Author: Virtual Scott
Title: Lloyd's Angel
Part: 4 of 18
Summary: Lloyd discovers he has the ability to influence others with his mind;
can he think with his head instead of his cock as he struggles to control
his gift and come to terms with its ethical implications?
Keywords: MF mc

Lloyd's Angel: Baby Steps

January 1962

"Maybe Lloyd guessed somehow," hypothesized Susan. The comment came out of
left field, interrupting Alexandra's stilted description of her wedding
planning progress. The only other news we had to share was that Dr.
Reynolds had talked to Dr. Fredrekksen, with the result that Susan was
officially part of our research team now.

I gazed appreciatively at the brunette. The thought was ridiculous, but
she'd changed her hair over the break. Susan was no Alexandra, but she was
attractive -- especially once she'd come out of her shell -- and I'd
thought more than once letting her hair down would look better -- a good
guess on my part. I was sure Alexandra spent hours each morning perfecting
that professional look before she set foot outside.

"Guessed how they'd answer the survey? Don't be ridiculous, Susan!"
exclaimed the blonde, echoing my thought. "We took people in the order
they came in, randomly. And even if that weren't true, how could he
possibly know what they'd think?" She smiled, which was like a laugh for
Alexandra. "That perm didn't get to your brain, did it?"

Susan huffed. "Well, we didn't think of anything better last year!
Besides, it would be easy enough to test, right?"

"No," Alexandra and I replied in unison. It was scary, sometimes, how
similar we could be; if she would just take the chip off her shoulder and
thaw out a little bit... "I don't have any way to guess what people are
thinking," I objected after Alexandra gave me a wave.

"Oh, poo!" Susan dismissed our concerns. "Where's your sense of adventure?
Would you rather be building up calluses with your slide rules? Just try
it!" She laughed. "I volunteer to be your test subject."

"Oh, no you don't!" cautioned Alexandra, but it looked like she was trying
not to laugh. "We've all been over this data so many times that I bet all
of us could recite answers in our sleep." Standing, she added, "if you
want to do this, *I'm* going to find a subject -- this is my research,
after all."

"Okay," Susan assented, "but I'll do the survey, and you'll watch both me
and Lloyd to make sure we aren't cheating or influencing anything."

Susan and I spent a few minutes clearing the table and pulling out one of
the survey photo decks before Alexandra returned with a student in tow.
"Do any of you know each other?" she asked.

All of us, and the student, shook our heads. He sat at the table across
from Susan, and I took a seat at Alexandra's desk where I could see his
face and the pictures, but not what he was writing. Alexandra hovered like
a parochial school nun, ready to dispense corporal punishment to unruly
students.

"Okay," Susan smiled, and launched into the standard introduction. "This
is just an opinion survey -- there are no right or wrong answers; what we
are interested in is what you, personally, think. I'm going to show you a
series of pictures, in pairs. All you need to do is look at each pair, and
note which image you prefer."

I studied the student, Robert, while Susan ran through the introductory
demographic questions, and tried to get a feel for him. He just looked
like some random undergrad who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time
and couldn't say "no" to a beautiful girl. Susan's suggestion was
ridiculous, but I wasn't going to open myself up for any grief from
Alexandra by giving it less than my best effort.

As Alexandra had alluded, I already had the photo decks memorized, so I
was free to devote all of my attention to Robert, concentrating on his
face, and looking down to note a choice just after he made his. President
Kennedy or Reverend King? Ocean waves or a hillside meadow? A kitten or a
puppy? A blonde or a brunette? A swath of tartan, or one with polka dots?
Alexandra knelt beside me at one point, apparently to make sure I couldn't
see which column he was marking, but remained silent the entire time.

"Darn!" Susan interjected unexpectedly when she reached the end. "Somebody
left the deck out of order; number 1 got rotated to the end by mistake.
What do we do now?"

"Well, we're *not* doing this again," I voted. Maybe my eyes needed
checking, because after 30 minutes of this I had a splitting headache.

"Just make a note on the forms, Susan," Alexandra decided, "and we can
correct the data when we analyze it. Thank you very much for your time,
Robert." After he left, she gave Susan and me a new set of blanks and we
quickly copied the two spoiled sheets, moving each answer down one space
and pulling the last up to the top so they would correspond to our
existing data.

The three of us gathered around the table and stared at the results. I
admit I was thinking mostly about where I could get some aspirin.

"Sugar," a disappointed Susan said, "it's not even worth running the
numbers. I don't think even half of them matched -- are you sure weren't
trying to lose, Lloyd?"

"Unbelievable," Alexandra breathed in a very different tone of voice. She
found a column of data and laid it beside Robert's survey; even at a
cursory glance it was clear they were very similar to each other. "What
are the odds?"

I looked more closely and saw the new data was the aggregate data from
"my" demographic group. The alignment was as inexplicable as my predictive
performance was expected; Alexandra had pulled this guy out of the
hallway, but she might just as well have pulled the data from the folder
on her desk! "I need a drink," I moaned, wishing hard for the day to be
over.

