The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Brooke decided she couldn’t let things keeping on going the way they’d been. She wanted them to change, she wanted them to expand; it was fun to just be sporadic about things, to leave it all up to chance, with no preparation or forethought. But it was risky, too, and there was a smarter way to go about arranging her future hookups. She wanted to pursue it this way; so she went out to a printshop, to get some business cards made up.

She asked them to give her a large quantity of cards— but she didn’t have an official job title to put on the cards, nor did she want one. She had a different plan— a twist, and she conveyed this to the clerk behind the print counter— he told her they could have the cards ready in an hour, if she wanted to come back, but Brooke returned that she didn’t mind waiting in the shop— after all, though she didn’t say this part, the male print clerk was attractive, and she was thinking of if there would be some way she might possibly be able to seduce him— to find a corner secluded enough in the store that she could duck into with him, where the rest of the team wouldn’t see them— that that might be a fun way to spend the hour wait. Let the team make the cards, and let the clerk play a little hooky with her. If he was really into it, he might even be able to think of a good place they could hide together unfound.

So she was chatting him up, flirting but not showing her hand yet, all the while twining her hair around a finger, reveling in the way that the light danced in the clerk’s eyes. She was planning, in her head, the moment where she could reveal herself, make it clear she was ready for an encounter, right here and right now. And she just happened to glance aside— and saw her brother standing on the sidewalk outside, through the glass printshop window, looking right at her.

This was her first time, feeling afraid, in many weeks; his expression looked less than impressed. A little judgemental, a little disgusted. He seemed in fact about to turn away, and leave— he’d seen her speaking coyly, speaking flirtatiously, and he’d guessed, rightly, that she’d been stepping outside the bounds of her marriage to have some light fun with they guy behind the counter. That impression was right— but she had to convince him it was wrong, she couldn’t let him leave here thinking he’d see her be unfaithful, at least emotionally. She didn’t want anything destroying the delicate balance she’d created between new and old; between selfish and selfless, and if her brother left here, thinking this, and told the rest of the family, everything would be ruined. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Sorry, I’ll be back for the cards in fifty minutes,” she threw back over her shoulder, and hurried out of the shop, chasing her brother up the street.

“Ethan!” She called, as he kept moving quickly up the sidewalk ahead of her. “Ethan, wait!”

He sighed, and relented— lucky for her, because she hadn’t been anywhere close to catching up. She was a little out of breath when she reached him, and he had already turned to face her.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” she said, a little breathless, finally stopping in her race forwards, and standing still. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but—”

“It looked like you were pretty heavily flirting,” he said, giving her a knowing look.

Now she had to be careful. If she wasn’t, if she didn’t lie well enough, he’d see through it and the whole thing would be over.

“I wasn’t—”

Ethan shook his head, cutting her off. “What goes on in your marriage is really no business of mine, sister. But I know if I saw Clark talking to another man like that, I’d feel terrible. So maybe you should think about that— think about Tyler’s feelings.”

It irked her a little. She almost wanted to tell him to leave Tyler out of the conversation. But she couldn’t react in a simple kneejerk manner. She had to be strategic.

“And maybe you should tell him you’ve been flirting with other men just for kicks— or maybe I should, if you won’t.”

She wasn’t surprised. Ethan was always strict about what was right. Made him a good lawyer, but as a kid he’d tattled on her lot for the same reason. It felt the same now.

He read the annoyance even though she didn’t speak it. It was the sibling connection between them. “I’m not doing this to harp on you or give you a hard time. You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions. But I care about you. I want to help you. If you get in the habit of serious, indepth flirtation and it starts to feel like no big deal, it can get so easy to cross the line; from flirting to actually acting on it.”

He spoke as if he had some kind of firsthand experience of this, and Brooke didn’t miss it. Better still, that provided a ready distraction while she tried to think of a winning strategy.

“Do you have firsthand knowledge of this, somehow?” She frowned in concern that she hadn’t faked. She and her brother were close, and they talked about things. But they didn’t talk about deeply personal and painful things; they weren’t confidants to each other, and never had been. They didn’t share and share and spill. But maybe in this context Ethan might share a little more than he usually did?

