The Dreamer by
dolphininthesky
Part 3
Note: This chapter has no sex (groan). There are plenty of adult
situations though (yay). We do some much needed consolidation of facts
and development of plot.
Mandy had not had a good day. She'd woken up to the strangest dream and
the name David Turner lingering in her mind. She had strong suspicions
that he was responsible for the dream. Whilst it seemed impossible, it
was the most likely explanation for all the weird things that had
happened in the dream. And it had felt more vivid and more graphic –
she coloured up as she remembered some of the more graphic details –
than any other dream she'd ever had. She was pretty sure that she would
never dream up the naughty things that had happened by herself – she
didn't even know such... such concepts existed. It had felt very much
as though someone had been in her head in the dream. The thought that
someone could enter her dream and to some degree influence that dream
was very, very disturbing.
Whilst the dream bothered her somewhat, what bothered her even more was
the memory of those strange and naughty sensations that she had
experienced last night. Just the thought of it made her tingle and itch
in her crotch, making her want to scratch her itching cunny till she
exploded – like she did this morning. All this was new and frightening
to her. She didn't understand why her body was behaving this way. She
had heard stories and whispered rumours from other girls about
mastubation and sex but the details were scanty and some, downright
absurd. Sex education had been a clinical affair focusing on the
biology and the mechanics but it did nothing to explain the feelings
that overwhelmed her and why the thought of doing naughty things (like
exposing herself to Mr. Whitman in her dream) made her itch and feel
funny. And she would never look at her Mickey-Mouse-cap pen the same
way again. All these thoughts kept running through her head the whole
day and she found it difficult to concentrate at school. She had too
many questions without any answers. And she thought that there may be
one person who might be able to provide some answers.
At the end of the day, the school bus dropped her off at the apartment
where her family stayed. She let herself into the foyer. Seeing the
elevator doors starting to close, she dashed in between the closing
doors just in time. As she lifted her head to smile at the resident who
had entered the lift just before her, her smile froze on her lips – it
was her neighbour, David Turner.
He gave her a forced, watery smile, said hi and looked away. She
glanced at him; he was nervously studying the lights on the elevator
panel. He was usually more chatty when they bumped into each other.
Clearly, he was a lot more nervous around her today. He probably wasn't
going to admit to anything. But she had a plan...
David was in fact very nervous. He had a bad feeling that he had given
himself away last night. She might talk and tell her parents or
friends. If word ever got out, she being a minor and all that, he could
be in very big trouble. But he hadn't done anything wrong had he? It
was all just a dream, wasn't it? They couldn't prove anything! The look
on her face when she saw him in the elevator said everything. He knew
that she knew. And worse, she probably knew that he knew she knew....
He did not feel up to dealing with this right now. At the moment, he
felt more exhausted than he had ever been in his life and he just
wanted to go home and sleep. But the prospect of spending a long time
in a jail where they did things
to people who were in for crimes of a
sexual nature was beginning to make him break out in sweat. In his
tired and nervous state, his mind was in a confused daze.
There was one last ingredient to this disastrous state of mind.
Standing in close proximity to her in the small, cramped elevator had
an effect on him. She was in her school uniform exactly like he had
seen in the dream. The faint outline of her bra beneath her crisp white
shirt. Her toned, slender legs draped with that grey, pleated school
skirt that just bordered on being too short. The type of skirt that hid
and accentuated those pert teenage buns at that same time. The type of
skirt that flared slightly as she moved, making men stare in the hopes
of a glimpse of more thigh, or, if it was their lucky day, maybe a
brief flash of white panty. Oh yes, he remembered that skirt from last
night. And he remembered what lay underneath even more clearly. In the
badly ventilated elevator, he caught a whiff of her. Bubblegum, shampoo
and the slightest hint of sweat – she'd been out all day at school in
the summer heat after all – he remembered this smell too, only it had
been mixed with an additional component last night: the scent of teen
arousal.
Stop! Stop! He scolded himself. She's way too young. Girls like her
were jailbait. Why hadn't the elevator reached their floor yet?
Mandy opened the satchel she took to school and fumbled around. Her
bangs falling over her face as she searched for something.
Keys jangled somewhere in the satchel. David couldn't help looking. She
was so sweet and innocent. Sweet as candy. Candy Mandy. Damn! He was
about to force his eyes to look away when something slipped from the
bag with a clatter, landing next to his shoe.
