Author: Virtual Scott
Title: Lloyd's Angel
Part: 5 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: Girl Troubles

November 2010

Our day at the store was blissfully uneventful. Perhaps the would-be
shoplifters had watched the evening news and decided they didn't want to
mess with security that could take out armed robbers bare-handed.

Angela endured a fair amount of good-natured teasing, and some wags
constructed a "bulletproof vest" from inventory in the lingerie
department; she looked at it round-eyed and claimed it wouldn't fit
beneath her uniform. Both of us told anyone who'd listen that if we'd
known the perp had a gun, we would have held the doors open for him.

We had to take a break during the morning to pose for a picture that was
promised for a write-up in the next company newsletter. The writer was
dutifully impressed by Angela's history and efforts to improve herself,
and by my, um, longevity. There was no media presence to worry about, as
the company detailed a flack to intercept all inquiries and make sure no
prospective customers were scared off by thoughts of gun-wielding bandits.

It was sobering to look at the young woman standing next to me and worry,
not for the first time, what would happen to her if something happened to
me. We were both single now, but I'd enjoyed 42 years of marriage -- and
effectively foreclosed that option for her. Any man who tried to enter
into a relationship with Angela would be in for a real surprise; although
between both jobs that possibility was remote.

A laughing Angela punched me in the shoulder. "Why so glum? Cheer up,
Lloyd! Did you buy a lottery ticket while we're still lucky?"



I was still feeling a touch morose when I clocked out at the end of the
afternoon. My mood darkened when a young woman approached me just after I
left the store. She was a looker, but I was already looking forward to
Angel and didn't need another disruption to my schedule. I hoped she
wasn't press; I'd already forgotten everything the company handler had
told us about responding to queries.

"Are you Lloyd?" she asked, unexpectedly hesitant for whatever reason.

I was tempted to blow her off, but my parents had raised me not to lie.
"Maybe," was the best I could do.

"Lloyd? Can I talk to you about Angela?"

Drat. "No comment," I mumbled, trying to look as forbidding as possible.

"What?" She looked confused.

"I said, 'no comment.' You have to talk to media relations if you want a
story."

The girl shook her head. "No, that wasn't what I meant. You're Angela's
friend Lloyd, right? I think she's in trouble -- can you help?"

"You have my attention," I said, stopping abruptly.

She took a step or two more alone, before realizing I wasn't there and
doubling back. "Look, can we talk somewhere? Maybe get dinner?"

We ended up at Applebee's. Or Chili's. Or something; I don't know, they
were all the same to me. I ordered coffee and a burger; she, iced tea and
some high-concept salad.

"Talk," I suggested as soon as the waitress had left. "Start with your
name."

"Oh!" A comical look of dismay flitted across her face. "I'm sorry; I'm
Rose. I'm Angela's friend from high school, and now I live in the same
building she does. I've heard so much about you, I forgot you might not
know me."

It sounded worse and worse the more I heard. I'd done a bit of a check a
few years back when Angel was born, so to speak, but I'd neglected to
consider Angela might reconnect with older acquaintances.

"I'm pleased to meet another friend of Angela's," I assured her. "I
apologize for the rocky reception; I'm just a crotchety old man. Now --
what's happening with Angela?"

"I think she's joined a cult," Rose whispered, looking around us as if she
suspected cultists might be lurking nearby.

That wasn't what I'd expected to hear, but the good news was it sounded
more like my problem rather than Angela's problem. "Really?" I asked,
aiming for a tone of curiosity rather than disbelief.

"You know she's going to school in the evenings?" I nodded. "Well, I think
she's lying about it. Look, her birthday was last month, right?"

"Yes; the fifteenth, wasn't it?" I asked. That was disingenuous; I knew it
was. I had vivid memories of the wild party at Home Run where Angel had
fucked 27 different guys -- one for each year. She'd been a tousled,
creamy mess when all of them, including two who'd earned their Home Run
pins that night, finished with her. I'd been first, of course. I could
feel myself stiffening slightly just thinking about it. Shaking off the
distraction, I returned my focus to the girl sitting across from me. "Did
something happen?"

"Yes! I mean, no!" Rose's eyes sparked as my failure to dismiss her fears
out of hand apparently buoyed her confidence. "Wait." She took a breath.
"Okay, I was going to surprise her and take her out for a little party,
just the two of us, so I dropped by the University that evening. She
wasn't there at all!"

