An interesting phone call

Tiffany stares at you as your phone rings again.

“Well, aren’t you gonna get that?” she says, raising her eyebrows.

You nod, taking out your phone. You feel your sister’s eyes on you as you as your phone continues to ring. The screen illuminates as soon as you have it in front of you, and the name of the contact calling you is emblazoned proudly on the screen: Dayna McCabe.

Your heart quickens as you remember the beautiful waitress from the night before.

Subconsciously licking your lips, your mind thrums with possibilities. She’s obviously calling you because she’s hypnotized. The microwave beeps, the time your mother set to heat up your breakfast having expired. She pushes a button, opening the microwave. Her big matronly butt jiggles enticingly, her pants still digging into her asscrack.

You briefly consider invoking the trigger to get your mom and sister to not notice you so you can reprogram Dayna without having to move elsewhere in the house, but you decide against it.

“I actually have to take this. I’ll be right back.” You stand up from your seat. Your sister gives you a curious look.

“Oh, sounds serious.” She purses her lips, her emerald eyes twinkling as she leans forward slightly in her seat, drawing your eyes to her big breasts. “Is it a girl?”

“A girl?” your mother asks curiously. Her azure gaze holds yours as she carries your now-steaming breakfast.

She clears her throat.

“I suppose it’s natural if a young woman’s expressed interest in you. You’re a handsome, polite young man, after all,” she mutters, licking her lips.

Your phone rings again, somehow more urgently this time. Your mother’s eyes flick to your phone, and you thank God you have the screen pointed at your body so she can’t see the name displayed across it in white lettering.

“Uh, it’s actually one of the jobs I applied for. I… uh, I’ll be right back,” you stammer, hating yourself for your nervousness as you hurry back into the hallway and up the stairs, a part of you glad to be out of the room for a little breather. As you round the top of the staircase, you answer the call, ready to issue a barrage of commands into Dayna’s wide-open mind.

“Dayna?”

“Huh,” she replies surprisingly lucidly. “And here I was wondering if you’d forgotten all about me.”

You frown, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Is she not hypnotized? What’s going on?

You swallow.

“Uh, why would I do that? You gave us such nice service last night,” you mutter, inwardly reeling. If Dayna’s not hypnotized, that means she called you of her own free will. Which means, she actually wants to talk to you?

You hear her giggle softly on the other line.

“Really? I’m glad to have made such a good impression,” she replies. “But I was thinking there might have been some other reason you’d remember me.”

Your mind conjures up images of Dayna moving about the restaurant, her big tits jiggle and her large round ass swaying as she moves. You remember her scent and the feeling of her closeness. The teasing glint in the icy-blue eyes as she’d gazed at you.

“Maybe,” you mutter. “Sorry I didn’t call you last night. I was, um…”

“Yeah, I get it, dude,” she butts in when you trail off. “Don’t worry, I pretty much fell asleep as soon as I got home, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t call me. I was so beat at the end of my shift I almost collapsed when I got home.”

“That sounds rough,” you say, leaning against the wall in the hallway.

“Eh, don’t sweat it. I gotta pay the bills for my little ones somehow, you know? Um, speaking of which, I also wanted to thank you again for the tip you gave me last night. A hundred dollars is pretty huge, especially for a party of two. And it says a lot about you that you were willing to be that generous,” she says, and you think you hear a hint of an invitation in her voice.

You smirk. “Hey, I told you last night that the only reason you got a hundred from me is that was the only thing I had in my wallet. You just got lucky, Dayna.”

Her ensuing chuckle is like music to your ears. Her reply is warm and teasing.

“Keep repeating that lie. It won’t make it true. I think we both know the real reason you gave me that much money, and it had nothing to do with what you happened to have in your wallet. I bet your sugar momma would have been happy to tip me twenty percent on the bill if you asked.”

“Yeah, probably.” You don’t even bother denying it.

“Cocky bastard,” she replies. You hear her moving in the background. “Must be nice to have a hot older woman take care of you like that. I bet you make her buy you all kinds of shit.”

You laugh heartily.

“Well, if that lifestyle appeals to you so much, maybe you ought to find a sugar daddy. Or a sugar momma. I don’t judge,” you say.

“You’re such a dick,” she says, giggling. “Too bad for me, most older men aren’t looking for girls who don’t already have kids of their own. But whatever. I never needed my deadbeat ex’s help and I’m not gonna start today.”

