and fuck me like there’s no tomorrow, and you want that more than anything. Do you understand, Ray, and will you follow my instructions? Say ‘Yes, Debbie mistress’ if you understand and will do what I’ve told you to do.”

“Yes, Debbie mistress.” Ray nodded his head up and down, but once again his eyes stayed locked on Debbie’s chest.

Debbie giggled. She’d had a fun idea. “One last thing before I snap my fingers, Ray darling.” She smiled wickedly. “From now on, whenever we’re alone together, whether you’re drifting in the wonderful haze my tits carry you into or you’re wide awake, you’ll call me ‘Debbie mistress.’ But when you’re awake, you won’t notice you’re doing it. Do you understand, Ray, and will you do this for me?”

“Yes, Debbie mistress,” Ray answered. “I understand. I will call you ‘Debbie mistress’ . . . when we’re alone. But when I’m awake . . . I won’t notice I’m doing it.”

“Perfect, Ray dear.” Debbie smiled triumphantly. “I’m so glad we understand each other.” She snapped her fingers.

Ray Donaldson tore his eyes away from the big-busted brunette’s boobs. I’m enjoying this too much, he told himself. Sure she’s got a great rack, but it’s very distracting, and I need to keep my head clear. But he wasn’t going to kid himself: sooner or later he’d go right back to staring.

Suddenly he noticed the phone in his hand. Jesus, he swore silently. I almost forgot to make the call set up the ransom drop! What, am I going senile or something? He dialed Munson’s office number as he’d done before.

This time Munson himself answered immediately. “Is my daughter okay?”

“She is,” Ray assured him. “”And she’ll stay that way as long a you do as you’re told. Now here are your instructions.” The kidnapper paused. “Tomorrow at three o’clock you will deposit the money at this location”—he named a spot in a local park—“in two plain cloth bags with handles, also unmarked. In addition, you will bring your daughter’s backpack with a change of clothes inside. You will then leave immediately. Come alone. If I catch even a whiff of cops, I’m gone and you’d better pray I don’t take it out on your little Debbie.”

“I’ll do as you say,” Munson promised.

“You’d better,” retorted Ray. After a beat, he went on. “Oh, one more thing. It’s two million dollars, not one.” Ray knew Munson could come up with the two mill as easily as the one.

Munson sputtered. At last he sighed. “All right. Two million. God damn you!”

Ray ended the call.

Debbie spoke up: “Ray, I don’t like sitting in this chair. It’s too hard. Can I go over and sit on the couch? It’s more comfortable there, and besides, then I can watch TV.”

“Yes, Debbie mistress,” replied Ray. Just as Debbie had suggested, he didn’t notice that he’d called her “mistress.”

Smirking, Debbie moved to the couch. She picked up the remote sitting on the low table in front of it and clicked on the TV, tuning it to her favorite show, a soap opera called, ironically, Controlling Passions. It had just come on.

“How can you watch that crap, Debbie mistress?” Ray sounded disgusted.

“I like it,” replied the sexy spellbinder. “Why don’t you pull up the chair and watch it with me? It’ll help pass the time, anyway.”

“Yes, Debbie mistress.” Ray did as the girl who was supposed to be his captive had suggested. It was perfectly reasonable, after all; Debbie wasn’t going to try to get away while she was watching television, and anyway she couldn’t even if she did try. It didn’t occur to him that she didn’t seem to be making any effort at all to escape. Almost as though she didn’t need to.

The soap turned out to be an hour and a half long, surprising Ray, who had expected it to be only an hour. By the time it was over—and Ray could hardly believe how much he’d gotten caught up in it—he was starting to get hungry.

“I’m calling out for pizza,” he announced. “Anything you’d like?”

“Sausage and onion,” answered the bewitching brunette. “And orange Snapple.”

“Yes, Debbie mistress,” Ray answered.

After supper, the kidnapper and his mistress sat back on he couch and watched some more TV. Ray had no problem with watching the shows Debbie wanted to see; somehow he liked all of them, even the nighttime soap he’d never heard of. It was almost as though he liked them because Debbie told him he would.

At last he yawned. “Time for bed,” he announced. “You too, Debbie mistress.”

“Where is the bed?” asked Debbie.

“We’re sitting on it,” Ray replied. “The couch folds out.” He smiled reassuringly. “Of course, I’ll sleep in the chair. Or maybe on the floor.” Idly, he wondered how the two of them had gotten to be so friendly, and in such a short time. He was supposed to be her kidnapper, not her boyfriend!

“You don’t have to do that,” Debbie said. “Here, help me fold out the couch.”

It took a couple of minutes to fold the couch out into a bed, smooth the sheets and blankets and pop on the pillows, which were hidden in a little sliding cabinet underneath. Then Ray spoke up, again offering to let Debbie have the bed to herself. “Like I said before, I can sleep in the chair or on the floor.”

