The room was dark, intentionally; no public space is that dark by accident. Before my eyes adjusted, all I could make out were coloured lights, many of them, moving, swaying, dancing, most around eye-level. A variety of glows, each congregating mostly with those of the same colours, although every so often there was a blue among reds, or a yellow within a field of purple. Streaks shuffled, flowing like a river of hues, streaming in every which way, each moving to an imperceptible beat within an imperceptible space.
I looked to my companion. "You're sure about this?" Something made me whisper, despite the fact that there was no need, but in a space that quiet, it felt wrong to speak aloud, to disturb the background of the shuffling feet and rustling fabric that created an air of a breeze, seemingly stirring up waves in the colours.
Before she could answer, a hand on my shoulder made me turn. I noticed the earpiece, first, unlit, unlike the sea of headsets in front of me, then the short black hair, then the elfin face with the beatific smile about a foot below my own. "Welcome!" The voice perfectly matched the pixie it came from, and was of a conversational volume, but was still a jarring sound that cut through the silence like blade through a soap bubble, and I involuntarily flinched back. "Oh!" she giggled, patting my arm. "Sorry to startle you. Welcome to Translations! Is this your first time?"
Siobhán laughed at my distress, loud and bright in a quiet and dark space. "His first, my ... tenth? Fifteenth? Never really sure." She grabbed my hand and lifted it towards the hostess. "He's my designate, would you collar him?"
Before I could react, the young woman grabbed a bracelet and coiled it around my wrist, fastening it tight with a touch. "H-hey," I started to object, only for the two ladies to share a laugh.
"This wristband will disable any headset within range," the hostess explained; I looked down to see the name tag on her chest, only to find that she didn't have one. "So that no one can put one on you against your will. Or with it," she chuckled, seeing as I was now staring at her modest breasts in the tight blue t-shirt.
My eyes snapped almost involuntarily back to her face. "So if I walk out there on the floor with my arm up..."
Siobhán pressed my arm firmly to my side, and that lilting low voice wrapped around my ears. "Then you'll have a lot of annoyed people and you might get yourself tossed out. Please don't get yourself tossed out, Bryan. Then I'll have to walk home. No starting fights." She had the most charming way of letting everything on her mind out in a single flurry of language that was both barely comprehensible and yet utterly clear.
"Bryan," the hostess said, my attention snapping back to her. I hadn't even noticed that I had turned to face Siobhán. "You understand what's happening on the dance floor, then?" Her light, high voice contrasted with my friend's velvety alto. "Those headsets are piping in music with Alteration programming in them. The colours indicate the tracks they're listening to at the moment."
I nodded. "I don't need the specifics, thanks." I found the whole 'Alterations' industry mildly creepy, and having a whole club dedicated to programming people, even to them programming themselves, was a bit much, but when Siobhán insisted, even I couldn't refuse. Although, I'm not really sure that I ever formally accepted, I just wound up picking her up that evening. Siobhán had that effect on people. "I'll just sit in a booth and watch."
"That's what the bracelet is for, yes," the hostess nodded as Siobhán laughed. "You're also entitled to two free drinks for the evening, and an hour's gaming to help you pass the time – sublim-free, of course, the inhibitor will guarantee that, too. We will charge you if you go home without her, naturally." The hostess' hips swayed a little as she spoke, as though she too was hearing and dancing to a beat I couldn't detect. The denim shorts she was wearing only seemed to accentuate her sensuality. I found my gaze almost unconsciously drawn to her bare midriff and her wonderfully curvy waist.
Which I realized when Siobhán tapped my shoulder to get my attention. "You done staring at the eye candy? Can we go get a seat?" I blushed furiously, fortunately hidden by the dark of the club, as I looked back up to the cute face in front of me.
The hostess merely chuckled and offered her hand, which I took in a rather limp-wristed clasp. "I'm sure everything will go just right. I'm Topaz, you can ask for me later, if you like, Bryan." For some reason, hearing her say my name only made my face flame further. In an incredibly odd moment of disconnect, I had the urge to press her hand to my lips like a medieval knight greeting a lady. Instead I smiled lamely, let my hand fall, and gave her a nod.
Three steps later, Siobhán was already talking. "She'll forget about you the moment the next customers walk through the door. You get an hour's worth of gaming? Shit, I need to desig more often. Or at all. Nah, I wouldn't give up the opportunity to put on the gear and just..." As she prattled, I felt like I was walking with an overly chatty friend in the library, too polite to say anything, silently hoping that they would pick up on my telepathic cues to just keep it down already. In the library, though, heads would turn to see what all the fuss was about; here, no one left their private reverie.
We skirted the edge of the dance floor, and the tall dark-haired girl on my arm waved in the direction of a mess of pink-lit headsets attached to a group of people who seemed to be engaged in some form of group dance that involved a lot of close contact with as many bodies as possible. "How can you pass that up? Seriously. What about this could you possibly hate?"
It took me a moment, as we sat opposite one another in a small booth, to realize that I'd been asked a question. The strange, pervasive silence made it paradoxically difficult to focus on the one-sided conversation that Siobhán seemed to demand that I participate in. It felt like I was disturbing the sanctity of some ancient religious rite as I answered, as quietly as I dared, "I just don't like the idea of people messing with their minds. Or my mind. It makes me uncomfortable."
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Bryan," she said, echoing an expression she once told me that she had picked up from her grandmother and tossing her hair with a shake of her head. "You live a really sad life, you know? All the advertising on the internet, five times an hour if you ever watch TV, billboards on the highway, they're all trying to mess with your mind. Politics, religion, your mom's homemade soup, everything's got an agenda. Just get with it and enjoy it. At least this way I get to pick the effects, not like when a Tea Party video comes up and I just get so blindingly angry."
I just nodded as another young woman in a blue t-shirt and revealing denim came by with a tray with two headsets. She glanced at my arm, then held one out to Siobhán. "Would you like to know today's options?" she asked with a little purr, and perhaps the hint of an foreign accent.
Siobhán shook her head. "I live for the surprise," she replied melodiously, letting her fingers linger just a moment on our waitress' hand as she took the headset.
"And for you, sir, would you care for something to eat? To drink?" I noticed the earpiece hiding behind her long brown hair.
"Ah," I hesitated. I only got two for free, and I didn't really want the night to cost me more than gas money. "Not yet, thank you." I smiled, managing to keep my eyes where they were supposed to be. Where I assumed they were supposed to be, anyway; it could be hard to tell whether or not I was intended to gawk.