“Not from any recent occurrence,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “But Clark and I dated for a long time before we ever got married; and I dated other people before him, and he dated other people before me. There’s been no temptation in recent years, especially not since Hope came into our family. We’re a pretty settled happy unit now. But we each had our moments, with each other, earlier on, and with other partners before, where we were idiots. Where we were tempted. I’m trying to say this in the least judgemental way possible. I know we haven’t talked about this before, that we don’t talk about things like this. But I get the feeling. When you’re with the same person for a long time, it can get repetitive, and then if there’s someone new and exciting, and emotions are running high, it can be tempting.”

Ethan sighed, as if he were frustrated with what he had conveyed, as if he found it somehow lacking, in some manner.

“It always feels like it will be something easy to keep control of. It always feels like something that will make everything better, and make everything seem new. But from my experience, and what Clark has told me of his, it’s something that has diminishing returns; in the best case scenario, and in the worst case scenario, things can get so out of hand that they blow up everything in your life. I’ve broken up with people for infidelity, and been broken up with; Clark and I, when we had our troubles early, we decided to keep moving forward. But this is the kind of thing that can put an end to what you already have.”

Everything Ethan was saying came across as a very serious warning. She searched through herself, looking for the fear it should have been summoning. But all she’d done had boosted her confidence, and she felt certain into her bones that she had a handle on things; this was all a lot of scare-mongering from someone who didn’t understand the situation, and she wasn’t in any kind of denial when she thought of things like that. She knew herself and she knew herself to be perfect. She knew that she’d managed juggling two different lives with each other up to this point. All the scare-mongering in the world wasn’t going to convince her that those impressions were wrong. She could be her new self and fit her old life. Nothing was going to blow up.

Ethan sighed again. He’d really been exposing himself emotionally a lot during this conversation, more than he would normally have been comfortable with. And yet for all that effort, he still didn’t seem to believe he’d done it well enough.

She wanted to give him some reassurance, to show him that she got it; but hopefully she would also be able to convey that his warnings were unnecessary. She reached out and gave him a pat on the shoulder, just a two-time tap.

“I get it,” she said. “I appreciate how much you care, but I have to tell you, I really don’t think these warnings are relevant. I get that you’re really opening yourself up in a way that doesn’t usually happen in our relationship, and that maybe that feels a little different, and scary, but—”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m trying to speak to you from experience. I really do want to help, and what I saw happening in that printshop looked like it was going in a bad direction. You’re my sister. And it’s a little hokey to say I love you, but I do, even when you do stupid things, or you’re being irritating. This can turn out to be a huge catastrophe if you let it; I know this, and maybe you don’t, but I do, so I’m just trying to tell you— I want to help prevent you from making a mistake and damaging your marriage. Because I’m your brother, and I love you. Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

His voice had turned earnest— no guilt reached her, but some of that panic was still hanging around her. He really would take this to Tyler, talk about it with Clark, gossip about it around the whole family. She was on the brink of being discovered— at least for now he only thought she’d been flirting; but even that was too much. She had to walk back his impression. At least he didn’t know she’d actually been sleeping with other men!

“Of course I would,” she said, resting her hand briefly on his shoulder in reassurance, and then removing it. “But this has all been a misunderstanding— you didn’t see what you thought you saw.”

“What did I see, then?” He folded his arms over his chest— gave her a probing look, the kind of look he must have given people during cross-examination. She had enough strength to stand up to it.

“I was just joking with that guy.” Nope, he wasn’t convinced, she had to do better.

She affected her best state of calm, trying to pre-emptively counteract any tell that she was lying. “I actually knew him— we were friends, back in the day, so we were catching up. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time, so we were just kidding around, reminiscing. I will be telling Tyler about it later,” she made up quickly. “I’ve talked about my friend with him before— he’ll think it’s fun that I ran into him so unexpectedly; I think he’ll like it as an anecdote.”

A flicker of doubt on Ethan’s face— this was working, she just had to drive it home a little harder.

