Mind Writing Pt. 09: Gabriella

Of course, it all came out when she told her best friend, who immediately told everyone at school. My experience of the whole thing was very much on the periphery of the situation, as my main interaction with Gabriella before this was that she was a massive bitch, and had a habit of spreading rumours about people that ranged from annoying to potentially career-ruining, if you were the teacher she accused of assaulting her once.

I didn't hate her. I didn't know her well enough to hate her. But I knew enough about her to figure that this was going to be... interesting.

I had gotten Emerald's number from Hannah an hour or so ago - and discovered that Hannah's sister, after calming down from the initial shock of seeing her sister in the middle of the threesome, had simply gotten 'weird' and wasn't talking to her, so that was something I might have to step in on eventually - so I sent a quick message to Emerald for her address.

Once I had it, I saw that it was a six-minute walk, and booked the taxi to pick us up from hers in about ten minutes, before getting those shoes on.

H: Sorry I won't be joining

The text was, in a way, needless. We had already figured it would be good for me and Emerald to have some time together, and Hannah wasn't needed for the plan to go ahead - if anything, it cleaned up my idea for the night a little. After all, now that I knew Gabriella was going to be there, I thought a little bit of a reunion might be in order, and doing that with two gorgeous women on my arms would have been satisfying, if a little attention-drawing.

If I was going to get someone to act out of character, and spend more money than they should have, then it was probably best that I wasn't too interesting to people who didn't already know me.

That's if Gabriella remembered me at all, which she might not. School had only ended a few weeks ago, really, but she'd been gone for almost a full year, and before that our paths only ever crossed in very superficial ways.

Still - I planned to have fun, and to show Emerald what she was getting into. It would be a trial by fire for her, in some ways. Time to turn up the heat.

I arrived outside Emerald's house, a typical quaint village-bungalow with a dirt track driveway. My smart shoes crunched into the gravel, and I felt an odd sort of twist in my stomach - like I was nervous for a first date. Which, in a way, it would be.

Though, Emerald wasn't so much a date, was she.

Was she?

It wouldn't be fair to call her simply a pet. She might be that, sure, during sex - but it didn't take a genius to recognise that it wasn't the sort of thing that could define a whole person. She was an artist, a graduate. I wondered what else I would find out about her.

I thought about Hannah, too, in that regard. I knew things about her, but a great deal of our connection had been through sex. That, too, was only through the last month or so in total; there was a great deal we didn't know about each other.

If we were going to commit our lives to each other, for them to join me in a new city, with a mind to set up a life, and figure out how we were going to make money and live - likely using my gift to as many ends as possible - I felt like a more... legitimate connection needed to be made.

Maybe it should be a date.

There were worse people to find yourself on a date with, of course. She was older than me, but her smile was bright and youthful, her energy unending, and - as she came out to meet me, not long before the taxi arrived to collect us to take us out of the village and into town - she was dressed in a smart deep blue dress.

'I match your shirt,' she said, a smirk on her lips I hadn't seen before.

'So you do', I said, trying to be cool. In truth, I'd never been on a date before, so I didn't know if this was one or not, but she was beautiful and she was on my arm, and we had a night of relative glamour ahead.

The car ride was under an hour, and yet it felt like it lasted a lifetime. Emerald sat next to me, her hand one the dark of the seat as the few-and-far-between street lights flitted by. Each strip of light caught her features, and from this angle I could make out her parted lips and glimmering eyes, the shape of her face.

I remembered, indulgently, the sight of those features between Hannah's legs, slick and panting; I remembered the sight of her after the fifth or sixth orgasm that was forced through her, mouth wide and brow furrowed, body shaking.

I swallowed the images, promising myself a night of living them out. Perhaps Hannah would be involved, perhaps it would just be me and Emerald, getting to know each other. Either would be a spectacular end to the day.

The dark outside wasn't just caused by the slow incoming of evening sky - the canopy of the lake road made a thick barrier between us and the sky above; even so, where yesterday it had been open blue and clear clouds, now it was close to rain, and the heat in the hair outside was humid and heavy. As we pulled off the lake road, it improved a little, and there was less need for the streetlights as the driver took us towards the town, crossing green country by way of dual carriageways and farmer's tracks.

Emerald turned to me, an investigative look in her eye.