"Alright, well, when you do decide to get something, just ask for Opal." She gave a nod and a turn and headed off into the dark, all business. Siobhán snickered.
"Oh, you're one to talk," I grumbled. "'I live for the surprise'?"
She had the grace to blush a little. "Well, she's cute. And it's true, I do! It's all super safe, so I don't want to spoil the surprise by knowing in advance what's coming. That's just no fun!"
I glared a little, I admit. "Siobhán, you don't know what that ... thing might do to you. It could..." I fumbled, a little lost for ideas. "Come on, you've heard the stories. We all have."
She nodded back. "That's the edge, the danger, Bryan. That's what makes it exciting. And that's why I brought you along, to look after me." She smiled in a way that I can only describe as 'distinctly Siobhán,' and slipped the headphones on.
I started to speak, but she put a finger to my lips and fixed my eyes with an ice-blue stare. "Shush. I don't wanna hear it. If you didn't want to babysit me you shoulda said something earlier. But it doesn't matter 'cause there's no one else to come with. Lisa's out of town, Raine just had an Alter done last week and can't be here, Brian-with-an-I and me aren't getting along right now, so it was you or stay home and I'm not staying home, and since I'm out, I'm going to have a good goddamn time, so stuff your little no-fun attitude in your ear." She flipped a switch and a green light activated on her headset, giving her cheeks an eerie glow in the darkened room, and before I could answer, she was gone on to the dance floor, moving to the rhythm that the other greens were enjoying.
Greens. Huh. Without thinking, I'd started to lump the people on the dance floor in to their colour groups. Pinks, reds, yellows, whites, greens, purples, blues... The colours tended to mingle with their own, but it was only a trend, not an absolute. I suppose it made sense, since each colour was listening to a different track, so the dance beats they were hearing would only really line up with those who had the same colour. The movements of the coloured headsets was a bit of a fascinating sight all its own, and I watched it for some time before the clearing of a throat brought me back to reality.
"Pardon me," said a charming female voice, attached to a rather charming woman. Tall, willowy, dark-skinned, wearing a long grey sundress that hid her figure, most of the time. "Are you sitting alone?" Her arm was at eye level, and I could see the inhibitor on her wrist. "My cousins are out there somewhere and I was getting bored. There aren't that many of us on the sidelines tonight."
I nodded. "Sure, have a seat. I'm Bryan," I offered.
"Emma," she replied, as we shook hands.
"So, uh, why aren't you..." I began, a little awkwardly.
Emma smiled. "I had a rough time once. Not here, with a legit Alter. Kinda turned me off the whole thing. Needed a couple fixes. Had my fill for a while. What about you?"
I nod sympathetically. "Nothing so dire, just the whole thing spooks me a little." I shrug. "Not my scene, I guess."
"I get it," she nodded back. "There are problems. But this is just good, clean, safe fun, really. I've been out there before."
"Oh? How is it safe? Siobhán didn't even know what Alter she was putting in her ears." My voice had the edge of a challenge in it, an edge I didn't really mean to put there.
Emma just smiled, not meeting my fear with anger. "Think of it this way, Bryan. Back in my hometown, a little place, middle of nowhere, there's a bar that's a little lax on checking ID. They serve minors a lot of the time. But they also keep anyone from getting blackout drunk, and they make sure no one drives if they're over the limit, because they know that if they screw up, even once, the police will bust them so bad for serving minors. And the kids, and for that matter the adults in the bar, they all help keep it otherwise above-board, because if they don't they'll lose their favourite drinking establishment."
I listened to her story, then frowned. "Not sure I follow," I said.
"It's the same here," she said, infinitely patient. "The one thing, the only thing that they do that's illegal is provide grey-market Alterations to customers who just want to have a good time. They don't let kids in, they don't sell any of the high-level changes, no drugs or booze, they make sure that people that want it have a safe way out, they don't even let anyone without a desig drive, and the clientele makes sure the rules are enforced as much as the people in the blue shirts do. The minute someone walks out of here in trouble because of an Alter they got, this place gets shut down, buried under lawsuits and red tape before you can blink. Translations has a better track record than most of the professional places you can get changes done."
"Sounds like you've thought this all through," I replied, still a little bit of the challenge in my voice.
She shrugged in reply. "It's how I justify bringing my little cousins to a modern speakeasy, I guess."
Her smile, even in the dark, was somehow radiant, and I couldn't help but soften. "I could use my free drink," I said, and Emma nodded as well. I waved Opal over, and we both ordered sparkling fruit punch, at Emma's suggestion.
We made small talk for a bit, exchanging information – I talked about banking, and she about teaching seventh-graders; I discussed Bach, she confessed to preferring Handel; we bonded over long-distance hiking. We had been in the good swing of chat when a young woman with a pink headset, wearing a pink t-shirt with a lot of pink hearts all over it and a pink skirt with, yes, even more hearts, stumbled over to us, with a big grin on her face.
"I wanna dance with you!" she said, taking my hand and Emma's.
I looked to my conversation partner, who shrugged again—she had the most fetching little shrug. "When in Rome," she said, rising from her seat. I followed along as the girl in too much pink pulled us close. I don't think she intentionally grabbed my ass, but it did make me jump a little.
We moved in a three-way hug for some time, swaying to a beat that only one of us could hear. There wasn't much dancing going on, really, but a lot of close snuggling. After a minute or so, Emma's arm must have got too close to the headset, because the pink light faded and the dancing stopped. "Hey, what happened to the music?" pink-girl asked, looking up at me with big eyes.
I showed her my inhibitor. "These things shut down the headsets if we get near them."
She looked at the bracelet, then at me. "Oh, wow, that's like... so sad..." She actually looked ready to cry.
Emma smiled at me and crouched down a bit to meet pink-girl eye-to-eye. "If you go back out there with your friends, I'm sure you'll hear the music again." Pink-girl's face brightened up instantly and without another word she went back out on the dance floor, becoming a part of the pink-glowing human knot.
I looked at Emma. "Someone you know?"
She looked back, laughter in her eyes. "Never seen her before in my life." Seeing some discomfort on my face, she shrugged. "That pink program looks a lot like some of the recreational drugs I've seen some of my students take."
"You know," I replied, turning back to the table, "if you're trying to convince me that this is safe..."
She smiled, sitting down and counting on her fingers. "No physical danger. No after-effects. No addiction. No one dying of dehydration. And yes," she raised her hand to stop my objection, "we've all heard the news stories, we know there are risks."