Debbie pouted. “And like I said before, you don’t have to do that.” Her pout turned into a teasing smile. She brought her hands up to cup her breasts and push them up. Once more she began breathing deeply, in and out, in and out.

Ray’s eyes locked on immediately. Their pupils began pulsing in and out, in and out, in time with her breathing, just as they’d done before. “Wh-what do you . . . mean?”

“Oh, I think you know,” chided Debbie. “Just keep staring at my breasts as I breathe in and out, in and out. Forget about everything but my breasts and my voice and let my breasts and my voice tell you what you want to do next, what you’re going to do next. Do you understand, Ray?”

“Yes, Debbie mistress.” Ray’s eyes were riveted to Debbie’s chest. Nothing mattered but her breasts and her voice. “I understand.”

“Good boy, Ray.” Debbie smiled. “In a moment, I’m going to snap my fingers again. When I do, you will wake up.” She paus “I know you really want to have sex with me, Ray honey, but you’ve been holding back because after all you’re my kidnapper, not my boyfriend, and having sex with me would feel like rape.” Any cop and any court would say it was rape, of course, even if she insisted she’d been willing. But that wouldn’t be a problem; when they parted ways, Ray wouldn’t even remember what they’d done together, and she’d never tell—Daddy would have a stroke.

“But,” she continued, “you must forget all that. All that matters is that my tits drive you crazy, that you want to have sex with me more than anything in the world and that I want to have sex with you, too, and you want to do whatever I want. Do you understand, Ray?”

“Yes, Debbie mistress,” moaned Ray. His pants tented visibly in front. “I unnh, unhh, understand.”

“But,” the bewitching brunette continued, “you must let me guide you, let my body guide and control your body. And when I tell you to stop, you will stop and wait for me to tell you what to do next. And if I tell you to sleep, you’ll fall asleep until I say the words ‘Wake up, sleepyhead.’” She drew a breath. “And when I do wake you up, you’ll remember the sex we’ve had, but you’ll forget about me giving you instructions.”

“Yes. Debbie mistress.”

Debbie held up her hand in front of Ray’s face and snapped her fingers.

“Oh, God,” Ray groaned. There Debbie was, cupping those incredible tits in her hands! Forget about sleep, he told himself. I’ll never be able to sleep until I’ve had sex with her! And she wants it too, or she wouldn’t be doing what she’s doing! He grabbed for her feverishly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him. Her arms snaked around his neck.

The next few minutes were a frantic scramble as Ray and Debbie peeled out of their clothes and tossed them aside. Then the pair toppled onto the bed and began to move together.

Debbie clamped her thighs around Ray and slithered against him, the contact inflaming the man who no longer remembered he was her abductor. He moved into her and began to rock, matching her rhythm with his own. Finally he came, explosively, and his release triggered hers.

Ray lay quiet, drifting in post-intercourse languor. Behind his closed eyelids images moved, hazy thoughts. For a moment something disturbing surfaced, something about Debbie, about something she’d done—to him?—but only for a moment.

“Ohh, that was good,” Debbie murmured into his ear. “More, Ray. I want more. I want to do it again, and you know you want it too. Do it again. . . .”

They kept going until at last Debbie, on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, gasped, “Stop, Ray.” Obeying her earlier suggestion, Ray stopped and waited for his mistress to give him further instructions.

“Sleep, Ray,” commanded Debbie. “Sleep now until I say the words which tell you it’s time to wake up.”

Ray started to reply as he’d been programmed to do, but fell asleep before he could say the word “mistress.”

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

The words seemed to echo in Ray’s skull, jarring him out of the blissful blankness in which he’d been drifting. He opened his eyes.

For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was. Then memory flooded back. He sat up planting his bare feet on the floor. Debbie was standing there watching him. She smiled. “Big day today.”

It certainly would be. If everything went as planned, he’d be two million dollars richer before sunset. He couldn’t quite recall what had moved him to up the ransom from one million to two, but what did it matter? Either way, if things worked out he’d be rich, and either way, if things went wrong he’d go to prison, and the size of the ransom demand wouldn’t affect his sentence. But let’s not think about things going wrong, he chided himself. I just need to make sure they don’t.

Ray and Debbie ate breakfast together quietly. Everything hinged on what Debbie’s father did now. If he did as he’d been told, Ray could pick up the cash and Debbie’s bag and hustle back to the apartment to pack up and leave. Once he’d gotten clear he’d call Mr. Munson and give him the apartment’s address, and then he’d be in the wind. They’d never find him: even Debbie only knew his first name, and he trusted her to provide only a very general description.