“Maybe if Tyler’s got some time in his schedule, we could even have the guy over for dinner; I was friends with him before I’d even started dating Tyler, so they never had the chance to meet, but I think they’d like each other too. We fell out of touch for so long— the dating, the marriage, the kids… funny, running into him today.” She laughed lightly, as though profoundly amused. The look of doubt had increased on Ethan’s face; she felt more in control of the situation, that she’d averted disaster.

But she had to hold on till the end; needed to make sure she took nothing for granted.

Ethan unfolded his arms, but he was giving her a very close examining look. “What were you doing in a printshop, anyway?” There was still suspicion in his voice, even though his body language had relaxed slightly.

She had to think quickly. “Tyler,” she said, watching Ethan carefully. “He’s running low on business cards to hand out to possible real estate clients. He’s so busy right now, I thought I could help him out. Then the first printshop I try, not only can they print them, but it turns out it’s an old friend behind the counter.”

Ethan looked at her for a long minute.

“You wouldn’t lie to your brother,” he said— lawyer’s trick. At once setting his own doubts to rest, rationalizing; and on the off-chance he was wrong, setting a trap to guilt her. He always worked contingencies— but it meant he believed her right now. “I think you’re telling me the truth.”

He exhaled. “Thanks for catching up with me, and clearing things up.” He smiled, and pulled her into a one-armed hug.

He looked at the watch on his wrist. “I am running late for a meeting though, so I should—”

She smiled, nodding, stepped back.

“See you at Dad’s, sometime in the next few days?” Ethan checked.

“Definitely,” she told him, and watched as he disappeared down the street. She went back to the printshop, and waited, without talking to the clerk. Mollified. The new strategy was better; she couldn’t keep being so out in the open about her escapades— she needed to be more secretive. The cards would help; but maybe, the only way to completely prevent discovery was calculated revelation. She would have to think about it more.

She took the finished cards and left.

Time continued to pass; Brooke found that, since she’d started to get involved with all her trysts, and since she’d found herself changing, under Leslie’s guidance, she was craving the kind of release they could give her. She was craving the power she felt that they bestowed to her; but it had been a bit of a wake-up call to her, being confronted by her brother in the way that she had been confronted; she loved the kind of frivolous, light-hearted seductive fun she had with men who were interested in her, when they were interested, and when she knew it.

But it was too risky; at least it felt that way right now. If she lay a bit lower for a while, it might give her the courage to come out and do it again, but she definitely needed to dial back the level of risk. She’d gotten overconfident. Now she was afraid if she carried on the way she’d been going, she would be looking back past her shoulder and undercutting her own fun in the process. She didn’t want that. So she’d cut far back on the driveby flirting; dial-up the use of her business cards, all printed with the home phone number, as she was most often closest to that phone.

The business card method was not the quickest one available, so it had Brooke wondering if she should return to what she had been doing in earlier weeks; when she had gone to the gun range and made use of the man who was immediately available to her there. She still had her regular routines; and there were places along the way of each of them that would not leave any opportunity for a witness to glance in. She wouldn’t have a repeat of what had happened with her brother— she needed more time to decide if she wanted to permanently disarm the risk of being found out, but in the meantime, she still needed the fix her encounters gave her.

In the three weeks after almost being caught by her brother, she had to be patient. She was passing out her business cards, but it took time, even for a man incredibly interested in her, to get up the nerve to actually call and ask for her. While waiting for those kinds of opportunities to materialize, she just had to count the time passing, and keep a sharp eye on watch for those opportunities interwoven into her schedule. When she passed out her cards, she always told the man, whoever he was, to ‘call her and set-up an appointment,’ and each one always seemed to understand what she meant by that.

But still, she moved through three weeks of time. The two weeks of those three, there were no encounters, and only brief meetings with Leslie, describing the waiting, the anticipation, the happiness; and considering from multiple angles how she’d felt about her near-discovery.

In the realm of questioning whether she should simply tell her husband what she was doing, to disarm any future conflict, for once, Leslie didn’t influence her towards any kind of particular outcome. He simply let her talk out her thoughts and her feelings about it all; she was no more certain at the end of those two weeks.