"I agree," Alexandra chimed in unexpectedly, and an excited Susan squealed
assent and grabbed for her coat before either of us could change our minds.

We ended up in a booth at Nino's, nursing beers while we waited for our
burgers and fries. Apparently, having an unofficial chaperone in Susan was
sufficient to get past Alexandra's defenses. I caught one or two envious
glances from guys who saw me with the two girls; if only they'd heard the
conversation!

Alexandra started out worrying over the practical impossibility we'd just
encountered, then loosened up enough to start worrying about whether she'd
be able to keep ahead of the wedding preparations and live up to her
family's and fiancee's expectations for it.

The guy sounded like a pompous prick, frankly, which might make him a good
match for Alexandra Sullivan the Ice Queen but not somebody I'd want to
marry. Luckily, all I needed to do was maintain a noncommittal expression
while Susan made sympathetic noises and Alexandra spilled more personal
information in an hour than she had in weeks.

We didn't resolve anything, but I stumped back to my room feeling better
than I had -- at least I didn't have Alexandra's problems! I told Mrs.
Hudson I'd already had dinner and went up to flip through the professor's
notes for my class the next day before going to sleep.



I tromped through an inch of fresh snow the next morning, determined to
take another look at Robert's survey with a clear head before heading off
to my first class. I remembered that Alexandra had a lecture that hour,
but it appeared that Susan had decided to come in early, too.

"Ha!" she exclaimed when I appeared in the office doorway. "I knew it!"

"Knew what?" I asked, hanging up my coat and hat. The radiator wouldn't
catch up enough for me to remove the sweater until much later in the day.

"I knew you were sandbagging," Susan laughed, "look!" She gestured at the
paperwork spread out on the table.

I sat down heavily. Susan had matched up my *original* response sheet with
Robert's and our aggregate data. "Matched up" was the right term -- my
results were *exactly* on the baseline, and Robert was in the 99th
percentile.

"Why didn't we see this before?" she crowed. "When we consider the
pictures you *thought* you were looking at, you're an exact match! I mean,
*exact*!"

"I never actually took the survey myself, before yesterday," I said
weakly, and looked up again. "How is this even possible?" I couldn't
dispute the facts, even if I couldn't explain them.

"Maybe it's mind control!" giggled Susan, and she made vaguely threatening
gestures with her arms.

"Oh, come on!" My headache felt like it was coming back again. "I really
wish you wouldn't mention that to anybody," I told her, dreading the
thought of Alexandra hearing that hypothesis.

"Let's find out! Let's do the survey again!" Susan was like some kid who'd
had too much sugar to eat.

I shook my head. "That won't work. Alexandra's right; we both know the
survey data too well." I could help laughing faintly as I poked my
response sheet, which proved the point.

"Well, make me do something," Susan suggested.

"Bark like a dog," I offered.

"I'm serious!" she snapped at me.

I sighed and considered her. She really did look much better with her hair
down, although the bulky sweater she was wearing didn't do her figure any
favors. It was a pretty nice figure, when I thought about it. What I did
next I chalked up solely to being a man who'd gone too long without
getting any satisfaction.

"Show me your tits," I commanded, trying on my best vampire-like hypnotic
gaze.

"Lloyd!"

I think we both blushed as I stammered an apology. "I'm really sorry,
Susan; I shouldn't have said that." At least she wasn't running out of the
room or screaming. "I guess I just let my hormones get the better of me."
Just for good luck, I added, "I wanted to try something you wouldn't do
normally, just for a test."

Susan looked only slightly mollified, but she nodded.

I was thankful that Susan didn't say anything about the incident to
Alexandra, but it was curious that she didn't bring up her research
breakthrough either. More curiously, I didn't mention it, although my
original survey was buried in my briefcase now. I told myself I just
wanted to think things over before getting Alexandra all excited, but I
wasn't really sure that was it. There was no way Susan's wild suggestion
could be true, right?

That night, I jerked off before going to sleep, trying my best to keep the
squeaking of the old bedsprings to a minimum. The mental picture of a
tranced Susan slowly unfastening her nightgown had me cumming like a fire
hose.



Wednesday started off bright and early with a status conference with Dr.
Reynolds, which maybe boosted his spirits but nobody else's. After that,
we went our own ways for the rest of the morning. Following lunch, I
finally gathered my courage and pulled out my survey sheet.

"Hey," I told Alexandra, "you should see what Susan found." I figured it
wouldn't hurt to skip over the delay in sharing the information, and I was
giving credit where it was due.

"My gosh, Susan," gasped the blonde, but she wasn't looking at the paper.
"Are you going out somewhere?"

The brunette had just removed her sweater, revealing a very tight top that
showcased all of her curves and was cut low enough that it really should
have been left for summer. I wouldn't have complained in any
circumstances, but just then my mind was racing. Did I have anything to do
with this? That it was just coincidence seemed extremely unlikely, but the
alternative was totally unbelievable.

"No, why?" Susan asked. "But, Alexandra, look!" she continued, bending
over the table to point. Alexandra's eyes followed the finger; mine
followed the breasts that swayed to reveal even more cleavage between
them. If she hadn't been wearing a bra, I don't know what would have
happened.