"You had a bad Alter yourself," I point out.
"And I'm here. And I'd be out there," she swept her hand over the dance floor, "but for that. And I probably will be back out there, before too long."
"Bryan." There's that infinite patience of a teacher again. "It's good, safe fun. This isn't 18-year-olds tossing back pills and gin at the bar. It's short-term – most of these effects will wear off by the time they wake up tomorrow – and it's not physically damaging."
I nodded, smiled and sighed, raising my hands to shoulder height. "I'm going to admit defeat so that we can talk about something else, before you get angry with my being stubborn."
"Good." She gave a grin that, in the dark, looked decidedly wicked. "The sooner you get used to doing that, the better we'll get along."
"Is that what you tell all your students?"
She laughed, then, cutting through the quiet enough to turn a few heads on the dance floor. Must have been a softer moment for the blues' music, since that was most of who looked our way. One of the soft blue lights broke off from a crowd and made its way towards us, attached to a rather handsome, soft-faced, bald black man. The family resemblance was immediate; but for hair style and a bit of shape, they might've been twins. "Your cousin?" I asked Emma as he approached.
She nodded. "Good call. How's the dance, James?"
The young man looked momentarily confused. Emma touched her ear, and his face lit up with recognition, reaching up to pull off the blue-hued headset. "Sorry, Em, I didn't even notice I had them on."
"Warned you about the blue, didn't I?" she chuckled, sliding over and patting the seat beside her.
"The blue what?" James asked, looking down at the personal speaker in his hands like he had never seen them before. I'm sure a look of mild horror crossed my face, because Emma laughed.
"Conversation override," she said, and we both watched as James shook his head, as if getting water out his ears.
"Oh," he said, as if that explained anything, let alone everything.
Emma looked at me. "Didn't read the menu, didja." She laughed. "Everything you need to know is on there."
"So now..." I began, but James cut me off.
"Now I remember everything, yeah, for about two minutes or so." He ran a hand over his scalp in a gesture that must have made more sense when he had hair, and shook the sweat off his fingers. "The blue is weird. Silent."
"Or you don't remember the music," Emma pointed out. "James, Bryan, Bryan, James," she said by way of introduction. "James is my sister's son. Bryan's another desig. Where's Allanna?"
He shrugged, a gesture very much like his aunt's. "Lost track of her. She's somewhere in the pink pile, I think, unless she switched colours."
I looked over to the dance floor as they caught up. The pinks had got even closer together, and weren't dancing so much as jostling one another, moving almost as a mass. I couldn't help but wonder where Siobhán was, but the greens seemed to be distributed evenly through the crowd, almost like they were avoiding one another.
James stretched and stood up. "Needed that break, I think. Just heard you laughing, wanted to see what you were getting up to."
"Hey James," Emma said, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Yeah, what?" He turned to her.
The effect on him was instantaneous. His movement stopped completely. He barely seemed to breathe. His eyes glazed and fixed in to a stare. His aunt—his own aunt!—took the headphones, still glowing blue, off the table and put them on his ears.
"What did you..."
She put a finger to her lips and shook her head. We watched silently as, after a moment more of being mannequin-still, James straightened, his eyes still clouded, and he turned a bit stiffly and walked back out to the dance floor.
Emma turned back to me, smug smile on her face. "Got to read the menu, Bryan."
"So if you just say 'absolute lockdown' to anyone out there..."
"Anyone in blue," she nodded. "Instant statue."
I forced down my instant snark and thought about it. "What if I said it to you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, a smile threatening to break out at the corners of my mouth.
She looked taken aback. "Why, Bryan," she said with mock surprise, "do I detect someone loosening up a little? Have a little fun? Dare I say... flirting? If you're not careful, you might get mistaken for someone who's enjoying himself."
I laughed. "Okay, yes, I've been a bit of a curmudgeon. A bit. But it's still..."
She nodded. "One step at a time, Bryan. I'm not expecting miracles. Maybe just someone to talk with for an evening." She took a long pull of her drink, downing the last of it and setting the empty glass on the table. "Someone who isn't thirteen."
"Thirteen wasn't that long ago," I say. "Half a lifetime isn't long, right?"
Her eyebrows went up. "I leave fractions on the whiteboard at exactly twenty minutes after three."
"I deal more in percentages," I reply. "Like, what percentage of the crowd out there would fall over if someone got on the PA and said, 'absolute lockdown.'"
"Why get on the PA, you could just shout it from here. There's no music on the blue track, just soft white noise." She gave me that same mischievous look she'd given her nephew a moment or two ago. "Dare you."
"Dare me?" I looked at her. "Maybe you do spend too much time around kids..."
"What's so hard about it?" She stood up. "Just stand here, put your hands to your mouth, and holler."
"Won't that get us thrown out or something?" I stood up next to her, looking over the dancers.
"Nope!" Opal, our waitress, answered, startling me. I hadn't seen her approach. "Everyone accepts that anyone here can mess with anyone being Altered. Part of the rules. Too much trouble otherwise, we just make sure there’s nothing dangerous or too powerful on the tracks." She grabbed our empty glasses. "You two want anything else?"
"Yeah," Emma said. "A demonstration for my friend, here. Opal, dance for Bryan."
Immediately she put the tray down on the table. "Of course," she said, her voice sounding flat and distant. Without a moment's hesitation, she grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the table, only a few steps, still in among the tables. Then she started to move to a silent beat – or perhaps it wasn't silent, to her; I could see the light on her earpiece pulsing.
I was stunned in to inactivity as this exemplary young woman twisted and gyrated, deftly showing me her body despite – or perhaps because of – the relative darkness. I felt the colour rising in my cheeks; despite the lack of touch, this was a much more exciting moment than being pressed against Emma and Pink Girl. Much shorter, too; it was perhaps thirty seconds, maybe less, before Opal gave me a cute smile, a quick curtsy, and returned to grab her tray.
I turned to Emma, whose eyes were laughing. "What was that?" I asked, a little perplexed, a little irritated, and a lot aroused.
"All the staff have Alters done, too," Emma replied, maintaining her composure. "All you have to do is..."
"Let me guess," I said, walking back to her. "Read the menu. What did that dance cost, anyway?"
"Don't worry about it." She waved my question off. "Now. There's a dare on the table."
Right. The dare. "You're serious?"
"I never joke about a dare, Bryan. Besides which," she said, edging closer to me, speaking right in to my ear, "the sooner you get used to admitting defeat, the more fun you'll have."
