The Director: Julie Ann

This story contains Mind Control elements, although the focus is exhibitionism. If Mind Control offends you, please read no further. It involves the characters introduced in "The Director's Kitten" and "The Director: Lucy."

***

Lucy hesitated before typing the information. What she was about to do violated her professional ethics. But she didn't know of any other source of help for her patient, Julie Ann, who she had been seeing for months. Julie Ann was obsessed. Her fantasies were a constant distraction to her, yet she refused to take the slightest step to get what she wanted.

In that way, Julie Ann reminded Lucy a little of herself before she had met the Director. Her hang-ups were different. Lucy had become jaded through a series of okay but ultimately unsatisfying sexual and kinky experiences, whearas Julie Ann had almost no sexual experience at all. Her grandmother had pounded into her the notion that she should be ashamed of her body because bodies were distasteful to God, especially sexy female ones. A fair amount of that pounding had been done with a hickory switch.

She typed out the email, and hesitated. She got up and paced around her small apartment. She was aware the Director might enjoy helping Julie Ann with her problem, and she knew that she was strongly driven to please him. Was that clouding her mind? She also knew the Director valued the rest of her life, and would not want her to get in trouble. He seemed to have his own code of honor, too, and he had never asked her to use her position as a Psychotherapist to glean information for him, although she knew other women made daily reports to him of things they found that might be of interest.

She walked back to her computer. The email link she had with the Director was secure, with multiple layers of encryption. Professional ethics had never envisioned that someone like the Director, who had supernatural powers of control and disguise, could exist. She would let him make the decision of how to use the information, if at all.

That was one of the lovely things about the Director. He made the decisions, and all she had to do was follow them. For her, submission was liberation. She hit send.

***

There was something different about the man who sat down in the corner booth, and Julie Ann wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't overly handsome, although he looked fit. He was casually dressed in jeans and a tight black shirt. He wore a black mask over his face, so perhaps he had a cold, or was afraid of getting one. His intense steel gray eyes were the only obviously remarkable thing about him. That and the fact that he had somehow gotten the corner booth, which would easily seat five, despite being by himself. They never seated a group of less than two there.

"May I take your order?" she asked him.

The man swept her with his gaze, and then nodded. "Two eggs, scrambled, with cheddar cheese. Three strips of bacon, not over-cooked. And three buttermilk pancakes, with butter on top. Soft butter, please. I don't need syrup."

"Got it."

"And Julie Ann?"

She nodded. How he knew her name was no mystery, as it was written on a silver tag she wore above her left breast.

"Yes?" she asked.

"You're a very attractive woman."

She blushed and hurried away.

She loved the attention, but it made her nervous. Sometimes, when guys stared at her chest, almost too nervous to do her job. The diner she worked in had its employees dress conservatively: black pants, and pale blue blouses buttoned all the way up. Her blouse was snug due to her large breasts, which she was both proud and ashamed of. Men liked to look at them. She knew she should want them to look at her eyes, instead, so she wore striking eye makeup, her lashes laden with mascara, and pale red eyeshadow.

In fractions of a second the man had seemed to take inventory of her entire body. She ought to resent that. It shouldn't turn her on. Especially from some guy who probably had a cold. With the mask, she couldn't even tell if he appreciated what he saw. She was being viewed without being viewed back. Why was that exciting? Something to talk to her shrink about.

She took a moment to catch her breath, and then resumed taking orders. As she helped other patrons she had the sense that the man's eyes were following her. Didn't he have a phone to look at like everyone else? When her back was turned to him, she imagined his intent gaze, undressing her with his mind. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to work in the nude, or topless. It was something she thought about a lot.

"Sausage, French toast, eggs over easy. Got it," she said.

"I said fried eggs, not over easy," said the bespectacled man she was helping.

"Oh! Sorry, maybe it's me who is over easy. Oh, no, I meant your wife was over easy?"

"I was scrambled," said the thin-lipped woman he was with. "Not easy."

Julie Ann had noticed her ring and the way the two were close together and had jumped to the thought that she was his wife. He wasn't wearing one, though. Maybe they were having an affair, a hot, torrid, illicit affair.

She took a deep breath, pulled out her pad, and wrote down the order. She hardly ever had to do that, but right now she was flustered. The act of writing helped her focus. The two might be having an affair, but she was pretty sure it wasn't that torrid. They seemed more like the kind that would watch old episodes of Seinfeld together.

She hurried away and passed the masked man's table. Again, he looked her all over. His gaze didn't linger, but neither was it fixed on her face, and he showed no concern whether she noticed or not.

