Author's note
Unlike most stories in the
Mind Control
category, this story includes mind control as an empowering gift rather than to get more sex. If that's not to your liking, I ask please that you not reflect that preference in your rating.
Big BIG
BIG
thanks to those that commented on earlier chapters! That feedback really helped with the story arc and character development. PLEASE keep it coming!!
Story supporting research is my personal time-sink so I skip it on the complex elements. Just as I asked forgiveness of my ignorance of med school, and law school in prior chapters, I do so again now for my ignorance of. . . well. . . you get the point.
Enjoy!
**********
"It can't be at your house anymore, Felix," said Tamara as she tucked her scarf into her coat pocket.
Myra closed the glass door quickly to block out the blowing snow, "It's too much like a middle-aged guy wanting an orgy."
"But nothing at all like a middle-aged guy's two girlfriends wanting him to have an orgy?" Felix countered.
"The main floor will be the gym," Tamara said as she put her briefcase on the cracked counter, "Upstairs will be counseling in the back, massages in the middle and. . ."
"And," Myra interrupted with a sarcastic giggle as she dusted the last of the snow off her coat, "Felix's sex-crazed den of debauchery in the front."
He tried to choose his words carefully, but they fell out before he could catch them, "So, I'm your prostitute?" Felix asked them both incredulously.
"Nope," responded Tamara thoughtfully, "You'll get State certified next week as a sex therapist. Completely legal."
"There's a test," Myra said with a wink, "But we can help you study for it. . . we're both really good at that now."
Felix studied the brass crown molding for water damage, "How can this make money?" He bent slightly to look under the curved oak staircase, "A few hundred bucks per orgasm?"
"Income flexible subscription," said Tamara absently, as she tried to figure out the brass push-button electrical switch.
Myra explained with barely suppressed giggles, "You're going to program them to tithe 10% of their income. . . forever!!"
Surprised, Felix almost hit his head against a riser, "Hell no! We're not sharks!"
"It's half the gender pay gap," Tamara explained. She clicked the brass button and looked for a new light in the room, "We already have three dozen pre-orders."
Myra was practically bouncing, "We can open on April 1st, and we can start moving in TODAY!"
Having assumed that the first part of the discussion was completed, Tamara moved on, "You'll own sixty percent of 'Adaptive Intercourse', and we'll share the other forty."
Myra pushed her hands, then her breasts, against Felix's chest and spoke in a soft husky voice that seemed to Felix to be rather too sarcastic, "That means you get to boss us two girls around, Stud!"
Tamara's straight face finally broke, and she quietly shared in Myra's happy laugh.
"Cute," said Felix, "Remember the first two days after your programming, Myra? Remember how important it was to paint the whole house? What if the roof had needed reshingling?" Myra's face became serious, and her hands slipped away from his chest. "You want me to erase their fears and then just send them into the world?" he continued soberly, looking between the two women to confirm his point was hitting home, "I'm not afraid of quitting my job. I'm fucking terrified of BREAKING somebody!"
Tamara began studying the building's floor plans, as though she was rethinking it. Myra looked down at her nervous fingers.
"Myra," Felix continued with words that lacked confidence, "The second time I programmed you, after you fell asleep, I remember thinking 'What if I've caused her to have a Grand Mal Seizure?' " As he waited for them both to look at him, he worked to control his emotions, "I won't do this alone, but if you're both serious about doing it with me, then we need to plan it right. Who do we need to talk to?"
"My prof is a bipolar expert," suggested Myra, hopefully.
"I know a really good LSD spirit guide," Tamara offered.
"And the name sucks!" Felix objected, "How'd you come up with 'Adaptive Intercourse'? This club needs to be all about each client's success."
"I like it!" said Myra, spreading her hands out like she was hanging a marquee in the air "Her Success!"
"No," Tamara stated flatly, "Let's go with 'The Club'. We'll end up wanting some obscurity.
**********
A month after their not-so-grand opening, Felix was starting to realize that prostituting himself was weirdly exhausting. Letting his first two appointments sleep in the other bedrooms, he'd come into the third early to enjoy the solitude of calisthenics. 'Lots of sit-ups, lots of pushups, lots of squats, repeat,' he kept telling himself.
He'd gotten so distracted that he hadn't noticed that his eleven o'clock was early until, from the top of a pushup, he saw a pair of bright blue running shoes. He looked higher and enjoyed the sight of strong legs and bright colorful running shorts. He looked past youthful breasts and smiled back at her, "Hello. You're early." Felix was regretting his decision to avoid sweating into his clothes, "Sorry about the outfit."
Becky seemed to enjoy the show and watched with raised eyebrows as the towelette traveled around his naked body. "I'm Becky," she said with a wry smile.
'Like I could forget!?' he thought. He winced at the memory, two weeks ago, of Tamara's scream, "STATUTORY RAPE?!" and Myra's panicked call to reschedule Becky to today. "Happy eighteenth. Your Mom's an angel, by the way."
"She is this month. What the hell did you do?"
Felix paused and decided that client-confidentiality went both ways. "How can I help?" he asked as he reached for his tablet, "Your Mom tells me, and probably everyone else she meets, that you've got it all together."
"Yep," she started moving her fingertip along the foot of the bed, "I even got a tennis scholarship to Stanford; Damn near a full ride and concurrent enrollment. Classes start next week."
Without looking up from the intake form, he responded, "You say that like your favorite puppy just died."
"I got in by the skin of my teeth." Her posture changed, and she glared at him, "The academics, and the tennis, are all going to be WAY harder than I'm ready for. I'm going to screw it up, I just know it."
Felix put the tablet on the table, sat on the bed, and looked at her again. He realized that Becky was the wet dream of his younger self, an intriguing mix of Ginger and MaryAnn. Despite having the determined sexy form of a committed athlete and the bemused sarcasm of a young woman comfortable with herself, she still somehow retained the girl-next-door look. "Did they tell you how this works?" Felix asked.