The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Come on you bitch pick up the phone.
"Hello?" said a voice on the other end of the line. About goddamn time!
"Is this Diane?" Dean asked.
"Yes. Who is this?" asked the woman. She sounded annoyed.
"It's raining penguins." said Dean. There was a moment's pause, and then:
"Yes sir."
Then she hung up. Dean touched the red button on his iPhone display, and then swiped across to his online banking app. It took a few minutes because reception wasn't great, but in the end Dean saw that his bank balance had been increased by two million dollars. He grinned and tucked his phone away in his pocket.
"Try it again now." he said to the guy behind the counter, and handed him his card. The guy didn't seem that impressed, considering they'd tried the same card three times, and it had come up 'declined' every time. The salesman didn't expect any real change, not after a phone call like that. Frankly he wished that Dean would go away. There were other people milling around the lot. He could be out there right now giving them his polished sales pitch instead of wasting his time with some guy who didn't seem to be serious. He swiped the card, the machine spat out a long piece of paper which he gave to Dean to sign for the fourth time. He checked the signature against the card again (surprise surprise), and hit the enter button on the machine to show that the signature had been approved. He stared at the little LED screen, and practically gaped when the word 'approved' flashed on the screen, spitting out another long piece of paper, the receipt and proof of purchase.
"Holy shit." said the salesman, temporarily forgetting his manners. Dean just smiled, and held out a hand for his receipt.
Fifteen minutes later Dean drove away from the car lot in a brand new BMW, chuckling in satisfaction. It had been more than a year since he'd put Diane under his spell, and given the very successful lawyer the suggestion to 'donate' money to him every time he said the phrase 'it's raining penguins'. It was good to know that suggestions made while under his special influence didn't wear off. Dean idly turned a corner, not really caring where he was going, but enjoying the smooth drive and handling of his new car. He had a complimentary full tank of gas, and he decided that he'd use it up just driving around town. He deserved a bit of a rest, he felt. The past month had been busy for Dean, what with one thing and another.
A month ago, he'd walked away from the house of Julie and her two daughters, Vanessa and Haley. He'd been living with them for a year, making them his own personal fuck slaves, completely under his spell and eager to follow his every command. For a solid year he'd fucked, screwed, and sucked his fill, until finally it had all taken its toll on him. In a fit of tears he realized that he'd become desensitized to the pleasure and excitement that sex normally brought, and it was now impossible for him to reach climax, or even remain fully erect. That realization led to another, and then another. He was completely exploiting the three women, robbing them of their lives. It was worse than stealing. He had to leave; it was the only decent thing to do. So he'd packed his things and left, pausing only to remove all of the suggestions he'd planted in their minds, and telling them to forget all about him, and what he'd had them do with him for the past year.
After that, Dean had started to put his life back together. He'd still had a lot of money left over from the first time he'd visited Diane, so he decided to put it to good use, and bought a house. After that he'd been wrapped up in creating a home for himself. The shopping for furniture, the renovations, the painting and heavy lifting, it was a lot of work. But at last it was all done, and Dean could finally just . . . relax.
***
Dean passed a café, and realized that he would very much like a coffee. Coffee was great, and it had been a few days since he'd had a cup. He parked his new car, sat down at the nearest empty table and basked in the warm afternoon sun.
"What can I get for you, sir?"
Dean looked up at the young man in the small black apron and fake smile.
"I'll have an orange mocha frappuccino." he said cheerfully, and enjoyed the cringe he got in response. "Not really. Just a large cappuccino please, with two sugars."
A few minutes later he had his coffee, and he took his first sip. He closed his eyes and savoured the taste. Goddammit he loved coffee.
"Is that . . . Dean?"
He looked up at hearing his name, but he didn't quite recognize the voice. It was a woman's voice, vaguely familiar but not enough for him to picture a face or a name. He looked around, and immediately noticed a young girl waving at him as she approached his table. She was cute, with long curly black hair and tanned skin. She sat down at his table, all smiles.
"I haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?" she said. She had an accent that sounded English, but not quite. Dean was still at a loss as to who she was. She obviously knew him, but he was embarrassed that he couldn't remember her at all.
"Do I know you?" he asked, not sure what else to say. There could have been better ways to let her know that he couldn't remember who she was, but luckily she laughed as though he'd just told a hilarious joke.
"Dean, it's me! Fiona!"
Then suddenly his memory kicked in and he remembered. Of course! How could he forget Fiona, from Australia? She was his first. Not the first woman to sleep with him, but the woman with whom he realized he could manipulate the thoughts and behaviour of all women.
"Oh my god!" he said, smiling at his sudden realization. "I can't believe I didn't recognize you. How are you?"
They hugged as they both laughed.
"What are you doing here?" Dean asked her. "I thought you were only going to visit the states. That was, what, a year ago now? Are you back again or what?"
"Oh yea I totally had to come back. I had such fun the first time around, I decided to move here!"
"Really?"
"Absolutely. I was just on my way to look at a place to stay. I saw the ad on the website, and it looked like it was affordable and comfortable."
She started to look a little bit harried as she said this, and Dean picked up on it.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing really. I'm just not quite sure how to get there. I'm used to using public transportation in Australia. It's not the same around here, and I've had to rely on walking, but it's just so easy to get lost."
"Well, do you have the address?" he asked.