In the third week, after waiting so long between trysts, and still without having received any calls out of her new strategy, Brooke was so pent up that she had not one encounter, but three encounters in the same week. She went to yoga, now and again; and this time, she managed to corral the yoga instructor back into a private room, and when she made her intentions clear, he obliged her; he was looking with a lot of interest at her chest, he wasn’t a hard sell.

That was only two days into the week; the third day, she had an appointment with a personal trainer at her gym; he was also easily convinced to participate in a fuck; and the fourth day in the week, she had her regular hair appointment at the salon, and there, too, she took notice of a stylist obviously checking her out; and a closet was easily found for the two of them to populate and fuck each other inside of.

Having all three experiences had satisfied her; and she was sure it wouldn’t be long before she saw some yield from the cards she’d put out. So when she headed to Leslie’s at the end of that third week, she was feeling very positively about it; the last two weeks, her meetings with him had been more perfunctory. In, and out; quick, and over with, mostly just making it clear that she was waiting, and still waiting. There had been a change this week, though, and no more waiting required of her; and she was eager to tell Leslie all about everything.

She was half-entranced already, just from force of habit, as she stood herself in front of him, and when he said the words, “let yourself go completely,” she let herself release— she slipped completely into entrancement, and she felt filled with such warm light after. The words she wanted to tell already bubbling to her surface; she was smiling as she said them. Leslie’s eyes were wide with interest.

“There was a change this week,” she told him. “You know I went two weeks with no action at all; and before that, I was only getting one or two guys a week on my best week. But this week, I had three guys— one a day for three days! On day two, I fucked my yoga instructor after yoga class; on day three of the week, I fucked my personal trainer at the gym after my fitness appointment, and on day four, I fucked one of the stylists at my hair salon. I’ve been hard up for it; but this week it was such a relief to finally get some erotic attention, get some enjoyment out of it.

“I’m really proud of the fact that I was able to get three different guys, three days in a row. I think it’s really an achievement.” She realized, even in trance, that she was bragging about this; staking her ego on this. It was a nice feeling. Bragging matched closely to her general competitive spirit. It made her feel superior, powerful like she felt when she was fucking any man, powerful like her new self. She doubted Leslie could have found three different sexual partners in three days, that anyone would have found him that desirable. It seemed a rare gift, a rare accomplishment— and that made her a little smug too.

“It’s just funny to me,” she said. “I used to stand up here in front of you, so full of shame and regret, and begrudging every person I fucked or engaged with outside of my marriage. But now I can stand here, in exactly the same place, and literally brag about it. I was just thinking this, but I’m smug about it— I think it makes me better than other people; I think I’ve done something rarified, that only certain people ever get to do; and I managed it because I’m so good and so special and so attractive; I bet you couldn’t get that many new partners in that short of a period of time,” she challenged, not even trying to cover how full of herself she was feeling.

Leslie wasn’t offended by what she’d said. He just chuckled softly to himself, so she took the opportunity to keep speaking.

“I liked being able to fill my week with new encounters, again; just fitting in guys who were familiar to me. I mentioned before but it really did shake me up, how close Ethan came to discovering me. I’m very glad that he didn’t, but it also makes me think it’s a good idea moving to the business cards.”

“They are a clever little idea,” Leslie agreed, with a small smile. She’d explained the ins and outs of her plan to him already so there was no need to repeat. It was nice that he had remembered.

She sighed. “It’s going to feel good, once I actually start making arrangements with people who have my cards— once I actually get fucking them. It’s close now, I can just feel it. It’ll be starting soon. In the meantime it was nice to just have some kind of sex— low-risk, no stress.”

She sighed. “I just love the way it fills me up with power. That new side of myself doesn’t feel new now. It just feels like me; but I still feel stronger every time, more empowered, and more wanted. I wouldn’t trade those feelings for anything; I seem to be getting a better and better sense of pleasure every time, too. I’m very appreciative of that. I like having fun this way. I like doing it for myself, to guarantee satisfaction.”