Her tone and her words sent shivers up my spine. The warmth of her breath on my cheek played with my mind, conspiring with the dance she had just bought me to produce a certain rapidity of pulse and redness of face. "What do I get, if I do this dare?" I managed to keep most of the shaking out of my voice.
Her hand rested on my arm, and I swallowed hard. "You get to see what happens when I flirt back."
Pretty sure I already had a handle on that. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. I turned to look at her. Her eyes were inches from mine. "You sure about that? Are you sure you want that?"
"What's not to want, Bryan?" She leaned close. "There's no commitment to anything. Just harmless fun. Flirting." Her free hand touched my cheek. "Anything more has to be discussed, of course."
I swallowed again. "I admit defeat," I said, my voice closer to a whisper than I intended.
She smiled a smile that said everything about everything. "Wonderful," she said, gently turning my head with a finger on my chin. "Good and loud, now, Bryan."
I took another deep breath and, in a full-voice holler that brought back memories of college choir, gave the best, "Absolute lockdown!" I could. A good number of blue headsets stopped bobbing about, including a fairly significant number near the large pile of pinks, causing the pink blob to run into a wall of unmoving clubbers and stumble around them. A number of pinks wrapped around blues, absorbing them into the mass. Several headsets dropped slowly to the floor, attached to their wearers, in what was either a deliberate act of snuggling or an accidental fall which turned in to a deliberate act of snuggling. Most of the pinks, and a few other colours, started to more carefully join in with those who had succumbed to gravity, and the party became rather differently-oriented, much more horizontal than it had been.
Emma chuckled in my ear, which created all sorts of pleasant sensations in all sorts of places. "Well done, Bryan." She drew her fingernails across my arm. "Definitely didn't expect that."
I swallowed and nodded, not trusting my voice. I hadn't expected that, either, but I had to admit, it looked like everyone was having a lot of fun.
"It's too bad," she continued, pulling back a little, but not too much, "that we both have charges out there on the dance floor that we have to be here to care for."
"Or what?" I asked, turning back to her, finding my confidence returning. "You might drag me to some secluded corner, and show me where your flirting leads?"
She actually seemed to blush a little. "I might," she said. "There are quieter booths. Our charges can find us."
I looked around. No one near was bothering with us. In fact, on the other side of the room, someone else shouted, "Absolute lockdown!" and another, much smaller mass tumble happened at the other side of the dance floor. Emma looked at me, and I at her. "Started a trend," she said, taking my hand and pulling me further from the crowds.
"I don't usually..." I said as we slipped in to a booth together. She silenced me with a kiss.
"No one 'usually,'" she answered with a grin. "Not a one. Which means that this is special. So accept that I want to sit in the dark corner of a club with you and make out for a while, alright?"
"I can get behind that." I said, pulling her closer for another kiss.
The atmosphere must have been contagious, to a certain extent. Emma and I spent a few minutes wordlessly exploring, with hands, with mouths, with whispers and gasps, touches and glances and smiles.
At the point that her hands went to the straps of her dress, she hesitated. I waited patiently. "Not with my cousins here," she said, firmly, and I got the impression that she was setting the limit more for herself than for me. "I got nothing against public nudity, but I don't really want James and Allanna to come back here and find me like that."
I nodded, flushed and smiling and just feeling good. "I get it, no worries," I replied, trying to catch my breath. We had migrated from the edge of the booth to the corner, and she was half on top of me. "This has been... beautiful."
She chuckled. "It has, Bryan." Her hand wandered up under my shirt, her fingernails dragging lightly over my ribs. I let out a soft moan and a shiver. "We must do this again sometime." I closed my eyes as her hand slipped down and away. "I've been gone too long," she said, with a little moan herself. "I should find my cousins."
Without moving, without opening my eyes, I nodded. I felt her lips on mine and gladly let mine part to admit her for one last, wonderful kiss. "We'll meet again," she whispered in my ear.
And she was gone.
I let the feelings linger a while, not moving. Aside from the slightly uncomfortable erection, everything just felt good. I sat, leaned back against the corner, unmoving, for quite a while, as the hum of a few conversations and the background whispers of the dancers washed over me. I didn't care. I ignored it all, just letting my lips, my arms, my cheeks, my legs, my chest and ribs and hips and feet and ass, letting it all rest, like a roast out of the oven, still cooking with internal heat. And just as I was preparing to move, to get up and walk and let the energy dissipate and find Siobhán, see how things were going, or possibly just to put one foot in front of the other and regain my mental balance, just before I could open my eyes, I heard a familiar voice.
"I have an order here for you, Bryan." Opal. My eyes opened slowly, drinking in the sight of the beautiful dancer. She was carrying another sparkling punch, which she put on the edge of the table. Hands now free, she pulled up the hem of her shirt up to her breasts, revealing strange markings on her belly which managed somehow to pull my gaze away from the gorgeous lower portion of those partially-bared globes. She grinned. "Take a picture," she said.
"No, really," she insisted, "Take out your phone, and take a picture."
Who was I to argue? I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the odd markings, the flash making me feel oddly exposed in the dark room, despite the fact that I was still fully dressed and it was Opal who had her shirt pulled up. "Got it?" she asked. I nodded, checking my phone briefly to confirm that I had before putting it down. She pulled a damp cloth from where it had been tucked, hanging out the back of her shorts, and wiped the markings away. Slowly. Carefully. All the while gyrating her hips and leaning forward to make her generous cleavage obvious. She moved, hands first, into the booth, her intentions rather clear. I shifted to make a bit of room as she knelt back on her ankles and, with one swift motion, off came her top.
There was nothing underneath.
"Emma sends her regrets," she said, leaning back down as I stared. Her chest wasn't large, but it was wonderfully proportioned. In the dark, I couldn't make out the exact details, but the curve of her breasts was evident. "But she's happy to buy you a little pleasure."
"A little more pleasure," I muttered, a silly smile on my face. "You are a beautiful woman, Opal."
"There are rules," she said, crawling forward. I nodded. "If your hands touch bare skin, or if they go past my thigh bones, forward or back, we're done. They stay on the outsides of my legs, on my jeans." I nodded again, and she came closer, her hand landing beside my hip. "This is my choice. Not yours, not Emma's, not the club's, and what I say goes."
I nodded again. Why would I refuse? Who could?