I already knew where she was going, but I couldn't tell how much Rose knew
and I needed time to think. I needed to do some damage control, at the
very least. "Did she just skip class that night?" I asked, playing dumb,
and started pushing. *I want to help my friends* alternated with *I want
to be discreet* and *I trust Lloyd*.

"I don't think so," Rose reflected, unaware of the thoughts racing through
my head. "I asked several of her classmates, and not *one* of them knew
her -- or recognized her when I described her. I mean, how likely is
that?" I had to smile at her indignant outrage. "I don't think she *ever*
attended that class."

"Could you just have gotten the wrong room?" I wondered. *I hate nosy
people.*

She nodded. "I thought about that, too." A trifle sheepishly, Rose
admitted, "I started paying a lot closer attention to what she did. You
remember that big flap with the electrical main at the end of the month?"

"The one where the worker accidentally blew the building transformer and
blacked out the campus?" Something that colorful had made all the papers
and news programs, of course; they'd had to cancel classes Friday and work
all weekend to get the electricity working again.

"Exactly! Well, when I asked that weekend, she said she'd attended class
as usual; she even made up details about the lecture. There was *no way*
she could have been there. I know Angela *lied* to me about it!"

I stopped pushing and tried to work it out in my head. "I thought Angela
didn't have any classes on Friday," I said slowly.

"She doesn't," Rose agreed. "That's not my point. The power went out
Thursday night. Right after dinner. *Before* her class. There was no way
they could have held it, in the dark with no light or heat!"

Damn, what a sloppy mistake. I'd skimmed the news coverage and gotten the
impression -- obviously incorrect -- it had happened later in the evening.
The problem was, Angela didn't believe she was lying, because the memory
would be as clear as that of every other class she'd "attended" during the
past two years, and Rose would never believe her friend hadn't lied. "That
seems pretty suspicious," I belatedly commented after realizing Rose was
waiting for my reaction.

"I thought so, too. So I've been trying to follow her."

My blood froze, and then rethawed. If Rose had succeeded, she'd hardly be
sitting here talking to me now, would she? *I trust Lloyd*. *I'd do
anything to help Angela*.

"I didn't have much luck," Rose continued, unwittingly mirroring my
thought. "There's almost always this unmarked sedan that picks her up
around the corner, and the few times I tried tailing it, I always lost it.
All I know is that she goes somewhere in the direction of downtown."

I made a mental note to ask the driver if he'd ever noticed anything --
and if he had, why nobody had mentioned it to me.

Rose's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I even thought she might be
moonlighting as a call girl," she admitted with uncanny accuracy. She
blushed faintly and added, "I sneaked a peek in her room once and she
doesn't seem to have any, you know, outfits." I nodded, knowing Angel kept
her wardrobe entirely at Home Run.

Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Rose concluded, "She's too
straight-laced for that, anyway; that much hasn't changed. But there's
something not right about Angela, and I can't figure out what it is.
Please help me."

There was an unhappy silence while the waitress returned with our food,
and I pushed another round of *I trust Lloyd* and *I'd do anything to help
Angela* at Rose for good measure.

"I want to help you, Rose," I assured her when we were alone again. "I
want to help Angela. But I need to think about this. Can I sleep on it,
and contact you in a day or so? I promise not to leave you hanging."

"Certainly," she gushed, obviously relieved to have somebody she trusted
helping her. "Let me give you my number!" Rose extracted a business card
from her purse, scribbled a number on the back of it, and pushed it across
the table to me. "That's my private cell on the back, or you can call me
at the office number if you need to."

I tucked the card into a jacket pocket and we both addressed our meals in
a more cheerful mood. Rose and I traded a few light-hearted Angela
stories, and she was better company than I'd expected; it was easy to see
why the two were friends. I was surprised to find myself tempted to fiddle
more than I already had, but really, I knew next to nothing about this
girl and I'd just had a refresher course on the perils of poor execution.

We parted later than I planned, and I headed home as fast as I could. I
didn't need dinner, but I'd have to pass on the music and study this
evening to have a hope of staying on schedule. Luckily, it sounded like
Angela unwittingly was a lecture ahead of where she should have been
anyway; I made a mental note to have Danny's contact at the University
procure an updated lesson plan, if there was one.



As if to make up for the day, Home Run was a progressive disaster that
night. I was late despite my best efforts, and Danny himself was cooling
his heels inside the back entrance -- never a good sign.

"Jesus, Lloyd, why don't you answer your fucking phone?" he burst out the
moment I made it inside the door.