'How did I end up here?' she asked.

I cocked my head. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, this time two days ago, I was a failing artist in a go-nowhere village, single and struggling. Now, between the crush of my Uni days calling me up for a night of fun, and you rewiring me to make it even more fun, and the fact that we're all thinking of moving away together... I just feel like everything's happened at once.'

'I don't want you to feel pressure,' I told her. 'Emerald, you are... free to choose whatever you want.'

'Am I?'

I nodded. 'I swear,' I said. 'I have... I have experience pushing people to do things past what they want. I don't do that anymore. Now, I just help people do what they actually want to, and I make it feel good.'

She let out a small laugh. 'More than good.'

At that, her hand reached out and squeezed mine. 'You're okay?' I asked. 'I know we don't know each other too well, but... I hope that'll change.'

'Get someone to buy my painting for a stupid amount of money,' she said. 'Then, you can get to know me as much as you want.'

At that, a naughty thought built itself inside my head. 'Is that so?' I asked, tuning in. As my fingers trailed along the back of her hand, I pulled up her arousal - only a small amount at first. Barely perceptible.

Then, I travelled to her wrist, and brought it higher.

She noticed, her mouth falling into an open smile, bright and big as she did. She looked at me, and whispered 'Is that you?'

I nodded, going back down her hand to the tip of her thumb. She purred as I came back up, bringing up her arousal as I did, feeling her body react; pleasure started to build naturally, between her induced arousal and the rumble of the car.

Her eyes drifted closed as I tugged at her pleasure, teasing her more directly now. I didn't focus so much on numbers, like I did with most people - instead I just went with instinct. I watched as her breathing increased, trailing up her arm and pulling her pleasure with it.

As I reached her elbow, she tensed up, and I pressed - only slightly - on her climax; she was already going over the edge, but I felt it fitting to give her a bit of... momentum. Her hand shot out to grip me as her face screwed up, legs squeezing together as she tried to hide her orgasm, squirming in the backseat as her climax flooded her mind. I held her there just a little longer than what would be usual, and watched as she realised what had happened.

Then, I lifted my hand and sat back, giving her space to recover.

After a beat of heavy breathing and trying to hold back her cum-face, she looked at me with a glint in her eye.

'Fuck you,' she laughed, and I smiled, shrugged. 'I see why Hannah likes you.'

'Everyone likes me,' I said. Though, quickly, my mind turned to Shona, and Ali, and how quickly I had been turned out of their home when they realised part of what I was doing. My mind went to Holly and Erin, and how far I had gone, to the point where the only moral recourse was to wipe it from their minds.

The car shuddered to a stop, and we looked out her window to see the building we were outside - a tall, fancy looking place, old and weathered, with a crowd milling around outside. I checked my watch, and found that it was almost 6 - doors weren't even open yet.

'Thanks, mate,' I said, paying through the app on my phone before getting out. I came around the car to help Emerald out on shaky legs, before we turned to look at the exhibition.

'This looks... fancy,' I said.

'It's art,' she shrugged. 'You look good, though,' she said. 'Shall we?'

'Doors aren't open yet,' I said, pointing at the clear glass doors, and the people chatting to the security guards, clad in black suits and white shirts, smiling with million-pound smiles.

'I'm one of the artists,' she smiled. 'We're allowed in ahead of time.'

She led me to the side door, a solid-grey thing with another guard at attention. She gave her name, and he checked a list on his phone, before nodding and letting us in together. It took us into a staff access, but we took the first door to the left and came out behind the exhibition space.

I stopped in my tracks, staring around.

It was like another world.

The white walls were covered in paintings and sketches and pieces of all shapes and descriptions - some were realistic landscapes of the Cumbrian hills, some abstract collections of colour that should have meant nothing to me, but for some reason seemed to pull me in.

Statues lined one area, made from marble and in the shape of angels, but altered in some way; one had wire mesh for skin, coating half of the structure in a sort of armour; another was seemingly floating, before you looked and saw that the legs were made of clear perspex, but very much there.

A group of people in clothes easily as nice, and likely much more expensive, than myself or Emerald, were in a small circle chatting, before one spotted us. A brunette with a headset on, and a much more practical - or, normal - set of clothing nodded to us.

'Emerald!' she called, waving us over. 'Thought you weren't coming!'

