Sure I can handle it.

Lesson Three

You insist that you can handle yourself, despite Michael Hersh's warnings. At this point, the headache is really only a nuisance; not even much worse than your first hangover. If it gets bad, you can always stop.

"I'll be fine," you tell your mentor. He nods and sips his coffee, which he never actually ordered, nor paid for.

"Can I get anything else for you, Mr Pitt?" asks a giddily officious waitress. Her cheeks blush prominently, regardless of her dark-tanned skin.

"No, that'll be all," "Mr Pitt" replies. "Run along now, and I'll see you later." He delivers a firm slap on her ass, which she gleefully accepts, skipping and giggling as she goes. You give him a little "look" at witnessing his mischief. "What?" he says, shrugging and chuckling.

Just then a new customer comes in: an Asian girl-- probably Japanese-- with shoulder-length high-lighted hair, wearing a low-cut frilly white top and a black miniskirt. You don't have much time to admire her surprisingly long legs when she disappears into the women's restroom.

"Her," Hersh states, flatly.
"Her what?" you ask.
"Do her. I mean, read her. Read that girl who just went into the bathroom. This is lesson three."

The girl had gone by in a flash. Certainly her image hasn't left your memory, but unlike your previous trials, you had something visual to work directly off of. How are you supposed to empathize when you don't even know what she's doing?

"Oh it's not that hard," Hersh insists. "You might not able to see what she's doing, but she's in a bathroom. How many different things can she be doing in there? Start thinking about it, and then reach out and make a connection. You'll find a psyche that lines up."

Slowly you start stretching out with your mind, seamlessly passing into the psychic world. What do women do in the bathroom? She could be using the toilet, or doing her makeup, or washing her hands. The possibilities run through your mind, but fail to make any connections, as you feel no personas emanating from beyond the door. Eventually something foggy and vague does appear, but it seems more like "thought contamination" from other sources.

"What's wrong?" Hersh asks. Try as you might, the bathroom is a wasteland of thought, as far as you can tell. It's like there's no one in there. "Try being more specific. Think about what she is wearing. Picture yourself as her, looking at yourself in the mirror, and seeing those clothes," he suggests.

The girl wore a white top, barely adorned on her shoulders with little spagetti straps. It was tight, too, firmly hugging the contours of her body, squeezing her breasts together for effect. Her miniskirt, on the other hand, was quite the opposite: open and airy, quite easy to move in. The wind probably blows up, sometimes, chilling her thighs and possibly her nether region, too.

Not before long, you start to see yourself in the bathroom, as the Japanese girl. The image is fuzzy, but it becomes clearer with every moment that you connect your imagination with your target's real experience. Still, as lucid as the picture becomes, it seems wrong. You see yourself in a lacey red bra, with somewhat tanner skin and slightly more prominent tits. Having dressed as alluringly as this girl had, you might expect to be cold, but no, you actually feel quite comfortable. A warmth creeps up into your crotch as a sudden wetness also makes itself known. You go further into the girl's mind, trying to figure out what exactly this girl is doing in front of the mirror, and why she seems different. It's a possible contamination, but it feels right. You are connecting with the right person.

Your cock goes hard as you start getting aroused again, but is it of your own volition? No, it feels more like someone else's thoughts-- those of the Japanese girl. A gentle, undulating **** strokes at her genitalia, making her pussy hot and her panties damp. Her top goes up over her breasts, and little tingling sensations transmit all over through her nipples. She moans softly as she is pleasured, but by whom?

Soon, the lust that you feel connects you with another mind, another Japanese girl, tan and well-endowed, with her tits encased in a silky red bra, her fingers teasing and pinching at her partner's erect nipples. Her smooth thigh snuggles right underneath the other girl's eager vagina, moving in and out, up and down, like a wave, tenderly warming up her cunt for pleasure soon to come.

With the lustful distraction going on, you're able to wander through the girl's psyche unhindered, noting her physical surroundings and senses as if they are your own. The bathroom stall is just big enough for the two women, but they don't need that much space anyway, considering that they are pressed up against one another, both now topless and enjoying the warmth of eachother's mounds. They lock lips with passion, darting their tongues in and out as they do. Their hands likewise slip into eachother's panties, rubbing the engorged clitorides with slick fingers. Skillfully they dance about, pushing the buttons with light, quick strokes, infrequently using the other fingers to dig right up to the opening of their flooded canals. A single thought echoes through the girl's mind: -God yes, put it in me, put it in me!-

Your muscles tense up the more you get into the sexy encounter, feeling the wonder of female masturbation for the first time (not that any ordinary men ever do). It's like having someone give you a handjob right here and now, only wetter and smoother, and with a lot more erogenous zones than a man would ever have the opportunity to experience. And this is just the beginning...

...of a headache. Remember, it's just a nuisance. In fact, as long you don't dig yourself deeper into the psychic experience, the headache doesn't get any worse. But that would be a small price to pay for the vicarious experience of hot lesbian sex,