Be patient! This is a mind control story, and an erotic one as well, but the emphasis is on 'story.' Anyone looking for immediate titillation should go to another story, or at least the next chapter in this one. Criticism and critique are welcome.
The next week went by quickly, like a whirlwind. It was one of the best weeks of my life. We were all so excited about the first weekend - after classes were done Thursday, a little more than half of us would be boarding a ferry to Tunisia, in Africa. Most of the other half had alternative plans, ranging from Sicily to Geneva to as close as Pompeii. I was looking forward to cross another continent off my list.
Even now it's still a blur of pleasant memories - one of the happiest, most uncomplicated periods of my life, despite a few stumbles. For the first time since my mother died, I really felt like anything could happen.
The breakfast hall was pretty empty - of course, just because I managed to solve my jet lag problem in one night doesn't mean everyone did. And it was right when it opened, so even the other guests of the resort were few and far between. I smiled at the collection of other early-risers, and then sat at a table by myself after collecting some pastries and meat from the breakfast buffet. I doodled and people-watched for a few hours, but it was a slow, lazy morning.
I had one thing in mind Saturday - I wanted to swim in the Mediterranean. The only other time I'd swam in an ocean was the Pacific in San Diego and I was hoping I'd change my negative opinion of the ocean if I tried something warmer. And yes, I know the Mediterranean is a sea, close enough. So after breakfast I went back to the room, swapped out my glasses and shorts for a towel and some trunks. Domingo (my roommate) was up by then, but wasn't feeling up to a swim, so I told him where breakfast was and headed out.
After some walking, both up and down the beach, I realized how difficult it was to find an open spot near noon on a weekend in the summertime, and how much I worried about leaving my stuff to be watched. I'd almost given up when I tripped over a couple girls who'd been sunning themselves.
"Hey!" one voice said. "Watch where you're going!" went another.
Americans! Maybe they were even students from Arizona State. And I'd just tripped over them - not the best first impression one can make. I was mortified.
"Um," I said, getting up and brushing some sand off. "Sorry about that." I turned to walk away.
"You're Eric, right? From the plane?"
I stopped. I didn't think anyone had noticed me on the flight, at least not enough to recognize, me without my glasses, a day later. "Yeah..." I turned around, squinted, and then I recognized who I'd tripped over.
The one talking was Daphne Baker; I'd met her during the travel ordeal. She was . . . well, beautiful in an almost surreal way, like an overly expressive doll. Her eyes were like glass, her face was almost too expressive. In some of the pictures I saw later, she looked less real, and more alive, than the people around her. I never quite figured out what color her hair was - it was long and golden, sometimes red, sometimes brown, sometimes blonde. She was slender, but muscled, and her breasts were an almost perfect handful. I remember her telling me she was studying biology and anthropology. I never did find out what she was planning on doing with that degree.
"Nice to see you! I was wondering if anyone else was awake!" She gave a big yawn. "We've been up for a half hour," she said, gesturing at the girl next to her, who was tying her bikini top on.
I didn't recognize her. "Hi, I'm Eric," I said, offering my hand.
She didn't take it - of course not, her hands were still busy. "Hi," she said, seeming a little distracted, maybe embarrassed; I don't think she realized how blind I was without my glasses. "I'm Richelle." She wasn't even looking at me; I followed her eyeline - she was looking at a buff Italian guy nearby.
"Don't mind her," Daphne said. "She's still waking up too, and admiring the local color." As Richelle blushed, Daphne winked at me. "She's the single one, so I'm determined to find her some fun, since I can't have any."
Richelle was looking uncomfortable, not that I blamed her. "What's brought you out today, Eric?"
"Well I figured there's the Mediterranean." I gestured to the horizon. "And I want to dive in today before classes start and I find myself too busy."
"Oh? Richelle's been trying to get me to go in since we got here." She dropped to a stage whisper. "She doesn't want to go in alone." And then she winked again - what was she trying to communicate?
I really took a glance at Richelle then. She was almost a total contrast to Daphne - the only thing they had in common, it seemed, was that they were both thin. Where Daphne was the pink of a Barbie doll (well, before she tanned herself), Richelle was naturally dusky - dark olive skin, black hair, and brown eyes. If I remember right, she later said she was half Hispanic, half Romanian or something like that. And she was shorter too - while I could make eye contact with Daphne while we were both barefoot, even in high heels I had to look down to catch Richelle's eyes - which meant that, with her choice of tops, I often got quite a bit of an eyeful of a chest significantly larger than Daphne's. I think she was studying physical education or something, hoping for a minor in theatre.
