Millie cocked him a look that said You’re on thin ice.

“You really want to do this. In front of God and everybody. You really want to go down this road.”

The party was all his friends, grad school cronies, most of them she barely knew. It was her first real introduction to Jez’s crew, and she’d been as anxious going in as if she were facing an audition. So far though they’d all been entirely cool and non-judgmental. So far it was only her boyfriend who seemed to think she had something to prove.

“What?” Jez came over all innocent. “It’s harmless, it’s play.”

She sighed and kept the look on her face. He kept going. “Scarcely even kink really, it’s—“

“—it’s a genre, I know,” she said, lengthening the nasal satirically, and making air quotes, “‘the vernacular erotica of neoliberalism,’ but it’s your genre, pal, not mine, alright? All you. Frankly I’m embarrassed that—"

“But there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, is the point—“

“For you, dingus. I’m embarrassed for you.” Over in the recliner, Katy snickered. Even quiet little Sarah, her girlfriend, tucked away on the floor off by the fireplace, offered a grin. Millie crossed her arms and looked around the living room, taking the party as witness. “And for the record, no actual act of hypnosis has been committed or ever will be.”

Jez mustered his bravado. “Maybe I’ve hypnotized you into denying I've hypnotized you.” Even he didn’t look convinced.

“Yeah and maybe monkeys’ll fly out of my butt.” Millie, next to him on the couch, bored a hole into him with her eyes. “A couple. times.” she said, and she turned to Katy, raising two fingers, “a couple times I do the arms-out yes-master-i-am-helplessly-in-trance thing, you know for the genre, and now I'll never hear the end of it.”

Katy looked delighted with that. “Jeremy,” she tutted, “you haven’t been badgering poor Millie have you? That isn’t sporting.”

“Trust me, I’m entirely unbadgerable.” Millie patted Jez’s thigh as she rose to stand. He had seemed about to rally to his own defense but thought better of it. Catching Katy’s eye, Millie asked, “Uh, which way to the, uh …”

Their host made a gesture with her chin. “Just that passage behind you and off to the left.”

Halfway down the hall Millie heard the room explode into laughter. She wasn’t the sort of girl who kept score, but she couldn’t really mind the feeling she’d just won a round.

He’d fucking steered it, was the thing. That sly little smile of his. “Sure we’ve done hypnokink." Like it was something he had in his pocket waiting to show it off.

She searched her eyes in the mirror, wondering how mad she needed to be. Millie knew about Jez’s crowd, say-anything types, just like Jez, hyper-educated, whose only rule was to give as good as they got. She was a little afraid of them, especially in a bunch. She was a little afraid of Jez still, to be honest; though that was also what she liked about him. Everything was quicker and more on edge with him around. She felt smarter just being in the room.

Did he think she was just going to play along? In front of them all? Play it for laughs? He had no excuse for not knowing better. This kick he’d been on, the whole mind-control thing, it felt like half the time they’d been together. And OK, it was legit a part of his critical work, and the work was interesting. It was influencing how she thought about her own thesis, even. And Millie was a game girl, and she was game for some roleplay, out of theoretical interest as Jez said, but then he just wouldn’t let it go.

It wasn’t fun for her. That’s all. It wasn’t an energy she enjoyed in their relationship. And it wasn’t fun that the topic kept on sort of finding its way into the conversation after she’d told him no. Sometimes Millie’d catch him out of the corner of her eye making these sort of odd, furtive little gestures she didn’t recognize, and she was half persuaded he was trying out, like, some sort of bogus insta-trance moves on her. Real incel shit. Which would be pathetic and creepy.

Millie gave herself a discouraging look. Tonight, Jez with all his friends, it was supposed to be a step forward for their relationship. In her head she’d made it like some kind of society coming-out. But all tonight proved was that he’d entirely lost the plot.

Or maybe she’d just never known him. Fucking smirk at her about it like that. Maybe that’s who he was all along.

At least he’s got no more excuses not knowing where we stand, Millie decided. She ran the tap for a bit and dabbed some water over her eyes.

When she opened the bathroom door it startled her to come face to face with Sarah, standing almost in a pose of attention just at the threshold. Millie sensed she’d been waiting there for a bit. The slight unfocused stare, the slackness in her face, made her look small and forlorn, like a little orphan girl. “Oh! Sarah— hi, I— I’m sorry, I know I was taking—“ Millie thought to nudge past her but Sarah made no show of moving.

She’d been kind of watchful of Sarah, the sole other undergrad there, sitting apart, mesmerized by the fire, and wondering if she shouldn’t find a moment somehow to connect. Maybe it was odd of her to feel protective towards the girl—they were probably about the same age, and as a couple Katy and Sarah were much the elder of her and Jez—but Millie had always had a bit of mother hen in her, and Sarah just seemed to bring it out.