“That’s admirable,” you say, meaning it. Again, you’re seized by the idea that you can improve the lives of the women you influence. You don’t just want to have sex with them and throw them away; you genuinely like them and want the best for them. You want them to be happy and fulfilled. You find that Dayna is no exception. The fact that she’s able to juggle raising children with going to law school and working a stressful job on top of that would have made you feel pretty inadequate by comparison if you were just a tad bit more insecure.

“Aw, that’s sweet of you to say. Especially in that amazing voice of yours. God, I could just listen to it all day. Shit,” She moans softly. You hear a rustling on the other end of the call before she clears her throat. “Anyway. Why I called. I’ve been meaning to thank you for being so generous to me last night, and since we’re apparently friends now I was wondering if you’d like to get lunch with me today. My treat.”

Your heart skips a beat. Of all the things you’d expected to hear when you saw her name pop up on your cellphone, this was certainly near the end of that list. But you can’t say you’re not pleased. You’d only influenced Dayna once, but apparently it was enough to prompt her to ask you out to lunch even though she knows you’re dating someone else.

“Um, if you’re worried about your girlfriend getting all weird about it, you can tell her we’re just friends, you know? Eh, forget it. This was a bad idea.”

“No, wait!” you blurt out, not wanting her to end the call or anything.

“Hm?” she hums interestedly.

“I’ll have lunch with you. Sharon’s pretty cool about me hanging out with other women. As long as I don’t, you know, do anything, she’s alright with it,” you say.

Dayna hums again thoughtfully. You wish you knew exactly what she’s thinking.

“I think you said something about that last night. Honestly, that’s really understanding of her. I can’t say I’d be nearly as trusting in her position, especially if I were dating a guy with a voice like yours,” she nearly whispers. Your erection nudges against the material of your pants. “But cool. You know a place called Helen’s Burger Shack?”

You nod, and immediately feel foolish for doing so.

“Yeah. It’s on Harrison Street, right? Real hole in the wall.”

“That’s the one,” Dayna answers. “You okay to meet there at like twelve-thirty, one-o’clock?”

“One sounds perfect,” you say. You’ve still got a few hours to mess around with Mom and Tiffany before then, and a while until you have to be at Marrisa’s for dinner. “See you then.”

“Awesome. See you,” Dayna replies, and then the call goes dead.

You look at your phone for a few seconds. For some reason you’re not disappointed at all that Dayna hadn’t been in her trance. You actually love that she’d found a reason to call you consciously, of her own free will. Well, as free as her will can be after you’d influenced her for five minutes, but still. What a turn of events.

You make your way back downstairs just in time to see Tiffany finishing up her plate of French toast. Your mom’s plate is still half-full. Both women look up at you as you enter the kitchen and lean towards you, showing off their cleavages in a way that seems almost instinctive at this point.

“Hey, sorry about that,” you say, sitting back down in your chair.

Your mom smiles at you. She grasps your free hand and gives it a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. So, how did the call go? You never told me you actually applied for anything.”

“Oh, not bad. They want me to come in for a face-to-face interview later today. Is it okay if I borrow your car?” you ask.

Your mother raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t I just drive you?” She shifts uncomfortably.

You blink. Does she not want you driving her car?

Her eyes dart away from yours for a moment before she looks back at you.

“It’s just, it’s been a while since you got your license. I’d feel a lot better if I was at least in the car with you to supervise,” she says, squeezing your hand again.

You sigh mentally. True, it’s been some months since you’ve gotten your driver’s license, but it’s not like driving a car is actually difficult. You’d done just fine in Sharon’s convertible, her presence notwithstanding.

“Please Mommy, let me borrow your car for the rest of the day. I promise I’ll be careful.”

Your mother’s eyes glaze over for a few moments before she nods, a blissful smile on her face.

“Sure thing, honey. I trust you,” She looks at your sister. “Tiffany, hand your brother the keys so he can take the car out for his interview.”

Tiffany scrunches her face. She’s looking at Mom like she’s grown a second head.

“Wait. You’re letting him borrow the car for the whole day just like that? But you don’t even know where his job interview is!” she says.

Your mother raises her eyebrows challengingly, as if daring your sister to protest again.

“I’m sure he’ll tell us right after you hand him the keys. Now, Tiffany,” she commands, her voice firm.

Tiffany heaves a dramatic sigh and reaches down into her pocket, her large breasts jiggling with her movements as she finds your mother’s car keys and sets them down on the table next to your dish.

“There. Happy?”

“Very much so. Thanks, Tiff.” You don’t even bother suppressing your smirk as you pocket the keys. They jangle slightly as they slide up against Sharon’s house keys. You ought to get yourself a key ring. You have a feeling you’ll be collecting a lot of different sets of keys as you gain influence.

