Too Exciting Ch. 05

[Note to readers: Don't start here! It is better to start with Chapter 1 so that you will have some idea of what is going on. For those of you that have read this far please remember there are two narrators: Nick writing the main body of the text, and Lily adding her comments (without Nick's knowledge) in italics.

I know that this does not always fit with the typical Mind Control story but if you persevere you will see that it does belong in that category. And otherwise for those of you who are enjoying it, please be patient with the pace of posting as I am now having to finish writing the remaining chapters -- and I have a day job.]

Chapter 5

An interlude in a garden -- and a pretty girl offers Nick an apple

At peace with the world I sat out on the wooden bench in the little walled garden behind the house, notebook open on the rickety table but not working; listening to the occasional conker falling from the horse chestnut and hitting the patio.

It is one of my indulgences that I employ a gardener, although mostly she only does one morning a week. The thought of the gardener, Jasmine, always makes me smile, as she is a long way from the image her name conjures up. She has short hair, wears dungarees and is a lesbian -- she makes sure that I know this by referring as often as possible in our brief conversations to 'her wife'. Real life is allowed to get away with stereotypes in a way that would be instantly condemned in anyone who aspires to write. I like Jasmine, perhaps not unreasonably because I can feel that she likes me, and sees my writing as being a practical craft just like her gardening.

I wondered at the sense of contentment I felt on this afternoon. Of course the unseasonably warm October sunshine on the autumn colours of the garden had something to do with it. Perhaps it was also that I had spoken to Sandra and it had gone better than expected. She had taken it well. Almost too well I thought for a moment before getting annoyed with myself for being so unreasonable. Did I want her to be heart-broken, to throw crockery at me, or what?

Selfishly I slightly regretted that I had broken up with her after I had agreed to go to the gallery opening that night, the sort of event Sandra loved but which I could quite happily live without, and now I would have to go, on my own, and make conversation with others all striving, just a little too hard, to be wittier than Oscar Wilde.

"Do you mind if I pretend to study out here while you pretend to write?"

Lily must have been watching me for some time from the kitchen door.

"Of course", I said, ever the gentleman. In truth I would have felt irritated at anyone else intruding on this quiet moment, but not Lily. I watched as she spread an old blanket on the little area of grass, in front of my table, and stretched out on it, a book open in front of her.

And so I began the next phase in my campaign. For a while I had kind of played with the idea of not using all the tricks I'd learned from Sarah on him. He was kind of cute and he seemed to be falling for me without any of that stuff.

But now I knew about the mask I would have to make sure that he failed sexually with me, with all its consequences, so that I would have power over him. And after all it would be for his own good -- the poor thing was not enjoying the real intensity that sex can bring, the ecstatic agony of being in love with a wicked girl like me and finding that he could not fuck me.

After a while I realised that I was not really doing any writing, mesmerised by the slow movement of her feet their pink basketball sneakers, as she alternately lifted first one and then the other in the air. Secure that no-one could see me doing so I studied her arse in her tight jeans, and honestly admitted to myself that I wanted to run a hand down her back and over that shapely backside, preferably having first removed her jeans. And of course she turned over abruptly, almost catching me 'in the act'.

"I haven't heard the sound of pen on paper for a good ten minutes", she said mock severely. "That Booker Prize is not just going to turn up without you putting some serious work in and writing the great North London novel".

Despite her light tone I answered her a little more seriously.

"To be honest, I haven't written much lately, and what I have written was nothing special". I was surprised at myself for admitting this at all, when I hadn't said it to anyone, and even more that it was to Lily. She was hardly going to be impressed; not of course that that should be an issue, except that awkwardly it was.

She sat up, now cross-legged on the blanket.

"I guess you need a muse. That's what it's called isn't it?"

I don't know what it is in Lily that invites honesty and even confessions, but something does.

"Well, you know, I'd have to call you an anti-muse. You can be a bit distracting", I admitted, and then cursed myself for being so open. But it didn't seem to bother Lily. In fact she seemed pleased.

"Hmm, so you find me distracting do you? I rather like that". Not giving me a chance to reply, she neatly got to her feet in one graceful motion and turning her back on me strolled to the end of the garden.

I watched as Lily lithely climbed the old brick wall at the end, with the agility and fearlessness of a boy, and then stretched out gracefully to pluck a bright red apple, glowing in the late afternoon sunlight, from the neighbour's tree. She sauntered back to where I sat.

"Well that was certainly distracting but at least there don't seem to be any snakes around", I commented.