She managed to get past. Her panties were wet, but fortunately, the company slacks were thick. Unfortunately, they didn't breathe much, so once she got turned on she was likely to be aware of her panties for the rest of the shift.

The masked man's food was ready. She had to lean over to set the plate down in front of him. He put his hand on her wrist, holding it with a loose grip she could easily break. "It's a shame you're so buttoned up," he said. "I imagine the view would be exquisite."

This time she was too shocked to run away. People looked, sure, but no one was that bold.

He took his mask off. His features were plain, unremarkable. "Don't worry, I'm not sick. It's just a precaution I take. I need a refill on my water. If you like, you can unbutton three buttons on your blouse when you return, just before you lean over to give me my water. In the corner here, no one will be able to see but you and me, and then you'll button it back up. It will be our secret."

His touch was warm. Even though what he was saying was outlandish, from him it sounded almost reasonable. He withdrew his hand.

"I await your return," he said.

She grabbed his glass and turned quickly away.

On her way to the fountain, she looked over her shoulder. He was right. The shades were pulled. In the corner booth no one would be able to see what she was doing but him. She couldn't believe she was considering it, but she thought about it from angle and there was no way she could be caught. She pushed the button for water, held it, and looked behind her again. The man was smiling at her confidently.

The water splashed onto her hand, and she was reminded of what she was supposed to be doing. Another table had ordered a coffee, so she filled that too. She dropped off the coffee first, and then returned to the man in the mask.

I'm going to do it, she said to herself. Just this once. The idea Grandma might be watching from heaven made her nervous, even though she didn't really believe in heaven anymore. At the same time, she wanted to tell Grandma and her hickory to go to hell, although she didn't believe in that either.

She faced the corner deliberately, and with her right hand, warm from the coffee, she unbuttoned buttons. How many had he said? More than two. She unbuttoned four, just in case. She didn't want to disappoint him.

She leaned over, blouse gaping, knowing he could see down her shirt. She wished she had a nicer bra, but the plain white was nice for being unnoticeable beneath the pale blue blouse. She hadn't expected anyone to see it.

He didn't even pretend to look anywhere but down her blouse. For a moment, she froze, and breathed as he stared. She decided she didn't have any good reason for leaning over that long. She straightened, using both hands to button up hastily.

"You did well, Julie Ann," he said. "Next I require a small little cup, the kind you put syrup or butter in, but empty. And I expect the same view."

"Not happening," she thought she would say, but she didn't. She nodded, and went to serve other customers, her heart racing. She took her time, out of a combination of nervousness and a desire to savor what she was feeling. But in the end, she returned. She hesitated.

"The buttons, Julie Ann," he said.

She nodded, and unbuttoned them, and then leaned over to give him a nice long look as she placed the empty butter cup next to his plate. He had, she noticed, eaten just half his food. He was a slow, careful eater. Perhaps he, too, was savoring. He definitely seemed to be savoring her breasts.

"When I am done and you return with my check, Julie Ann, I'm going to want to touch. And with your consent, I will have something that will help you become less inhibited. Do I have your consent?"

She hesitated, but she realized she was still bending over while she was thinking about it. She fancied, for a moment, that she heard an odd wet and squishy sound, which triggered a thought about what it would be like to be seen wrapping her lips around the man's cock. It wasn't the idea of giving a blowjob, but the idea of being seen doing that turned her on. "Yes," she said, without consciously deciding to say it.

Again she had the desire to flee. She almost forgot to button up again.

She hurried around the diner, trying to focus on work. She meant to say yes to becoming less inhibited, although how could he do that? But had she said yes to being touched, as well? She supposed she had, but it would be harder to be sure no one was watching. From his vantage point, he could see if anyone was looking their way, but she wouldn't know. Her heart was pounding.

For the next several minutes, she glanced his way to see if he was done yet. He continued to eat at a leisurely pace, torturing her with anticipation.

Then she glanced over and was surprised to see he was not alone in the booth. A thin, dark haired girl was sitting with him. Where did she come from? She would have had to walk right past Julie Ann without her noticing to get to the booth. The girl was in almost every way Julie Ann's opposite. Julie Ann's generous breasts and backside contrasted to the other woman's svelte figure. The woman's only makeup was lipstick, and her eyes were plain. Her dark hair was the opposite of Julie Ann's blonde.

Who is she? Why is she here?

The man finished his meal, and Julie Ann walked toward him. She had been looking forward to unbuttoning her blouse, but she couldn't, not with the other girl there. So she put the check down and reached for his plate, only to find his hand on her wrist again.

"You're forgetting something, Julie Ann. Don't worry. Catherine here doesn't mind."