'Wouldn't miss it!' Emerald called back. 'This is Jamie - he's come for moral support.'

The group, aside from the brunette, opened up to accept us, and I got a good look at them - presumably other artists being featured.

'Nonsense - you'll make us all look like amateurs, Emerald,' one of them said, an older man with a gruff voice and wispy white hair. He stood tall, with his belly protruding out like a barrel on his tree-trunk legs, a wide smile beneath his whiskers. 'Moral support is needed for the rest of us, however - it could be a challenging night.'

'How's that?' Emerald asked.

'Journalists,' he replied with a snarl. 'What do you think, Gab; will they go easy on an old man like me?'

And, just like that, I saw her - a face slightly changed from how I half-remembered her, make-up perfect and her dress shaping her deliciously. Gabriella, the 'whore' who ran off with an old man.

She looked... great.

'You'll get what you deserve,' she said, a dab of poison on the end of her smirk. I couldn't tell if she was being mean, or teasing, or if there was a difference.

'Doors open in thirty seconds,' the woman with the headset said, into her walkie-talkie. The level of tension in her face, and the nerves of the old man, had me wondering where the fuck I had ended up. All I wanted was to have a bit of fun, and sell a painting.

All in all, it seemed a little... ridiculous. Silly. Overblown, at least.

My eyes went back to Gabriella, who had noticed me - perhaps even remembered me. If she did, she didn't let on at all. Which I liked. Maybe. It was hard to tell, I was so turned around by this bewildering situation. I'd expected a nice wander around the exhibition, tune into an old fat cat and up his generosity, or greed, or something else, and go home for a nice double-blowjob from my sex pets before bed. Now I was stuck in some strange micro-community that had no room for me.

In fact...

A thought came to mind, as the doors behind us opened, and the people started to stream in. From the way they reacted, it seemed as though there should have been some Black-Friday barge, a wall of people clamouring their way; instead, it was a steady, well-rounded affair, with lots of appreciative 'thank you's chattering around.

Once Emerald tugged on my arm to lead me away, the idea was fully formed. But, I had time. Why not enjoy some of the art first.

The crowd quickly filled the room, a sea of black suits and well-fitted dresses, hugging figures in ways that were tickling my fancy already. Still, with Emerald on my arm, it was hard to have my fancies taken too far.

We walked together, toward the statues, and Emerald leaned in. 'I think Howard's trophy-wife liked you,' she whispered. 'She was staring.'

I smiled as we stopped, pretending to look at the statues; they were pretty, don't get me wrong - but I didn't have the knowledge to really appreciate them.

'I knew her,' I said. 'At school - she dropped out once she turned eighteen to marry... an older man. I guess, now, I've met him.'

'I see,' Emerald said, amusement in her voice. 'Cold you... do me a favour?'

I looked down at her, her height only a few inches shorter than mine, but in her dress she looked fragile in a beautiful sort of way.

'Of course.'

'Could you make me calm? I'm kind of freaking out right now. I'm not good with this crowd - I was planning to skip, as you probably heard.'

I nodded, and tuned in; as I suspected, her anxiety was high - almost at 70; she wasn't far off having a panic attack, I reckoned. So, I pulled it down to a more sensible 30, and brought up her comfort and confidence.

She audibly sighed, and looked up at me. 'Fuck. You weren't lying.'

'No', I said. 'I wasn't.'

Then, shit bit her lip. 'What you did in the car...'

I smiled, looking up at the artwork. It had nothing on her. 'You in the mood for more?'

To my surprise, she shook her head. 'Your friend, from school, Gabriella. Howard's wife. I... hate her.'

I let out a soft laugh. 'She wasn't popular at school,' I said. 'Actually, that's not true - but she was popular in the wrong sort of way, if you know what I mean.'

Emerald nodded. 'But, as much as I might want to hate her, I kind of... Oh God, I can't say.'

I was still tuned in, so I brought up her honesty. 'Tell me.'

'I want to see what's under her dress,' Emerald said. 'Since the day I met her, months ago. She gave me her number, and I've wanted to fuck her ever since; Howard can't be doing it for her. I wonder if she's ever been fucked so good she cums-' She stopped herself, looking up at me. I smiled, giving away my part in her sudden deluge. 'Fuck.'