A little after two, Ray drove his rented car to a spot right across the street from the drop point, a bus shelter, and waited. Right on time, an expensive car drove up to the bus shelter; an older man in an expensive suit got out, pulled out first one cloth bag then another, and finally a bulky leather backpack, which Ray guessed must be Debbie’s. It was much larger than would be needed to hold one change of clothes. Maybe she only uses it when she goes away on vacation, the kidnapper guessed. All three bags went onto the shelter’s wooden bench. The man in the fancy suit—who’d better have been Mr. Munson, worried Ray, who didn’t know what Munson looked like—got back into his car and drove off. Ray stepped out and looked around; no sign of police. Good.

Ray moved his own car then, driving over and parking in front of the bus shelter. He got out, checking again for any hint that cops were watching. Satisfied that they weren’t, he loaded all three bags into his car and drove off.

Debbie clapped her hands and smiled when Ray came in with the money. It’s almost over, she thought. She smiled even more when he brought in her personal bag.

“I’ll just go shower and change,” she announced. She really needed to. I had to sleep in my clothes, ick, she thought. But it was worth it.

A little while later, refreshed and reclothed, she came out. Ray had dressed and sowas putting his personal stuff away in big suitcase. The two bags of money, each holding a million dollars in mixed denominations, sat on the floor. So did her own bag, which now held her used clothes with plenty of room to spare.

Now, Debbie decided. “Ray,” she called out, “there’s something I need to show you.”

“Yes, Debbie mistress?” The brunette chuckled softly; he was still doing it, calling her “mistress,” and still didn’t realize he was doing it.

Debbie fingered open the top three buttons, one after another, slowly and sensuously, steadily exposing more cleavage. Ray stared. The world seemed to fade away into the wonderful pink haze he always seemed to sink into when he stared at Debbie’s tits. All that remained were those beautiful breasts and the beautiful voice which went with them.

The beautiful voice was saying something. Ray listened intently.

“Ray honey,” the voice said, “in a little while I’m going to wake you up again. When I do, you’ll empty one of the money bags into my bag and forget you did it. You won’t notice the empty bag after that. You’ll forget you ever had it.

“You’ll finish packing your own stuff, including the other money bag, and leave. When you think you’re safely away, you’ll call Daddy’s number, the same number you called before, and tell him where this place is so he can come get me.”

She paused. “Now Ray sweetie, this is very important. When you talked to my father before, you asked for one million dollars. One million dollars. That’s true, isn’t it, Ray?”

“Yes, Debbie mistress.” Ray nodded, but his eyes stayed riveted on Debbie’s chest.

“You asked for one million dollars. And you got one million dollars, didn’t you, Ray.”

“Yes, Debbie mistress. I asked for . . . one million dollars. And I got . . . one million dollars.”

Well, one out of two isn’t bad, Debbie thought. As far as he’d remember, he’d never made the upgraded demand for two million dollars; she’d programmed him before he’d made his second call to her father to ask for the extra million and then forget he’d done so. And so he would be leaving with one million dollars and none the wiser about the other million.

It’s not like he and Daddy are ever going to compare notes, gloated the scheming young siren. And Daddy will keep this out of the papers and off the TV and radio news, because it’s too much of an uproar and that might hurt his business, so Ray won’t find out that way.

Ray Donaldson was whistling as he drove his rented car away. He could afford to keep it for awhile now, until he bought one. He didn’t have to worry about the apartment, either. He’d been renting by the month, he was paid up, and under the circumstances, who cared about the security deposit? He could afford a better place now, with a million bucks to spend.

He frowned. About that—he’d have to be careful not to get carried away spending. He’d read about lottery winners who’d blown it all and ended up right where they’d started. He didn’t want that. And he’d have to find some way of stashing the cash. He didn’t want to just carry it around in his car, but opening a bank account with a cool million would just be begging for trouble. There were those banks in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands, of course, but he had no idea how to work with them.

He picked up his phone, called Mr. Munson’s number and left the apartment address so Daddy dearest could pick up his daughter. And that was that. He tossed the phone out the window and drove on. As soon as possible he’d buy a brand-new one with a brand-new number to go with his brand-new life.

Debbie Munson sat quietly in the back seat of her daddy’s car, her big carrying bag beside her. Her father hadn’t noticed how full the bag was now. As soon as she got home, she’d have to find a safe place for the money; she couldn’t just leave it in the bag. She didn’t think she could deposit it into her bank account, not all at once anyway; too big a deposit might make the bank start asking questions she didn’t want to answer.

Things were going to change for her. Daddy could be so unreasonable about giving her money, but now she had plenty of her own to spend if he wouldn’t let her have what she needed. She’d just have to be a little careful—her father might wonder what was going on if she never asked him for any money. She didn’t want him asking the wrong kind of questions any more than she wanted the bank people to.

She thought of Ray and wondered where he might be going. Then she thought of Daddy and how she needed to make sure he didn’t find out about the money or about what Ray and she had done in bed.

She looked down at her ample rack, once more swaddled in blouse and sweater. Maybe there was a way . . . !