We were nose to nose. She took my right hand and put it on her hip. The bench wasn't wide enough to get my left hand to join it, at the moment, not until there was some motion away from the wall. She leaned back, giving me a full view of that expertly-sculpted torso, and inched forward on her knees. "If you want me to stop, just say so, any time." I nodded again. Her hand reached my outstretched left leg, and guided me around so that I was facing the table, as opposed to sprawled out the way Emma had left me.
She twisted, slid forward, turned, and took a seat on the table, her legs on either side of my torso, her feet on the bench beside my legs. I sat up and, as previously invited, put a hand back on her hip. She beamed at that, so the other joined it. All the while, she treated my eyes to a feast of agile and clever movements of her torso which accented her shape wonderfully. Her hands played in my hair and on my face, now and then slipping away to rise over her head or shift behind her back as part of her dance.
The fresh smell of her skin, so close, so far away, tinged only lightly with the salt of her sweat; the feel of the denim under my fingers, and the subtle motions of the leg muscles that made every sway and shimmy possible; the sound of her breathing, controlled, confident, practised, taking just as much air as was needed; I could have been completely blind and it would have been no less erotic, no less arousing, no less a thing of beauty. And yet, the shape of her, the movements, burned in to my mind, lingered long after she planted a gentle kiss on my forehead; long after she whispered something, only half-caught, in my ear; long after she replaced the shirt and, with a quick twirl, returned to her duties.
And long after Siobhán coughed to let me know that she was standing there. I opened my eyes, slowly, but did not turn from where the ghostly image of the waitress still sat before me. "How long?" I asked, softly, perhaps a bit embarrassed.
Siobhán giggled. "You've been sitting there about two minutes. I've been standing here about five. That was a show."
"It was," I said, still facing forward as though it could keep the image, the sensation before me. I felt the weight of my companion landing on the bench. She could have sat across from me, and I wondered if her choice of position was out of respect for the experience I was still processing, or simply because that's where she had been standing, or if it was...
Her hand fell on my leg. Ah, maybe that, then. She was always the touchy-feely type. I wondered if her headset, when I looked over, would be pink. Her head fell on my shoulder, which, if anything, only enhanced the spirit of sensation.
"You caused a nice little pile-up," she said in her mellow way. "I barely heard you over the music, but I think all the blue ones just stopped in place. That's a fun time."
I nodded. "Were you part of it?" I asked, curious more than anything.
She sat up. "No, I was across the floor, wearing green. Every time I thought about changing the colour, something distracted me." She said that like it was a pleasure all its own. "I wanted to try the pink, but then there was this cute guy who wanted to dance... or, wait, I wanted to dance with him. It's a little bit of a blur." She paused to take a deep breath.
I finally turned my head. While she didn't have the lithe form of the dancer whose handprints I could still feel on my cheeks, she was still quite... I gave myself a mental shake. Siobhán was a friend, I was here as her protector. Even worked up as I was, I couldn't let myself fail her, not like that, not even if she was half naked.
White underwear, I noted, not overly revealing—which, knowing her, was a touch surprising—and serving a functional, rather than decorative purpose.
She was half naked.
And there I was, sitting, very aroused, in both body and mind, evaluating the state of my friend's underwear. Which brought to mind another question.
"Siobhán," I said, a little tentatively, "where are your clothes?"
She looked a little confused. "My..." She looked down at her mostly-bare body. "Oh. Wow. That's hot."
"You didn't know?"
She looked back to me, flushed, with a warm smile on her face. "Didn't know what?"
"That you're sitting there in your underwear."
"I am?" She looked down, running a hand over her belly. "Oh. Wow. That's..." She swallowed, looking back up at me, "... the second time I've done that, isn't it." She chuckled.
I tried a different route, presuming that it was time to go. "Siobhán," I started, "where are your clothes?"
"My..." She seemed confused again. I dropped my hand lightly on her thigh and she jumped. "Oh! I'm... now when did..." She flushed, looking at my hand.
"I'm leaving it there so you can concentrate," I said.
She gave me a strange look. "I don't think that having your hand high on my bare thigh is going to help either of us to concentrate."
"To help you remember, then," I replied, trying to ignore the implication. "I'm guessing, since you're here, that it's time to go?"
"I... my headset just... shut off, I think?" She shook her head. "A bit of the cobwebs, I guess. I think the headset... stopped." She nodded. "It stopped. Must be because my rental is up." She grabbed the fizzy punch that Opal had brought me and started sipping at it. "When did you get here?" she asked me.
I frowned, but then realized she was sincere. "I came as your designated..."
She cut me off. "I know, Bryan, I'm not stupid. No way you'd come to Translations for fun. But when did you get here? This booth." She blinked. "It's nice. I like it. Quiet. Private."
I blushed, thinking of Emma. "Where did your clothes go, Siobhán?"
She shot back, like it was a retort, "Where's your hand, Bryan?"
I blushed harder. "It's there to keep your mind focused on your clothes."
"And how am I supposed to do that when we're both obviously focused on your hand?"
"Having some trouble?" a familiar voice asked. I looked past the end of the table, and there was Topaz, smiling politely.
"Yes, actually," I said, turning my body somewhat to face the hostess. "You can see my friend's state of undress --" this prompted a little squeal of recognition from Siobhán, which made me close my eyes and sigh.
Topaz looked at her. "I can see, yes. It's hard to miss." She grinned. "You are wondering how to correct this?"
"Yes," I said, with perhaps a hint of exasperation, "since I would like to take her home."
Topaz looked back and forth between us. "Green?" We both nodded. She winked. "Give me your hand, please." Siobhán held out her left hand. Topaz took it lightly and tapped the back four times, and the change in Siobhán was instantaneous. She sat up straighter, brushed black hair from her eyes, and looked off into the distance, before giving a deep and satisfied sigh.
"Left them with security when I took them off," she said. "We should..." she looked over at me, and started to seem a touch embarrassed, "... probably go get those."
I nodded, still speaking to Topaz. "Thank you. I suppose I should have read a menu?"
"It does sometimes help." She smiled. "We're always here if you need us. Anything else I can get you two before you head out?"
"Do you serve your drinks to go?" I asked. "I never had my second."
The hostess giggled. "No, sorry. But I'll give you a token to redeem for next time you're here." She reached into a pocket and fished out a small, flat copper coin. "Don't lose it!" she said, sliding it across the table to me before heading off to her other duties.
"Look at that," Siobhán said in full snark, "now you have to come back." She tipped back the last of the sparkling fruit punch Emma had sent me.
