Erica The Edited Pt. 01

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Mind controller Cameron edits Erica's brain.
8.6k words
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 03/06/2017
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Thanks to Todger 65 for the edit.

Erica Sellenos broke up with her boyfriend on a warm July afternoon. It was pretty messy. He'd slept with one too many of his students. She'd caught him at it one too many times. She'd have broken up with him the first time, but sharing the house was too convenient. The last time was the final straw.

Two weeks later, Erica stormed out of her office. She was taking vacation time, or so the note stated. Her boss would probably object but she didn't give a fuck. The promised promotion he gave to her former intern, instead of her, might have had something to do with it. It didn't matter to her boss that, in spite of her best efforts, the intern was a complete and utterly unsalvageable idiot. The unsalvageable idiot was male and related to the boss' frat brother; old boy all around.

Three days later, Erica was in her hotel room, viewing her body in the mirror, loving the way her new creamy white bikini hugged it. Bikinis and Erica went very well together. The bottoms displayed her ample bubble ass to excellent effect. Her bra looked painted on her double D's. It was a costume designed to attract attention. She expected some, but hedged her bets by picking Cabo Blanco for her vacation.

Cabo Blanco was generally at its most popular during the late fall to mid-spring season, when the warm weather attracted the winter and spring break crowds. In late August, the resort was relatively quiet.

Erica wanted a much quieter venue than Miami or Acapulco. An out-of-the-way resort like Cabo Blanco was just the spot. "Just enough people to notice me, not enough to annoy me."

Erica was self aware to acknowledge a slight narcissism, explaining the revealing bikini in a quiet resort. It was a personality flaw, sure, but such flaws were common in her profession, and she was beautiful.

If her body was too curvy for the catwalk, and not quite right for Victoria's Secret, it still drew the eye. Plus she sported the brains to know how best to use it, as her masters in business, and expertise in public affairs attested.

She had the look of the modern, well off, cheesecake; the type found in Penthouse and leaked celebutant sex tapes. She could have gone the pin-up route but the corporate world beckoned with a larger wad of cash, plus benefits.

Her looks were good for modeling some of the company products but public affairs was her arena; always on hand to handle whatever company blowup her less capable superior couldn't fix. Yes, her official position was assistant public affairs executive but much of the work delegated to her.

The higher ups noticed; her boss all but said Public Affairs was hers once he left to take a position at a major film studio. Four days ago they called her to the office. She walked in, whistling, ready to receive her reward for all those years of hard work. They praised her, gave her a bonus, told her they were looking forward to her work in the future, and then they fucked her.

"We're going with George Riley," said Henry Collins, company CEO.

"Uh? The intern? My intern?!" Erica was stunned.

"We think he has the unique talents to take the department in an new direction. We're moving into new markets. We need a fresh face to project our new image, throw out new ideas. It's no reflection on you. You're brilliant and more than capable, but we feel your skills are better used in the advertising division. You'll still be assistant public affairs of course. You've always our 'Jenny-on-the-spot.'"

Erica couldn't speak. Here was the board. The CEO with the smug smile she always hated. CFO Martha Benning, looking like the prim, plain Presbyterian school teacher she used to be, watching her with barely concealed disapproval. The others on the board, most of them men, with expressions ranging from pity to open contempt, varying degrees of lust on some of the faces.

Erica knew if she stayed in that room one second longer, she'd blow. The idea of giving them the satisfaction made her stomach churn. "Thanks for the bonus," she said curtly, and left.

"I thought I did everything right," she thought, on her way to the beach. The news had already spread through the building. Her co-workers, some at least, were sympathetic. The looks of pity were just as bad as the meeting.

She danced the corporate two step as much as anyone but didn't backstab or undermine. She didn't sleep her way up the ladder, although she'd received plenty of offers of "career advancement".

Not to say she was frigid, just discreet, and nimble enough to avoid the tentacle fingers of the more swinish of her colleagues.

Erica's methods were competence and plain hard work; harder as her looks were a disadvantage in some respects. The all beauty, no brains stigma was a battle she had to fight ever since her breasts blew up. Fortunately Erica was blessed with parents who hadn't spoiled her, and taught her the value of school and work; not that values counted in the company. The day after the board fucked her, she found out about the frat connection.