Leslie nodded as if this was all very reasonable, and he could easily understand what she meant— as if anyone would think the same thing in her position. She finished telling him her week, thanked him and left.

During the fourth of four weeks, calls started coming in. Arrangements started to be made, some followed through on, and finally she reached the fifth day of that week.

No matter what changed, Brooke knew she was still Brooke. She was proud to be the mother of her children, the wife of her husband, the runner of their household. She didn’t let her new activities interfere with her family’s lives or with their routines. Today, she had made them all supper after running their errands and getting in a quickie with a stranger she’d met at the grocery store, having graduated from just flirting with the men she saw in the aisles there to actually picking one up and sleeping with them.

But once Brooke set foot in her home, she could leave that behind, and just be wife and mother again— just fit into the life she’d built for herself with the help of the people she loved; she had felt at first that what she was doing that was new was a betrayal of everything she’d already built, what she relied on every day. But she could see it wasn’t the case now— that other was for her, she’d thought it before but never really believed it before now, and it made her better at what she did at home that was routine; it wasn’t a betrayal at all, but a support, and it had nothing to do with these people under her roof. She could just make them dinner— she could just relate to them the way she always did. And maybe do it a little better than she always did, with a little more attentiveness and care than she usually used; it made her a better person, replenished her. Her sexual freedom had its place, but at home, she could rest, she could forget it and just settle back into herself.

Tonight, she made her family meatloaf, and when she tasted a bit of it to sample, she felt it had a little extra appeal, some added quality that might have suggested a secret ingredient— but she knew she had added nothing extra. Her good mood had just made it into the food; and she served dinner promptly, with mashed potatoes, and freshly baked rolls of bread, served it at exactly six pm, and the whole family sat down around the oak dining room table. Tyler sat at the head of the table as the father of the house; she sat to his right-hand side— their oldest daughter Peyton sat beside her, and across from them on the left side of the table, both the middlemost, Emma, and the youngest Max were sitting beside each other, and as the family all began cutting into and then eating their food, an easy conversation started up, as usually happened around family meals.

“So how was everyone’s day?” Brooke asked, as they were enjoying both the food before them, and the company that surrounded them. She was usually the one who asked that question— who started the ball rolling, allowing everyone to open themselves up and share.

“Typical school stuff,” Peyton said, first. And she usually liked going first. Sometimes Brooke thought, with humor, that, if Peyton could have had the choice of her birth order, she would have chosen to be the oldest, born first anyway. It was fitting that she’d turned out to be. “I have so many assignments this week,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“And I was gossiping with my best friend in biology class— there’s this new student in class and everyone’s kind of watching her, waiting to see if she’ll show us what kind of person she’s going to turn out to be. So far she’s kept herself pretty reserved so no one can figure out anything about her— it’s kind of funny, anyway, to wait and to guess. But it’s no fun having so much work today. It’s not just the assignments, either, I have to keep up with all the class reading, too. It’s exhausting. There’s another party this weekend, and I think it’d be really good for me to go and let off some steam.”

“I feel like I have a lot I need to do too,” Emma said, taking over speaking. “I’ve got a few assignments due this month, and I’m tired right now thinking about it. But after school my friends and I went to the gas-station to buy some pop with our allowances, and that was a small thing, but it was fun. I know those other assignments are coming up though—”

Peyton snorted. “Just wait until you get to where I’m at in high school. You won’t really know stress until then.”

Emma rolled her eyes, and Tyler laughed. “Honey, just wait until you’re an adult in the working world,” he teased. “You won’t really know true stress until then.”

Peyton scowled, clearly not enjoying being dealt a dose of her own medicine.

Tyler cut another piece of his meatloaf off. “But things could be worse for me. Actually right now, I think things are going better for me than almost anyone at this table. I’m getting close to closing another deal on a house. Should get a nice commission on it; maybe we can all go out somewhere fun when it closes, to celebrate.”

There was a hum of general excitement that went around the table at this suggestion.