I grumbled for a moment. "Come on, Siobhán, let's get you dressed and home."
She stood up. "Oh for... I'm even barefoot." She smirked. "That green was a good call. And I kind of feel it's not done with me yet."
"What do you mean?" I stretched as I stood, subtly adjusting the crotch of my pants; I had been in that booth a while, and been twisted about this way and that. It had, on reflection, been a pretty good evening.
"Sometimes there are things that stick with you awhile," she give me her distinctly-Siobhán smile. "I bet if you mentioned that lockdown thing to one of those blue-headset-wearing people even a few days later it would still be enough to make them..." She posed like a stiffened suggestee and gave a low chuckle.
"Oh, so like that time you came to school for a week with your shirts on backwards?"
We crossed the floor without incident and made it to the security desk. The guard there—a rather handsome, strong-looking young man in the same blue t-shirt and denim shorts that Opal and Topaz wore (although both items were slightly longer that the women's had been)—introduced himself as Jasper, and knew immediately why we were there. Siobhán managed to look a little ashamed, but not too much, as he brought out her neatly-folded clothes. The light levels kept me from being certain, but I would have wagered that there were people on the dance floor in the same, or an even greater, state of undress than my friend had been.
"See?" she said, pulling her shirt over her shoulders and doing up the first buttons. "They take good care of us here." I thought of Topaz's gentle hospitality, her help with Siobhán's conditions, and of Opal's careful service and incredible dances, and I couldn't possibly disagree.
Siobhán slipped her skirt on and started on her socks, sitting on the floor with her back to the desk, while I looked back at the dance floor, watching the mass of pink headsets move almost in unison, swarming whoever they could. I saw a few coloured lights flicker and change, almost as if being assimilated. Perhaps that was a function of the pink program, to appeal to others. I shrugged. It would be a while before I found out, if I ever did.
"Ready," Siobhán said as she climbed to her feet, dressed as she had been when we came in. "Let's get home before it gets too late." She took my arm and guided me towards the door. I let myself be led all the way to the car. "Let me in the back," she said. "I wanna lie down. I'm a little tired, I was dancing the whole time."
Not exactly legal, but I didn't want to argue. She was capable of making her own decisions, and I trusted myself to drive safely. I expected she would flatten herself across the back seat as soon as the door closed but instead, she just sat up, ramrod straight, staring out the windshield, looking like she had when Topaz tapped her hand. She rather rigidly grabbed the shoulder belt and fastened it safely, making sure that it was cinched tight and placed properly with an attention and care to detail I'd never seen in her, in two decades of friendship.
For that matter, my breathing was coming a little harder than I'd have liked, looking at her, seeing her so affected. Her head turned, slightly, and her blue eyes met my brown ones in the rear-view mirror. Recognition flared, I saw her eyes widen. "Shit," she breathed, her body moving as though it weren't her own, eyes scanning the car's insides, "This one's different... haven't felt this before, I... I need to, to..." She seemed to find the object of her search, a crumpled napkin and a ballpoint pen. "Come on, come on," she shook the pen loose, scrawling over the napkin twice before it began to shed ink, then writing something furiously.
"Siobhán...?" I dared to speak, quietly.
"No," she answered before I could finish, "I don't know what I'm doing, I just have to... have to write, this, and..." Her words came slowly as her trembling hand scratched across the back of the napkin, before she finally tossed the pen aside, exhaling a heavy, shuddering sigh, before shoving the small paper towards me, eyes wide, like she was wide awake again, but not. She bit down on her lip, hesitating, then spoke, "I need you to read it. I can't do it myself, I just, I just know you have to read it. Tell me what it says." Her voice continued to stammer as I slowly took it, my own fingers trembling, "I-I can't remember what it says," she laughed nervously, "or maybe I never really knew... just, just come on, read it already."
I hadn't even started the car yet. I could have ignored it, could have said 'no,' could have driven away. But her eyes, a combination of blue and grey, need, and... and lust? I didn't think that I would ever recognize it in her if I saw it, but I could hardly mistake it there. It didn't make sense to me. She mouthed a single word, "please," and flushed, rolling her shoulders.
I looked at the half-crumpled napkin. Two words. They made no sense, except in this very specific context. I managed to get out the words, "Are you sure?" and they were hardly out of my mouth before, somewhere between impatience and desperation, Siobhán snapped, "Yes!"
The suddenness in her reply elicited a response of my own, the words tumbling out with hardly a thought. "Treble whispers."
Her reaction was a bit scary, although I'm certain she didn't see it that way. As though struck by lightning, a shock ran through her, followed by a long, slow shiver. Her eyes closed and a small shuddering moan escaped her lips. Her breathing was quick and laboured, and her blush deepened significantly. As she calmed, I mustered the courage to ask, "Did you just...?"
She swallowed, opened her eyes, and nodded. "I did." She took a couple deep breaths. "I think I'd like you to take me home," she said, her mellow voice thick with heat. "Not to mine," she added, "to yours."
"Siobhán..." I said, a dozen unasked questions brimming in that name. I watched her in the mirror. She shook her head.
"I don't know. But I want you. Now. And I'm not going to fuck you in the back of your car. I know that that dance got you turned on. I know you. I know you need an outlet. Well, here I am. I need you, you need me." She met my eyes full on in the mirror. "So drive," she said.
I turned the key in the ignition, then looked over my shoulder in to the back seat. "And if I say those words again?"
She bit her lip and looked at me from under half-lidded eyes. "Do it."
I put the car in gear. "Treble whispers." I couldn't look, but I could sure hear. She wasn't near so restrained the second time. And even less so the third, as we turned off the highway and towards my apartment.
That time, she moaned as she came down. "No more, not yet," she said, panting. "Please, let me recover. For now. You can wear me out when we get into your bed."
I didn't speed, I swear, but I sure didn't take my time.
The elevator couldn't come fast enough, nor the key turn quickly enough in the lock. As we walked in, I ran to the washroom; Siobhán had been by often enough to know her way around. I had left my phone in my coat pocket, and I heard the camera go off a couple times. I was curious, but my interest could wait.
Or I thought it could. From my position upstairs, I heard Siobhán call out. "Bryan, what's this picture? You took one of the dancer?"
"She insisted!" I shouted back before flushing.
I washed up and opened the door to find Siobhán there, holding my phone, with the picture of Opal baring her belly. "She insisted?" I nodded. "And she wrote her number out for you?"
