Author's Note:
This story could fit equally well either here in the mind control category or in the BDSM category. As more mind control stories contain elements of BDSM than the reverse I've chosen to put it here. Anyone who isn't comfortable with a large helping of sadomasochism with their mind control should probably hit the back button now.
Additionally, please be aware this story takes place in present-day New York and has no relation to my other work. Don't look for possible connections. They aren't there. This is a complete story in and of itself and is not part of a larger work.
Finally, in case it isn't perfectly clear, all characters in sexual situations are eighteen and older.
*****
— 1 —
I barely noticed when it started.
In fact, I would have forgotten immediately if it had been anyone other than Cassie. Her apartment was in the same building as mine, on the same floor. We didn't speak much, but it's hard to ignore anyone that beautiful. Especially when she lives down the hall.
That day, the elevator was packed and I was standing directly in front of her when it chimed. I was distracted, reading a work email on my phone. Or rather, trying to. I hate that thing, but unfortunately it's standard issue for everyone at my firm. This time I was, once again, wrestling with how to tap the screen in just the right way to make it do what I wanted.
I hadn't realized we had arrived at my floor until I heard her voice from behind me.
"May I?" She gestured at the open elevator in front of me.
Feeling rather sheepish for being in the way, I stepped out into the hallway, allowing her to exit.
Instead of walking off immediately, she gave me a brief, expectant look. There was an awkward moment as we stood staring at each other in the hallway.
Cassie appeared annoyed. I assumed she wanted an apology for my hesitation, so I offered one: "Sorry, I was distracted."
She opened her mouth as if to say something further, then quickly changed her mind, turned around and walked off purposefully.
I really had a way with the ladies, didn't I?
I went back to my one bedroom bachelor pad, ordered some Chinese food, and settled in with a good book for the rest of the evening. This is what I did most evenings, which probably explained why I was still single.
I've been informed by women that I never relax, and that this is a problem. Evidently I'm "too focused on whatever is in front of me to be open to all the world has to offer," whatever that means.
In fact, I find a nice, quiet conversation over dinner to be quite relaxing. However, I do not appreciate the atmosphere of a crowded night-club with gaudy decor and music so loud I worry about the long-term effect on my eardrums. I've heard there are women out there who share my aversion to such places, but unfortunately I kept running into the other sort.
As a result, I wasn't seeing anyone, and I wasn't actively looking.
Three days after the incident on the elevator, at about nine in the evening, there was a knock on my door.
I could see Cassie through the peephole, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She seemed agitated, nervous. Her dark, straight, chin-length hair was somewhat frazzled. A few strands hung down in front of her face.
What really caught my attention, however, was the short dress she was wearing. Cassie's curves were substantial and therefore noticeable regardless of her attire. Nevertheless, her assets weren't merely noticeable in that dress. They were arresting. In spite of the high neckline, it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples were erect and clearly visible beneath the thin, light gray material.
I opened the door quickly and glanced down the hallway in both directions to confirm there was no one with her. This was odd and I can be a bit wary when confronted with unusual situations. I wanted to rule out the possibility this was some sort of ambush.
The hallway was empty, except for my neighbor. Cassie was definitely alone.
She gestured towards the interior of my apartment. "May I?"
I opened the door further and waved my arm in a sweeping motion to indicate that she should come in.
She didn't move. Instead, she sighed briefly, raised an eyebrow and repeated herself. "So, may I?"
This was the second, no the
third
time Cassie used those exact words. That's what she'd asked on the elevator too. This was strange, and getting stranger.
"What is this? Let me guess," I said sarcastically. "You're a vampire, and need a more explicit invitation?"
Cassie rolled her eyes. She took one step forward across the threshold, then took another step back. Maybe she hadn't caught the sarcasm. "Vampires aren't real. So, now. May I?"
"Enter, then," I said. "Make yourself at home. If you're not a vampire here to suck my blood, what do you want?"
Cassie threw up her hands in frustration as she stormed in to my home. "Gahh! Why do you have to make this so hard?"
"What?" I was thoroughly confused.
"Enter? Who says enter, like a goddamn robot? Enter and I'm sorry? What am I supposed to do with that?"
"I'm not sure I even understand," I trailed off, bewildered. I had no idea how to handle a gorgeous woman I hardly knew hurling incomprehensible criticism at me.
"You had plenty of options: Fine, sure, go ahead, or, even a good old fashioned yes! That's it. Simple. Just say yes, then I'll stop bothering you. I promise. So, when
I
ask: May I?
You
say. . .?"
She looked at me hopefully.
"Are you on drugs?" I asked. "If this is some sort of OD situation, I can take you to the hospital."
"Aargh!" She groaned. "No, I'm not on drugs."
"You're acting like you're on drugs."
Cassie put her hands on her hips. "Do you want me to walk a straight line, or touch my nose or something?"
"I know the police do that when they think you're drunk," I said. "Does that test for other drugs too?"