"I don't believe it!" Alexandra gasped, as quick on the uptake as I had
been. She turned accusing eyes on me. "How did you do this, Lloyd?"

"I don't know," I muttered, thinking I was starting to sound like a broken
record. "Honestly! You were right beside me the entire time." I could see
the wheels turning in her mind.

"You know," Alexandra mused, "if you accept this is happening at all, it's
a lot more likely they're somehow being influenced than it is that all
these people just coincidentally have nearly identical opinions."

"That's just what I think!" burst out Susan, as if hearing the words had
released something inside her.

For my part, I wanted to pound my head against the wall. Even if any of
this was true, the last thing I wanted was to be poked and studied and
commented on like some exotic bug in a jar. "Look," I said heavily, "I
don't know what's going on, either. But can we *please* not go talking to
people about this; at least until we understand what's really happening?"
I put on my best pleading, hangdog expression and strained to convey my
sincerity and desire. "Ow!"

"What's wrong?" Susan asked, while Alexandra eyed me warily.

"A headache," I explained. "Do either of you have any aspirin? I think
this entire line of conversation is hurting my brain." I'd always seemed
to be prone to stress headaches, and this qualified as a stressful
situation in my book. Susan turned and started rummaging in her desk.

Alexandra sighed. "Believe me; it's hurting my brain, too. We'll stay
quiet, for now." Susan nodded her agreement and handed me a few pills,
which I gulped dry. "This is still my research project, and I have no
greater desire to become a laughingstock than do you. The question is,
what do we do now?"

We all stared at each other silently. "Can you put on your sweater,
Susan?" Alexandra asked after watching my eyes slide sideways for the
second or third time.

Susan shrugged, delightfully, and pulled on the cardigan. She didn't say
anything, but I had the impression she knew I was watching and liked it. I
wasn't a dork or anything, but it had been awhile since a girl had flirted
with me. "What now, indeed?"

"Don't look at me!" Alexandra held her head in her hands. "I'm supposed to
be writing a psychology dissertation, not..."

"Science Fiction?" I suggested, wryly.

"Um. Human physiology or neurology might be better, but we're all equally
unqualified for any of them, anyway. This is really stupid, you know --
what are we going to do, test on each other?"

In retrospect, of course, it was amazing we were even having the
conversation. We were all suspicious I was somehow influencing people, and
Alexandra at least had to be wondering why Susan had decided to wear that
top. If I were some coed, the last thing *I'd* do was invite some boy to
experiment on me, no matter how well-behaved he'd been up to that point.

I could only hypothesize that I'd always tried to be a trustworthy person,
and that without knowing I was even doing anything, I'd influenced people
to trust me rather than simply demonstrating I was trustworthy, as I'd
thought. It hurt to think about, but I wasn't thinking about it then. My
cock was thinking about all the things I could do, and my conscience was
thinking about all the things I shouldn't even be thinking about.

"Well, if we're keeping it private, we don't have too many options,"
opined Susan, heedless of my private musings. "If you're the principal
investigator, Alexandra, and obviously Lloyd can't be the subject, then I
guess that leaves me." She turned her attention to me. "We just need to be
methodical and only try things we all agree to."

"Of course," Alexandra agreed, ignorant of the subtext of Susan's warning.
"But first, Lloyd, I'd like to know *everything* that was going through
your head on Monday."

The remainder of the afternoon was rather dull, as the girls peppered me
with questions I couldn't answer about things I'd never even thought about
before. I had to admire the way Alexandra's mind worked; several of her
questions were extremely insightful and bore thinking on, even when I
couldn't answer them satisfactorily.

I did some of that thinking later that evening, between stroke sessions.
Apparently, my track record as an upstanding young man was due to lack of
opportunity rather than moral character. I would tell myself I shouldn't
be doing this, feel guilty for a minute, and then resume working the
angles while my cock got hard again. It got even harder when I remembered
that I'd be alone with Susan the next morning.



Feeling remarkably chipper, and glad my coat concealed my erection as well
as keeping me warm, I took the stairs two at a time the next morning,
speeding past slower or less awake students. The office door was closed,
but I could see the light was on inside, suggesting Susan was there before
me.

"Hi, Lloyd," Susan greeted me. "Does it seem like the radiator is working
better today?" She'd already taken off her sweater and turned around as I
closed the door behind me. The radiator definitely wasn't any warmer than
usual, but Susan was looking pretty hot. Her top was as tight as the
previous day, but she'd obviously gone without a bra and her nipples were
threatening to poke holes in the knit fabric.

I swallowed twice before answering. "I don't think it's that warm, Susan;
you should put your sweater on before you catch cold." Or somebody else
saw her, I thought to myself.

One thing we'd all agreed on was that whatever I did, it didn't have
anything to do with verbalization; I'd never said a single word beyond
"hello" and "goodbye" to Robert. So, while I fumbled with my coat and
Susan reluctantly pulled on her cardigan, I thought furiously about how
great her breasts looked, how much I wanted to see them, and how much my
aching penis needed relief.