Erica took a look at the beach and decided it was still too crowded for the off season. "God! What was I thinking?" She just wasn't in the mood for attention, in spite of the outfit. She needed time alone to go over her options. "The attention can wait."

Sulking in the hotel room was out of the question. She walked for awhile before chancing across a copse of trees with a small path. "This looks interesting."

She only had a short walk. The other side was a pristine white sandy beach, gazing across a cove with blue cerulean water. "Wow!" she gasped. "And no people?"

A large house was nearby; a new modern construct that looked like shipping containers made of glass, stacked on top of one another. Some rich guy's property but it looked like no one was home.

Erica herself came from money. Her father, an immigrant from Greece, made his money in real estate. He never spoiled her however. "You have to make your own mark in this world," he told her. "Don't expect me to pay your way after college."

Erica took her father's lessons to heart. She knew the depth of his love, even though the tough love was difficult as a teen. "I wonder if Mom and Dad will let me move back in with them?"

The realization was simple. She couldn't go back. Her career at the company was over. "I can't waste my life there. I'll miss the benefits though. Guess I'll have to go back and type my resume. I'll have to sell my half of the house." Her ex owned the other half.

Erica sighed; the real disappointment was Martha Benning. "I'd have expected some sisterhood." She lay back on her blanket, sipping lemonade, going over the fallout from the last couple of weeks. "No boyfriend, no job, and soon to be homeless. May as well enjoy my vacation. Hope no more shoes drop."

The naked man striding out of the surf seemed to qualify.

She hadn't noticed him at first, busy with worries over her job prospects. In hindsight, she figured he was in the cove all along. He was carrying a snorkel. When he came out she blinked twice, "Is that man naked?!" A ridiculous question, stating the obvious.

The man hadn't noticed her either. He fiddled with his snorkel, adjusting some unseen problem with the mask. When he did notice, he frowned briefly, then smiled. "Omigod! He's looking at me!"

Erica should have gotten up, apologized profusely, and scampered away. Even then she appreciated the irony of wearing an attention-drawing bikini, then deciding not to be noticed, only to have, of all people, a totally nude man notice her; except this man was beautiful.

Yes, beautiful; male model, Abercrombie and Fitch, Ralph Lauren, cheesy Axe body spray commercial beautiful. The package: a long narrow nose, high cheekbones, square jaw, lips to sin for, and silvery blue-gray eyes that drilled right into her body.

His body was slim and muscled, not puffed up like a jock or bodybuilder but slender, like a gymnast or acrobat. He was tan, smooth, and hairless, with only a crown of wet brown curls plastered in ringlets around his head. His skin was so fine and detailed, Erica could see the small appendix scar on his hairless crotch.

His cock was circumcised and of normal length, at least when not erect. Erica wondered what it was like at full mast. His balls were small plums, tight against his body, but Erica decided it was because he just stepped out of the ocean.

Erica didn't mind the man's hairless state. She preferred bald herself, mindful of modern fashions among some men. She'd had her own body hair lasered off, partly at her ex's request, partly as it removed the trouble of shaving from her personal maintenance. It seemed hypocritical to deride a man for similar tastes in grooming. Her ex, Todd, who loved his body hair, viewed men like this one with contempt. Erica, however, liked what she saw immensely.

The man strode towards her confidently, displaying an audacity Erica found admirable. He gave off no aura of outrage or embarrassment. "Probably an exhibitionist. Who is this man?"

Every instinct screamed, "Get up! Run away!" She didn't know this man. Anything could happen and he could try anything. Still, she didn't see much difference between being approached by a stranger on a beach or a bar, and if the stranger was like this man, there might be some opportunity for some fun. She was on vacation after all.

He stopped and stood, hands on his hips, a bemused smile on his face. She noticed his eyes, compelling, blue-gray, almost silver jewels, with a mischievous sparkle. There was something puckish about this man; a sense of mischief, at once intensely attractive yet unsettling. "Well now, this is interesting," he chuckled jovially. His smile broadened and his puckish twinkle brightened. Erica found herself liking the man.

