tagMind ControlMy Four Aces Ch. 04

My Four Aces Ch. 04


Chapter 4: The Hot Date Redefined, Part 2

Previously on My Four Aces:

Paul gave his new girlfriend, Kim, a dose of a mysterious powder called Q'injo, given to HIM by a buddy who swore that it was "the only true aphrodisiac in the world." It worked. As Paul's buddy tells him, "the high of being with you becomes like the best sex-and-romance high ever and the withdrawal of being without you is worse than heroin and nicotine withdrawal combined."

The Q'injo experience came from Kim's perspective in the second chapter, as she wrote in her diary about events in the laundry room on that first day and then an encounter with Paul on campus later that week.

With the third chapter, Paul returned to narrative duty and told the first part of the story of his first post-Q'injo date with Kim. I just got this next piece of the tale the other day and after editing it, I forward it to you. My apologies for the long delay between this and the previously-published chapters. Paul has been, understandably, occupied with other things, and I've benefited from that "busyness" myself, which accounts for my distraction. There's another of the "missing" chapters sitting in my computer, waiting to be edited, and Paul promises more to follow after the already-published Chapter 6 as well. (I'm as anxious to read more about Susan as you are, believe me.)

Do us all a favor: don't reprint or republish this anywhere without seeking permission first. It's just tacky and abridges creator's rights generally. You never know when you might actually have an original thought of your own worthy of committing to paper. Just think how upset you'd be if somebody else took the sweat of your brow and claimed it for their own, or stuck it somewhere you didn't want it to be. And if, despite this, you still decide to steal the work—well, your Mama didn't raise you right and, as I've said before, I don't envy you your karma.

-- Janus

[Hey, this is Paul again, but for those of you anticipating more from Kim, fear not and read on! I found Kim's diary a week or two back. All right, so the truth is I asked her if she kept one, made her turn it over to me, then made her forget she'd done it. The privileges of power, y'know. The point is, it was really hot reading and I thought, why not share some of it with the public? So that's how Chapter 2 got out there. And then it occurred to me that it might be fun if Janus would edit my stuff and Kim's together, so you could get both perspectives at once. That makes this chapter different that anything we've tried before, so bear with the experiment. Let my front man Janus, know what you think! He'll forward your thoughts to me. Here goes.]


If you've been following along, you know that my life took a really amazing turn for the fan-fucking-tastic a while back. In the first weeks after I finally tried using the Q'injo powder my buddy Jim gave me, things got so good so fast, that I felt a twinge of guilt. Not for the stuff I was doing, so much. I mean, given the chance, there aren't too many people who would turn down the opportunity to control the minds of others. My guilt was more along the lines of "Why should I have it so good, when other guy's love-lives suck so bad?"

I consoled myself by recalling that I'd had my share of crappy relationships, bad dates, and long, dry stretches before things turned around--and, besides, some guys just were beyond help. It eventually occurred to me that there were a couple of buddies of mine on whose behalf I might be able to intervene, if the opportunity presented itself, but I was enjoying myself so much that the thought of sharing the wealth didn't linger too long. And then, as is so often the case, the first such opportunity presented itself in the situation faced by my old pal Matt.

When I was planning my first real date with Kim since dosing her with Q'injo, I decided to take her to a restaurant where I used to work. It was an upscale Italian place with a great wine list where I'd made some serious bank for more than a year, until things got weird between me and this waitress. It had been a few months since I'd been in, so I called Matt, who still worked there, just to check things out.

Matt was glad to hear from me and, while talking with him, I realized a couple of things. First, he was a pretty cool guy to hang with, which I'd kind of forgotten in the months since I'd left the restaurant. Second, he was having a relationship crisis of his own . . . and what I could do for him might be a big help, while having the extra-added benefit of giving me a sweet taste of revenge.

Here's the backstory, brief as I can make it:

When I worked at Giovanni's (yeah, not an original name, but it's Florida—whatta we know from authentic Italian?), I hung with Matt, his girlfriend, Rose, who was a hostess, and a couple of the waitresses. One of them, Charity, got a job managing the floor at the Lizard Lounge, a dance club next door to the restaurant, a few weeks after I started. The other, Ileana, was this hot little Puerto Rican chick with a tight bubble ass and a head-full of dark, gleaming curls. After I broke up with Susan, I hooked up with Ileana as a rebound thing, so it was Matt and Rose, Paul and Ileana (Yana for short), all the time and we'd hang with Charity at the Lizard after work on the weekends.