"I think I'm having trouble with this button," Susan announced with a
crooked smile. The cardigan was fastened up to the bottom of her bust, but
gaped at the top -- emphasizing rather than obscuring her breasts. "Can
you look at it for me?"

I nodded breathlessly. Fantasizing about it was one thing, but I guess
subconsciously I still didn't believe any of this was real, and I hadn't
thought ahead to what would happen if my suggestions worked. It looked
like I'd have to approach it like any other normal guy, and just make
things up as I went along.

Susan walked over to me, although it wasn't exactly a normal walk, until
her chest was nearly touching mine. "See?"

I certainly did. My hands were trembling slightly as I reached out and
pulled the top of the sweater tight against the swell of her breasts. The
button looked okay, but surprisingly the sweater looked too small to
reach. I could feel Susan's body moving slightly as she breathed. My cock
was pressing hard against my slacks, but we were so close together there
was no way she could see it, even if she hadn't been looking at my hands.

Holding my breath, I made another attempt to tug the cardigan into place.
Not only did I fail again, the change in tension apparently popped the
second button on her top -- when it came loose, the buttons on either side
did too, suddenly revealing a scandalous amount of pale skin.

"Oh!" Susan shrieked. Her hands flew up to cover herself, but bounced off
mine and failed to catch the edges of the top. She ended up pressing her
tits together, revealing dark nipples peeking out between spread fingers.

"Jesus, Susan!" It had all happened so quickly I was still frozen in
position, hands grasping at thin air. I might have had a heart attack,
except I could see the safely closed office door over her shoulder.

She giggled softly. "They're kind of a handful, aren't they?" Susan leaned
forward into me, dropping her hands, until I could feel her nubs pressing
against my chest. "So are you," she sighed, her voice husky, and I jumped
as she suddenly squeezed my rigid organ through my trousers.

I reached for her wrist, but Susan intercepted my hand and routed it to
her tit. It was warm and silky smooth beneath my fingers, and she moaned
entrancingly when I caressed it. I kissed her, both to muffle the moan and
because I could. Unlike my fantasies, we groped each other for only a
minute or two before her firm grip coaxed me into firing a big load in my
underwear.

We grinned at each other. I hadn't made it to home base today, but I was
pretty confident I'd be getting there sooner rather than later, and
enjoying the trip. What Susan was thinking I didn't know, but it was clear
she'd enjoyed the experience, too.

"I think I ruined Yelena's blouse," Susan said, looking at the button
dangling literally by a thread and apparently uncaring of her exposed
state.

She was a sight worth looking at, but I was more worried about my
trousers. "I don't think I've ruined my pants, yet. I'm going to go visit
the restroom and clean up, okay?"

"You can't open the door while I'm like this -- people might see!"
exclaimed Susan, wide-eyed.

I couldn't help laughing. "What about me?"

"It's not funny, Lloyd. I wanted to show off for you, not the whole world."

"I appreciate the thought," I said, suddenly distracted. "But what made
you decide to show me today? You seemed a little angry about it a couple
days ago."

"You didn't ask very nicely. I'm a lady, not some piece of meat you just
order around." Susan shrugged, making her breasts jiggle in interesting
ways. "I thought about it, and it seemed exciting, especially since I knew
you'd be receptive and I could trust you not to handle it badly."

Part of me didn't want to ask the next question, but Susan was a nice
girl, and I was genuinely curious to hear her answer. "Do you think I --
you know -- made you do it?"

She considered it. "I don't think so." Susan pursed her lips. "I know I
thought about it last night, and planned what I was going to do. I didn't
feel compelled, or anything like that." Her face showed a faint blush,
which was interesting. "But really, how would I know for sure?"

Susan continued, more thoughtfully. "I've never done anything like this
before" -- she laughed -- "but a girl can't be prim and proper all the
time. Except maybe Alexandra! If you *did* have something to do with it,
you wouldn't make me do anything bad, would you?"

I tried for a poker face and hoped the heat I felt wasn't showing.
"Alexandra said yesterday we'd only try things we all agreed to," I
answered, and then changed the subject. "I really need to clean up."

"Oh, just a minute." She showed me a devilish grin, and Susan's suddenly
dexterous fingers quickly unfastened the remaining buttons. She removed
her top, giving me a full-frontal view of her body from the waist up, and
pulled on her cardigan. "You can't see anything now, can you?" she asked,
as she fastened the sweater.

"Well, no," I admitted, "but my imagination is running wild."

"That's the idea. Now go run along so we can get back to work."

My briefs were a sticky mess. After some internal debate, I finally ended
up removing them in one of the bathroom stalls. I wasn't really
comfortable going bare beneath my trousers, but I didn't want to risk the
moisture soaking through. I made a mental note to start packing a spare
pair, too.

I made my way back to the office, only to discover Susan was talking with
a student. I belatedly remembered she had office hours, and suffered a
panic attack thinking of what could have happened if the guy had showed up
earlier. I quickly changed my plans, and wandered down the hallway to dump
my paper towel-wrapped underwear discreetly in a trash can before
returning. There had to be a better way of handling this.