"Oh! I'm sorry, David. Could you please...?"
"Um.. sure – " David picked it up and stared. Only one word was going
through his mind.... shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.... The trademark big
black ears, yellow shoes, red pants with yellow dots; it was
unmistakably Mickey. Those saucer eyes stared back at him. Visions of
Mickey covered in juices sliding through Mandy's intimate areas came
unbidden with full-technicolour, high-definition detail (there was
surround sound too – it went: squish, squish squelch drip, drip – yup,
high quality, Dolby digital). Shit
(with feeling), went the voice in
his head.
He looked up when he heard her giggle, "Oh, it's my Mickey Mouse pen.
It's my favourite; a present from Dad." She took the pen with the
figurine of Mickey on the cap from his unresisting hand and gave it a
kiss with her cherry-red lips before slipping it back into her satchel.
Oh shit, shit, shit....
The elevator doors opened. Humans are said to have a fight or flight
response. Mandy was an entire foot shorter than him and probably
weighed half as much but David's exhaustion, fear, confusion and lust
addled mind didn't have any fight left at the moment. He would have
taken the remaining option but for the minor detail that he had entered
the elevator after Mandy and she now stood between him and the door.
So what did David Turner, mild-mannered junior intern and budding
mind-control esper Overlord do next?
“It wasn't me!” he blurted. Shit. Scheizer.
It hit the
fan. The words had slipped past his brain and gotten out of his mouth.
There weren't any less self-incriminating words he could say. (Well,
some would argue that, 'It was me' would have been worse
but for all intents and purposes they were equally self-incrimating).
Mandy looked at him. He looked back with helpless, sheepish horror.
She didn't have to ask 'what wasn't him' and he didn't have to explain.
"David, would you drop by my apartment for a while? We have a lot to
talk about," it was not a request. He followed her like a lamb led to
slaughter.
Her parents were not home yet and the Watson's apartment was dead
quiet. She walked straight through the living room and into her
bedroom. Not sure if he was supposed to follow her in, he hesitated
before entering. She sat on her bed and pointed him to a chair in front
of a little table that had a computer and some school books. He sat
down self-consciously, clutching the bag he took to work in front of
him like a shield. He wished his new-found skills didn't require him to
be asleep (or as we saw earlier, on the verge of cumming) to work.
"Well?" she asked, "What have you to say for yourself? Don't I get some
explanations?"
He took a deep breath. The brief interlude whilst he'd followed her to
her apartment had been enough for him to gather his thoughts and rally
his exhausted mind for one Last Stand. "Look, I didn't know I was in
your dream. I thought it was just some silly dream that I had. I wasn't
even sure if I was really in your dream, " he explained. He rallied
admirably to make up for his earlier blunder, "I have totally no idea
what happened. Believe me, I'm just as shocked as you are. Look, I'm
really sorry if it caused you any embarassment or fear..."
"I don't care about any of that, " she interrupted, "What I want to
know about is compensation." She threatened, "You must know that if I'm
not satisfied with how you compensate me, I can tell on you..."
Compensation? He had thought
he might be able to pacify her with
effusive apologies but that was clearly not working. He hesitated. He
clearly misunderstood how her mind worked. Change in tactics were
required. He still had a card to play.
"Are you trying to blackmail me?" he said cautiously. And here came the
trump, "You must understand that whatever happened was in a dream and
there is no proof that I did anything wrong."
She smiled sweetly. As sweet as candy. "Oh, don't worry about the
dream. I'll just say you molested me in the lift. My word against
yours."
He spluttered. "What?? You can't... " Oh, but she could. Her word
against his. Her innocent, fourteen year-old word against his. The jury
would crucify him. And his jail mates would make him wish the jury had
literally crucified him.
"So I have a proposition for you," she said as she leaned back to lie
on her bed. Her legs, clad in white bobby socks today, dangled over the
edge.
"And what is that?" he asked, deflated.
"We'll get to that later. First off, obviously you're not some
all-powerful mind reader, hypnotist or somethin' like that. Tell me
what you can do and what you can't do."
He hesitated. It was true, what she said. He was not as powerful as he
would have liked to be. In fact, he was powerless in the hands of this
fourteen year-old. And just last night, she had been powerless in his.
Now, he was totally at her mercy - the irony was not lost on him.
His skills didn't work when he was awake. Wait, he might be able to
regain the upperhand tonight when they were asleep! But what could he
do? He could put suggestions in her mind like he had done last night.
