Summary: mind control, incest, Mf, minor ff
Veronica finally decides to try one of those dating services, and they do make her into a successful date -- several men, including her boss and ex-husband try her out and pronounce her one hell of a hot time.
See No Evil: Contains sexually explicit and politically incorrect material. If you shouldn't be reading this, or if it might offend you, simply stop now.
Legalese: All actors and actresses are over the age of consent. Proof of age is on file. Any similarity of any character, event or place to any actual person, event or place, is purely coincidental. This is all fantasy, and the actors are all professionals -- do not try any of this at home.
Archiving: You are welcome to discreetly repost or archive this, just do not change it, steal from it or claim credit for it.
Have fun!
(Wednesday)
Veronica woke the next morning with her thumb up her ass. How in the world had that happened? She squeezed her anus a couple times, then pulled her thumb out, smelled it and made a face.
She went to work, trying to not think about the things that she did ... and let be done ... to herself last night. As soon as 11:00 rolled around, she drove back to the Baxter-Harbert building and marched into the dating service.
"Hello," Tiffany smiled. "Ronnie, wasn't it? You were in the day before yesterday."
"I have a complaint to file."
"Oh my, of course. What could we have done wrong, Ronnie?"
"That man that you sent over last night -- there is absolutely NO WAY that we could be any type of match!"
"Let me pull up our records, sweetie." Tiffany began typing at her terminal.
"Please, I'd prefer if you not call me 'sweetie', Tiffany."
"Sure, no problem. Let's see. You were matched up with ... 'Al'."
"Al what?"
Tiffany gave her a reserved look. "Why don't we talk a little more before I give out his last name. I wouldn't want you to be some closet stalker or anything."
"ME?! Stalk HIM?!"
Tiffany raised her eyebrows. "Still. Where did the two of you go?"
"To ..."
Tiffany waited. "To where, Ronnie?"
"I don't want to say."
"Come now, if you're going to register a complaint, we're going to need a few details."
"We went to ... a pornhouse."
Tiffany began typing. "Porn ... house." And what did you view at that pornhouse, Ronnie?"
"I ... don't know. Something ... something with cocks and tits and pussies and assholes and sucking and fucking and ... oooh!" Veronica's eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand as those last words poured out, but she still shivered at the end.
"Okay ... cocks ... tits ... pussies ... what was the rest of that, Ronnie?"
"I don't think I want to talk about it anymore."
"What? You didn't like the movie?"
"The movie didn't matter. It was what he made me do."
"And what did he make you do, Ronnie?"
"He touched me."
"What did he touch, Ms Wilson?"
"He touched my boobies ... and my pussy ... and my ass. And at the end of the evening, he stuck a finger up my butt!"
Tiffany typed some more. "Finger ... up ... butt. And what were you doing while he was doing these disgusting and degrading things, Ronnie?"
"I was ..."
"Yes?"
Veronica looked down at the floor.
"Mrs Wilson? You were ...?"
"I was screaming in pleasure." Veronica couldn't believe her mouth had betrayed her like that. She kept her eyes planted firmly on the floor, uncomfortable to raise them now.
"Screaming in pleasure? Well, I think it's going to be a ... little hard ... to really register a complaint if you were doing that. Were you doing anything else?"
"I ... uhm ... I was on the phone ... with my ... uhm ... son."
"With your son. And what point in time was this?"
"It was ... it was during ... the ... orgasm."
"The orgasm, Ms Wilson -- yours or his?"
"Both. We were both cumming."
"While you were talking to your son on the phone."
"Ye-- yes."
Tiffany began closing windows on her computer screen and backing her way out of the menus. "Ms Wilson, do you know what it sounds like to me?"
"Wh-what?"
"Ms Wilson--" Tiffany softened her voice and waited to make eye contact with the distraught woman. "Ronnie, you are simply a slut, sweetie. We really could not have paired you up with a better match than Al."
She smiled and gave that a moment to sink in. "Veronica, dollbaby, you need to face up to the facts and just admit the truth. You storm in here, demanding to file a complaint because poor Al unzipped his fly and landed in the soup of sex juices between your legs. But Al wasn't the one that put the soup there. You are -- you and your hot, steaming little mind."
"But--"
"Honey, you have a desperate whore locked up deep down inside you, struggling valiantly to get out. And until you are able to deal with that conflict, to let her express herself occasionally, to celebrate with Slut Wednesdays, so to speak, until then, you are going to project your own emotional turmoil onto unsuspecting victims like poor Al, and try to take your frustrations out on them.
"I think that we can safely say that Al is the true victim here, Ronnie."
"But ..."
"No. You just think about what I've said. And I'll tell you what, Ronnie. We'll send you out another match in the next day or two. In the meantime, you should do some soul-searching. And don't come in here complaining about the agency or about your date when you need to simply better control yourself."
"But--"
"You go do what I said, Ronnie. I will speak with you later."
"But--"
Tiffany had turned back to her computer screen and was busy typing, ignoring Ronnie.
"Yes ... ma'am."
Samuel was fixing dinner again that night when she got home.
"Hello, Mother," he said stiffly.
"Sweetie ..."
He set the fry turner down and looked up at her, waiting. Well, she might as well get it over with.
"Honey, I am SO sorry about last night. I ... I went ahead and did the dating service thing, and ... and that was the man they sent out."
"Wasn't a very good match."
"No, sweetie, he sure wasn't."
"Then don't go out with him! Just say, 'Sorry, Charlie, I can do better'! A LOT better!"
"You're right. I should."
"And you CAN'T wear outfits like you wore last night!"
"I know."
"I mean, you looked like some high school girl, trying to dress to get--. You just didn't look proper, okay?"
"Okay, baby."
Samuel picked the fry turner back up and started working on dinner again.
"So we're okay with things now, Sammy?"
"Yeah ... okay," he sighed. "As long as you don't ... do anything like that again. I mean, geeeez!"
Veronica hopped to her son and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, honey! And I won't be so silly in the future. I just don't know what came over me." She started to walk back toward her bedroom, when Samuel spoke.
"Mom, before you go back, I have a favor to ask you."
"Sure, what is it, sweetie?"
"On the 27th, there's an honors dinner, and I'm supposed to get an award for my GPA."
"Oh, sweetie! That's wonderful!"
"Thanks, Mom. We can bring guests, and I'd like you to come, if you could."
"Honey! I would love to! I have the smartest baby in the college!" She stepped up and hugged him, she was so proud.
"It's a date then?" he smiled.
"It's a date."
"Thanks, Mom."
Veronica then went back to her bedroom to change. She still hadn't finished watching that orientation tape all the way through. It seemed that every time she tried, she wound up falling asleep.
She locked her door and put the tape in the VCR.
Again, she fell asleep watching it.