"I'm too old to be a slave to a chunk of electronics," I told him.
"Where's Angel?"

"Put that thought on hold, buddy. I need you to fix a problem first. We've
got a situation in the gold suite that needs to be addressed ASAP."

I felt frustrated and wanted my Angel. I'm sure Danny, who knew me pretty
well, sensed it.

"Lloyd!" He braced my shoulders, forcing me to look him in the face.
"Don't worry about Angel; she's fine. Look, I switched her and Crystal,
and she's in the lesbo lounge. You can't break in on paying customers,
okay? You'll still be first in line when she gets out."

"Angel was okay with that?" I knew better than most she didn't really go
that way.

"Yeah, that girl's a trooper. I told her it was a favor for me -- and you.
Now can you just get upstairs and talk to Shannon before the wheels come
off? Good man!" He clapped me on the back and pushed me in the direction
of the stairs. "And come see me later when you get a chance!"

I stumped up the stairs muttering under my breath, but after the landing
managed to force my mind back to business. If I recalled the schedule
correctly, Shannon was supposed to be working a grand slam package for
some guy's bachelor party. She'd done scores of them; Shannon looked
younger than her age and had perfected an aura of corruptible innocence
that drove the cradle-robbers wild. I couldn't imagine what the holdup
would be on this one.

Sure enough, Shannon was pacing nervously in the hall when I got there,
looking scrumptious in her Catholic schoolgirl uniform. In my day, anyway,
the parochial dress code never included shoes like that, but hey -- I was
in Loss Prevention, not Wardrobe. She looked desperately glad to see me.

"What's wrong?" I asked her, taking a quick glance through the peephole. I
saw four restless, and doubtless horny, young men laughing together.
Nothing out of the ordinary there.

"I know those guys," Shannon said. "Rob -- the cute one in the armchair --
he's going to be my husband."

Oh, thanks, Danny. I would have rolled my eyes but Shannon's nerves didn't
need it. "You're entertaining at your own fiance's bachelor party?" I
repeated, just to make sure I had it straight. She nodded. "Does he know
you work here?"

In a small voice, Shannon said, "no."

"How about the others?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe Derrik; he's Rob's Best Man."

"Which one is he?" It would be interesting to see who had booked the
engagement, and if Shannon had been requested specifically or not. Either
way, it wasn't something she needed to be dealing with now.

"Derrik's really tall and thin."

"Okay, good. Now take a deep breath and calm down, Shannon," I told her,
"everything is going to be just fine. I won't let anything happen to you."

She smiled hopefully at me.

"Now, don't think about them for minute; just think about yourself. How do
you feel about doing this?"

"Good, I guess," Shannon decided. "I like fucking boys, and Rob makes me
hot." More possessively, she added, "I'm kind of glad I get to do this for
him and not some other girl."

That's fine. She was telling the truth. "Now, how do you think Rob will
feel about this?"

Her face clouded over. "I don't know. We fuck a lot, and neither of us
were virgins when we met, but he talks a lot about committing to each
other and I'm worried he'll think I'm a slut or be upset I didn't tell him
sooner."

I added "and when *were* you going to tell him?" to my mental list of
questions that wouldn't get asked although I'd love to know the answers.
"Don't worry, I think everything will work out great," I assured her. "He
wouldn't be here if he wasn't up for this sort of thing, right?"

Shannon perked back up, overlooking the possibility that this was another
"ambush" event -- some people took bachelor parties as a general license
to torment the groom and push his limits one last time.

"Okay, Shannon, here's what we're going to do. You've got your act worked
out, right?" I got a quick nod. "I want you to go in and do your thing,
just like you planned. Now, Rob might seem to get upset, but remember,
he's got to look tough for his friends, right?" I cobbled together the
best approximation to *I love it when Rob shares me with his friends* I
could manage, and pushed it into her head.

Shannon nodded again, but there was an uncertain look on her face. "Are
you sure?"

"Almost positive! Look, just stay by the door when you first go in. He
might shout and say things that sound hurtful, but one way or another
he'll come over to you. You've been around enough men, Shannon, to know if
they're turned on or faking it. Check him out; if you drive him wild like
I think, have a good time! If you still have doubts, just step back out
the door and I'll be right here. Can you do that?"

"I know I can," she asserted.

I hoped I could hold up my end of the bargain; if Rob moved quickly, I
would have very little time between when he entered my effective range and
when he reached Shannon. I prepared my mind, glued an eye to the peephole,
and whispered, "You go, girl!"

