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Mind Control, by Jezebel Rose

 

“Why are we doing this again?” Thomas asked, his sunglasses reflecting the bright morning sunlight as he and his best friend Jessica cruised the coastal highway in.

“For fun, man,” Jessica smiled and reclined back, feeling good as he maneuvered the rolling curves of the blacktop. His white 1987 Firebird roared along, it is throaty engine echoing off the hillside.

“It’s all bullshit you know,” he replied.

“So what?”

“So, why pay for bullshit?”

Jessica frowned. “Didn’t you ever see ‘Mallrats’?”

“Yeah, so?”

 

“Okay, the psychic in that movie did her readings topless. Maybe this one will too.”

“She had three fucking nipples,” Thomas laughed, “You know what the odds are of finding a topless psychic?”

“Pretty thin,” Jessica nodded, “But imagine if we did.”

“Shit,” Thomas rolled his blue eyes, “She’ll probably look like Irene Ryan with titties bouncing off her shins.”

“There’s an image,” Jessica commented as they pulled off the highway and entered the small town of Derridge. The place was an excellent example of upper-middle-class America, and according to the informational sign at the base of the off ramp, the population was just over one thousand. It was a tourism-based economy for sure, as they cruised down Main Street, surrounded by souvenir shops, bait shops, cafés, and one small theater. The salty air was thick here, a reminder that the ocean breached the mainland only a half mile away. The citizens of the town went about their business, cheerful and almost oblivious to the two newcomers.

“Not one single Negro” Jessica muttered, “Nothing but vanilla.”

“What do you expect?” Thomas asked. “Not everyone has a year-round tan like you. You think they’re racists?”

 

Jessica’s deep, dark eyes gleamed with amusement. “No. It just means all the black folk is too smart to live this close to the water.”

“Bite me,” Thomas said as he watched the storefronts pass by.

“There it is,” he said, pointing to a small brick building nestled between the theater and a bookstore called “The Book Worm.” The bold pink neon of the sign mounted to the building told the universe that “Madame Terry’s World of the Supernatural” was open for business. It took those five minutes to find a decent spot to park, and they ended up walking from the far end of the street back to their destination. As they crossed the street, Jessica became aware of people looking at them.

He was dressed in his usual work boots, loose-fitting jeans, and a red t-shirt. He always wore red, as it just seemed to compliment his mocha colored skin better than any other color. Thomas was in his khakis and sweatshirt, the anger tiger mascot of their high school tearing across the chest and leaping out. They did not look too out of the ordinary in his opinion, and yet it seemed everyone was taking notice. Being strangers to them and all, he guessed he could not blame them. Alternatively, maybe it was just they did not get much color in their town on a regular basis. Either way, their not-so-subtle appraisal of them made him feel uneasy.

“You get the feeling we’re being watched?” he asked Thomas.

 

“They just can’t figure out what a smart black man like you is doing so close to the water,” he smirked.

“Smart ass.”

They reached the glass door, and Jessica opened it, the jingle of a bell heralding their entrance.

Upon stepping into Madame Terry’s World of the Supernatural, they were bombarded by a wave of Egyptian incense. It invaded their nostrils relentlessly and made Thomas feel lightheaded as they walked in. Jessica waved his hands around and coughed as they looked through the smoky atmosphere of the shop. The walls were cluttered with all kinds of psychic paraphernalia and trinkets, from assorted sizes of a crystal ball to healing crystals to voodoo dolls and finally to dream catchers, hanging by the hundred from the acoustic-tiled ceiling. Blue and red lighting set the mood for the establishment, turning Jessica’s dark skin purple as they looked around.

“Holy shit,” he coughed.

“I know,” Thomas chuckled as he picked up a voodoo doll from one of the many display tables. He pulled and tugged at the small, burlap arms.

“Check this out,” Jessica leaned in over the display counter, his shaved head reflecting blue light. A statue of a naked woman sporting the biggest pair of breasts he had ever seen hugging some dragon-like monster sat prominently on display. He commented, “She had nice titties, but the whole bestiality thing is too much.”