It took Susan a few more minutes to sooth her student's angst regarding
expected workload for the semester while I doodled on a notepad and
thought. Afterwards, we had time to agree that we couldn't afford to get
caught messing around in the office, but nothing else of interest occurred
before Alexandra arrived.



Coming off her early recitation section, she looked more frazzled than
usual as she dumped a stack of homework assignments on her desk and
collapsed in her chair. "I think this wedding is going to kill me," she
moaned, pushing a stray blonde tendril back behind her ear.

"What's wrong?" asked Susan, who was always ready to hear details.

"What isn't?" Alexandra asked the ceiling. "There's some problem with the
invitations, the hall wants a bigger deposit than we can really afford,
and the outfits for the groomsmen are still up in the air." She sighed and
looked down again. "At least Jonathan is coming up this weekend and we'll
hopefully get everything squared away."

I knew Jonathan -- never just "Jon," Heaven forbid -- was her fiance.
"That's nice, but wouldn't it be easier for you to go home instead?" I
asked, trying to sound helpful.

Both women turned disdainful looks upon me. "With Connie and Danny both
here too?" Susan asked, demonstrating she was on top of things.

"Oh, yeah," I said, feeling like an idiot. Connie, Alexandra's best friend
and her maid of honor, was also enrolled in the graduate program. Her
younger brother, Danny, was in his senior year and one of the groomsmen.
Obviously I hadn't been paying enough attention to their earlier
conversations; that would have to change. "Sorry for putting my foot in
it."

Alexandra waved off the apology. "Don't worry. I hear stupider questions
in class, from people that are paying to ask them." She shook her head and
leaned back. "So -- let's talk about our other interesting problem, shall
we?"

"I've been thinking about that," I replied. I was thinking about it then,
in fact; I was concentrating hard about trusting me. It was difficult,
trying to do that and talk at the same time, but I hoped the women would
just think I was choosing my words carefully.

I continued, "I see several issues with the experimental protocol. First,
Susan and I were discussing this and there's a fundamental problem with
measuring impact, if any, on a knowing subject. It'll be hard enough to
figure out if there's any influence in the first place, right?" The girls
nodded, but Alexandra was frowning. "If we tell Susan what we're going to
try, how do any of us really know if she's responding to what we told her
instead of, um, other influences?"

Alexandra spoke up immediately. "Granted. But, Lloyd, testing on
unsuspecting subjects is completely unethical -- that's why we're not
going to try anything all of us -- *especially* Susan -- haven't agreed
to!"

"I know," I said, holding up my hands, "I know. I didn't mean going behind
her back. I just think that telling her exactly what I'm supposed to be
trying to do will be counterproductive."

"I have a suggestion," Susan chimed in. "We can all agree on some general
areas that are okay to explore, but I'll give Alexandra my proxy to
approve specific tests. That way I won't know what exactly is supposed to
happen."

"That could work," nodded Alexandra.

"I suppose I should start keeping a journal," Susan mused. "That might
make it easier to see if anything is happening, too." I mumbled something
approving.

"Excellent!" Alexandra smiled, and loosened up enough to attempt a small
joke. "Where shall we start first? I swear, Susan, if you had worn that
top again, I would have asked Lloyd to make you take it off -- Yelena can
wear what she likes, but I think it made you look cheap." All of us
smiled, and Alexandra, ignorant of the real joke, looked pleased at her
success.

We spent the rest of the morning debating strategy and blocking out the
high level steps we'd pursue next. All of us exerted a significant amount
of intellectual effort and I found the session surprisingly engaging. We
were reluctant to break up at lunchtime, but agreed Alexandra and I would
meet privately the next day to plan our first experiment. It was
disconcerting to feel the unexpected freedom of my penis when I stood up
and recalled how the morning had started.

I was far from satisfied, but decided it made a lot of sense to stick
largely to the plan we'd devised together until I knew more. A misstep
would be embarrassing at best, and possibly far worse. Besides, I was in
it for the long haul, not just a short-term fling.

It was about that point I realized, somewhat to my surprise, that I wanted
Alexandra and intended to get her -- even if I had to cheat. Sure, she was
drop-dead gorgeous, but looks weren't everything and she had that ice
queen personality going on. Somewhere in the last month she'd kind of
snuck up on me and I realized there was a first-class mind beneath those
blonde locks, and an engaging personality if you got past her defenses.

Normally, the fact she was engaged to a guy who, judging by her ring, was
a heck of a lot richer than I'd ever be would be considered an
insurmountable obstacle. I told myself that women had changed their minds
before, even without the sort of help I intended to provide. The trick
would be to not screw up a good thing with a stupid mistake.

If there was anything to our guesses and it came to light, I could see
myself locked up in some government lab for the rest of my life. If
Alexandra realized anything like what I planned was happening, she'd leave
and I'd be out of luck. Bumbling might leave me with a compliant body,
bereft of the mind I admired. I could see already this wouldn't just be
science; it would be art, too. My cock lengthened in anticipation.



