I've just gotten my drink order when my date, Sarah, takes the stool next to me at the bar. "Hey! Sorry I'm late."
"I just got here myself. Can I order you something?"
"Vodka soda with lemon, please, and can we hold off on the joust until dinner? The airport was a mess and I really need to freshen up and get a couple of drinks in me before I'm going to be up to dealing with you."
"Pfft. We'll see who deals with whom. Sure, go ahead. The reservation is in about 45 minutes, and curtain is at 9:30. Here's the key, room 2413. Go freshen up, I'll put your drink order in."
"Great! Thanks, sweetie. It's wonderful to see you." With a quick peck on my cheek, I watch her make her way back out to the lobby.
We're an interesting pair. I live here, in the city. I spend most of my time reading or pursuing my hobbies. I'm a professional amateur, in that I dabble in a lot of things, from painting and sculpture to writing and even a little singing. Mostly, though I prefer to meet and appreciate people who are or are becoming true masters in their chosen passions. I'm a great patron of the arts, and I even own a couple of small galleries downtown in which I like to showcase new unknowns that I discover. I'm in my early 40's and fit, with a bit of grey starting to make itself known at my temples.
Sarah, on the other hand, could never be described as a homebody. She told me once that when she was seven that after watching some eco-friendly cartoon she made up her mind to "save the planet". Unlike the average childish ambition, she stuck to hers. She spends about eleven months out of the year out of the country either advocating with various governments for human rights or environmental protections, or out in the field, hands on with the locals devising practical solutions to thorny sociological and ecological issues. I'm almost certain she's got a toe in some questionably legal actions taken against some of the planet's largest corporate polluters by various radical environmental groups, but I try not to pry. Regardless, she's very talented at what she does, and I can say with a pretty strong degree of certainty she's done more to steer humanity in a in a more... humane direction than any other single individual in history, due both to her drive and her unique ability. All that and still in her early 30's, extremely fit, and lovely with pretty auburn hair which she keeps fairly short.
We're not a couple, per se, but we've known one another for the better part of a decade now, and we remain close because we share something of a secret. We both have the ability to control minds. We're not alone in this, but the percentage of the population with anything resembling the talent is so minuscule it's entirely possible to go through life without ever meeting someone else with similar gifts. I've met three, including her. One of the others was my grandmother, and the last was a fairly unpleasant older gentleman who apparently felt the need to go all Highlander upon encountering another savant. The less said about him the better. As far as I know, Sarah has never met anyone except myself with the ability.
Ah, the bartender. I put in her order and request another for myself.
I should clarify, before she returns, that when i say "the ability", I'm being very generic. She and I do not share precisely the same talent. They vary in a number of significant ways, though they definitely belong to the same genus. I have no idea if any two such skills manifest in precisely the same fashion, even my grandmother's ability worked differently than mine does. We've both had our powers since puberty, and we've both refined our individual control over the years. Occasionally one of us will come up with a new trick. For our purposes here tonight, the "joust" she mentioned, the differences keep things interesting. Our tradition is to sit down to a nice dinner while each attempts to establish control over the other. The prize is whatever the winner chooses for it to be, obviously, though we trust one another enough not to be too concerned about surrendering control for the weekend.
The exercise is important for both of us, I think, as either of us can and (in my case, at least) often do take anyone we want for a lover. Or slave, or what have you. I'm no longer governed by my hormones, but I was entirely hedonistic throughout my 20's. I'm still a little stunned that I survived, given my lack of restraint. I might not have, had I not spotted her on the street and attempted to take her in what I can now admit was an embarrassingly clumsy fashion. I failed, partially because I was drunk off my ass and stoned nearly senseless, and the next two weeks were an interesting and completely involuntary education. I can truly say I came out of it a changed man, and I don't think she left the experience unmarked, either.
Ah, I believe she's on her way back down. I just felt her ability go active, which makes her feel like a sort of pink foggy blob to my mind's eye. Her unguarded mind or that of any normal person feels more like a semi-transparent soap bubble, iridescent patterns and all. While she's like this, I can't fiddle with her patterns directly, which is fairly effective protection from me. Sadly, I have to work a little harder than she does to protect myself. She doesn't have the nuanced control I do over my targets, but her ability acts on generalized impulses and emotions, which means she doesn't require the high resolution I do to make her subjects submit. My only real defense against her is awareness of her talent and my ability to manipulate my own psyche to counteract any effects I manage to notice. Still, I'm safe until we actually sit down to dinner. We can trust one another to observe the niceties, because neither of us want these games to end.