But she would probably guess it was him, so that wouldn't work. He
could project emotions at her like he had done with Julie. But
how would that get him out of this fix? The problem was that she had
identified him as the culprit and had a good guess about what he could
and couldn't do. If only he had those powers that mind-controllers in
stories and fiction had! He didn't seem to have any of the really
useful powers – turning people into his slaves, or wiping their
memories and changing their thoughts at a whim.
"And... "she warned, "If I ever even think
you're in my mind without my
permission again, I'll make sure you're in jail for rape of a minor so
fast you won't know what hit you."
He looked at her lying there in bed dangling her legs over the edge and
swinging them carelessly like an innocent little angel. He gave up. So
he told her what he'd discovered about his ability so far. She had been
the first person whose mind he'd entered and he'd done it accidentally.
He could know their thoughts and could sense everything they sensed. If
they were awake, he would see what they were seeing, hear what they
heard etc etc. And, as in her case, if they were asleep, he would end
up in their dream. He could also influence them to some extent by
planting suggestions and thoughts, but at the moment, there was a
problem with that since the suggestion came across as a voice in their
head – his voice. Which meant, they could trace the origin of that
suggestion to him, as Mandy had done. A better way was to channel
feelings, sensations and emotions into their mind. This had greater
anonymity – he skipped the lurid details and vaguely explained that he
had tried this on a work colleague today with success – but there was
little control over the exact outcome and exact behaviour of the person
influenced. And he wasn't exactly sure how to control which person's
mind to enter either. He'd entered hers because he had been thinking
about her but what were the limits to this he didn't –
"You were thinking dirty thoughts about me, weren't you?" she
interrupted. She laughed merrily as he turned red. Her plan was going
better than expected. She had him wrapped around her little finger.
David cleared his throat and changed the subject, "You said something
about a proposition earlier?"
She nodded. "Well, there's two parts to it. Firstly, your mind tricks
are probably worth something. There's some money to be made. I propose
we be partners."
David nodded. He didn't have another option. He didn't make much on his
salary as a junior intern. And the Watson's only made enough to get by
on – Mandy's dad was a delivery truck driver and her mom did house
cleaning jobs.The idea had occurred to him of course, even though so
far he'd only been using it for sex. But he didn't have any good ideas
about how exactly to use it. The problem was that he didn't want to
draw attention to himself in any way. If mind reading/controlling
existed – and he now knew it did – then secret government agencies that
hunted mind-controllers, aliens with even more powerful mind control
methods and any number of other powerful and unpleasant entities stood
a high chance of existing as well. All David wanted to do was quietly
enjoy some little extra benefits of his skills, not take on the world.
If Mandy had some really good idea as to how to accomplish this,
splitting the profits with her was probably acceptable.
"And secondly...," she paused, hesitated, then continued, "secondly,
um... last night was sort of, um, an interesting experience. I thought
we can do that again." She caught the look on his face and, blushing
slightly, quickly said, "What I mean is, its just a dream right? I
don't really want to do those things in real life, and seriously, there
isn't anyone I want to do that with, like a boyfriend or something... "
she quickly added. He's not bad though, she thought to herself, though
a he's a bit older than me. She caught herself and continued, "Look, I
just want to know more about these things, but I'm not prepared to do
anything for real. So this seems like a better idea than having sex
with some guy from school."
Her legs dangled over the edge of the bed and she swung them as she
talked. Her hands were playing idly with Mr. Bear, one of a number of
cuddly toys that decorated her bed. David was busy looking at a fixed
spot on the floor with the studied gaze of someone who did not notice
how her skirt had been slowly slipping up inch by inch for the last
five minutes. He was determined he wasn't going to be caught by her
like that again. She would probably laugh at him and giggle in that
maddening way.
But the second clause of her proposition forced him to look at her in
amazement. She was trying to blackmail
him into teaching her – albeit
in a dream – sex? He was beginning to think Mandy was not the brilliant
tactician he thought she was. It was an offer he wasn't going to, and
couldn't anyway, since she might tattle on him, turn down.
She misinterpreted his look as reluctance and said, "Look, it's just in
a fantasy, like... like... " she fumbled for an example, "... like
online sex in a chatroom, maybe."
He decided to agree with a show of reluctance, laughing secretly all
the while. "Look, it looks like I don't have much of a choice, so I'll
go with it. But I really don't think this is a good idea," he said.