"I wouldn't be s-s-s-sure about that if I were you," was her response, pitching her voice a little lower and slowing up, and introducing a slight hiss. She observed me casually.

"Can I interes-s-st you in an apple, s-s-sir?"

"My mum used to warn me about girls like you", I said, joining in the game, and shaking my head theatrically.

"My mother used to warn people about me", she said, lightly, but I sensed that there was a truth here, a story, and noted the cold way she said 'mother' rather than 'mum'.

Before I could pursue that she swayed sexily towards me, and all in one graceful motion, still holding the apple, swung her leg over and sat astride my legs, facing me. Looking down into my eyes all the time she took a took a dainty little bite from the apple, and then slowly leaned down to place her lips on mine and with her tongue pushed the little morsel of apple from her mouth into mine.

Taken utterly by surprise, I swallowed it with an audible gulp, which caused Lily to burst out laughing, or rather what could best be described as cackling, with me joining in a moment later.

When I got my breath back I said,

"You little ...", and hesitated, striving for the right word, and Lily filled the gap.

"Minx", she said, and gave a little wiggle on my lap as if to emphasise it.

"That's me, I'm a minx, a paid-up member of the society of minxes. Always have been; always will be", she added.

Though she said nothing about it I was sure she must have felt me getting hard under her. After a moment of silence where she simply looked down into my eyes, suddenly mock serious in her expression, she said,

"Of course, Nick, you do know that I can read minds." She gently placed her fingers on my temples and looked even more intently into my eyes, as though searching for something. The sudden change of tone caught me out and my response was less than articulate.

"Errr ..."

A slightly unfocused look came over her face. I knew she was just playing with me, but she was very good at it.

"You are thinking of finishing with Sandra." I gave a start. As far as I knew she did not even know her name.

"Oh, dear -- and it looks like it might be my fault -- maybe you've got the hots for the teenage minx."

This mind-reading business goes so much easier when you get to read their secret diary first. I must admit that I was really beginning to enjoy this -- and I rather liked the opportunity to look into his blue-grey eyes.

Now I actually went red.

"What's the problem with that, Nick? I mean aside from the fact that I'm 'mad, bad and dangerous to know'? Why resist so much, Nick?"

She hesitated as though to give a chance to reply but I could not for the life of me come up with a response. So she carried on.

"I want you to picture all your resistance; all your barriers to me. Make them into some physical object - say a mask maybe? That would work."

Suddenly I felt as though I had taken a plunge into icy water straight from the warm light-hearted teasing that had been going on before. How was she doing this?

"Now I want you to imagine me taking that mask. Your mask. See me casually throwing it onto a fire. Watch it burn until there is nothing left but ashes."

I did see it.

"And that is the end of your ability to resist."

And just as abruptly her tone lightened again.

"I'm good at this, aren't I?"

All I could think of was to respond truthfully, not even considering denying it all, and somehow filing away the whole mask business to think about later. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

"You were not quite right about Sandra. We're already finished." We both knew that in saying that I was admitting the rest. And then I even volunteered the information about the gallery.

"I suppose I am going to be punished for my sins by having to go to an exhibition opening at a gallery for some artist I've never heard of, on my own. Usually Sandra would does all the heavy lifting and makes conversation while I stand around trying to look intellectual and working out how soon I can leave without it looking rude".

"So who's the artist?" Lily asked.

"Manuel Catissi. At least I think that's his name".

Lily's reaction was sudden and caught me out with its enthusiasm,

"Oh wow. Will he be there?"

"Well, yes. That's kind of the whole idea, I mean it is his exhibition."

"Well in that case your problem is solved. Take me because I love his stuff -- it's a kind of mix of steampunk and surrealism".

And so I found myself agreeing, because I didn't seem to have a choice, and wondering what I had let myself in for. But at least it was unlikely to be boring, and I was impressed and surprised that she clearly did know who he is.

"Well I guess I've done enough distracting for one day, and I ought to go and make sure I have something nice to wear tonight when we go to the gallery, so I'll leave you to get on with producing literature". And with that she sauntered back in through the back door.

After several minutes I wrote in my pad, although it had no place in the story I was planning.

'He sat there unable to stop seeing the image of an exotic wooden mask burning on a fire until it was utterly consumed by the flames, uncertain of the meaning of this image, but sure of its significance. Something had changed.'

Mission accomplished. Well not quite yet but I was well on the way.

And that was as much as I was going to write that day. Of that I was sure. So I went inside to have a leisurely bath before getting ready and setting off for the gallery with Lily.