Brooke snorted. “What? Don’t be daft!”

He didn’t seem offended by her derision. “I’m serious,” he said, smiling patiently. “I can convince you of anything. I’m very persuasive.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” she snickered. “I mean, you got me to sit down and have a drink with you, so I guess you must be.”

His smile didn’t waver. “Exactly.”

She shook her head in amused disbelief. “So you can make me believe the sky’s red, can you?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Too easy.”

“You can make me think my shoes have little mice living in them?”

It was his turn to burst out laughing. “That’s a very odd, and very specific choice!”

“When I was a little kid, my shoes would squeak whenever they got wet,” she explained, as he sipped his drink. “Like, on rainy days. So I pretended there were mice in my shoes.”

“That’s adorable,” he chuckled, placing his glass back on the table.

“And you could make me think there really are mice in my shoes?”

“Oh, without a doubt.”

She giggled. “I mean, if you could do that, it’d be amazing. Hell of a party trick...”

“What was your name again, by the way?” he asked suddenly.

“Brooke,” she answered automatically, trying not to take the question too personally. She’d forgotten his name, after all. They’d only met an hour ago...

“No, it isn’t.” There was no incredulity in his voice, no confusion - just a flat declaration of fact.

She blinked, taken aback. “What do you -”

“Your name’s River,” he said, just as evenly.

“Wha- no, it’s not, it’s Br-”

“Your name is River.”

He wasn’t arguing - simply stating the facts as he saw them. His voice was clear and calm, firm and authoritative. His eyes were fixed on hers, a hint of mischief flickering in them.

She hesitated, wrongfooted by his certainty. “It - it’s not -”

“Your name is River.”

There was something about his assertive tone, and his unwavering gaze, that was throwing her mind into disarray. She was finding it difficult to think of anything but his confident statement: Your name is River. She knew it was wrong, she knew that... but he sounded so certain...

“My...” She swallowed, a frown creasing her brow. “My name’s B-Broo-”

“Your name is River.”

It was getting harder to argue. Her mind was so scattered. She was feeling less and less sure of herself with every repetition.

“My name is... River?” she murmured.

His mouth twitched. His smile was appreciative, almost proud, as if he was congratulating her on getting the answer right. “Your name is River,” he said again.

“My name is River,” she said again. It was no longer a question - although she was still frowning, a little doubt lingering in her mind.

“Your name is River.”

His words were inarguable, incontestable.

“My name is River.” She whispered it this time, as if in prayer.

“Your name is River.”

“My name is River.”

“Your name is River.”

“My name is River.”

“Your name is River.”

“My name is River.”

Each time she answered him, each time she reiterated it, her voice grew stronger, louder, more certain.

Finally, he stopped repeating, lowering his gaze and picking up his drink for another swig.

She blinked dazedly, her mind completely blank for a moment. Then the fog cleared. She frowned, trying to remember what they’d just been talking about. Oh, yes - he’d been claiming he could persuade her of anything, no matter how absurd. It was an intriguing notion, but not one she was inclined to lend any credence.

“Yeah, sorry mate, you’re full of shit,” she smirked.

“If you say so,” he replied, still smiling. “What was your name again?”

“River.”

“Ah yes, that was it,” he nodded. There was a hint of something playful in his smile - almost mocking. River couldn’t tell if it was directed at her, or himself. Perhaps he was about to concede defeat, and admit his powers of persuasion weren’t anything to brag about...

“You want to take me home,” he said suddenly, locking eyes with her again.

She flinched. “I - what -”

“You want to take me home.”

“I w-uhh...”

“You want to take me home.”

“I... want to take you home...?”

“You want to take me home.”

“I want to take you home.”

“You want to take me home.”

“I want to take you home.”

“You want to take me home.”

“I want to take you home.”

He finished his pint of Bulmers. River rubbed her eyes, feeling a little tired and confused. She hadn’t intended to stay out this late, but this guy (whose name she should probably find out) had won her over. He was pretty suave and confident, but good-humoured and self-effacing with it. Plus, she had to admit, he was quite fit.

“It’s getting a bit late,” she sighed, leaning across the table and folding her arms to emphasise her cleavage. His eyes flickered downwards briefly before meeting hers again, and she grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Wanna get out of here?”

He smiled back at her. “Yes. I’d like that.”

***

They were back at her flat, sitting side by side on the sofa. The trip there from the bar had seemed to pass in a haze. She was starting to tell him about something that happened at work, when his finger was suddenly under her chin, guiding her head up to make eye contact with him once more. She made a tiny ‘uh’ sound, stupefied by his sharp stare.

“Your clit is on the palm of your hand,” he told her.

Dazed and confounded as she was, that still gave her pause. “My - um, wh-what the -”

“Your clit is on the palm of your hand.”

“M-my clit - my clit is -”

“Your clit is on the palm of your hand.”

“My c-clit is on... the palm of my hand.”

“Your clit is on the palm of your hand.”