"I... what?" I looked at the design on the dancer's tummy. The flash on the camera had caused some form of glittering ink or body paint to luminesce, and the other design Opal—no, I realized, Opal wouldn't have; Emma had drawn that—the other design which Emma had drawn highlighted the glitter, clearly outlining a set of digits.
I looked up at my friend, and then noticed her shirt had vanished again, along with the bra underneath, revealing her ample chest. She gave me her decidedly-Siobhán smile. "You can tell me the story after." She put her hands in my hair and pulled me down in to a kiss.
I met her lips eagerly, visions of the three women who so effectively conspired against me without sharing a word in planning slowly fading in the face of the one who I'd brought home; the immediacy, the sheer need in that kiss annihilating, for the moment, Opal's sensuality and physicality, and Emma's tenderness and understanding. A hand rose to caress her cheek, and it was immediately guided down to her chest. There was no time – and, presently, no need – for that sort of attention. Taking my cue, I massaged Siobhán's breast, feeling her press her body into my hand, feeling the hand that she'd loosed from my hair sliding under the waistband of both my jeans and my underwear to tease my already-eager member.
"Now, Bryan," she whisper-moaned as we broke the kiss. Her leg lifted to my side and my hand, operating on autopilot, moved under her skirt to support it, grasping her bare thigh near her bottom. Her underwear had come off with her top and bra, it seemed. "Say it."
I nearly choked on the words, but they came out. I held her close, even lifted her, as she collapsed into my arms, moaning, writhing, hardly capable of keeping her balance on a single foot given all that movement. My hand left her chest and slipped around her back, pulling her ever closer. The catch in her breath, the movement of her body, the unrestrained shout her voice gave forth, all contributed to my own rapidly growing need. Her fingers dug in to my hair and my ass, clutching for balance as her body tried to arch away from me, nearly dragging me down despite my bracing us both against exactly that.
Her wordless shouts gave way to loud moans and gasps, to pants as she went more and more limp in my awkward grip. "Fa... fa.... fuuuuck..." she managed. "More. More now."
"More?" I looked at her, bewildered and extremely aroused. "Alright, if you want. Treb..."
I stopped as the hand in my hair leapt from the top of my head to clap over my mouth. "The traditional way, Bryan. Take me to the bed, throw me down, strip off and fuck my brains out. Now."
She toppled with a laugh as I shifted my grip and lifted her into my arms. It was fortunately just a few steps, I'm not the strongest of men and Siobhán was rather wiggly, especially given the fingers clutched near her most sensitive place. I dropped her roughly into my queen-sized bed and pulled off my shirt, an act which really should have impressed no one, but still received an appreciative laugh of (what I hoped was) delight.
I looked over at my mostly-naked friend, who was watching me right back, fingers playing over her nipples. "Well?" she asked lightly. "Before you ask, yes, I really want this, and don't you think about backing out on me now, at least not without lying next to me and saying whatever it is you say to make the orgasms happen a whole helluva lot. Get those pants off." A hand reached down and hiked up her skirt, giving me a lovely view of everything as she ran her fingers around her labia and moaned again.
I don't think that I’d ever gotten naked faster, or that I could if I tried. Her fingers were happy to return to her chest and let mine take the lead between her legs, but neither of us had much patience for that, and soon my hands were tracing up her sides, drawing little giggles and moans as she flinched away from ticklish spots and pressed towards sensitive ones, and my mouth found the cute swell of her belly as I started to kiss my way up her torso, feeling the goosebumps with my lips and tongue, revelling in every gasp. I paused, briefly, to suck on first one breast, then the other, before once again kissing her full on the lips and setting our tongues to dancing. A moment's alignment was then all I needed before penetrating deep inside the warmth and wet, causing her back to arch again.
"Oh God..." she exclaimed in a low voice. "Bryan..." I started to move. "I... can't..." I stopped, concern on my face. "No... no... don't stop... but... I just realized... the green..." She tapped her temple. "Without ... without those words... I can't... come..."
I didn't know how to feel about the mind control, but I knew what my body wanted, and everything about Siobhán was screaming for me to continue. I moved within her, letting my need direct my movements, seeking those motions, those places that earned me the loudest praise, the biggest reactions. I was curious as to how far, how deep the programming went; could I push her body past it?
Was I stronger than an Alter headset and an evening of mind-controlled dancing?
"We'll see," I grunted, thrusting again, and again, "if I can beat that green light."
She giggled with delight. "Not sure you... mmm... not sure you can but... looking forward to you trying..."
I tried. I put all my effort into it. Hands found shoulders, arms, breasts; my mouth kissed hers repeatedly, nibbled at her neck, licked earlobes, went back for more kisses; my knees provided support, and my hips the power, for every thrust, searching and searching as my own need grew more demanding. But I could feel my own climax approaching, and Siobhán was reaching a fever pitch, begging, begging to hear the words that would trigger her orgasm.
As my body took over, the length of my cock pulsing within her, I gave in. "Treble..." I gasped as the first fluid burst forth from inside me, "whispers," I coughed out. Her reaction was instantaneous, and even in the throes of my own orgasm I felt her grab, and squeeze, and press around me, heard her cries of joy, felt the motion of the waves of ecstasy moving through her, as they were through me.
The moment seemed to last an eternity, before I fell in a controlled collapse on top of her, nestling my head in the space between chin and breast, softening within as she started to calm herself. "God," she said again, catching her breath. "Why didn't we ever do that sooner?"
I didn't answer, just holding her close, breathing in her essence, her presence.
"You know I have to take you back there now, Bryan..." she muttered, softly stroking my back. "Maybe even get you on the dance floor."
"You may have some competition..." I lifted my head and smiled.
"The dancer?" she asked curiously.
I withdrew and lay next to her. "No, the teacher."
She turned to me and pressed that lovely form to my side. "Ooh, Bryan, tell me, tell me," she begged, her voice still low, deep, and seductive.
So I did, about Emma, and Opal, and the dances, the discussion, the whole evening. It was clear she was interested, and it was equally clear that it was turning her on. Her gentle motions against my side, as well as memories of the other women, was starting to revive my own body’s interests as well.
When I reached her part in the story, though, she again couldn't recall that she had been disrobed, a fact that made her moan and lie back. I felt her swift motion beside me, quickly realizing that she was taking off the skirt she'd been wearing, before she shifted on to her knees, straddling my shins.
"And now we're here," she said, looking at me.
I looked back at her. "It would seem so." I smiled.