Dr. Reynolds was all smiles Friday morning after Alexandra told him, in
suitably vague terms, that she was following some promising leads. I said
little but tried different approaches to convey disinterest in Alexandra's
project; I didn't want any more oversight if I could help it.

After our meeting was over, the two of us bundled up and trudged around
the quad to the new annex, and then downstairs to the basement. "You live
in a cave," Alexandra commented when I showed her into my office and
turned on the light.

"Yes, but it's a warm cave," I rejoined, hanging my coat and jacket on the
rack appropriated from an office upstairs. The ceiling was a little low
and there were no windows, but it was a little larger than her office and
I didn't have to share it with anybody. "I like it." Brushing off my
manners, I helped Alexandra remove her coat and hung it up, too. As usual,
she was tastefully, if conservatively, dressed.

"Well, it might be more comfortable to work here during the winter,"
admitted Alexandra, "but you conducted all the surveys in the Evans
Building, right? I don't want to introduce any more variables, at least at
first."

I nodded agreement. Alexandra's original study was focused on basically
emotional response -- "do you like this more or less than that?" -- and we
strongly suspected I'd been able to affect those responses. What we didn't
know, and wanted to find out, was whether that was the limit of my alleged
capabilities or not.

Consequently, we'd decided to try a sequence of trials to test my
capability for emotional influence, intellectual influence, and physical
influence. Susan wouldn't know the specific tests, which Alexandra and I
were about to discuss, or even the order in which I'd try them. When we
met this afternoon, I'd try each for 10 minutes or until it was clear
something had happened.

"Well, easy stuff first," I said. "Write a word on a piece of paper, show
it to me, and put it in your purse. I'll try to communicate it to Susan."

Alexandra grinned. "Easy?"

"Well, easy to think about and confirm," I countered.

She produced a small address book, thought a moment, wrote something, and
tore out the page to hand to me.

"Cyan?" I asked, returning it to her.

"It's short and abstract," said Alexandra, as she folded the paper and
slipped it back into the address book. "You can't cheat by sending a
mental image of an object, and if you manage to project the color, Susan's
as likely to say 'teal' or 'turquoise' -- which would tell us something,
too."

I was impressed again, and said so. "Do you have any equally clever
suggestions for the other tests?"

"Of course," she replied. I had enough familiarity now to recognize her
extremely dry and understated sense of humor, rather than confusing it for
self-superiority. "I thought we'd go out to Nino's again tonight --
Jonathan wants to meet my school friends."

I'm sure I looked blank as I processed the non-sequitur, my apparent
promotion to "friend," and Alexandra's unconscious assumption that of
course we'd be free on a Friday night. Not that she wasn't right, at least
in my case, but it was a little annoying.

"You remember the fry conversation from last time?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," I answered, smiling now. Susan had been mock-horrified when
Alexandra and I had "tainted" our fries by putting ketchup on them. She'd
steadfastly refused to put anything on hers, insisting that ketchup was
solely for burgers and meatloaf.

"Well, try to convince her she likes ketchup on French fries, and we'll
see what happens."

I matched her wicked grin. "And Susan agreed to this?"

"In principle. It's harmless -- she likes fries, and she likes ketchup;
just not together. Besides, she won't be expecting it then, and it will be
interesting to see both if she puts any ketchup on them in the first
place, and what she does if she eats one."

There was no question Alexandra had a twisty mind, and I reminded myself
to tread extremely carefully before trying anything with her. "Won't Susan
be expecting something this afternoon?"

"I brought in some new lipsticks. I'll ask her which one she likes best.
It doesn't matter which one she picks; just look disappointed and tell her
it didn't work. We can tell her about the real test after dinner."

"I can do that," I agreed. "You're going to try them on, right?"

"Well, of course. How else would anybody know what the color really looks
like?"

"Excuse me, I'm a guy." I smiled. "How about if you have Susan try them on
too, and I'll see if I can make her hand jerk while she's applying one?
That should be easy to spot, and easy to clean up, too."

"Great thought, Lloyd!" Alexandra flashed a brief smile that would have
warmed me even if we'd been in her office rather than mine. "Now we just
have to choose an order."

"No problem," I assured her, and fished a penny out of my pocket. "Heads,
we do the lipstick first; tails, we try the word first." I flipped it and
it came up tails. "Anything else?"

"Just that it will be really important for you to note anything you can
think of about what you try or any sensations you have."

I nodded again. "Certainly. I think I'll start keeping a journal, too."

"We'll see you about 4:00, then." Alexandra rose and pulled on her coat
before I could get there to help, and exited without any further
conversation.



I know I did useful things that day, and even attended a lecture, but
nothing stuck in my mind. All I could think of was my afternoon
appointment.

Exactly on time, I strolled into their office and hung up my coat. Both of
the girls looked a little nervous, but I couldn't blame them because I
felt the same way, too. "Hey, calm down, ladies. I think I'm the one on
trial here."

"Right," Alexandra said, and settled herself in her chair.

Susan followed suit. She was looking good in another cardigan, more
form-fitting than others I remembered but not tight. What, if anything,
might be beneath it I couldn't tell.

"If you're ready, Lloyd?"

