I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "You do realize that I've asked you for coffee creamer twice now, right?"
The young waitress paused for a moment. Then her eyes went wide. "Oh, my gawd, I am so sorry, ma'am. I'll get it for you right now!"
She was barely out of high school and looked harried, but my patience was at an end. "Don't bother. Just send the manager."
The waitress was nearly my age, and apparently thought that might make it possible for her to play me. "Oh! Look...you don't have to do that. I can fix this, honest!"
I let my eyes hold hers for a moment. I put a touch of steel into my voice as I said, "Get the manager...now."
She flushed. "But...!"
And that's when I reached out with my mind and tapped her brain.
The effect was immediate. The waitress blinked, then turned around and walked straight to the back room.
I settled back and waited. I knew the waitress was likely already speaking to the manager. Even in a high-class establishment like this one, no mere waitress could resist my "persuasion."
Moments later, the waitress returned with an attractive dark-haired woman whom I immediately identified as the manager. She smiled and extended her hand.
"I'm Deborah Cohen. I'm the manager. I understand you have a complaint, Miss...?"
I didn't take her hand. "Catherine Wenchley," I said, "and yes, I have a complaint. Several, actually."
Deborah drew back her hand and studied me for a moment. "Very well, Catherine..."
"That's 'Miss Wenchley,'" I said.
Deborah's jaw tightened momentarily. "Of course, Miss Wenchley. Please share your complaints with me."
I nodded toward my untouched cup of coffee. "Have you noticed my coffee is black, Deborah?"
"That's 'Miss Cohen,'" she said.
"I'm sure it is," I said. "Have you noticed that my coffee is black, Deborah?"
Deborah was a professional. Despite my obvious baiting, the pause was only about three heartbeats before she answered, "Yes, I can see that."
I nodded. "Very good, Deborah. And do you know how I drink my coffee?"
"I imagine that you don't drink it black, Miss Wenchley," she said.
I nodded again. I was enjoying this. "You would be correct, Debbie. And don't get rude with me. Just because I'm blonde doesn't mean I'm stupid."
"I never suggested you were stupid, Miss Wenchley. I assume you need some cream or milk for your coffee?"
"You would be correct, Debbie," I said. Yes, I was being intentionally provocative. This was true entertainment.
Deborah looked at the waitress. "Cynthia, please bring Miss Wenchley as much creamer as she would like."
I looked over at Cynthia. "Don't bother, Cindy."
Deborah looked at me. "You said you needed creamer, Miss Wenchley, and I am providing." She looked back at Cynthia and nodded.
"Go ahead, Cynthia."
"Cindy," I said, "Do not get any creamer."
Deborah's mouth tightened. "I insist, Miss Wenchley." She looked at Cynthia and nodded her head toward the kitchen.
My eyes narrowed. "I said, 'No,' Debbie, and I meant it." I mentally tapped Cynthia's brain so that she stopped in place. "However, by 'No,' I simply meant that I didn't want Cynthia to get it."
Deborah's eyebrows rose. "I'm sure I don't understand," she said.
"You will," I said. "You see, I want you to get me the creamer."
Deborah's cheeks colored. "You go too far, Miss Wenchley. I'm afraid I no longer have time to cater to your demands. Good day." She turned to leave.
Now it was time for some fun.
"You can leave, Debbie...after you get my creamer. And since you appear to want to have an attitude, you can do so topless," I said. Then I smiled and tapped her mind.
Deborah opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. Then her eyes widened as she began unbuttoning her blouse.
Cynthia gasped. She didn't know exactly what was going on, but she knew something wasn't right. "Oh! Miss Cohen, stop! You don't have to do that just because that bitch said to!"
"Actually," I said, "she does. And since you're so anxious to use your mouth, let's put it to good use." I glanced around at the few customers in the restaurant. I was sure none of the older gentlemen would cooperate and I didn't want to spread myself too thin, but there were a few younger guys sitting at some tables. I made eye contact with one who seemed to be what I was looking for, then nodded at him. "Cindy, why don't you go over to that gentleman there, get under the table and give him a nice blowjob? I'm sure he'd enjoy that, and you might even get a nice tip."
Cindy opened her mouth to protest, but found herself walking toward the table. Debbie, meanwhile, had her blouse off and was sliding her bra straps off her shoulders. The entire restaurant had gone silent, and everyone was watching our little drama unfold.
Debbie stood in front of my table, by now completely topless. She was obviously trying to fight my mental control, but she never had a chance. I gave her a smile, then glanced at her bare boobs. "Very nice," I said. "You have good genes. Take off everything except your panties, and then go to the kitchen and get that creamer I asked for." I tapped her mind, then gave her a vicious grin. "And when you get back, we can talk about your punishment."
I turned to see what Cindy was up to. I could see her under the male customer's table, and her head was bobbing in his lap. His eyes were closed, and his head was leaning back, so he was apparently enjoying it.
"What the hell is going on here?" said a previously unheard voice.
I turned at the question. The speaker was a woman around forty years old. I gave her a cursory glance, then shook my head. "I don't think you need to worry about it," I said.
"Actually, yes, I do. I own this restaurant," said the woman.
Oh, goody. Another victim.
"Well," I said, "in that case, I can tell you that I'm giving your employees a lesson in customer service."
The woman took several steps closer, looking closely at Debbie and Cindy. "I see," she said.
I offered my sweetest smile. "I'm glad you see. As the owner, the responsibility for their training really lies with you, so you're responsible too, you know. So obviously, you need to be punished as well. Don't you agree?" I said. Then I tapped her mind.
Suddenly I gasped as what felt like a giant invisible hand grabbed my body and slammed me against the closest wall. I blinked, breathless, and tried to move, but I was pinned against the wall by the unseen force.
"No, I don't agree," said the woman. "Deborah, Cynthia, you two get dressed. I'll deal with Cathy here."
Debbie and Cindy gathered their clothes. Debbie managed a smile at the woman. "Thank you, Tamara," she said.
My heart pounded in my throat. I had never been at someone's mercy like this before, and I had no idea how to get free. I tried to speak, but the force had pushed the breath from my body, and all I could manage were little gasping sounds.
The woman- Deborah had called her "Tamara"- stepped closer and looked me over, momentarily silent but radiating slight disapproval...but strangely enough, only slight. Finally she sniffed.
"Disappointing. So much ability. Still, you're just a kid. You can be trained. Or at least punished."
The pressure decreased marginally then, and I took a gasping breath. "I'm not a child!" I protested. "I'm almost twenty-one! You can't punish me!"
Her expression never changed, but my clothing exploded away from me, leaving my naked body pinned helplessly against the wall. My eyes widened as my entire body blushed.
"Arrogant, too. Hmmm. No matter. That can be fixed as well. You think yourself superior, but you can be turned into a playtoy at will," she said.
*I don't think so,* I thought, although I didn't say it out loud.
"Yes, you can," she said, and she fixed her glance on my torso.
I didn't understand at first what she was doing. Then I realized what was happening, and a cold hand gripped me. I was changing.
My bare bottom was still pressed against the wall. However, I could feel it swelling. More embarrassing was the fact that my breasts were growing as well. I couldn't see the rest of the changes, but it was obvious that she was turning me into some kind of lush-bodied beach bunny.