 

Thomas looked at the statue. “Wow, she must have back problems.”

“It’s got the theme, I’ll give it that,” Jessica said as he looked around the shop.

“So where’s your topless, three-nippled psychic?” Thomas muttered.

“I don’t do readings topless,” a withered voice from the far corner of the shop spoke up, old and frail yet with a power that made them both jump, “And as to a third nipple, well, that’s none of your business really.”

From out of her hiding place came an ancient, hunched over a woman. Her hair was snow white, hanging in long strands from her skull to the middle of her back. The lines of her face were cut deep while her eyes seemed to regard them with a mild curiosity from their cavernous sockets. Her lips were wrinkled and dry, behind which sat uneven and discolored teeth. Her clothes were simple, neutral colors and seemed to be better suited for life in the Middle Ages. Jessica recalled a dream he had suffered all his childhood, about a witch chasing him on a broomstick, trying to eat him.

 

It was as if his nightmare had found substance and crossed over into the real world. He forced a smile on his face.

“Madame Terry, I presume?” Thomas offered his hand amiably.

“Presume nothing here,” she raised an overgrown brow and looked at him coolly, “Although you already assume too much about that which you know nothing.”

“Ma’am?” Jessica asked.

“Presumption and assumption go hand in hand, young one,” she smiled at him, concentrating for a moment on him as though she saw something that surprised her. She added, “You’re a smart one.”

“We were wondering if you could-” Jessica began but was cut off.

“If I could read your thoughts, see your future?” she offered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Twenty dollars for the both of you,” she said flatly and turned, motioning for them to follow her. They went back to where she had been sitting in the shadows and found a doorway, covered by thick gypsy curtains. They passed through, and Jessica got a nose full of dust. He sneezed violently. A cold draft blew across his arms, causing him to shiver. There was something wrong here, something not quite right. The air even felt different, smelling of ancient things and richly accumulated dust. This place was somehow alive, and he could handle it. It was as if crossing the threshold from the store to this room had been the equivalent of stepping off a cliff into nothingness. He felt like he was falling.

He suddenly was not so sure this was a good idea.

Thomas, however, was warming up to it.

“So how do you do it?” he asked, a subtle vein of patronization running through his words.

“Do what, Thomas?” she asked as she sat down at a round table in the middle of the dimly lit room.

“Read minds,” he said, and then frowned, “How did you know my name?”

 

“Wait and see,” she cackled.

“No crystal ball?” Jessica nodded to the center of the table, which was empty save for the elaborate purple and gold tapestry draped over the tabletop. He could almost hear the dull thuds of a distant, powerful heartbeat.

“None required for a psychic of my ability,” she said, “The money, please.”

Jessica pulled a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“If you really can do what you say, why not use that power to help with world peace?” Thomas asked petulantly, “Aren’t most real psychics against using their power for profit?”

She eyed Thomas with a cold amusement and calculation, like a cat regarding its prey just before the attack. Jessica felt himself starting to sweat as he watched her dark eyes assess Thomas, as if though she were marking him. He knew they had stepped into something excessively big for them, and as he was about to speak up and leave, she spoke.

“There is a price to pay for any power, not of this world,” she cracked her knobby knuckles with a sickeningly loud series of pops that echoed through the room, “And being noble does not pay the bills.”

 

“I see,” Thomas looked at Jessica, his eyes betraying the laugh he was barely holding at bay.

“What would you like me to tell you?” the old woman asked.

Thomas looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, his blue eyes looking at the wall behind her as if for inspiration.

“Madame Terry, tell me what I’m thinking,” he said.

“You’re thinking I am a fraud, that I couldn’t read your mind if it were printed on the front page of the Sunday newspaper,” she smiled.

“Too easy, what else?”

“Don’t be a dick, man…” Jessica punched him in the shoulder. He was sure fucking with the old woman was a fatal mistake.