But I'd not learned any of that yet; we were still basically two strangers. "Sure," Richelle shrugged, still avoiding my eyes. "Why not?"
"I'm up for it," I said, putting down my towel and shrugging off my sandals. "You'll watch my stuff?" Daphne nodded and waved us to the sea.
And like that, Richelle and I were in the water. Neither one of us talked very much though, so if Daphne had a plan, it didn't seem to be panning out. But whatever her plan, I still enjoyed myself swimming in the nice, warm water, occasionally splashing Richelle.
She kept looking at the muscled locals though (especially the one we called her boytoy). I'll admit my eyes were distracted by the girls who took their tops off like it was nothing, but I don't think I was distracted quite as much as she.
The three of us spent the rest of the day on the beach, just sitting and talking, Richelle and I occasionally heading out to cool ourselves in the water. Eventually, hunger got the better of us, and we headed off to a restaurant. We caught a beautiful sunset over the Mediterranean, had some excellent food, and they even managed to talk me into going with them to some clubs that night, where we saw Richelle's Italian boytoy out with his boyfriend. We all had a good laugh over that.
I drank for the first time in years, and for once let myself have a great time, even getting out on the dance floor with the girls. It was an excellent beginning to the trip - a good omen, I thought.
I didn't wake up early enough for the sunrise, but it wouldn't have mattered - the city was filled with a thick fog when I stepped out on the balcony. Domingo woke up around the same time I did, so we headed down to breakfast together. By the time we got there, Daphne, Richelle, and some girl I didn't recognize were all sitting around the table. They waved us over, for which I was grateful.
"Hey girls," I said. "Meet my roommate, Domingo." Domingo was lanky, thin like the track star he was. Dark skin, black hair and eyes, he towered almost half a foot above me.
"Call me Dom," he said. "I don't mind. All people shortens my name eventually." The girls seemed really taken by his accent - he'd spent the first 18 years of his life in Brazil.
"Come sit with us, you two," Daphne said. They'd been good company yesterday, so I figured why not? Besides, how often in my life do two beautiful girls invite me to join them for a meal? Well, Richelle just sort of picked at her food, but gave Domingo a wan smile - she didn't really look at me at all. One beautiful girl inviting me, then.
Coming back with food, I took a good look at the third person at the table, a dirty blonde with an air of innocence about her, a real girl-next door type. Unlike her two companions, she wasn't slim - she looked like she weighed as much as Daphne and Richelle put together, and was between them in height. But she carried it well - she had a knockout hourglass figure and it looked like she couldn't quite get a top that fit - it was a little too tight on her. "Who's your friend?" I took a seat between her and Daphne.
"Becky," Richelle said, in a tone that suggested I should have known that already.
Daphne was friendlier. "Eric, Dom, meet Rebecca Carey - " ("Becky," she corrected, softly) " - winner of this year's creative writing contest. She's going to be published!"
"Daphne! It was only second place." She blushed, a pretty color that just added to her picture of innocence. "And besides, I'm a creative writing major, I'm destined to be published in some college press eventually."
"Becky was in the student paper," Richelle added. "Front page, even."
"Well, congratulations," I said, smiling at her. She smiled back - an infectious smile. "So, what were you girls talking about before we showed up?"
"We're planning Becky's birthday!" Daphne said. "It's going to be Christmas in June!"
"Another June baby! Wow! Gemini?" I didn't actually believe in that astrology bullshit, but I thought it was fun to keep track. It was a little side hobby of mine - they had charts for all sorts of things, even asteroids.
"Nope! Cancer," Becky said, proudly. "June 25th."
"Hence the Christmas theme," Daphne pointed out.
"No way. That's my birthday!"
"Becky's turning 21." Richelle didn't even look up from her food. "How old are you turning?"
Man, that knife just slipped between the ribs. I didn't even see it coming. Had I done something to offend her? I felt suddenly self-conscious. "Um, thirty." I looked around the table, wondering what the reaction would be. Students could be very ageist sometimes.
Domingo spoke up first, surprising me, since he'd been spending his time picking at his food, or sneaking glances at Becky. "No kidding, mano? I'd have put you around 23." He gave me a reappraising look.
"Like, no more than 25, for sure," Becky added, biting her lip in thought.
"Well now we've got a double birthday to plan," Daphne said, winking at me. "The big two-one and the big three-oh." Even Richelle laughed at that, and the tension seemed to be broken. The rest of the breakfast conversation was dominated by birthday planning. Daphne was the kind of girl that dreamed big.