“I think I’m doing better than you are, dad,” Max declared, confidently, puffing up his chest. Acting much older than he was, trying to challenge his father as an equal, and it was endearing. Tyler laughed, charmed. “We were tossing football during recess today, and I was the only one who didn’t miss a single throw— I beat all my friends, and that was the first time for me all year! You haven’t even closed your deal yet, and I actually won something!”

Tyler chuckled, and Brooke smiled at the domestic scene. “Alright, son,” Tyler showed his hands. “You’ve done better than me this week— or at least today. I concede! You are the most successful person at this table tonight.”

Max beamed, and Brooke gave her son a wink. “Maybe you’ll get two extra scoops of ice cream for desert. The winner gets the prize, right?” Max beamed brighter, and wider.

“What about you, mom?” Peyton asked, giving her a concentrated look. “What was your day like?”

Immediately, Brooke set aside the details that belonged only to her; the man she’d enjoyed the company of, the other man she’d given a card to, with a bit of coy flirtation.

“A basic day,” she answered, lightly. “The proof of my success is in our dinner— if it tastes any good at all, it’s because I made good use of my day. I got our groceries for the week— then spent the day tweaking my recipe, and finally cooking it so it’d be ready in time.”

“Really good, mom,” Peyton said, with a nod.

“It’s tasty!” Max said, cheerfully, taking another big bite of his food.

“So you did a good job planning your day,” Tyler finished, with an approving nod.

“Anything else?” Brooke prompted again; sometimes it took two or three passes around the table to get everyone to full share there thoughts, and Brooke hated moving the conversation forward beyond this point until she was sure everyone had gotten as much of a chance as they personally wanted, to say what they would.

“That was the major stuff,” Peyton said. “But there’s more gossipy, less stress stuff— at least on my end, I don’t know about everyone else. There’s a dance coming up in a few weeks, and I think the boy I like is going to ask me. He keeps giving me these looks like he’s trying to make himself brave enough to get the question out, and then he seems to lose his motivation just before he gets to the point of actually asking.”

Emma gestured with her fork. “You can just ask him yourself, if he’s too much of a chicken,” she advised, sagely, as if she was a great expert on this kind of thing.

Peyton rolled her eyes in good humor, but there was a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Brooke really did like seeing everyone getting along, and collaborating.

“There was a minute when we were both standing on the steps of the school, where I thought we might kiss,” Peyton said, sounding even more excited then she had about the dance; Emma’s eyes had gone wide in total fascination, but Max stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Blech! Kissing! No kissing talk at the table,” he huffed.

Brooke and Tyler kept a pretty tight rein on their PDA around the house for this reason— they would only give each other chaste pecks hello and goodbye, and saved even the most chaste forms of physical affection for the privacy of their own company; Max found all things like that gross and off-putting, and Brooke and Tyler liked to be conscious of that. Brooke was pretty sure Emma would be going to Peyton’s room and pestering her for more sisterly details away from the total group. But that was as it should be; it was always a relief to Brooke, to know, too, that there were bonds within bonds; each family member having their own relationship to each other, and a lot of times there was an emotional closeness that belonged just to two in a pair, and that was always sweet to see too.

Brooke really was proud of the way she and Tyler had raised all of their kids; she was proud of the way they were still being raised, and she was so happy to be at home with all the people she loved, so happy that all of them related to each other so incredibly well. There had been rocky moments, but everything had turned out the very best.

Brooke felt so warm inside. The love of her family always did that for her; this was the kind of normality, the happy domestic family she’d used to wish for when she’d been much younger, thinking of what she wanted her life to be— even in those days more than business success, she’d wished for love— happy marriage, happy kids, happy home. She had it now, and it replenished her too. The things she did for herself replenished her, but so did this. Both were important, though neither interacted with the other.

But as the chatting continued, it was clear some of the family had things on their mind other than the light-hearted chitchat they were all engaging in; and Peyton, independent-minded as she was, always breaking off to go on her own way, was the first to express the underlying undercurrent that ran beneath.