“My clit is on the palm of my hand.”

“Your clit is on the palm of your hand.”

“My clit is on the palm of my hand.”

“Your clit is on the palm of your hand.”

“My clit is on the palm of my hand.”

Her mind was giving in to his suggestions so much faster now. She was growing more malleable, more credulous, with each new inference. Of course her clit was on her palm. That was as true now as it had always been. Just as her name was River, and always had been.

He let her come back to herself, and after a few seconds of disorientation, she remembered the anecdote she’d been about to tell. “So - so yeah, my friend, she was in the staff room, and she’d started pumping, and then this other woman comes in and asks to borrow something - something she’d locked away in her desk. And she was so polite about it, and let her borrow her keys so she could get it herself... but I’m like, leave her alone, right?! She’s on her lunch break. And she very obviously has this breast pump chugging away under her shirt.”

“So impolite,” he tutted.

“Exactly! Just, let her enjoy her fucking lunch for a while, and do what she needs to do. If anything, she of all people should have a longer break than just half an houuunghfuck...”

She doubled over, her eyes rolling, her mouth gaping, clutching her thigh with her right hand. He had suddenly reached out and taken hold of her left wrist, faster than she could react, and was now stroking his fingertips in soft circles on her palm.

She managed to look up at him as she moaned and squirmed on the sofa next to him. He grinned wickedly, evidently relishing her dumbstruck expression. “Sorry to interrupt. I just thought it’d be funny to cut you off mid-word.”

“Nnnf - n-no more foreplay, huh...?” she whimpered, helpless beneath his nimble strokes. His roguish smirk widened.

He had her writhing and mewling in her seat for an agonisingly long time, driving her wild as he slowly, skilfully stimulated her clit. She rocked back and forth, she grabbed at her leg and chest, she babbled barely-coherent pleas... and finally, just as she thought the prolonged pleasure would snap her mind in half, he sped up, rubbing her all the way to an earth-shattering, fully-clothed climax.

As she began to come down on the other side, he relinquished her hand, and she let out an indignant whine. She wanted more.

She was looking over at him blearily, bringing her hands together with every intention of making herself cum again, when he seized her left wrist again and pulled her hand away - and, at the same time, told her, “Your clit is on the tip of your thumb.”

“M-my clit is on the tip of my thumb,” she mumbled, incapable of mustering even the tiniest resistance, her defences completely destroyed by the orgasm.

“Your clit is on the tip of your thumb.”

“My clit is on the tip of my thumb.”

“Your clit is on the tip of your thumb.”

“My clit is on the tip of my thu-”

He pulled her hand up to her face and slipped her thumb into her mouth. Startled back to relative cognisance, she wasted no time swirling her tongue around her clit, humming euphorically as she licked her way back to the brink. He sat back and watched her suck her thumb, and, soon enough, cum, violent tremors going through her body, her muffled moans rising in pitch.

Grasping her two thick braids with one hand, he took hold of her wrist again with the other and pulled it away from her face, tugging her thumb out from between her lips with a wet pop. She let out a feeble whimper, desperately trying to reach out with her mouth. “Someone’s needy,” he sniggered.

“Uhh - I, I have to keep going,” she pleaded. “I have a - a thing, once I start I can’t stop, I... I have to have a bunch in a row...”

He arched an eyebrow at her, still holding her in place with two firm hands, keeping her head and hand restrained. “Well, that’s interesting information. We’re learning so much about each other’s special quirks!”

River shuddered with barely-suppressed lust. She still didn’t believe in his supposed superpower, but she didn’t care. She was happy to indulge him if it meant he’d put her thumb back in her mouth - or his - and let her get to a third orgasm, and a fourth, and a fifth...

“And it’s lucky you found me, so you can cum as much as you like,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ve no idea what you did before you found the owner of your clit.”

The - what? She stared at him in bemusement.

He smiled, his eyes gleaming. “Your clit is my cockhead.”

After the briefest of pauses, she replied, “My clit is your cockhead.”

“Your clit is my cockhead.”

“My clit is your cockhead.”

“Your clit is my cockhead.”

“My clit is your cockhead.”

He released his grip on her hair and her wrist. She immediately sprang to her feet, and then dropped to her knees in front of him, reaching between his legs and fumbling with his zip. He lay back in his seat, smiling indulgently down at her. She barely noticed, too busy pulling his throbbing boner out of his jeans and wrapping her lips around the end.

Then she went to work, luxuriously fellating his tip with her tongue, and feeling her own deft licks on her sensitive button once again. She exhaled heavily around his shaft, her lips undulating on his foreskin.

His hand came to rest on the top of her head. “I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together,” he teased. “Especially once you realise just how persuasive I am - and how pliable you are...”

River gave his words no real consideration. She’d already dismissed his ludicrous ‘party trick’, after all. How gullible did he think she was? Besides, she was too busy licking and sucking her own clit, bringing mind-melting ecstasy to them both, to think about much else.