“You didn’t want to come here today,” she said.

 

“That’s obvious,” Thomas said dryly.

“But not because of me,” she said, “You were up late fucking another man’s woman. Her name was Beverly, and you two had sex in your parents’ bedroom while they were out to a movie…”

Thomas’s jaw dropped.

“Beverly?” Jessica asked, his eyes wide, “You fucked Eric’s girl?”

“Shut up,” Thomas hissed, his eyes stuck on the old woman. “How do you know?”

“She accidentally cut your penis with her teeth,” she reported frankly, as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back a little, “Just a little cut, but it hurt like hell, didn’t it?”

Thomas looked at Jessica, who seemed to him for confirmation. Thomas felt his hands grow suddenly cold and sweaty as he looked at her, his mouth gaped open. “That’s right,” he said, “That’s exactly right.”

 

“Shall I tell you more?”

“Dan, let’s get out of here,” Jessica said, nodding to the curtain draped doorway.

“No, wait,” Dan shook his head, his eyes never leaving the pale gray orbs of Madame Terry’s ancient sights.

“I can tell you anything you wish,” she said, her claw-like hands folded neatly on the table in front of them. “Anything at all.”

“Okay,” Dan licked his lips, “Okay. When I was fifteen, something happened to me. What was it?”

“You were in a car accident. A dark green suburban struck the car you and your mother were riding in,” she said, “You broke your arm and four ribs. Your mother received a blow to the head but survived the crash. From time to time she gets bad headaches that make her cry.”

“Holy shit!” Dan laughed, thoroughly taken in by her powers, “That’s absolutely right.”

Jessica looked at the woman cautiously, his stomach doing flip-flops. He looked at Dan, who was so transfixed on Madame

 

Terry’s demonstration of psychic abilities that he couldn’t have cared less if a bomb went off under his ass. He saw something move out of the corner of his left eye, and he slowly turned his head, afraid yet unable to resist looking. He found himself staring into a funhouse mirror across the room from them sitting up against the wall, reflecting the kitschy atmosphere of the shop and warping it into a strange nightmarish realm where heads were too big for freakishly small bodies, and perspective lost all its meaning.

“Dan, we need to go,” Jessica muttered, a chill running down his spine.

“You doubt me?” the old woman smiled, revealing haggard yellow teeth a shade away from brown.

Jessica swallowed hard. “No, ma’am.”

“You fear me?”

Jessica shook his head. “No ma’am, only your powers.”

“There is no such thing as an evil power, child,” she seemed to look right into his soul as she spoke, “Only the desires of those who wield it determines it’s used. Pure of heart sees birth to good, evil at soul sees death to all.”

 

“Dan, let’s book.”

“I am not a witch,” she said, “Despite your childhood dreams, I am no witch.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jessica said as he began to stand up.

“Sit!” she hissed, and Jessica found himself sitting down. It was if some invisible hand had grasped his shoulder and was forcing him down gently to the chair.

“Ma’am, I see no good coming out of this. Please let us go,” Jessica said.

“You cannot see well if all you expect is evil,” she told him.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

She sighed heavily and held his eyes with her own. “It’s been long since I have tasted the thrill of flesh or the passion of the heart. Both my own are too weak now for anything more than what you see here. The wealth you carelessly spend in youth I covet now, even for a token of, in my old age.”

 

“Drop the bullshit,” Thomas rolled his eyes, “What are you saying?”

The old woman lifted her fingers at Thomas and his mouth shut suddenly, clicking closed as his teeth stuck together. He could look at her, wide-eyed as she spoke, “Before I sit the true balance of human nature. Each of you sits at one end of the spectrum, black and white, true and false, smart and dumb… I see you both as you really are. You will be my newest amusement. How the fortunes change, yes?”

Both boys were silent.