The thing with Yana was hot, nasty, and a little dangerous. She was pretty temperamental and I guess I wasn't the height of maturity and discretion myself, but that was kind of part of the fun. Rose and Matt would always tease Yana about starting fires wherever we went just because she couldn't wait to drag out the hose. Usually, it was my hose, though I suspect there were times when I wasn't handy and she used someone else's.

Like I said, it was very hot, nasty and loads of fun—for a while, but then she started getting manipulative with me, trying to get me to go out when I didn't want to, stay in when I wanted to go out—not because she really wanted one thing or the other, but just because she wanted to feel in control. And all the while, I knew it wasn't that she really liked me for much more than my dick and my tongue. I mean, we had fun, but we didn't have all that much in common with the lights on and she never expressed a bit of interest in my life, while expecting me to be fascinated with every friggin' detail of her vapid existence.

The natural ground for most of Yana's manipulations was sex. Once I got that the sex could be incredible, she turned into a tease, getting me going and keeping me going all night, then shutting me down when I wanted some follow through. I mean, once or twice this happens and you figure, "Ahhh, she's just being flaky." But then the power trip came into focus. When she started in on the flirting with other guys while we were out together, then told me I was imagining things when I caught her at it, I figured enough was enough—but the dick was still willing and the willpower was weak, so I hung in.

Finally, one night, after we had a knock-down drag out over the way she was coming on to another waiter at the restaurant, followed by some very hot make-up sex in the employee locker room at Gio's, we went to the Lizard to meet Matt and Rose, as we usually did on Saturday nights. Fifteen minutes into that part of the evening, Yana decided I was checking out the other talent in the place—in particular this slinky, exotic black chick with dreads and a really prominent pair of nipples. It wasn't an unfair charge, I just didn't think it was really that big a deal, since she was constantly looking at other guys and often pointed out hot chicks for my perusal.

She started in on me, playing all faux-jealous (like I hadn't just been giving her the business twenty minutes before, after accusing her of the same thing) and, when I didn't give her the response she wanted—didn't deny it and, thus, collaborate in stoking the fire again--she tossed a drink in my face. And it wasn't even her drink!

I sat there for a second, wearing my own very expensive vodka martini, wanting to respond in kind, but thinking it over as every eye in the place turned toward us. She was looking at me like she expected the fun to start now, her mouth slightly open, her eyes lidded. It hit me like a high school bully's sucker punch: the shouting, screaming, public drama was foreplay for her, and it was never going to change. She wasn't going to get any more interesting out of the sack, either. If the great sex was worth the manic ups and downs, then I should soak her and get the ball rolling. If not . . .

I just stared her down for about twenty seconds before telling her that I was over the soap opera games and she could find her own way home. I waved to Charity, tossed a twenty on the table so Matt wouldn't have to cover our round of drinks, and left. Everyone in the place was staring at her. Matt later told me that it finally dawned on her that she was the bitch without a partner to play the rest of her scene. She'd left a few minutes later and called in sick at work for a couple of days until the sting wore off. We worked together for a few more weeks, but then school started and I left.

Apparently, she bad-mouthed me for weeks afterwards, making out like I'd left because I couldn't bear to face her, but Matt and Rose were on my side and everybody kind of knew what Yana was about anyway.

This was three months ago. Even though I'd seen Matt and Rose a time or two at the beginning of the semester, it had been a while since we'd last hung out, so when I called, he sounded kind of surprised. Then he filled me in on what was going on with the old crew. Charity had moved on from the Lizard and was now managing a club of her own, financed by dear old daddy, in Boca. He and Rose had moved in together about six months ago. I asked about Yana and I could tell something was up.

"She's still there," and then, after a pause, "Man, I really admired the way you ended that. Little bitch can really fuck with you, y'know?"

I asked what was up and he spilled it. Yana and Rose were having an affair.

After I reassembled the pieces of my dropped jaw, I think I managed a gargled, "Whathefuck?!" before Matt launched into his tale of woe.