"Well that's decided then, we'll split fifty-fifty whatever money we
make using your skills and you'll teach me some of that stuff we did
last night. It's a deal?" she sat up excitedly, pretended to spit on
her palm and extended her hand for him to shake.
"Fifty-fifty?" he raised his eyebrows. Considering the fact that he was
the one with those skills, fifty-fifty didn't seem quite right.
"What? You have a problem with that?" her nose wrinkled as she made a
mock glare at him.
"Alright, alright, it's a deal then," he said, shaking her proffered
hand. It was blackmail after all.
Mandy beamed. "Alright then, out you go. Mom and dad will be home any
minute."
David found himself being propelled insistently out of her room and
shown the door. He was outside the Watson's apartment so fast he didn't
have time to catch his breath.
"Visit tonight, ok? You know what I mean," she said with a wink
before closing the door. He stood there a little stunned. Oh right,
visit tonight, in a dream.
He made his way down a couple of doors to his apartment. His exhaustion
caught up with him and he found himself collapsing into bed, where he
fell into a deep sleep.
**********************
He dreamt of Mandy's feet. He remembered watching those cute little
feet dangling over the edge of her bed, encased in white, cotton bobby
socks. She wiggled her toes playfully beneath the socks. He wasn't
someone with a leg fetish, but the image from earlier when he'd been in
her room was somehow stuck in his mind. Her toes wiggled again. He
really wanted to hold her dainty feet in his hands and play with them.
Tickle them maybe and make her laugh. Roll her toes between his thumb
and fingers. Peel her socks off slowly... He could sense Mandy nearby.
He was going to go and play with those feet now. And his fingers would
slowly wander up her ankle, then up her calf, feeling her calf
muscles tense for a moment at his touch. Yes, he knew Mandy was
really near now. He could sense her. He could smell her being here.
Wait a minute. He paused for a moment. Am I dreaming now? He looked
around. It was blackness all around. Not because there was no light,
but because there was nothing to see. Yet somehow he knew Mandy was
somewhere nearby. Her presence felt
imminent. He knew the exact
direction he should go to. Just a few more steps and he'd be there with
her.
No, no, no. She was too young. Think about Julie instead. Now that's a
fine woman. Too fine. He suddenly felt a vague shift in that black
space. He knew now that the right
direction lay in a different
direction now. This new direction led straight to Julie. It was a bit
farther, but he would be there in no time at all.
Hang on. He made himself think of... um... how about Mr. Eastman? An
image of his portly, bearded employer and senior partner of West, West
and Eastman came up. Right, the direction to get to him came to mind
immediately. It was like calling up the memory of some familiar and
often travelled route – it just came, with no effort at all. Never mind
that in this thick blackness there were no signs or landmarks. The
blackness had a familiar feel about it, like the feel of the backyard
of his family home, where he'd lived before moving here to this strange
city six months ago.
He took a few steps in the direction of Mr. Eastman. Ah, here he was.
David was sitting in an armchair smoking a cigar. It tasted quite foul.
But he was somehow enjoying it anyway, or a part of him was anyway.
Right, the part that was the mind of Mr. Eastman. Mr. Eastman was
enjoying his cigar as well as the sight on the bed before him. A young
boy, he couldn't possibly be more than eleven, was tied down,
spread-eagled. Thick ropes bound his arms and feet to the four corners
of the bed. He was making muffled noises through a gag. Mr. Eastman put
his cigar down on an ashtray on the table next to him and picked up a
cat-o-nine-tails lying next to the ashtry as he rose from the chair. He
felt the smooth leather between his fingers as he stroked the whip. He
took a few leisurely steps towards the bed. The boy was quivering. He
swung the whip and felt the leather soar through the air –
David yanked himself out of that mind. What the fuck? He was quite
shocked. Mr. Eastman had always seemed like a kindly old man. A type of
benevolent uncle who liked and was liked by all young children.
He knew for a fact, the man gave generously in support of various
orphanages and private schools and was on the Board of Directors of
several of them.
Oh. I see.
He stepped back into the shroud of darkness. He shook his head as if to
clear his mind of Mr. Eastman's plans for the evening. Yes, a very
detailed plan was imprinted in his mind; it made him feel slightly
sick. He hoped he liked the next mind he entered better.
He wanted to enter a completely random mind. Someone he didn't know. He
sensed someone nearby and on a whim, stepped into that mind.