I pulled a composition book and pen out of my briefcase, and leaned back
in my chair. I was tenser than I'd expected, and took a deep breath to try
and calm myself. "Go ahead."

Alexandra briefly consulted the notes in front of her. I saw the folded
page torn from her address book sitting on the tabletop, but she didn't
refer to it or glance at it. "Okay, Susan, we're going to start now."

That was the last thing any of us said for ten minutes. We all looked at
each other, occasionally scribbling a brief note, while I thought "CYAN"
as hard as I could and stared at Susan.

"Time," Alexandra spoke softly into the silence. I had a bit of a headache
from concentrating so hard, but nothing seemed to have happened. Susan
opened her mouth, but Alexandra cut her off, saying, "Afterwards."

I rocked back and forth in my chair a few times, and cracked my knuckles,
then nodded.

"This should be a little more entertaining," Alexandra smiled. "I have a
few new shades of lipstick, and I thought we might try them on." She
leaned back to her desk and grabbed first a box of tissues, and then
several tubes. A compact mirror came out of a drawer.

Susan started by looking at the color chips on the ends of the tubes and
writing a few notes. She and Alexandra then began alternating, each girl
wiping off her current color and applying a new one while the other
watched.

I focused on Susan, dutifully concentrating on how great fries with
ketchup tasted while Alexandra was applying lipstick, and trying to make
Susan's hand bounce when she was doing her own lips. I generally ignored
the lipstick, until they came to a deep vivid red. It was the sort of
thing a girl might wear to a party, vibrant and eye-catching, and too
flashy for regular clothes. It made me think of sex.

Without really thinking about the merits or my earlier caution, I
concentrated on that color, and how beautiful and attractive and sexy lips
that shade were. I still had no idea what I was doing, but I focused hard
on each girl as she examined herself in the mirror.

Whether by chance or planning -- I would have bet on the latter -- the
last color was pretty close to the muted rose that Alexandra normally
wore. As had been the case with each application before it, Susan's hand
never wavered.

Alexandra called time and everybody scribbled a few more notes in their
logs. My headache had diminished slightly; I didn't know if it was because
I had been alternating between two different things, or due to the first
attempt being harder than the others. I duly recorded those thoughts
without mentioning my unplanned detour.

"Well?" Alexandra asked, providing only the bare minimum prompting.

"Midnight Siren, obviously," answered Susan with a wide smile.

I worked at maintaining a neutral expression. I was surprised, not so much
that she'd identified the red that I liked, but at her level of confidence.

Alexandra looked a little startled, too. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, come on," Susan laughed. "I had Autumn Rose down on my initial list;
Midnight Siren was maybe number three. Now I just love it!" Both girls
looked at me.

Clearly Susan was no idiot, either. "I was concentrating on that
browny-looking one," I protested, trying to look disappointed. "That red
did look nice, though -- speaking off the clock, if you will."

Susan suddenly looked uncertain. "Drat! I was so sure." She sighed and
continued, "I guess that's why we don't just go by the colors on the
tubes."

Alexandra was studying the lipsticks again. "Yes, it did look better than
I expected. Although you couldn't wear it with just anything..." She
visibly shook herself and refocused her attention on Susan. "Anything
else?" I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"What? That's it?" Susan asked.

"We doubled up," I broke in. "I was trying to make you smear yourself, but
your hand was steady as a rock the whole time. I didn't have the slightest
sense anything was happening."

Susan stuck out her tongue at me. "What about the third test? Or the
first, I guess?"

"Does this mean anything to you?" Alexandra asked, holding up the folded
slip of paper.

"Noooo," Susan answered hesitantly. She paused a moment longer and shook
her head. "No, I don't think so." Alexandra handed over the paper; Susan
unfolded and read it. "Cyan? Honestly, it's still drawing a blank."

"I was trying to communicate that word to you," I explained. "It gave me
more of a headache than anything else did, for whatever that's worth."

Alexandra jotted down a few more thoughts in her log before closing it.
"Well; zero for three on our first try. Just remember, Rome wasn't built
in a day -- we'll try again next week. In the meantime, if you'd care to
accompany me to Nino's?"

All of us were happy to abandon the gloom of the office for the warmer and
more convivial atmosphere of the pub. Once inside, Alexandra made straight
for one of the large round tables, which was occupied by a mismatched
couple. They rose as we approached.

Introductions were made all around, and I found myself sitting between
Susan on one side and Alexandra's friend, Connie, on the other. Beyond
Susan, Alexandra's brother, Danny, was holding forth on his final
undergrad semester. We had an empty chair, presumably for Jonathan,
between Connie and Alexandra.

"What's he majoring in?" I leaned over to ask Connie. Danny was clearly
the youngest of us, and also the most voluble. He was talking to Susan too
quickly for me to follow.

"Women," she said with a laugh, and corrected herself. "I think the
diploma will say 'Business' but it's a minor miracle if he graduates in
four years without getting expelled first." Connie winked at me. "If you
were a girl, I'd tell you to watch yourself around him, but you aren't his
type." She waited a beat, and continued, "no offense, but I wouldn't have
thought you were Alexandra's type, either."