“I’m not sorry for steering the conversation to heavier stuff— I’m sorry, mom, but I still just find it so weird that you’ve changed your body this way. I know things have been like this for a few weeks, now, but I still haven’t gotten used to it. And I know I’ve said it before, and I’m not sorry if it’s repetitive, either, it’s just how I’m feeling about all of this. I don’t understand how on one day you can lecture me about dressing inappropriately and the next day make a change like that to your body and dress the way you do! There was a house-party last week I went to, and you still made me change three times before you let me go out the door. Just— how—?”

Peyton did look completely dumbfounded, and it made Brooke have to sigh, gearing herself up to have the same conflict with her stubborn daughter yet again.

But before she could say anything, she was caught by surprise when Emma spoke up, and interrupted. As the middle daughter, she often needed to interrupt to inject her perspective; both the eldest and youngest felt entitled to take up space, and if the middlest wanted her turn, she had to force her way in. Brooke thought Emma was used to it by now— and it didn’t seem to bother her; she was quiet when she wanted to be, but when she had something she wanted to say, she had no trouble getting it said.

“I’m confused about it too, mom,” Emma interjected, wearing a frown, and temporarily letting her fork rest against her plate while the stem of it stayed in the palm of her hand. “I don’t understand either. Dad thought you were pretty before— everyone thought you were pretty before! Why would any woman want to change her body when people already liked her the way she was?”

Emma’s expression was one of unguarded, open curiosity now— she was truly seeking curiosity, and this wasn’t something that Emma had ever mentioned before. Sometimes Emma kept things to herself a long while before finally speaking up, which made it all the more important, when she did speak up, that the opportunity was seized, and her concerns were discussed. In this moment, Brooke wanted to do the motherly thing and help her to understand the world better, to satisfy her daughter’s curiosity. This wasn’t a conflict she’d fought out over and over again, like her circular discussions with Peyton. This was something new, and she wanted badly to speak to it.

“Sometimes, Emma,” Brooke started, “a woman just wants to do something nice for herself. It’s not about how other people see her, or what they think. It’s just about the woman wanting to do something that makes herself feel special, or makes her feel pretty in her own opinion. It’s about something internal, not about what’s external. This was something I did for me. Does that make sense to you?”

Emma’s expression was thoughtful, but she nodded once, clearly taking in what her mother had just told her.

Tyler reached out, and put his hand over Brooke’s, where it rested on the table; shaking it briefly in affection with his grip. “I knew your mother wanted to do something nice for herself— and I supported her completely. I thought she was beautiful before and I think she’s even more beautiful now. She does seem to have more fun in her own skin, now— and that makes me happy for her!”

Emma nodded again, with her thoughtful look; Brooke imagined that Emma would keep all of these things back of mind, processing them for some time, and then come out with another consideration in a few weeks time when she’d worked it over again in her thoughts some more. That was usually how she did it; if Emma had more to say on this, they’d hear about it after some time elapsed, when she figured out what that ‘what’ entailed.

“It is really different with you looking the new way you do, mom,” Max piped up. He was much less of conscious deliberator than Emma. He just burst out with what he thought when he thought it. Typical eleven-year-old-boy behavior, Brooke thought with affection. “Before, my friends and I would just hangout at whoever’s house, but now everyone always wants to come over here. They just seem like they want to be around you! And I don’t really get why.”

Brooke smiled to herself; Tyler was smiling when she looked at him. Some things were just a little bit above the level of age appropriate for Max. It was right that he didn’t understand, and not something that needed to be explained, as Emma’s curiosity had been.

“You’ll get it when you’re older,” Tyler said, and Max seemed to accept this. He wasn’t a whiny kid. He took a lot of things in stride.

“That’s not the only thing that’s changed around here,” Peyton spoke up— but Brooke thought it was true, Max and his friends had been traipsing around the house, pestering her for snacks, a lot more often than they’d done it before. Brooke didn’t mind; she liked playing hostess. “Has anyone else heard those weird random phone calls from strangers? I picked up yesterday and someone said they were looking for ‘Head Homemaker,’ and I had no idea who they were talking about, so I told them it was a wrong number. They just said they were sure it was the right number, and they would call back.”