"You may have to remind me of all that again tomorrow," she said, her fingers dancing on my thighs. "I don't think that much of the club visit will stick."
I laughed. "I don't think I could forget. It's been a memorable evening."
She gave me a wicked grin. "Well, let's add another memory," she said, ducking forward. Her fingers and her tongue found my cock, and I gasped.
"Shush," she said without looking up. "Yes. I'm sure." She licked me again, and I reacted with a moan and a definite twitch. She straightened and shivered, and a look of curiosity crossed her face. "That's..." She bent down and licked me again. "That's so..." she closed her eyes. "That is the best thing I've ever tasted." She looked at me over my stiffening prick. "Green was such a good choice," she breathed before plunging down and taking me in her mouth.
Her shivers, her moans, her gasps... I briefly wondered if she had had similar experiences with other companions on some of those ten or fifteen other visits to Translations—how lucky they were, or would have been, to have this fun, exciting, beautiful woman compelled to need, to adore them!— and I thought of the possibilities, of pink and blue lights, of Emma, Opal, Topaz, of what other Alterations might exist, fantasizing wildly as that short black hair bobbed and those blue eyes blazed.
She felt my second climax approaching, I think, more even than I did, and redoubled her efforts – after all, if the shaft was that tasty, how much more delectable would the contents be? – and my own writhing and moaning reached a fever pitch. It wasn't long before I could feel the need again. I tried to warn her, to hold back, but there seemed to be no need for either, as the moment I began to thrust upward, Siobhán held my hips down and started to work her tongue around my tip, ready and willing.
It would have been rude to keep her waiting.
Judging by the look in her eyes, the pleasure in her expression, and the eagerness in her action, she was experiencing something blissful as she tested, tasted, and swallowed my semen enthusiastically, keeping me in her mouth as I lay back and closed my eyes, enjoying her ministrations.
Siobhán's tongue slid expertly over me, cleaning me thoroughly, extending both my pleasure and hers. I sighed, contented, as she continued her work, sleep threatening to take over at any moment. She disengaged after a moment, sliding up beside me and licking my cheek, which made us both giggle.
"Wasn't expecting that," I said softly, a smile on my face.
"Which, the lick, or..."
"Everything," I whispered.
She pulled me close. "Say it," she said, calm voice underlaid with a latent heat.
I didn't hesitate. "Treble whispers."
Her grip tightened around me and her breath quickened. Her hips pressed against my side, and I could feel her wetness against my thigh. Her soft moan was maybe the nicest thing I'd heard all year, maybe in many, and I'm a little ashamed to admit that in that warmth, in the afterglow, and with that wonderful comfort, I couldn't keep my awareness any longer. I slipped into dreams with that beautiful music in my ear.
I woke the next morning to the gentle flutter of fingertips on my belly, and a warm "Good morning," whisper. Siobhán and I hadn't moved while we slept, and her beautiful black-Irish body was still curled to my side. "Revised your opinion any?"
I think I said something clever, like, "Brunnhawha?" as I gurgled to consciousness.
She kissed my cheek. "On Alterations. On Translations. On mind-control sex."
Jesus, it was far too early to think about such things.
She went on. "You gonna call your teacher friend and take her out?"
"Might," I managed. I needed to pee, but God, I felt good just lying there.
"Or are you gonna escort me back there?" she asked with a giggle and a poke in my side that definitely woke me up.
"Gnaugh!" I said, or something like it, sitting up quickly. "Need bathroom. Now." I rolled out of bed. "Think after." I scampered to relieve myself as my bedmate laughed.
Two minutes later I returned to the sight of Siobhán sitting on the side of my bed. I shook my head. "Don't you dare tell me this was a dream," I said.
She grinned. "Dream-like, sure, but not a dream." She was slowly moving a finger up and down her belly. "I remember everything we did from the moment I got in the car. Ah, almost. But a lot of what led up to that is..." She paused, and shrugged. "Not relevant, I suppose. God, you're fantastic when I'm Altered. Fuck of a good babysitter." She laughed. I started to say something, but she held up her hand. "I remember, at one point, the headset offered me a choice, to either keep the coding I had, and likely make love to whoever I went home with, or to change the colour. I remember it being a choice I made of my own free will, and then I remember everything just... floating away."
I stared, subconsciously following her finger between her lovely bosom and the small patch of black hair below her navel. "You... you wanted...?" I began, but got no further.
"I accepted," she corrected. "I don't think last night would or could have happened without Alteration, but when I was given the choice, I accepted it. Like you did. You could have just taken me home, left me to my fantasies and my right hand," the very right hand whose motions were drawing my attention, "but when I said that I wanted to fuck you, you brought me right here."
I nodded, unsure of what to say.
Never at a loss for words, Siobhán continued. "The dancer and the teacher and God knows the atmosphere at Translations got you all worked up and I was only too happy to oblige you, Bryan, and I think I'll be only too happy to oblige you again if you ask me, but I think we need to be clear on the boundaries."
I made an agreeing sound. "Friends, then?"
"With the best of benefits. On the grounds that you'll babysit for me again." She giggled.
I sighed and closed my eyes. The image of Siobhán sitting there, grinning and lightly teasing with her fingers, remained. I looked again. Her hand had stopped and now joined the other in bracing her, allowing her to lift her breasts subtly by arching her back just so. "I want to," I said, a little tentatively. She noted my hesitation and waited for me. "God, I want to. I want to take you back there now and see what we can get in your head. I want to sit in a booth with a menu and order for you. I might even..." I paused. She leaned forward. "I might even let you babysit me sometime."
Her reaction caught me off guard. "No way, Bryan. Not that last one." She grinned. "That's what your teacher's for." She uncrossed her legs, stood up, and walked over to me, putting her hands on my hips. "From what you told me, you'll have more fun with her there, anyway."
Then she kissed me, deep and long, stealing away my feeble and insincere objections. Her hands pulled my hips against hers and I felt my body respond. "Besides," she said, leaning away from my mouth. "I already have ways to control you, Bryan."
Her hand on my hardness made that abundantly clear. My brain short-circuited as she led me to the bed and pushed me on my back. She crawled up again between my legs and gave an experimental lick, which led me to moan. She grinned up over my cock. "Guess that's worn off... we'll have to do this the traditional way, then." She positioned herself above me, teasing the tip with her lower lips. I think I whimpered.
The world spun away in warmth and wetness and pleasure, in new joy with an old friend. And this time, she didn't even need me to say anything.