"None taken," I assured her. "Dr. Reynolds assigned me and Susan to help
Alexandra with her research." I started projecting a reassuring sense of
trustworthiness and likeability.

"Oh, no!" she laughed. "You're *that* ham-handed idiot?" Connie put a hand
on my arm before I could take offense. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said
that. Really, Alexandra has had nothing but good things to say about you,
Lloyd. The 'ham-handed' comment was from last year when she was feeling
frustrated; I'm sure she didn't mean it then, and she surely doesn't mean
it now."

We talked easily for a few minutes more until Jonathan arrived. I might
have been tempted to ask for her phone number if I hadn't already had my
sights set on Alexandra. If Danny stood out from the rest of us because of
his relative youth, Jonathan did too. He looked like an up-and-coming
executive, and we looked like rumpled academics. Danny and I did, anyway;
the girls probably would have looked attractive, no matter what.

Jonathan greeted his fiancee with a kiss, and she introduced him around. I
smiled through a bone-crushing handshake and did my usual best to appear
trustworthy and nonthreatening.

After ordering, Jonathan produced a proof of the wedding invitations and
showed it to Alexandra. Naturally, everybody else wanted to see it too,
and it ended up getting passed around the table. It looked fine to me,
properly elegant, but apparently I lacked the discernment to note that the
wrong typeface had been used and that the vertical spacing wasn't
perfectly balanced.

I guessed Alexandra was upset, less by the expression on her face than by
Connie's. All of us praised the invitation, and Alexandra finally said it
would be good enough, if nobody else could tell the difference.

Just the same, when Jonathan announced, "I thought you'd say that, so I
told them to go ahead, and print and mail them," I caught a glimpse of
white knuckles before she put her hands in her lap. I thought hard about
how irritating Jonathan was.

Alexandra might have said something, but the waitress chose that time to
return with our food -- Nino's wasn't fancy, but service wasn't slow,
either. I met Alexandra's gaze, and we both covertly watched Susan as the
waitress deposited a plate in front of her.

Once we'd all been served, Alexandra was quick to snatch the ketchup
bottle in the center of the table and pour some on her fries and another
dollop on her burger. She passed the bottle to Danny, who followed suit
and then handed it on to Susan. I watched carefully, trying to hide my
excitement, as she hesitated after putting some on her cheeseburger, but
after a moment she passed it on to me without doing anything more.

The remainder of the meal passed with casual conversation. Alexandra
groused about her thesis in general terms, without impressing Jonathan
much as far as I could see. The wedding seemed a more popular topic, as
everybody except Susan and I were more involved in it and Jonathan could
intimate how great a catch he was. His attitude annoyed me, so I
retaliated, to unknown effect, with a general broadcast of my negative
impressions.

Our plates were nearly cleared when Susan surprised me by stabbing her
last fry into the puddle of ketchup on my plate. She stuck it in her
mouth, then made a face, but ate it anyway. It wasn't out of line with
some of the other joking and clowning around that had been going on, so
only Alexandra and I froze momentarily.

A few minutes later, the ladies made one of those group pilgrimages to the
restroom. "Can't we do the penguin suit thing tomorrow?" Danny asked
Jonathan as soon as the others were out of hearing distance. "This is
prime time for window shopping!" The hourglass he sketched in the air made
it clear what he meant.

Jonathan looked intrigued but sighed. "No such luck, kid. The shop already
arranged to stay open late just for us, and officially I'm off the
market." He could have just been playing to Danny, who'd been eying all of
the women in the room all evening, but it didn't exactly feel that way to
me; he'd put an unusual stress on "officially." "How about you, Lloyd? Are
you off the market?"

A little surprised, I replied, "I guess I'd say not so much off the
market, as not really in it to begin with. I'm here to get my doctorate,
not have a good time."

"What a waste!" exclaimed Danny. "I bet Susan would show you a good time,
if you know what I mean," he added speculatively.

I stifled a cringe, uncertain if he was just making an inflammatory barb,
or had sensed something from her, or just made a lucky guess. Luckily for
me, the girls made a prompt return and saved me from having to continue
the conversation.

Unless I was hallucinating, they'd redone their lipstick and the ruby red
of Midnight Siren now graced two pairs of lips. It was a bit over the top,
but I still thought it looked very becoming, especially in the softer
light of the pub. Susan was giving me a calculating look that was,
frankly, unnerving.

"We should be going," Alexandra said. The comment was punctuated by the
snap of Jonathan's fingers as he got the waitress' attention and gestured
for the bill. "Lloyd, you can see Susan home, can't you?"

"Certainly, I'd be delighted," I assured her. Even if there'd been no
ulterior motive, as the two odd people out, I would have offered if she
hadn't asked first. Perhaps I was no social butterfly, but my parents
hadn't raised a complete idiot.

Jonathan dispensed with the bill almost negligently, hugely overtipping
the waitress. It wasn't that she didn't deserve a tip, but I sensed the
point was more to make sure we all knew it didn't bother him to spend
money like water than because of any real sense of largess.