"She hasn't had anything to eat," Julie Ann said, stalling.

"Oh, yes I have," said the woman called Catherine, smirking. "I had a nice piece of meat."

The man looked into her eyes. "It's safe, Julie Ann. Unbutton your blouse again, please."

She unfastened one button, then another.

"Two more," he said.

She undid two more. Both he and Catherine could see her breasts, she knew. And her bra.

"Lean over."

She leaned forward, and his hand reached for the little bowl she had brought him. It looked like it had salad dressing in it, but she had brought it to him empty. He dipped his fingers in it, and slid them along the line of her cleavage, and she shivered.

"Having this on your skin will help you with your inhibitions. I can provide opportunities for you to show off, Julie Ann. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

His wet, sticky fingers lingered, while he handed a card to her with his other hand.

"You can reach me with the information on the card. And Julie Ann?"

"Yes?" She had been bending over way too long. It would be obvious. People would be staring at her ass. She smiled at that. They still wouldn't know why she was bending over, or that her shirt was gaping open. They might just think she was flirting with a patron. She took the card and tucked it in her bra.

"You are a very attractive woman. With beautiful tits that should be shown off. But for now, button up." He glanced at the check, took out a wallet, and counted out three crisp twenty-dollar bills. She scooped them up and straightened.

"As long as the service is this good, I'll be dining here every Saturday morning, Julie Ann."

Julie Ann nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Remember to button."

She realized she would have forgotten. She buttoned up and then turned away, moving slowly. Her chest was a bit sticky underneath the blouse, but that was her secret.

She could hear Catherine talking as she left. "You know, I did eat something. But I never got to swallow."

Julie Ann froze a moment, slowly realizing the implications of what Catherine said, and connecting it with the noise she had heard. Had Catherine been giving him a blowjob the whole time? And what did she mean about not swallowing?

She realized what the little bowl had been, and what the man had smeared on her chest. His cum, which Catherine had spit into the little bowl.

Somehow, she managed to take a step forward. And when she did, she felt free. What was on her chest was her secret. It felt naughty, and having a naughty secret felt wonderful. She realized she was grinning as she moved to the next table.

"May I take your order?" she asked the elderly couple.

She was disappointed that, as they told her what food they wanted, their gaze didn't drift downward to where the tight blouse stretched over her large breasts. When she looked up from them, the strange man and Catherine were leaving.

Julie Ann kept thinking about what had happened and reminding herself that it was real. Every glance at her chest made her a little more turned on. Her shift seemed particularly long that day, and she was grateful when it was over. Once home, she stripped out of her work clothes, but she felt strangely reluctant to shower. Instead, she looked at the card. The listed name was simply, "The Director." There was no phone number, only an email.

She picked up her phone and thumb-typed. "This is Julie Ann from the diner. You said you could help me." She hit send.

She reached for her clothes. She needed to wear something to get to the shower down the hall, and her bathrobe was hanging in the bathroom. She was scared to have her house mate, Sheila, see her prancing around naked, although she knew objectively that Sheila would at most look at her oddly, and definitely wouldn't hit her with a switch. But the phone buzzed almost immediately to let her know she had mail.

It was from the Director. "I did. Send me a picture of yourself."

She angled the phone as to include only her face and her shoulders. She got a thrill out of the fact that he might deduce that she was naked, but she wasn't actually showing anything. She hit send. She wondered how he would react if she sent him a full topless picture. Or even her whole body. She was getting turned on again.

The phone buzzed again.

"Very nice, but you know you want to show me more."

How did he know that? She really should shower. She had his cum on her chest, for goodness sake, if her suspicion was correct. She hurriedly put her shirt on, although she didn't bother to button it up. She decided that and her panties were enough, as she clutched the shirt closed in the hallway. She washed herself thoroughly, imagining she was being watched. She always imagined she was being watched when she was in the shower. Usually who exactly was watching was unclear. This time, it was the man in the diner, with his steel gray eyes.

She put on her bathrobe and went back to her room. She looked at the phone again. There was one new message from the Director.

"You need to do as I tell you for me to help you. Show me more and tell me that you'll follow my direction."

She pulled down the option to delete the message, then hesitated. So far, he hadn't asked her to do anything she didn't want to do. He seemed to understand her.

She untied the robe, let it drop to the floor, and took a picture of herself from the waist up. Combining it with the message, "As you wish," she hit send before she could have second thoughts.

Then she got out her vibrator, lay back, and thought of what he might ask her to do next. What pictures he might want. How he might want her exposed. As the buzz of the vibrator drowned out the sound of the next incoming email, she had the best orgasm of her life.