Rose was this slender red-head—that kind of burnished copper red, and straight and long. Waaaaay more gorgeous than Matt thought he deserved. Her nose was dusted with the lightest spray of freckles when she wasn't wearing base, and she favored clothes that accentuated her very nice pair of C-cup boobs and a fine, round ass that swayed like a palm tree in a tropical breeze. I mean, she was model beautiful, and had that kind of poise and reserve you expect from a much older woman, but she wasn't stuck up about her looks at all. In fact, you could tell from this adorable shy smile she'd give you whenever her gorgeousness was the topic of compliment or conversation, that she didn't have a clue about how she affected guys. In other words, the exact opposite of Yana.

I'd always wondered what a taste of Rose would be like, but she and Matt seemed really tight, so I never found out or even really tried to. What a first-rate piece of class like Rose saw in Yana, I couldn't figure at first—until I remembered the raw, sensual and sexual impact that just being around Yana could have on you. And if I were to be honest about it, Rose and Yana having a passionate, if short-lived, affair made more sense to me than Matt and Rose as a long term prospect. He always struck me as the kind of guy who was going to settle down with someone, have a half-dozen kids, and get fat watching football and drinking brews, whereas Rose . . . well, Paris, London, New York and a life among the fashionistas seemed more her speed.

Turns out, Rose "discovered" she was bi one night when she and Yana went out to a lesbian club for kicks and ended up doing a mutual muff-dive in the backseat of Rose's Honda in the parking lot.

Matt didn't find out they were an item for a few days, but then he came home to grab lunch unexpectedly and there they were, the love of his life and her Latina lover, sixty-nining in the bed he and Rose bought for their new apartment together.

Yana left after finishing Rose off—not embarrassed at all, according to Matt, which sounds about right. He and Rose fought for hours after, ending up exhausted after some make-up sex that rocked both of their worlds and confirmed Matt in a confusion similar to the one Rose was experiencing herself.

Rose didn't want to give Yana up, but said she was still in love with Matt and just hoped he'd understand and let her "experiment" for a while before tying her down. Matt didn't want to give Rose up and, being a nice guy and a bit of a doof, he agreed to try to give her some space, even though it hurt like hell.

And as if things weren't already fucked up enough, a few nights later, Yana cornered Matt in the restaurant freezer near the end of a shift and said that she had a solution that might work for all three of them. Then she went down on him. Matt said, "I wanted to slap the grin off her, but she got that hot little hand down my pants and I was toast, dude." I could hardly blame him, since the mere thought of Yana on her knees in front of me in that freezer—she'd done me in the same place a couple of times—got my dick twitching.

Since Yana's surprise BJ gift to Matt, he and Rose and Yana had done a few threesomes, but it never felt right to Matt and he didn't think Rose liked it much either, preferring to keep the two relationships separate. Even though the girls tried, he usually ended up feeling like a slightly annoying sex accessory, without the benefit of a vibrate function.

I really felt for the guy. Clearly, Yana was still playing her bitch goddess games and he and little Rose were her latest pawns. It was the obvious pain in Matt's voice that made me decide to help him out. My chance to give back to the community, as it were.

I told him to tell the girls that I was coming in that night with my new girlfriend and that we should all go hang at the Lizard after shift, just like in the old days. Turns out Matt had taken on some bartending shifts at the Lizard to help he and Rose save for a house, so he'd be working there that night after getting done at Giovanni's. Instead of saying, "You chump, quit the job and tell her if she wants a fucking house, she needs to kick Yana to the curb!" I said that his being a bartender that night would be even better. I'd be able to watch Rose and Yana together, get Kim's input, and evaluate the situation. "Maybe," I told him, "We can put our heads together and see a way to help you guys work this out."

All this happened on the afternoon after I got back from the theatre, where I'd left Kim, naked, trembling, and more turned on that she'd ever been in her life. So, that night, when I picked her up for the date—and fucked her very smart little brains out on her pink coverlet—I had already hatched a nefarious plan to settle Yana's hash, set Matt and Rose up for life, and expand my adventures with Kim into some new territory.