"Doesn't seem like the usual narcissist on first impression," she thought. "Of course not; neither do you." Erica nearly chuckled, "Now where did that thought come from?"

"You're trespassing you know."

"Huh? What? Oh!" Erica was startled out of her slight reverie. "This is a public beach."

"You're mistaken I'm afraid," he countered smiling. "You didn't see the sign?"

"What sign?"

"That si . . . oh," he pointed.

Erica looked and saw, yes, a fallen sign partially hidden in tall grass. "Oh, sorry, I'll go," she said, moving to leave.

"No, don't go on my account. I'm kind of trespassing too," the man laughed.

Erica smirked, "Ooooh, so smart. So is this show for my benefit? Or is this some narcissist, exhibitionist ritual?"

"Well, I didn't know you were here. Now that I do, I guess you could say the benefit is mutual."

"Oh really?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"Well," he replied sitting down next to her, "I get to meet a beautiful woman in a white bikini. You get to see me in my unadorned glory."

Erica was flattered by the compliment; true yes, but still flattering. She was never plagued by body insecurity, thanks to her mother's influence. "Don't shrink from beauty Erica, in yourself or others."

Still, "You seem a bit full of yourself. I don't like narcissists. You like some narcissists."

"I'm full of a lot of things," the man said, still mischievous.

"Yes, you sure are," she replied. She wondered where that earlier thought came from. "I like narcissists? My ex was grade A in that category, and here's another one." But she found herself drawn to the guy. He seemed magnetic after a fashion.

"People always tell me that at first. I always win them over."

"Oh? So you think your 'magnetic charm' will impress me?"

"Of course it will," he chuckled. "You're here alone, broken up with your boyfriend, laying on a towel in a bikini, in casual conversation with a naked stranger. I'm already halfway there."

"Good grief! You're laying it on real thick aren't you?" Erica had experience with this type before; most never made it this far. Her ex was one of the lucky few but then, she was distracted by her new job. At least she told herself that excuse. This man, by his own account, was the same . . . and yet not the same.

He was handsome, sure; much more handsome than most, but that didn't mean anything. Maybe it was the puckish mischief, the sense of humor, the compelling silver-blue eyes. He sat there on the sand, casually watching her. "No care in the world. Does this guy not take himself seriously, or is it just an act? Ask and find out. Should I?"

An unsettling feeling nibbled at the back of her head. She reached out to grab it. It was slippery but she held on. The revelation alarmed her, so she asked him, "How did you know I had a boyfriend? And how come I didn't notice earlier?"

It creeped her out. You're not creeped out. It made her suspicious. You're not suspicious. It made her curious.

"I'm a lucky guesser. I'm very good at it. I figure, a girl as beautiful as you, in this place, would have a boyfriend."

"Beautiful girls do not always have boyfriends."

"Of course not." His eyes twinkled.

Erica lay assessing. "Why not? He's not aggressive, just cocky. Lucky guess."

"Stupid boyfriend," he replied.

"Stupid in so many ways, I can't believe I stayed with him for so long."

She took a bottle of suntan oil, poured some on her hand, and started on her arms.

"So why did you?"

"It helped with the bills, and he was good in bed. He was good in bed with everyone else too. I put up with it for a while, but then it looked like I was going to get promoted at work. Big raise, new money, and really I was plain sick of his bull, so over the side he went."

She sighed and stopped polishing herself, "And then they fucked me."

"Your bosses?"

"Yep, promoted my intern, my own fucking intern, right past me. Well, he wasn't my intern by then, but he certainly had no experience . . . and he wasn't a good intern either. Turns out he's the son of the CEO's frat brother. The old boy network," she spat. "And they tried to buy me off with a bonus, a-fucking-bonus."

Erica realized she'd stopped spreading the suntan oil and, instead, had drawn her knees, with arms and clenched fists wrapped around her legs. Her skin displayed a slight blush.

"I can see how that can piss a person off," the man said, smiling.

"Some more than most," she smiled back. A hint of hurt, barely detectable, flashed across her face.

"Yeah, they screwed her over all right," the man thought, probing. "She feels it hard." He disliked people who would treat such a fine specimen this way. He couldn't exactly call the kettle black, considering his own plans for her.