Whatever moment she’d had in mind, this wasn’t it. For a second Sarah looked like she was struggling to push the cobwebs aside, then she broke out in a big smile. “Hi, Millie! I didn’t have to use the bathroom. There’s something I needed to tell you.” She swept the hair from in front of Millie’s ear and brought her lips up to it.

The sound of Sarah’s voice, the intimate soft breathiness of it, was somehow thrilling and also instantly soothing. What she was saying, if she was saying anything that had meaning, the rush in Millie’s head made it impossible to tell. She felt her knees go weak. Sarah had her arm around her, she was taking Millie’s weight, backing her into the bathroom till the toilet bumping into her calves sat her down. It felt hard to breathe. Sarah’s voice kept up its intimate murmur in her ear. The girl bent forward, one hand steadying Millie’s suddenly weary head, droning soothing things to her Millie couldn’t understand but knew she urgently needed to hear.

Millie patted her hands dry and went back to the party. She was prepared to be made self-conscious about the extended bathroom break, but the first thing she heard coming down the corridor was Jez still holding forth. Of course on The Topic yet. So maybe it hadn’t been that long. No one remarked her. No one seemed to have moved: Jez ensconced equally in the couch and his discourse, Katy opposite playing hostess, imperiously reclining. Sarah where she’d been all evening, folded into her partner's lap like a dozy housecat.

“… Manchurian Candidate. That whole nexus of Cold War panics: TV and advertising, Asian communism, imperial war, and what sits right at the paranoid center of it all but mind control? Technological mind control, specifically, this sudden wild proliferation of tropes …”

Only Sarah noticed her coming in, and she got up and moved as if on cue, taking Millie’s former spot next to Jez. Without a second thought Millie slipped onto Katy’s now available lap as if she belonged there. Jez interrupted himself and raised his eyebrows at her. “That’s where you’re going to sit,” he said.

Why was it where she’d decided to sit? But Katy put an arm around her waist, and Millie relaxed, feeling like she was getting permission to ignore her mistake. Not to mention the fact she’d provoked Jez, whose nose deserved a tweak. She snuggled defiantly in. “Best seat in the house,” she said, and snuggled in a little extra.

Millie’s intuition told her there was a history between the two of them, Katy and Jez. She was dying to ask Sarah what she knew, if she could ever get around to talking to her. What if the girl had actually meant Millie to take Katy’s lap. Maybe she had some score of her own to settle with Jez.

Millie smiled to imagine such a pink little cutie having so much deviousness in her.

Jez sighed. “Millie, seriously, don’t you think Katy’d rather—“

“Jeremy,” Katy broke in, “not another word. Your girlfriend is a treasure and also a stone fox and I have just now decided to make her my particular pet for the evening. And she has the frame of a bird,” she added, putting a hand on Millie’s thigh, ”darling, has he been feeding you?” Millie giggled and blushed and the two had a moment of forehead-to-forehead contact and at that point she realized she didn’t feel uncomfortable in the least.

“So.” Jez threw out his hands sardonically. Millie thought of it as his I’m-not-owned gesture. “This is, what. Acting out? Maybe you just went gay all of a sudden.”

She widened her eyes at him. “Maybe I’ve been hypnotized,” she said, lengthening it and dropping her voice into a Joan Crawford register. Someone not Jez chuckled. She turned her head slowly, dronelike back to Katy, who was being quietly amused. “Am I hypnotized now Katy? Have I surrendered my will? One of your doomed legion of entranced thralls?”

“Goodness, Millie,” Katy laughed, side-eying Jez, “I imagine I’d have more than enough work just keeping one thrall entranced.”

If anyone could do it though, Millie thought. She met her host’s eyes, feeling a secret little tingle at the idea. Katy had a palpable magnetism. If she were to lift a pocket watch now Millie doubted she’d look away. As close as they were to each other, those smoky eyes under their dark fringe of bangs, the deep plush of her lips, that fragrance,—

Somehow she didn’t realized they were kissing until Katy broke it off. A scattered burst of hoots and claps greeted her, and Millie, disoriented, reflexively ducked her eyes under her hand. What was that? Had she really just frenched Jez’s ex to make some kind of point? Though the glow in her pussy suggested there might be other reasons. She glanced back up and found Sarah standing facing her at the side of the recliner. Millie blushed furiously but Sarah only smiled, bright and ingenuous, exactly the smile she’d had—well, earlier, obviously, whenever it was she’d smiled at Millie before.