And here she comes, dressed to kill.
"Nice outfit."
"Why, thank you." That last with a smirk and a twirl. She's in a sleeveless black evening gown that bares a fair amount of her back and a not-inconsiderable amount of cleavage. "I thought you might at least like a glimpse of the prize. After I win I'm going to wear sweatpants and an oversize t-shirt all weekend while I figure out what to do with you. Which is definitely going to involve foot rubs after an evening in these heels."
"I'll promise you a foot rub in addition to any other activities I come up with if you feel like throwing in the towel early tonight."
That earns me a snort. "I'm two for the last two of these, and tonight I intend to make it three. What's the concert, by the way?"
"A mezzo-soprano. She's supposed to be amazing, only here for a couple of nights, so I'd ask we attend, regardless of the outcome of our little contest."
"Sure. Should we go get our table?"
I check my watch and finish my drink. "Yup, let's head in. Seated is the starting bell, yes?"
"Of course."
I give her my arm and we leave the bar for the restaurant proper. The smiling maitre'd recognizes us and leads us to our usual table, which is a bit odd because he's never met us we've never been here before.
"What are you up to?"
She smiles. "Just setting up the board, dear. Besides, he was going to seat us by the kitchen."
She may not have the fine-tuned control I do, but she's a lot better at plucking actual thoughts out of her subjects and interpreting them. The best I can do is get general impressions of emotion and intention. Usually enough for my purposes, but I do envy her clarity. Irritatingly, I didn't notice a flare from her when she used her abilities on him, which means she's gained a lot of subtlety since last time.
"Your damping has gotten distressingly effective."
She grins at that. "Thanks! It's hard to be sure without you to actually watch, but I remembered what you told me you saw last time, so I've been trying to practice influence without... extending myself? It's hard to describe. I'm just glad it has the effect I was hoping for. Did you pick up anything?"
"Not a thing. We hadn't been seated yet, so I wasn't as focused on your bubble as I am now, but before I would have felt you touching him without even trying."
"I still think it's weird it's all bubbles with you."
"What are you talking about? You don't have any kind of mental radar. If you did it might be bubbles for you too."
"I do have radar! I can sense you. When you're holding your power, anyway."
"And it doesn't feel like a bubble to you."
"Not at all."
"What does it feel like?"
"Spiders."
"... spiders."
"Yeah. It feels like you've got these little spiders crawling all over you, but it's kind of like television snow, like if I watched long enough I could see a pattern."
"That's... kind of disturbing."
"And when you use your power on someone it's like a little clump of them jump off of you on to them. I can even see them for a little while."
"You can see spiders on people I've influenced? I knew you could tell when I used my power on someone, but you mean even after I've stopped?"
"For a couple of minutes, yeah, I think so."
I should mention that we were now well into the soup course. All the time we've been talking, my 'spiders' have been making little sallies against her, only to get lost in the pink fog. Similarly, she's been playing with my emotions and impulse control, while I run around in my own head flipping off the lights as quickly as she's flipping them on. Both of us have already taken control of a few diners around us as well as a couple of passing staff, causing little trips or sudden movements or interrupted sight lines in the hopes of distracting one another. That's less than useful, because she can clearly see who I send commands to and I can still pick up her own flashes if I stay focused on her.
I've lost this little game the last two times because she would manage some subtle change in me that I didn't pick up on, which eventually led to her full control over me. I've managed to defeat her fog in the past, almost always with the help of distraction from either the conversation or from one of the pratfalls happening around us. Since she's learned how to see my targets, that's been spectacularly ineffective. So far, tonight isn't shaping up any differently than our last couple of encounters. Chasing after her in my own brain is exhausting, and it's not going to be long before I slip up.
"It feels like our little duels are getting a bit one-sided recently." I note while the entrée is being served.
Another snort. "Whatever. At least you know you'll get laid if I win, I'm way softer than you are in control."
"As I recall, last time my 'getting laid' involved jacking off and eating out some random college kid you found while you pegged me. Not precisely what I would define as 'soft'."
"God, you have to admit that was hot, though. And it's not like you haven't gotten your jollies with a stranger and my backdoor. You made me beg you for it!".