By the time breakfast was over, the fog had lifted. The five of us decided to explore the city together, the last free time we'd have before classes started up the next day. Of course all of us had done some wandering already - me looking for the right spot on the beach, both Domingo and Becky had found things to amuse themselves on Saturday, and everyone knew the way to the bars. Plus, I had bought one of those tourist guide books with an assortment of maps.
Soon the five of us were wandering the streets of Naples. Beautiful buildings, beautiful people. It was another wonderful day.
There was a party that night, hosted by the teachers and the hotel we were staying at. We were trying a real Neapolitan dish - 'la vera pizza', the real stuff, not the version we Americans eat. I'm not sure which one is better, even now - so I make sure to have at least one of each kind every week. Eventually I'll figure it out.
Unfortunately for our little fivesome, my maps were out of date, I think, because we got lost. By the time we got to the party the food was being served, and there were only a few scattered chairs. So instead of sitting with the people I'd gotten to know, I sat next to some strangers at what turned out to be the teacher's table. Well, at least I thought they were strangers.
"Eric? I was wondering when I was going to run into you!" I looked to my left and saw Edward Williams, the TA from my last Italian class, the previous fall. I'd gotten to know him better than the students since we were closer to the same age, though we'd mostly lost touch once the class was over. He was everything I was not - tall, classically handsome, chiseled like a blonde David with a goatee. Every girl in our last class had a crush on him, and I was sure that would be the case here as well.
"Ward? When did you sign on to this trip? I thought you were stuck dealing with freshmen all summer." I spat out some bad Italian phrase, probably one I used myself when I first started 101.
Edward laughed. "Yeah, but they had a sudden last-minute drop out, so I agreed to take his place. After all, they pay all my expenses."
"So you'll be teaching my class?"
"Well, tag-teaming with Marissa," he said, gesturing to the person sitting on my right. I'd completely neglected that side of the table! "Eric," he said, "meet Marissa DeLuca."
Marissa was obviously of Italian stock, either a half-blood or full - she had an almost stereotypical set of Italian features, although her lips were full instead of a thin line. But it was her eyes that shook me - sure, she had a set of somewhat harsh features (I found out later half the students were intimidated of her) but her eyes were two different colors (dark brown and ice blue).
I looked her right in the eyes as I shook her hand. "Nice to meet you." They were fascinating, if a bit disturbing. Do you mention them? You can't really ignore them.
"Nice to meet you too," she said. "It's called hematochromia, by the way."
"Excuse me?" I'd not quite jumped with her on that change of topic.
"My eyes," she shrugged, gesturing with her free hand. "You can't exactly miss them." I couldn't take her face anymore for the moment so I looked down and noticed the one flaw in her build. Her breasts weren't tiny - they were about as big as Daphne's - but her frame called for something a little bigger.
I think I may have lingered a moment too long with my assessment because she abruptly took her hand away. When I looked back up, though, she was giggling. "I think it suits you," Ward smiled across to her, and winked. What? "Better than hiding them with contacts."
Marissa blushed furiously - something you don't usually notice on olive skin. "Eddie's been talking about you," she blurted, changing topics. "You're one of his favorite students."
I glanced over at him with a look - Eddie? - but he just grinned back at me like the Cheshire Cat. Pitching my voice syrupy sweet, I cooed at him. "Well gee, thanks Ward, I like you too." I turned back to Marissa. "So, where in Italy are your parents from?" It was a stab in the dark; I hoped I was right.
She smiled then - and the smile took all the sting out of her harsh features, turning the uninviting clay into a beautiful sculpture. "Dad's from Milan; Mom's from Venice." My stab in the dark had hit the mark.
"Ah," I answered, "I remember mom talking about Venice before she died. She came from Sicily, but traveled around a lot before coming to the states." After breaking that ice we really got to talking - and soon the whole table was sharing their experiences. Of course, apart from Edward and Marissa, most of the faculty was as much older than me as the students were younger - but the older you get, the less relative age tends to matter.
Once the official party started breaking up, everyone trickled on over to what was fast becoming the "regular" hangout, a set of bars in a secluded area that were offering discounts to U.S. student IDs. Crafty businessmen, I'm sure they loved the extra business, especially since students don't seem to care how much they spend when they're on vacation. It's too bad some of the local regulars were so resentful.