"Hahahaha!" Laughter. Mrs. Ackerman was watching some repeat of The
Simpsons on TV. He exited and felt around him. Another mind.
The scent of fish. Mmmm.... A ball of string rolled past, taunting him.
Swat! A deadly paw would make it pay.
David wandered through a multiplex of minds. It was like some TV of the
future. One with total immersive content where the viewer entered the
life and mind of the actors. And if you didn't like it, just switch the
channel. He soon lost count of how many minds he had wandered through.
It seemed like there was no end to the variety. He could exist this way
forever, traveling through mind after mind, without end.
**********************
A loud buzzing made him wake up with a jump. He was lying in his
own bed, in his own room. Someone had their finger on the doorbell and
they weren't letting go anytime soon. He stumbled out of bed and
tripped over his shirt.
He'd just passed out on his bed the moment he got home last evening; no
dinner, no shower, he was out cold before his head hit the pillow. It
was really bright outside. It must be at least ten in the morning, he
estimated. It was a good thing today was Saturday. He opened the door.
“And about bloody time too!”
He looked outside, bleary eyed. “Eh?” he said, before his brain caught
up and caused an arm to shoot out and pull the cause of the intrusion
inside before slamming the door.
“Did anyone see you? Do you parents know you're here?” For some reason
he was whispering.
“Duhhh... Of course not. You think they'd let their daughter hang out
in some older man's home? ” She rolled her eyes. “They're at their
Saturday jobs. And go wash up. You smell.” She wrinkled her cute button
nose. He watched the freckles on her nose disappear into the creases as
she did that. He realised he was standing too close.
“Right, right,” he mumbled as he headed for the bathroom. “Make
yourself at home.”
She was already heading for the kitchen. “Do you have anything to eat
in here?”
When he had washed and dressed, he found her eating toast in the
kitchen. He sat down next to her, grabbed some toast from a plate and
started buttering it.
“You didn't come,” she said accusingly, referring to last night.
“Um.. I got lost on the way,” he replied. In between bites of toast and
putting on the kettle to make some coffee, he told her about how he'd
explored thousands of minds last night. She thought it was pretty cool.
“Oh good, now my plan shouldn't be a problem at all,” she said happily.
“What plan?” he asked.
“Have you forgotten about our plan to make heaps of dough?”
“Dough? Oh.” He was a bit slow this morning. “Um.. so tell me about
this plan.” he hoped it was better than something like trying to
blackmail Mr. Eastman. Good Lord. He'd almost forgot about that. He
looked at his toast. Didn't feel like eating anymore. He reached for
the coffee.
“Uh uh ... no coffee for you,” she took the cup away. “Remember? You
can only do this when you're asleep. And you won't sleep easily with
all that caffeine.”
“Just a little?” he pleaded. Why was she doing this to him?
“Ok, here's the plan,” she went on. “We don't want anyone to be able to
trace it to us. We don't want to raise suspicions in any way, so if
it's illegal, its got to be something quiet – no spectacular robberies
or anything like that. So what would be perfect would be for someone to
give us large sums of money willingly. Now we can pursuade them to do
that with some of your little tricks. ”
He nodded, “I have an idea how we can do that, but it's not a very good
one.” He told her about Mr. Eastman. She looked puzzled. “Why would
anyone find tying up and whipping little boys pleasurable?” she asked.
There was so much about sex she didn't understand and she had hoped she
might find out more from David as part of their standing agreement.
“I don't see it either,” David admitted. Though I would see how tying
you up would be pleasurable, he thought privately. And I wouldn't stop
myself from giving you a light spanking too, you little minx, just to
see those buns jiggle, wobble and turn a rosy pink. Hmm... too bad she
wasn't in her school uniform today – she would look really cute with
her skirt flipped up as she lay on his lap for a spanking. Not that he
was complaining – those short cutoffs and thin, yellow halter top she
was wearing today were really hot too. And she was wearing sandals
today. He could finally see her toes; they were every bit as cutesy as
he imagined them to be.
“What are you thinking,” she asked suspiciously, seeing him looking at
her 'funny'.
“Nothing,” David replied as innocently as he could.
“Pervert,” she muttered to her toast and bit down on it.
Getting back to the matter at hand, he said, “Well, I don't quite like
the idea of blackmailing someone with information I glean from their
minds, because it might backfire. It's risky. Like you said, it would
be much better if we can convince them to part with their money
willingly.”