'Do you want to see her cum?'

Emerald's eyebrow twitched. 'Yes.'

'Do you want her to do it here, in front of everyone?'

She looked up at me. 'You wouldn't.'

I shrugged. 'I didn't like her much. And, in all honesty, I'm kind of interested to see if she screams or not.'

Emerald giggled, hugging into my shoulder. We turned away, wandering over to some landscape work - charcoal and sketches that did little for me. Knowing the space, Emerald positions me so we could see most of the space before us, the artwork to our right in a way that let us believably look at it, whilst actually keeping an eye on the room.

Most of the crowd was older, in their forties or fifties, so the tight body of Gabriella stood out like a thorn in the room; I was sure, in that sense, that Emerald did as well.

'Have you done something to me?' Emerald asked, almost out of nowhere.

'What makes you ask?'

'I feel... safe around you. Happy.'

I shook my head. 'No, Emerald, I haven't done that to you. I can, if you want. I'm pretty sure I could make you fall in love with me, if I wanted.'

She gulped, looking at me with a flicker of something new in her eyes - perhaps fear. Maybe I had been too bold.

'Love?'

I nodded. 'Or, at least, I could make you... obsessive. Or, enrapture you, so you only felt pleasure with me.'

Her eye twitched at that. 'Really?

I nodded. 'I did it to Hannah, for a day or so. Make her unable to cum without my... input.'

'How'd she like it?'

'Not very much,' I said. 'And I don't plan on doing it again - really. I wouldn't do that to you, even if you asked me. Probably. I'd definitely hesitate.'

'So, you're not planning on making me into a mindless sex-toy, huh?'

I shrugged. 'I didn't say that.'

She nudged me. At first, I thought it was a playful rebuttal, but I saw quickly that she was pointing - Gabriella was across the room, on Howard's arm.

'Want to see what I can do?'

Emerald nodded. 'Give 'er hell.'

So, with the memory of Gabriella's shitty personality in my mind, I tuned in to her across the room. That, by the way, was a feat in and of itself, sifting through a room of brains all humming with artistic thought, emotional and strong and dense.

I found her, though, by focusing on the emotion I could feel only one of; boredom. There she was, in a sea of artistic inspiration, bored out of her mind. I searched a little deeper, and it didn't take long for me to feel the hatred beneath - anger, frustration, and - just a little deeper - greed. Patience.

It wasn't hard to put together.

Gold-digger was often a term used unfairly, but she seemed to fit the bill; even so, I wanted to know how true it was of her.

First, though, I had a point to prove.

So, I searched in for her arousal, her pleasure, and found them at the bottom of the barrel - uncared for, uncultivated. Unloved.

Jesus, what kind of life is she living?

I looked down at Emerald and gave her a wink before we both focused our sights on the beautiful Gabriella - and I ramped her pleasure up from 7 to 70 in a second.

Turns out, she was a screamer.

Emerald jumped, her hand finding my shoulder as Gabriella moaned - loud and shameless, defeating any typical restraints she might have in place, filling the hushed space with her lewd sound.

'Uuaa-aaAAAAAAAAAAHHH!'

Heads spun, voices silence, and the whole room became focused on the eighteen year old who had doubled over, moaning in unmistakable pleasure; she fell to her knees, her perfect dress obviously not designed to be in contact with the smooth, hard surface underfoot, and she ended up face-down on the ground, knees under her, in a near-fetal position.

After the best part of a minute, I let up, relaxing her pleasure down to a healthy 40 - the soft thrum of sex would be glowing through her, unignorable, but manageable. Her arousal, on top of that, I kept quite high, knowing it would be... distracting. Worrying, even.

Howard, her husband, helped her up, and she was bright red, eyes avoiding the crowd as he led her into a back room, away from the exhibition.

'Holy shit,' Emerald said. 'That looked... intense.'

'Like what you see?'

She swallowed. 'I'm scared of saying yes, to be honest.'

I gave a soft laugh. 'If I wanted to make you scream, you'd be screaming,' I told her, before the crowd seemed to regain a sense of itself, and people began to chatter and wander around. We moved, too, happy not to stand out, and Emerald took me across the space, past a selection of abstract paintings to a series of three; each of them looked like warped, unreal depictions of sunsets - the colours were haunting, not warm in any way, but bracing.