Domingo had disappeared hours ago with Becky, and Eddie was romancing a local girl. So when it happened, only Marissa, Daphne and Richelle were with me. We were walking from one bar to the next when a group of three or four of them walked up to us. I never quite got their problem with us - not because I couldn't understand their Italian, but a fist to the gut makes for an awkward conversation. And the ringing in my ears, from the knee to the face, didn't help.
None of us saw any of that coming, but at least I held up long enough for the girls to get to safety. I'm a lover, not a fighter - but apparently I did make an excellent punching bag. Soon enough, the ground rose up to meet me, and as they kicked me, over and over, I couldn't help but think I had chalked up yet another new European experience - one I'd have gladly missed.
When I came to, the first thing I saw was Daphne. She'd come back, and had gotten an ice pack or something from somewhere. I barely remember the walk home - it was dim and painful. I insisted on walking Daphne back to her room first, and she gave me some ointment to rub on my cuts and bruises. And I swear she gave me some sort of look afterwards, like maybe she was expecting me to do something.
Instead, I went back to my room and fell asleep. I was in a lot of pain and besides, she had a boyfriend, right? I was probably just imagining things anyway.
To say I woke up early would be an understatement, since I don't think I was ever fully asleep. Even tossing and turning hurt, so I just laid there and tried to relax as much as I could, with sleep was only coming in fits and starts. I must have showered three times that night too, since I kept feeling the dirt of that back alley, and the blood.
So by the time the sun started peeking out from behind the curtains, I'd pretty much given up on sleep. So I hauled myself up and decided to go for a walk, figuring the city would be even more beautiful from the streets in the empty morning. I wasn't mistaken - it was breathtaking. And I got to catch the sunrise again.
By the time I got to breakfast, the story had spread about what happened - and I guess I looked even worse than I felt, given how people were coming up to me and asking how I was. It'd been a long time since I'd gotten that much attention or concern at once, and I was a little bit overwhelmed. I looked around for Daphne, but she wasn't there, but Marissa was waving me over, so I went to sit at her table.
And that's when I saw her. Valerie Kindle was my age - 29 going on 30. I stopped in my tracks for a second as I saw her - long almost platinum-blonde hair with just a hint of a curl, dark eyes somehow both blue and green, skin like porcelain. She could almost be a pin-up model. And she didn't seem to be aware of how attractive she was.
I think Marissa could tell I was enraptured; when I finally glanced over at her, there was a sly smile on her face. "Eric Gardener," she said, "Meet Valerie Kindle, my roommate. She just got in last night."
"That's Pardoner," I corrected. "Don't worry, you were close. Nice to meet you, Valerie."
"Call me Val," she said, greeting me with a warm smile. "All my friends do."
"Val's a teacher too," Marissa said. "High school. That looks nasty, does it still hurt?"
I didn't notice Marissa had even asked me a question. "What do you teach?" I'd shaken off Valerie's spell enough to pull out a chair and sit down. I winced in pain.
"Math," she shrugged, like it was a question she'd probably heard a million times. "Sometimes I sub for the Physics classes when Mr. Simmons is sick."
"Ouch. Teaching math to high schoolers must be like pulling teeth." I made a face - they both laughed.
"Teaching anything to high schoolers is like pulling teeth," Marissa said. "Except for those rare few who want to learn."
"Must be nice to have the summers off though."
"Yeah." Valerie took a sip of her coffee. "Every year I can take a few more classes in the summer. Anything I want!"
"Ah, the eternal student." I dug into my breakfast - hot cocoa and some cookies. "Now I'm jealous. I couldn't do that when I was working. Do you travel like this every year?"
"No, I've been saving up for this for a while. I spent some time in Sicily when I was younger - took a year off after school, wound up settling down in Palermo - and I've always wanted to come back."
"She did ESL there," Marissa added, sounding pleased with her roommate.
"Palermo? No way. That's where my mom was born." I tried not to think about her much. "She didn't come over to the States until after college. I've always wanted to go there, see where she grew up..."
"I'm heading out there this weekend, going to catch up with some old friends. You want to come?"
"I'd love to," I said. "But I'm going on that Tunis thing. Can't pass up the chance to cross another continent off my list, you know?"
"You're on that trip too?" Marissa almost bounced in her chair. "I've been looking forward to that for months. My family used to come to Italy every summer - but Africa, that's new."
"Now I'm jealous of both of you," I laughed. "We never went anywhere like that for vacation. Okay, once to Brazil, but I was only 4, I don't think that counts." That was the last trip we'd taken before mom... the last trip as a whole family.
"Well," Marissa said, getting up from the table, "it's almost time for class. I'll see you both there." Valerie and I looked at each other, and I smiled. Maybe class wouldn't be so bad after all.