“You live in an age where the wizards are dead, the dragons are slain, and the values of the noble are long forgotten,” she shook her head; “You come to me for a cheap thrill, as though I am a whore desperate for your charity. I spread myself for no man or woman, and I will not play the fool for your amusement.”

“If we’ve offended you,” Jessica offered apologetically.

“No offense taken in what you have yet to do,” she grinned sardonically, “But know this; in one week’s time, you will know of what I speak. You will both commit grievous acts against yourselves and others before this is done. Blood will spill, and the arrogant will fall.”

 

“We should really be going,” Jessica smiled, trying not to let his fear show though, and failing miserably.

“I offer this deal,” she looked at her hands for a moment, as if considering what to say next, “For a believer is worth more than a skeptic… I will give you both a taste of what it is to have real power for one week. You doubt my powers, so I offer them to you for seven days starting today, the day of rest. One week is all, and then the magic will be spent. I give you the chance to see what is truly in your hearts and find yourselves.”

“What?” Thomas asked, her invisible grip on his mouth released.

“Go now,” she motioned to the door, her eyes beginning to water with fatigue.

“But we paid for-” Thomas protested.

“Out now!” she hissed, drawing her tattered rags to her face, as if though hiding from them as she shrunk into the shadows of the cramped room. “You wish to see the future then you must go out and find it, for it is not in my will or my desire to show you any more than I have. Away now and see what awaits you.”

 

They hurried out of the shop, Jessica almost knocking over one of her display tables as they went. He had never been so happy to be outside, the fresh ocean air cleansing his raw nose, sweeping away the incense and horrible smell of whatever evil resided there. The door clattered shut behind them, and Thomas laughed.

“That was too fucking weird,” he laughed, “She knew about Beverly and me.”

“Jesus,” Jessica breathed as they walked back to the car, “She was a fucking nutcase.”

“Dude, she knew about Beverly accidentally cutting me,” he marveled, “She knew.”

“You’re fucking another guy’s girl, man,” Jessica rolled his eyes, “That is fucking low.”

“What do you know?” Thomas asked, still amazed by the display he had just seen. They got in the car and sat there for a moment, reflecting.

“What do you think she meant by giving us a taste of real power for a week?” Jessica muttered as he started the car, “What was that? And that part about blood being spilled?”

 

“She was just fucking with us,” Thomas said.

A gorgeous blonde woman strolled past them at that moment, her hair bouncing from side to side as she walked. They both could not help but stare at her as she went, her ass tightly encased in her Wranglers, flexing, and un-flexing as she walked. Her top allowed a generous of view of her abundant cleavage, displayed for maximum effect. They bounced perkily up and down as she passed them, her boots clicking on the concrete of the sidewalk.

“I would love to see those titties,” Thomas licked his lips.

Then the world went eerily silent, and neither one of them would ever forget what happened next.

The blonde-haired person stopped suddenly, as though she had forgotten something and was considering going back. She turned, her face blank and yet oddly confused as she walked back towards them. Jessica watched her come closer to the car, and thought for a moment she might pass them by. She reached the car and stopped, looking at Thomas with her large, expressive green eyes. She then grabbed the bottom of her top with both hands; her arms crossed and pulled it off. Jessica jumped in his seat as she stood before them, topless in public, the fabric of her bra glistening in the sunlight. Thomas only stared at her, as if though hypnotized. The blonde-haired person then reached behind her back and unhooked her black lacy bra. She pulled it away, letting her massive breasts hang free in the morning sun. They were milky and perfectly round, the areolas pink and the nipples erect as she stared at him.

 

Jessica heard people gasping in shock and stopping behind them on the street as this strange scene played out. The blonde-haired person just stood there, her tits, not more than a foot away from Daniels’ face as the road came to a standstill. Thomas just sat there, frozen.

“Sarah!” someone shouted from across the street, ‘What are you doing?”

Her eyes fluttered, and she woke up from her trance. She looked around, suddenly confused and then down at her naked chest. Her mouth opened in horror as she realized she was outside and topless, the entire town staring at her. Her hands immediately slapped to her breasts in a vain effort to hide.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, looking around wildly, “What the fuck?”

