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Author: Tullius &lt;tullius@cantshootfs.cjb.net&gt;
Title: Lost
Keywords: MF rom nosex mc


                                      Lost

   Tullius
   &lt;tullius@cantshootfs.cjb.net&gt;

   Author's Note
   This was my submission to the MCForum's February 2006 Romantic Stories
   Event. As always, feedback is love, concrit is how I learn and flames
   are garbage.

   Copyright
   Copyright in this work lies with the author, who can be contacted at
   the email address above. This story is licensed under a [2]Creative
   Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

   *

   "Good God, she knows!" That's all I remember thinking, silly and
   Victorian though it sounds. We were sitting cross-legged, facing one
   another on her bed and she'd said she was going to play me her
   favourite song. Back then I was too smitten to wish we could just hurry
   up and have sex already. No, seriously, she could have said "OK,
   Damien, now I'm going to read the whole phonebook to you," and as long
   as she'd flashed me that smile of hers, I would just have grinned
   goofily and said "whuh" in a fairly agreeable sort of way.

   So she leaned over and hit play on the CD. Now I think about it, I
   could probably have snuck a peek down her top if I'd had the right
   angle. As it was, her top rode up and I was mesmerised by the sudden
   appearance of her back. Her skin was flawless, I was convinced she was
   Galatea, the "one like my ivory maiden" of Pygmalion's prayer. A
   Classical education, wine, and a really hot chick do not mix well at
   all. So the song started playing, Erica closed her eyes, and as an
   indulgent smile touched my lips at the way she was swaying her pretty
   head in time with the beat; I started listening to the words.

     You go to my head 
     'Til I'm losing my mind

   She couldn't possibly know. That was what I was trying to believe at
   that point. My heart and stomach felt like they were trying to swap
   places. I was nearly in tears over the idea that she might have
   discovered my secret somehow, the fact about myself I'd been trying to
   deny ever since I'd first laid eyes on her. Sounds cliché, doesn't it? I
   guess even clichés have some truth in them, because since we met, I
   can't remember letting more than about thirty seconds go by without
   formulating a plan to get into her pants. It was when I found myself
   reluctant to take a peek inside her head to see just how much control
   I'd have to exert that I realised why she was special. I didn't want to
   make her into what I wanted, I wanted to make myself into what she
   wanted.

   I'd put my slaves' minds back together as best I could, sent them back
   to their old lives, and now, near as I could figure, one of them had
   remembered what I was and was trying to ruin me. I'd bet the farm on
   winning Erica the old-fashioned way, and no, I don't mean with money,
   and now she knew. The song wore on. I hoped it would never end. I
   didn't want her to open her eyes, didn't want to see all the
   accusations in them. I'd vowed to myself she'd never learn what I could
   do, and now it was out of my hands.

   Later, I got the chance to look at the readout on her CD player, and
   found out that the song was, in fact, three minutes and fifty-six
   seconds long. To me it felt like a too-long stay on remand, awaiting a
   trial that was to be neither speedy, nor (thankfully) public. How much
   did she know? Was my betrayer waiting in the bathroom to testify? By
   this time I'd changed my mind. Waiting for the inevitable confrontation
   was worse than facing it. I wanted the song to end so that Erica could
   ditch me and I could go and get on with throwing myself off a bridge or
   something.

   She opened her eyes, and moved closer to me. I dragged myself back into
   composure-land as she put her arms round my neck, brought her face
   close to mine until our noses were touching. I couldn't breathe. She
   opened her mouth, joined in with the singer, and locked eyes with me
   for the last line of the song.

     Just wanna stay 
     Lost in your eyes.

   I'd like to be able to say that I couldn't help myself, but it would be
   a lie. I was frustrated, angry at her for putting me through that, and
   angry at myself for being angry at her. It all came out through my
   talent. I felt the too-familiar sensation of my awareness shaping
   itself into a bullet of control, darting deep into her innermost self
   and ballooning out, putting out tendrils to grasp anything and
   everything that looked interesting. The first thing that struck me,
   like a cudgel in my gut, was that she hadn't known at all. It was just
   her favourite song. Once I had enough control over myself to realise
   what I'd done, I tried to make the best of it, projected images of
   warmth, comfort and well-being. I made my image, my avatar in her mind
   into a cushion, envisioned her lying down on me, warm, safe, relaxed,
   happy. Warm, safe, relaxed, happy...

   Guiltily, I let go. She may not have known before, I thought, but she
   does now. I looked into her eyes like a Protestant who's turned up for
   Judgment Day and discovered the Catholics were right all along, and all
   she said was "Wow, headrush!"
     __________________________________________________________________

   Last updated 2011-02-22 21:10:41 BST

References

   1. mailto:tullius@cantshootfs.cjb.net
   2. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