With classes and homework now filling the days, I quickly found a routine I liked, and settled into it. Breakfast, class, and then lunch with Valerie, Marissa, and Edward where we practiced our Italian, swapped stories about our pasts. So what if Valerie and I got some inside information about the class during these "double dates" (I forget who started calling it that, Richelle maybe); it was nothing any student that attended their study groups didn't also get to hear. After that, a nap, then doing my homework or studying for the next test, which seemed to be every other day.
That left my nights free to go out with whoever felt like it - usually Daphne and some combination of her friends. During those nights I met the rest of the students from Arizona, as well as quite a few from neighboring schools. Everyone in that scene seemed to be looking forward to my return, night after night. It was a strange feeling, since I'd never been popular before, but I tried not to question people looking forward to my company. I might jinx it, after all.
The locals weren't quite so friendly, but I managed to get along with a few of them. Oddly, Richelle's boytoy and his boyfriend (Donatello and Eduardo) even approached me to apologize once the heard about the reasons for my cuts and bruises - and I think they pulled some strings or something, because there was never a repeat of Sunday night. I'm not totally sure, but I think they also invited me for a menage a trois. Sometimes, life would be easier if I were bi.
I started losing track of Domingo, only seeing him at breakfast and the bars; he'd decided to switch to a bizarre sleep schedule that had him up by midnight, and asleep around the time I woke up from my nap. I saw him at least once in some sort of compromising position with Becky. Each time, he was drunk, and he ran away before it was much more than making out. It was hard on him, with a girlfriend back home - I should know, whenever we were together, I got to hear about it.
For my part, I never found myself alone with Daphne after Sunday night; although we hung out a lot, she always made sure there was at least one other person around. I'm not quite sure she was interested in me anyway - and she had a boyfriend besides. If anyone else was interested, they were even more confusing than her, and I certainly wasn't ready to make the first move on anyone.
Of course, hooking up is far from the only reason to go out. I had all sorts of fun - I'd deserved a vacation for years and I was going to make the best of it. Besides, going out also let me practice the language I was learning, the biggest reason for doing it in Italy instead of Arizona in the first place.
It seemed like everyone I knew was going to Tunis, but of course, that wasn't true - only half the students had signed up. And of the ones I really felt like I'd gotten to know, Domingo and Valerie were staying behind. Still, everyone else I felt was a part of "my crew" had signed on board. I swear it took longer to wrangle the luggage on and off the bus than it did to drive there, but pretty soon we were on the ferry.
I grabbed a seat next to Edward, and yawned. "You looking forward to the trip?"
"At least it's not taking two seasons to get there this time." He grinned at me, leaning back.
I laughed, though I had the feeling I wasn't getting something. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad." The ferry took about a day - we barely left at 1pm, and we'd be arriving around 9 the next morning. "You should have shelled out the extra euros for a sleeping berth."
"Who says I'm going to sleep tonight?" He laughed and gestured around the ferry, which looked a bit like a well-stocked miniature cruise ship. "It's the weekend, dude. Besides, the only thing I have to do Monday is grade your tests."
I took a look around the boat, admiring the design. "I guess they figured tourists with almost a day on their hands would want some entertainment. But," I said to the 26 year old, getting up, "I'm not young like you. We old guys need our sleep." I mimed walking with a cane, which wasn't too far from the truth considering how bruised I still was.
Laughing, he said, "Well, you old guys can do what you want. Me, I'm having some fun."
"Did I hear someone say fun?" Marissa dropped into the seat I'd just vacated. "Hi Eddie, hi Eric." I'd gotten used to her calling him Eddie by now, but it was still weird. He was closed-lipped when I asked him about it too.
"Well, Ward's having some fun anyway. My fun is going to have to wait." Stretching and groaning, I added, "I'm going to pop an aspirin and take a nap."
"Aww." Marissa stuck her lip out, mock-pouting, but I was already walking away, giving her a backwards wave. I heard her laughing, and grinned to myself. Even with my joints aching and the bruises still yellow, it felt like it'd be a good weekend.
On the way to my berth, I walked by Daphne and Becky coming the other way, but neither of them acknowledged me - they were chatting about Tinker Toys or something, very seriously, and I heard them giggle as they passed. I was too tired to wonder about that, though. I popped a couple pills, shoved my backpack in the foot locker, climbed onto the mattress and pulled the curtain shut. I let myself be rocked to sleep by the rolling Mediterranean waves.