“The party needs another round of drinks, Millie,” Sarah announced. She reached out her hand. “Help me with them?”

Millie took the hand in a kind of daze, stammering out something agreeable, while Katy put a discreet hand on her rump to help her off the chair. She offered a silent thank-you to Katy’s partner for pulling her so neatly out of this, whatever this situation was. Eyes down, for fear of meeting Jeremy’s, Millie let herself be taken off, hoping to be gone long enough she’d have found her composure again before they returned.

“I just— I hope it doesn’t seem like piling on, you know? Not that he couldn't do with a lesson.”

Once she’d confided about the hypno stuff to Sarah Millie had felt much more at ease. She couldn’t help fiddling with her skirt though. She’d worn the mini-est one she had to the party—Jez was always trying to get her to show off her legs more—but this thing Sarah gave her was just beyond. Sitting at the edge of the bed Millie tugged at the hem again, tying to convince herself her panties would only be a little entirely on display whenever she stood up.

Sarah, in nothing but hose and heels yet, still admiring her own legs in the mirror, glanced back at her. “Oh, Jeremy’s a good sport.” She took her costume from the back of the side chair. “He’ll get the joke. And everybody else is going to think it’s priceless. Hypno drink sluts?! Believe me, we’ll be the hit of the party.”

Millie decided her first reaction had been wrong: Sarah wasn’t plain, she was one of those secretly pretty girls who showed off better naked. Her skin was flawless, her legs unmuscled but shapely, and the little pooch of belly on her, matched with the teardrop breasts and her bleached-pink pixie cut, made an adorable package.

Nothing in her manner had suggested how free the girl would be with her body. Millie kept having to find ways not to stare at Sarah’s crotch. It was a pro for her in their relationship that Jez never once brought up shaving with Millie—it was such a cliche, they always wanted it, and the vibe when a man got up the nerve to ask never failed to skeeve her. But maybe it was different for lesbians. Anyway as pixieish as Sarah was, bare seemed exactly the right kind of look for her.

“Yeah no, it’s a brilliant idea,” Millie said. “Wild you guys actually have maid outfits.”

“Last Halloween,” Sarah said to the mirror. “I’m just glad the other one fits you! Mine sure wouldn’t.” Sarah’s bodice had some lacing in back, and she was fiddling with it. She sought Millie’s eyes in the mirror. “Millie, sweetie, mind helping me tie up? That’s the one problem with these, it’s a two-girl job.”

She came up to help. It was a little hard for Millie to focus on Sarah’s back though when her nipples were right there in the mirror, winking at her. The bodice offered nothing to cover them with. They looked rock hard.

“Did somebody tell me you were into burlesque?” Sarah asked. “There were some cute pasties that went with this, but good luck finding them.” The girl rummaged a drawer in the vanity and came up with a tube of lipstick, uncovering it in the mirror for Millie with a flourish. It was a violent scarlet. “Close enough!”

Millie wasn’t sure that lipstick counted as anything like “close” when it came to covering your tits up, but when Sarah turned round from the mirror the trick kind of worked: you were overwhelmed by red way before you could see nipple. “Do you want—“ Sarah asked, glancing down to Millie’s more conventionally concealed breasts. Seeing her new friend’s confusion she added, “They come off, I mean,” gesturing to the lace inserts over Millie’s bodice.

She was all at once at a loss for words. Sarah held the lipstick up and made a little circle with it in the air. “After all, where’s the fetish in fetish maid if there isn’t a nip show?” Millie heard a small noise happen in her throat, neither a yes nor a no. Sarah stifled a giggle. There was a rip of velcro, then its twin, then a pressure of fingers, and Sarah muttering something about making sure she was nice and perked up. Millie’s head, the atmosphere in the room, time seemed to thicken and slow. She watched the head of the lipstick swirl languidly in the center of her exposed breast. Sarah’s nipples had only taken a few strokes, but Millie’s seemed to need far more thorough covering. Endless circles. They both got absorbed in the job and Millie wondered when enough would be, or which of them would be able to call it.

Sarah paused to switch hands. Briefly she looked up, searching Millie’s eyes, a distant, lost expression on her face. It was like seeing someone looking out at you from the back of a moving car. Then the gaze withdrew, and the circles took over again.

Millie wondered vaguely if they hadn’t already rouged this one.

Sarah sighed. It was the first sound either of them had made in a while. “You should go,” she muttered at Millie’s nipple. Her fingers moved slower and heavier. Millie’s whole body, transfixed, hummed with some suppressed energy. “You should go and not come back.” Her voice was toneless, but with something small and frightened behind it that made Millie’s heart ache. The girl’s eyes flicked back up to Millie's for an instant, darkly lit. “They’re not who you think they are.”