"Yes," she agreed, "Most scams won't work because you can only do that
stuff you do when you're asleep. For example, you couldn't cheat at a
casino table because obviously, you have to be awake to play. We could
start a cult and you could pretend to be the Voice of Deity that speaks
through dreams, but somehow taking away money from innocent, deluded
people doesn't seem quite... you know, it deoesn't seem quite right. So
I've thought of a proposal and written it down clearly here." She waved
a piece of paper that she'd conjured up from somewhere in his face. He
took it and read out aloud what looked like an advertisement poster.
The header went like this:
"Young, Innocent Teenage Girls For Sale. Our Special Training
Guarantees A Docile, Willing Schoolgirl For Your Every Kink And Desire.
Money Back Guarantee If You Are Dissatisfied...."
He stopped and looked at her incredulously but she waved him to read on.
"We offer teenaged girls abducted from distant foreign countries and
retrained using our special methods to be your willing slave. You may
do to her as your whim dictates. We have girls suitable for every role
you have in mind – secret slave chained in your basement, adopted
daughter for you to abuse in the privacy of your home (all necessary
paperwork will be taken care of via our discreet contacts if you wish
to legally). Bright, intelligent girls skilled at the piano,
gymnastics, ballet and much more are available at an extra fee! We
guarantee only submissive, compliant virgins who have never been with a
man!! Or you have your money back!!!"
David was speechless.
"You expect us to abduct, brainwash and sell kids?" This was the most
preposterous idea he had ever heard.
"No," her finger pointed to her freckled button nose, "I'm the only
girl we'll be needing." She added, "This is how it'll work. You scan
people's brains or do whatever it is you do and find perverted old men
willing to pay large sums of money for little girls. Then you approach
them privately and make the offer. If they take the bait, you set up a
meeting so they can meet me – of course nothing happens till they pay
up, we'll just talk and I'll flirt with them a little. And during the
meeting – I got this idea from what you said you could do to your
colleagues yesterday – during the meeting, you flush them so full of
lust that they can't think straight – "
"Wait..." he could see a problem.
She hushed him, "I know, I know. Obviously, you're absent during the
meeting. It can be in some small motel somewhere. You leave us in the
room and go next door where you can fall asleep and meddle with their
minds. And if they try anything funny, I'm sure you can manipulate
their minds a little to keep me safe, right? And once they pay up,
we'll disappear and they wouldn't be able to do a thing. We can even
secretly tape them in the room flirting with me and use that as an
added insurance – the tape won't show anything graphic of course, but
it would be bad enough if they were prominent politicians or
businessmen. "
This plan was very, very risky. And full of holes.
"Well, they can't take any legal action against us, but if they have
connections to the Mob or some hired killers.... they'll know how we
look, which means they'll be able to find us somehow."
"You put on a fake beard and all that. And I'll wear one of those
what-do-you-call-it masks? The type that just covers your eyes, the
type people wear to masquerade balls or something?"
"Um, I'm not sure, but I get the picture. But they'll want to see what
they are buying!" David protested.
"Well, we tell them that since some customers want to legally adopt
girls as daughters and have them appear in their company in public, we
can't show them their faces until they actually pay. Otherwise, if they
decide not to buy, you wouldn't be able to sell the girl to some other
person as they run the risk of being recognized by the failed buyer."
Hmm... he thought, the masks she was talking about were the type that
only covered the upper part of the face. Just by looking at the lower
part of her face – her nose, mouth and chin – you could already tell
she was beautiful. And her hot body... let's not even go there. And if
I overload their horny minds with more arousal than they can take,
they'll pay through their noses for her...
"What do we expect to charge them..." he asked slowly. It was still a
very, very risky scam and if they weren't going to get much out of one
buyer, it wasn't going to be worth it.
"I don't know...Hundred? Two hundred?"
"Hundred-what?"
"Hundred grand of course..." she said, sipping his coffee.
More money than I could make in a year, he mused. Make that four years.
And it wasn't an over-optimistic estimate either. Rich old perverts –
as she called them – would probably pay even more than that once they
met her. She, with some help from my mind-influencing tricks, would
have them eating out of her hand in no time. And I can totally screen
them first to make sure I understand how their minds tick. He even had
a couple of candidate buyers in mind already from his previous night of
trawling through the minds of humanity. Her enthusiasm and recklessness
was infectious.
They concluded breakfast discussing some other little details of their
plan. This might just work after all, he said to himself.