Someone else from the grocery store— she remembered him now. Not the one Brook had slept with that afternoon, but someone else she’d thought was cute, that she’d thought she might like to sleep with later. She was glad to hear he was planning to call again; she’d only had one ‘Head Homemaker’ card, and hearing the phrase had recalled the face she’d associated to it. She was glad of her strategy— having many cards made up, but every card with a different title, so she would confuse no two prospective flings.

She wasn’t about to admit her strategy at the table, though. She hadn’t gone running around in recent memory, trying to evade discovery by the extended family just to sit down and admit to it with her immediate family. Not only was it not age appropriate for her kids— and she had no desire to discuss it with them— it had nothing to do with them. It was just something for her— like the plastic surgery. Something for her that they didn’t need to know anything about. Telling Tyler privately might have been one thing— and if it came to that, she could do that— but her kids didn’t need get involved.

“Yeah, there have been a lot of calls like that!” Emma said, wearing a look of realization. “I’ve answered two or three calls like that; all random strangers who said they’d call back later! One of them asked for ‘Loving Family Member,’ and another asked for ‘Extracurricular Soccer Co-ordinator!’”

Max nodded. “I got one just asking for ‘Extracurricular Co-ordinator,’” he said.

Brooke had had a lot of cards to fill up; they hadn’t all been one hundred percent original. She’d made close variants on similar themes; just different enough to be distinguished from each other, but similar enough that she hadn’t been taxed trying to force herself in thinking of new things. She had no regrets. The business cards had almost worked like a memory device; hearing each invented business title recalled the face of each man that had looked at her as she had passed the unique card into his hand. She’d lined up a lot of encounters for herself whenever she wanted them— it was nice to know they were waiting for her, but that there would be no rush— some or all of the men would call her back, and whoever turned out to be lucky enough to call while she was present to answer would be the next person she’d briefly involve herself with.

This was all her secret to keep to herself though, and she was proud of having it. “Just a weird string of wrong numbers,” Brooke said, cutting into her food again. “Like you said, Peyton—” she added, knowing that her oldest would appreciate being praised for her perceptiveness. “Sometimes things just go through cycles where a bunch of calls like that happen all at once, and then the cycle ends and there’s a long stretch of time where none of them happen at all.”

“I guess,” Peyton said, and it seemed to appease everyone at the table; including Tyler, who hadn’t actually spoken up and said anything about it out-loud.

The conversation moved on fluidly; everyone had accepted the explanation, and now everyone could just go back to enjoying their time together, until dinner came to its natural end. She did the clean-up, as the family broke off in their own directions. On the way to her bedroom, she definitely heard the telltale sound of Peyton and Emma giggling together in Peyton’s room as she walked past it.

Brooke went to bed that night thinking over everything again. Tyler was already asleep.

Brooke had allowed herself to start changing because she’d compartmentalized it all from her marriage and her home life. But as things had progressed, what she’d done outside the bounds of her marriage had actually strengthened what happened in it. She had been a better wife, a better member of the family; she provided her own happiness to herself in what she sought for herself, and starting from a place of already being happy made her more attentive. She had not let the changes come over her to help her marriage or her family, but they had inadvertently done that; certainly, in terms of her physical appearance, where just Tyler was concerned, their marriage had been helped a lot too, and she never would have gone for the surgery if she hadn’t been so changed.

There were so many ways she could think of how her marriage had been built up; and about how home life in general had been. In regards to her marriage, though, if so many other things had inadvertently affected it positively, might it just be possible that if she fully admitted everything, or even almost everything, to Tyler, that that would strengthen their marriage even further still? The fundamental bedrock of any marriage was honesty, Ethan had been right about that much even if he hadn’t said it when he’d confronted her.

It seemed almost possible to Brooke that Tyler might understand… that Tyler might love her so much he would even support… or beyond that, he might even be excited at the thought, actively happy for her instead of simply tolerating what he knew. It was just possible, and she could just imagine having that experience.

She let herself enjoy the idea of that as she fell deeply asleep.