Dear Diary,

Night before last, Friday night, after that AMAZING day in the theater, Paul promised to take me out. He brought me the nicest bunch of flowers and I brought him to bed. Yes, I finally got him to give me what I'd been longing for all day—if I'm honest, all WEEK. And in my own bed, with Mom upstairs on the phone and totally clueless! I felt like even more of a naughty little slut girl than I had when Doctor Hawkins saw me on the balcony!

Then I jumped head-first into the deep end. I don't know what possessed me to tell him how I was feeling about him, but then, I couldn't tell you why I have become totally obsessed with this guy since we first made love. Besides, if I have one fault in love, it's that I'm kind of quick to fall in and slow to get out. Why should last night have been any different?

Anyway, I told him how I just knew he was it for me and he was just as wonderful as I thought he'd be, even though I was scared when I said it. So we started off the night just right: sweet, romantic, but with five or ten of the most satisfying orgasms I'd managed to have in DAYS. I get the shivers just thinking about it.

But that was just the beginning. When we walked out of the house, I was in my favorite little black dress with the v-nick that absolutely forbids a bra and the shirring at the waist, which turns into little pleats in the skirt. It's the dress Tina Nichols called "The Terminator" when I wore it to the opening night party for Romeo and Juliet last month and completely upstaged Juliet herself, that witch Marilyn Hightower. So that and my best black pumps were the sum total of my wardrobe that night, if you don't count my necklace and rings! That's right. Paul wouldn't let me put my thong back on or change into a new one. The cool breeze gliding across my wet pussy and thighs felt so wicked! It was the same feeling I got at Ricky Mansfield's pool party after the Homecoming win senior year, when the cheerleaders lost that stupid bet—but I already told you that story.

<I haven't edited it yet, but Paul sent me this diary entry the other day. Very hot. I'll get to it soon. – Janus>

Paul is, by the way, a real gentleman. I mentioned the flowers he brought, which were gorgeous. When we went to the car, he held the door for me, then hopped in beside me. It was a perfect night for the convertible. December in Florida can be wet, but there are times when it's perfect—cool and clear, without that nasty bite of winter you get up north.

He'd planned a nice dinner at a very ritzy Italian place where he used to work called Giovanni's. Several of the wait staff were still friends of his, so he made it sound more fun than stuffy and I was all for that. Then we were going dancing, which just made my head spin a little. You know how I love to dance, but you know how I get after a couple of drinks when the beat is pounding through me, diary! I mean, I've written to you about how exciting it is to be pressed onto a dance floor with all those sweating, writhing bodies and. . . well, I always thought it was really sexy. But I'd never gone dancing without underwear before and a thrill of anticipation went through me at the thought! Paul must have felt the goosebumps on my arm, because he smiled and said he wanted to show me off. He meant it in a way that made me proud, but also got me wet all over again.

The drive took longer than I expected, but Paul and I slipped into a really interesting conversation about movies and music. We never mentioned the activities of earlier that day or even a few minutes ago. Again I was reminded how much I genuinely liked him. He was insightful and funny, on top of all the other great things I've already mentioned. He said some really sweet things about me that had nothing to do with how hot he thought I was. I got the feeling that he hadn't liked a woman the way he liked me in a while, and that maybe there was somebody in the not-too-distant past that hurt him a lot.

[Hey, this is Paul with a quick note: Kim's a very perceptive girl, but we knew that. What she didn't realize was that the drive to the restaurant took longer than expected because I pulled into a park on the way and put her under. I didn't so much change anything as open up a few more alternatives that I hadn't thought of the first time, when I was doing hypnosis on the fly. I won't spoil the surprise by telling you exactly what I did—we'll talk about that AFTER you've read the rest of Kim's account.]

When we walked into the restaurant, I was impressed. It was warm and cozy, kind of dark in the corners, with understated music and an efficient looking, but very young and attractive staff. Paul's friend, Rose, was the hostess. When he introduced us, she was really warm and sweet to me. I thought she was stunning and, as we followed her into the dining room, her long red hair swaying above a really nice butt and long legs just confirmed it. For a second, I was jealous. She'd known Paul before me and she was so pretty. There's no way he couldn't have been interested in her and maybe he still was, even if she was with this Matt guy. And then I realized I'd been checking HER out, and maybe Paul was the one who ought to be jealous!

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