“Hum,” Thomas began, but she was already running away down the street, her bewildered neighbors standing around in an awkward silence. Jessica and Thomas slowly turned and looked at each other, their eyes wide and mouths slung open stupidly.

“What was that?” Jessica asked.

 

On the freeway again, going at least fifteen miles over the speed limit, Jessica and Thomas tried to figure out what had happened.

“I just thought it, and it happened,” Thomas explained, “She just flashed me because I wanted her to.”

“Impossible,” Jessica shook his head, “Impossible.”

“Dude, you saw it,” Thomas said, “That old bitch did something to us.”

“You just can’t control people like that,” he said, “It’s not possible.”

Behind them, an expensive red Mustang convertible was vying to pass them, revving its engine and riding their asses.

“Asshole,” Jessica looked in the rearview mirror as he slowed down and moved over as much as he could to the shoulder to make room, “Just go!”

“I’ll bet I can make whoever that is slap themselves,” Thomas said giddily as the car moved up beside them. In the passenger seat was an older man, probably in his fifties, with gray hair and ponytail. His passenger was a gorgeous brown-haired person, the latest addition to his midlife crisis probably. The man looked over and flipped them the finger, a shit-eating grin on his face as he proceeded to impress his trophy-girl by confidently yelling, “Get off the fucking road if you can’t keep speed, dip-shit!”

 

“Hey man!” Thomas shouted back, “Why don’t you and your cock-juggling thunder cunt of a girlfriend go get bent?”

The woman’s mouth dropped open, and Jessica heard her shouting back a string of scathing obscenities as the old man gritted his teeth.

“You little asshole, why don’t you and your nag-” and he was cut off as he slapped himself with one hand. He looked comically at his side in shock, and then over at Thomas again.

“What was that?” Thomas shouted, “Was that a racial slur there, Methuselah?”

“You little Fu-” and his hand rocked his own face again… and again and repeatedly. Thomas was rolling with laughter as the man beat himself up, his girlfriend looking at him as though he had gone crazy. Jessica looked over at the impotent rage of their would be harasser as he smacked himself repeatedly. He smiled and felt a laugh building up as he heard the girl shout at him to stop, asking what the fuck he was doing.

 

“My friend here is going to pop the clutch!” Thomas smiled sweetly as he batted his eyes at them, “We politely ask you to eat our dust!”

Then the red convertible slowed down, slower and slower as Thomas made the driver put his foot on the brake pedal and press down. He looked at them, now falling behind, with pure rage as the convertible pulled to the shoulder and came to a stop. Jessica looked in the rear view mirror and saw him still slapping himself as the rounded they bend and were out of sight and gone.

“That was great,” Jessica, laughed, “How did you do that?”

“I just thought it and made it happen,” he chuckled, “Wait a minute.”

Jessica watched Thomas from the corner of his eye as he squinted his eyes in concentration. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I have that douche bag toss his keys over the embankment, just in case he wants to follow us.”

“Cold, man,” Jessica smiled, “Cold.”

 

“What about you,” he asked, “Do you feel anything different?”

“Not really,” Jessica shrugged.

“Well I know a good way to test out our new powers,” he smiled devilishly.

Jessica looked at him. “What?”

“The Lucky Beaver.”

~

“My parents are going to kill me, Dan,” Jessica said as they went into the strip club. The bright colored lights were flashing everywhere in the lobby, promoting the right mood and atmosphere for the sexual establishment. They passed the beefy bouncers at the door to the dance arena and stepped into the experiment. Three large platforms stretched out from the far wall, glittering in the orange and red lights. On each of the stages, three naked women danced and ground against the shiny poles that ran from the scene to ceiling. They gyrated their hips and humped the floor as they teased the hooting and hollering crowd of horny men. The beat of the music was thunderous as the bass from the speakers shook the walls.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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