"Tell you what, why don't I finish with the suntan oil and give you a massage as well?"

Erica hesitated. "Straightforward, audacious, presumptuous, brash, etc," she thought with a touch of anger. "Shouldn't hurt." Once again a seemingly random thought, almost like it wasn't hers, appeared in her brain. "It seems to be a habit with this man, but this gorgeous naked man is offering me a free massage, on the beach. Why pass up the opportunity? Good grief! My own thoughts sounded like an echo; strange, like someone else was thinking the same thing."

The man watched her with that mischievous twinkle she already found annoying and attractive. "All right, you may start on my back," she said, turning on her belly.

"Of course," he replied. "Um, tan lines or no tan lines?"

"What? Oh," she reached behind and untied her top. "None on top, but stay above the hips." She laid her head on her arms and left him to his work.

His hands were good, warm, and strong. He worked his way around her shoulders and down her spine. "So what's your next move after vacation?"

"Oh, I don't know," she murmured. "God! He is good! I am excellent. He's excellent! I just know I can't go back to that place. I wasted too much of my life there, but I don't know if there are better prospects. Oh! Mmmm! Wow! That's just . . . oh . . . keep going."

The man found just the right spot, along the spine, just above the swell of her buttocks, and kneaded it, causing a pleasure wave to crest from that area. Erica was also aware of a mild heat between her legs. "Am I getting horny? Yes you are. I'm getting horny."

"Well," the man continued. "I think there's plenty out for someone like you. You're talented, young, beautiful. Your bosses just didn't appreciate you."

"Moan!"

"Did you say something?"

"Uh, thank you? I'm getting wet! It really has been a while for me hasn't it? Yes it has."

"You're welcome. I always appreciate beauty when I see it. Like, for example, your olive skin. It looks great. Why do you need tan lines on it?"

"What do you mean by that? My top's undone." Erica tensed slightly and raised her head. There was an implication here. She wasn't sure she liked it. "Of course you like it." Well maybe she liked it. "You like it." She liked it. "Relax Erica." She relaxed.

"Well, I think an all over tan might be good for you, aesthetically. Not that your lines are noticeable from a distance, but up close . . .?"

"I don't do nude sunbathing."

"In a place like this? Where's the crowd? Besides, look at me."

"He has a point. I definitely have a point. He definitely has a point. Damn, why do my thoughts feel like an echo?" Still, she'd only gone so far, "Go further,"; being naked before a stranger ("What's his name? Not important.") was a big leap. She never was nude before someone she just met. "This time is as good as any for a change. Okay. Huh? It felt like I agreed to something, strange." Nevertheless, her ass raised, and her hands tugged down the bikini bottoms. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Believe it, embrace it." A mischievous smile crept across her face.

"Here, let me help you," the man said. He finished what she started, and her bikini bottoms were off and on the sand. A second later, so was her top.

Prone and naked, with a slight smirk, she said, "Well, I guess you can go below the hips now. God! Am I wet?! Yes you are. You'll be wetter soon."

"I'll make sure to use plenty of oil. A woman like you would look great in oil, I think."

"Mmmm," she purred. "That sounds a bit kinky. Of course."

Erica would remember the details of that first hour. She remembered his touch, his warm, strong hands working the muscles of her back, kneading the oil into her skin. The slick, smooth feel of the oil, sliding over her body, seeping through the crack of her shapely ass, where his fingers plunged in and out, drawing forth a bit lower lip and moan from the prone woman.

Somehow, during the massage, she found herself on her back, groaning as his hands worked over her breasts. He oiled her flat quivering belly, and worked his way down to the rose between her legs, swollen and aching with the lust reflected on her face.

The face that stared back was mischievous, triumphant, and almost satanic. "You're mine," a voice said in her head, and she didn't question it.

****

At 11:00 AM in San Diego, Sam Garrett was in a motel room banging a college coed he'd caught at a local strip club. She was hot and Sam was always up for it. He chatted her up, she ignored the rules against fraternizing with the customers. It helped when they found a they knew a mutual acquaintance from the college. He'd banged her too.

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