What kind of game are we playing here, Millie thought. She couldn’t tell if she was breathing. She felt like she was made out of lead. Like something heavy and tight had wrapped itself around her.

The cap on the lipstick snapped shut, and Millie blinked. She was face-to-face with Sarah and Sarah’s smile: cute, friendly, impish. Just as she always looked. Millie tried to make sense of her feeling of disquiet. “No worries,” the girl said huskily. She rested the palm of her hand against Millie’s cheek and gave her a peck on the lips. “I guess something triggered me. It’s nothing honey, just little Sarah-bird cheeping, nothing I say means anything.”

What were we talking about. Millie felt the girl’s touch bringing her back. From what she couldn’t have said. Pranking Jez. The look on his face when we come in. Can you imagine? Sarah stroked her cheek a moment longer. “Besides,” she said, withdrawing her hand, “it’s the best thing for you. Anyone could see that. You and me we’re just the sort of girls that are made to be brainwashed.” She smiled her incandescent smile and bounced a little on her heels.

Brainwashed gave Millie a flutter, but it was impossible to imagine any harm of Sarah. Irresistibly Millie smiled back, and it felt like a spell had been broken. Damn girl, she thought, when you play you play deep. Always the shy ones. She wondered if that’s what had drawn Katy in the first place. A little dark for Millie’s taste, maybe, but like Jez said, with hypno play it was all about commitment to the bit.

Sarah turned back to the mirror for a last costume check. Behind her Millie floated her arms ponderously up and forward, and staring into her own eyes let her face drain of expression. In her most vacant monotone she declared, “Hypno-maid entranced and reporting for service, Miss.”

Sarah laughed and clapped her hands together. “Excellent, hypno-maid, thank you!” She walked over to open the bedroom door. “Please follow your Miss into the kitchen.”

Millie struggled to hold in her own laughter and keep her face still. Outside the door her self-consciousness got the better of her and she nearly toppled altogether. Clearly the walk, in spiky and unfamiliar heels, was going to take practice. Good there was no one in that part of the house to see. Millie stilled herself, lifted her arms again, and she held them like that, mindful of her footing, her eyes on the small of Sarah’s back the rest of the way.

The tray was wooden, solid, not heavy so much as steadying. The weight of it was comfortable where it rested across her forearms. Every glass Sarah added to it was a small, welcome new burden of calm, a recollection to stillness and centering.

She was practicing immobility. The look on Jez’s face when they came in. She mustn’t break. The gag wouldn’t work if she broke. Millie was going to be the most convincing hypnoslut ever. Sarah, busy concocting, laughed and chattered about Millie's periphery like a puff of pink frill-capped cloud. Like she was set on a different speed. Millie couldn’t make any of the talk mean anything. She let herself be gabbled at heedlessly and charged with drinks and sank into the warm, soft playspace of I couldn’t talk if I wanted to.

When the tray was full Miss Sarah came around and took up an appraising distance in front of her. Millie’s thousand-yard stare held as it was. Sarah looked at her pensively a few seconds, dissatisfied somehow, then snapped her fingers and disappeared.

Millie heard her come back from behind and felt something press against her neck. “I can’t believe I forgot this!” Sarah said. The collar felt frilly but it had a core of some stiffer material, and it made a snug fit. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it right away. It’s not an outfit without the collar!”

Of course there’s a collar. Miss Sarah was not a girl who’d stint at playing a scene out. Millie, deep in her role, maintained a straight, not to say a tranced, face. But it was funny to think that she and Jez weren’t the only couple here who had a hypno-fetish lore.

Sarah rested her hands on Millie’s shoulders. “Did you know I was the last recruit before you?” she said in a small voice. Her face was unreadable. She fussed a bit with Millie’s hair and made some minor adjustment to the back of the collar, and when she stepped back for final check the girl seemed to have brightened. “And now I get to be somebody’s senior! Daddy— I mean Katy says if you think of it, that makes it kind of both our graduations.”

You hilarious freak, Millie thought. How are you even coming up with this stuff. Though if she was honest with herself, from little Sarah somehow the fucked-up patter sounded not so much funny as kind of extremely depraved and hot.

Wordlessly Miss Sarah clipped a leash to the back of the collar, and gave it a flick. Business time, Millie told herself. She had already figured out the stripper heels had a mind of their own; you didn’t so much walk in them as let yourself be walked. Plus it was sexier that way. The tile floor clopped stolidly below. She gave herself to the weight of the tray, the sway of liquid in the glasses, the continual ceremony of settling and balancing; reminding herself brainwashed at every step.