She gives you an irritated glare. Damn, she really doesn’t like the fact that she’s basically stuck here for the rest of the night. Eh, you’ll make it up to her.

“So, where’d you apply, huh?” Tiffany asks. “You gonna be making minimum wage flipping burgers or something?”

“Tiffany,” your mother utters warningly.

“Or something,” you say, allowing yourself to smirk. What kind of brother would you be if you didn’t tease your sister, after all? “And I’ll definitely be making more than minimum wage. That much I can tell you.”

Heh. You’ve got nothing in the way of job prospects right now, but thanks to your influence over Mom and Tiffany, that doesn’t matter right now.

“Yeah, sure. Mom, don’t tell me you’re buying this crap,” she says, turning to face the woman in question.

Mom raises her eyebrows.

“Relax, Tiffany. He’s just borrowing the car for the day. You can use it again tomorrow since I probably won’t end up needing it,” your mother says. She glances over at you expectantly, her huge breasts squishing against the table as she leans forward. Fuck, she’s so unreasonably hot. How the fuck does Dad have problems getting it up for her? “So, John. You want to tell me more about this job you’re applying for?”

You pause for a moment as you think up a suitable excuse.

“Eh, I’ll tell you more about it after I do the interview. I don’t want you to give your hopes up or anything. And please Mommy, you have to realize Tiffany’s just being paranoid. I’m actually going to a job interview with a good company. Honest. The only reason I’m not being more forthcoming is because of what I’ve just said.”

Mom’s lips part slightly as she nods. She turns to glare at Tiffany, genuine anger sparking in her eyes.

“You know, John’s right. You are starting to sound pretty paranoid,” she says. “I get that you’re a little disappointed at having to give your brother the car keys, but that’s tough. Learn to live with it or tell your fiancé to get his car fixed already so you can use yours.”

Tiffany tenses in her seat. Oh shit, you hope she doesn’t have another meltdown. She clenches her fists on the table.

“Yeah, like that's going to happen! He’s just starting out at his new job so we barely have enough money to fix his beat-up little piece of shit, and there’s no guarantee something else won’t break a month or two down the line. It’s just one fucking problem after another!” she yells, her emerald eyes narrowed into slits. She takes a deep breath. “I just really need a break, you know? I need something to just go right for once! But no, I can’t have that!”

“Tiffany-”

“Save it,” she cuts you off. She abruptly gets up from her seat, her tits jiggling wildly with her movement. Actually, how hasn’t she noticed your cum in her pussy yet? She has to be feeling it sliding out of her or something, right? “I’m going up to my room. Don’t bother me, okay?”

She leaves the table and stomps upstairs, her footfalls thudding heavily against the wood. You roll your eyes. God, she’s such a damn drama queen! You mess with her one time and she just can’t fucking take it! Never mind that she teases you all the time and you’re just supposed to deal with it.

You make to get out of your seat and follow her, but your mother gives your hand a firm squeeze, drawing your eyes to her.

“Let her go. She needs time to calm down,” she says, the anger in her eyes all but gone. She looks down at your plate. “Are you finished with your breakfast?”

You glance down at your French toast. You hadn’t eaten any of it since you’d gotten back and it’s probably cold again.

“Yeah, I think so,” you say. You’re not feeling hungry anymore.

Your mother nods easily. Her phone buzzes once.

“I have to get back to work. You mind cleaning up everything?” she asks.

“Sure. No problem,” you reply. You could invoke her trigger and **** her to clean for you, but you don’t want to get her in trouble with her office.

Your mother smiles warmly.

“Thanks, honey.” She gets up from her seat and leans down towards you. Her soft, plush lips meet yours as she kisses you. Your heart races, and you almost instinctively reach up to grab one of her breasts, squeezing it. She mumbles unintelligibly into the kiss as your tongue probes at her lips. She opens them, allowing your tongue inside. She takes a heavy breath through her nose as her deft tongue twirls hungrily against yours.

You make out for a minute or so before your mother reluctantly breaks the kiss. Her azure eyes stare at you longingly, and you have a feeling that if you asked, she’d happily fuck you, work obligations or no.

“I love you, baby,” she whispers, biting her lower lip softly. “Please be careful today, okay? And let me know when you leave.”

You swallow as you stare at her. She’s so utterly beautiful. If you hadn’t just had sex with Tiffany, you doubt you’d be able to restrain yourself.

“Okay, Mom.”

She smiles at you, her eyes half-lidded. They sparkle, like she’s only barely restraining herself from kissing you again. But she takes a step back from you and turns around, walking into the hallway. She gives you one last look over her shoulder before disappearing into the living room.

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