For a week after the thought occurred to me about her, I debated, first: whether I wanted anybody to know. Second: What was my real motivation? I knew it worked from the experiments I had performed on myself. The shock of a cold shower with my clothes on brought home the fact I could order any action at any time in the future and the subject would not only obey but have no inkling that someone was controlling them. While under the Cap I had told myself I would, after eating lunch, walk into the bathroom stand under the shower and turn on the cold water. I would not think about it or realize I had ordered it till the shock of the cold water hit me. It worked perfectly.
So that begged the question, if I wasn't going to reveal it, why did it need further testing and tinkering? If I wasn't going to release it why did I need an assistant? Why did I need Sherry Ann? One thing I wasn't going to do was make her some brainless robot, sexual or otherwise. The truth was I felt sorry for her, she had been a bright vivacious teenager, full of potential both physically and mentally and then something happened that dimmed her physical star and a few years later her mental star had been dimmed. I wanted to help.
Two weeks later I was standing in front of Joan and Bob's door, on a night I knew Sherry Ann would be home. I'd called them earlier in the day and told them I needed an extras pair of hands, an assistant for a while and if Sherry Ann would be interested in working evenings with me. Joan immediately invited me over for supper saying we could discuss it over dessert.
I haven't really said much about my neighbors. Joan and Bob's last name is Berry. The house had been Bob's parents while I was growing up. Bob was maybe 8 or 9 years older than me so even though we lived next door to one another we'd never had much to do with one another, the age difference making a lot of difference when you're young. Now though we had developed a friendship. Joan was younger around my age, though it was hard to tell. I remember the first time I saw her. It was before they were married and I was a teenage hormone mill, she walked out in to the back yard in a bikini. She never had the skinny model kind of beauty but the full bodied, in your face, get over it, they're breast, kind of body. She was the spitting image of Jayne Mansfield. I guess I was like a baby duckling and the combination of too many hormones and the strikingly beautiful female form imprinted me for life. To this day that epitomizes the perfect woman, the only real difference, I prefer darker hair, perhaps because Joan out grew her blonde hair in favor a rich, wild black. After Mary died, yes she was the same build and hair a deep dark chocolate, I had toyed with the idea of trying to seduce her, but by then my friendship with Bob made me reluctant to do anything, I liked Bob too much to cause him harm or distress.
Joan opened the door and I was not disappointed. She wore a dress, I think it was supposed to come to just above the knee and look chic, but on her figure by the time it got past her superlative hips and buttocks it was mid-thigh. It was cut low in the front with one side wrapped over the other cupping her generous breast like hands giving an offering, drawn tight to a cinched waist. Worn by a modern bulimic model it would have looked lean and chic, emphasizing small breast, worn with perhaps a belt to highlight the small waist and hips. On Joan, it was the embodiment of sex, desire and want. It took an intense act of will to force my eyes off of the offering in front of me and look her in the eyes and smile. "Thanks for having me over, Joan" I said as I leaned over and kissed her check and she kissed mine. Even this innocent action excited me, for even leaning that far towards her; I could smell the musky sweetness of her subtle perfume and feel her breast press against my chest. I could feel hard pebbles on both breast and I exhaled a soft sigh as I drew back and showed her the bottle of wine I had brought.
"I'll open this to breathe, come on in, Bob's in the family room watching the football highlights" she smiled and said in a bubbly voice, as she took the wine, turned and seemed to almost dance to the kitchen. I stood mesmerized by the undulating dance her hips did and the swinging flip of the hem of her dress, which drew the eye with the hope, the dream of maybe seeing a few more inches of her thigh. As she turned the corner from the hall to the kitchen her change of trajectory caused an extra high flip to the right and showed a dark band on her stockings. I realized she wore real stockings with a garter as opposed to pantyhose. I took a moment to compose myself and readjust my underwear that kept feeling tighter and tighter. I walked into the family room and greeted Don.
I just read over that and I made her sound like pure distilled sex with a breathy bubbly voice that makes anything she says sound like an open invitation and eyes that seemed to challenge you and invite you at the same time, you know a total a slut waiting to happen. I was right too, about everything except the slut part. As far as I know she had never cheated on Don and he always looked completely satisfied, if a little bemused. As for intelligence, she had a working degree in Archeology and during my early years with Mary was often gone to various regions of the world on digs. Now she was a stay at home mother and wife except for her twice weekly lectures at the University.
We sat in the Family Room watching the past weeks pro and college football highlights and said very little other than an occasional signaling of approval or disapproval as each team's plays were splashed across the 60 inch TV. The entire time I could hear the occasional bang of a pot and other noises of activity from the kitchen, once she walked in from the kitchen and said to Don "Tell him how much you lost on that bet with Bruce, Dear", Bruce being her brother. It was said in a loving teasing way and Don harrumphed and hawed and acted like he was totally engrossed in the TV. She giggled as she practically skipped back to the kitchen. I was speechless watching her walk from the front was even more enjoyable than from the rear. It was much too mild to say her breast bounced, it was more on the order of the ebb and flow of the tides with a majestic and powerful arc with her visible nubs as a guide on an arc that started low and rose up and to the right then slowly falling in a Reciprocal path to the left. I had seen similar sights from her before but I never tired of it.
Don broke my train of thought and said "75 bucks, I was always a sucker for Cleveland."