There was a brief rustle beside me and Shannon was inside the room. "Is
this the detention study hall?" she chirped in a bright voice.

Events started to play out as I'd suspected they would. "Shannon?!" Rob
jerked erect in his chair, absently spilling his drink on the floor. Two
of his friends were equally stunned, but the tall one, Derrik, brayed a
nasal laugh and I didn't like the look of his body language.

"What are you doing here?" stammered Rob; I put him at about 50%
embarrassment and 50% anger.

Derrik was quick with the unnecessary answer. "Dude! Your girl is here to
fuck all of us for money. She's a fucking hooker, man!"

Shannon gamely soldiered on. "This is so unfair! They gave me detention
because I didn't wear their stupid white bra. I mean, you can't even
really see it, can you?"

My angle was all wrong, but I knew she was arching her back to push out
her chest, and that anybody with eyes would have no problem seeing the
frilly black lace -- and her berry-tipped tits -- through the extremely
thin white blouse.

Rob stood up. "What the fuck, Shannon! What kind of slut are you?"

"I'm not a slut; I'm just misunderstood," she simpered. "Sluts don't wear
underwear; I do. See?" At this point she'd be raising the front of her
tartan skirt, displaying plain white panties just as thin as her blouse,
and probably pulled tight enough to form a camel toe against her mound.

Here he came; my eyes lost focus as I concentrated on the other side of
the door and found the rushing haze of his mind. I pushed frantically,
alternating *lust for Shannon* and *sharing Shannon makes me feel
powerful* as quickly as I could.

Bodies crashed against the other side of the door and Shannon shrieked; I
was afraid I hadn't been fast enough.

"I still think you're a slut," Rob said, but more quietly and in an
entirely different tone of voice.

"It feels like you'd like to find out," Shannon replied, and I breathed
out a silent sigh of relief. There was some barely audible rustling, and
then another soft thud against the door; it was accompanied by a feminine
"oh!" of satisfaction.

I put my eye back to the peephole, and was pleased see the other young men
were approaching. I couldn't see Rob and Shannon, but by the sound of it
he was giving her a stand-up fuck right against the door.

"Maybe -- I am -- a slut," gasped Shannon.

"Maybe you're just easy," countered Rob, doing something that made her
moan. "Maybe you're just hot for me. That doesn't make you a slut."

"Come on, man," Derrik complained. "Use your head, Rob!" He was almost in
range. "You think she just walked off the street, that this is her first
time or something? Shannon fucking *works* here! I've seen her pull
trains, man -- she's a whore! She walked into this room planning to fuck
us all blind. How can you pollute yourself with this filthy puta?"

Rob paused. "Is that true?"

"Yes, I was planning to fuck you all. I will, if you still want me to."
Clever girl, Shannon, for having the common sense to compose a selective
answer in, well, distracting circumstances.

Rob started pounding her again, evidently aroused by the thought. "Does
that make you a slut (thud) or a whore? (thud) Is it the money? Would you
fuck them if I asked you to?"

"What's the diff?!" shouted a frustrated Derrik. "She's already paid for!"
He finally took the last step I needed.

*I love Rob-Shannon-couple*. That was easier than it sounds to express,
and unsurprisingly met with significant resistance when I pushed it into
him; I guessed Derrik might be carrying a torch for Shannon, although I
couldn't be positive. I could have stopped there, but this bozo had
screwed up my evening and come close to screwing up the lives of his two
"friends." I wasn't sure it would take, but I did my best to ensure he'd
never cum again unless he was getting sloppy seconds from Shannon.

"I'd fuck anybody for you," Shannon sighed, heedless of my work on her
behalf.

"Anybody?" challenged Rob. "You'd fuck Fat Eddie?"

"Another girl," suggested one of the other boys, getting into the spirit
of it.

"Her brother," drawled Derrik; the pace of the pounding on the door
abruptly increased.

"You'd fuck Connor for me? Your own brother?"

"Yes! Yes! All of them!" she gasped raggedly.

"That's sick," Rob grunted, but he obviously found it as arousing as she
did. "I bet you'd even take my dog!" Apparently he had unexpected depths.

Shannon started to say, "only if you wa-" and her voice suddenly rose an
octave as the door slammed in its frame and Rob grunted explosively.

"I guess you're a slut, then," Rob spoke into the ensuing silence. "So
prove it. Show me what a slut does in a room with four men."

I didn't need to stay any longer, and I realized I was achingly hard. In
no mood to listen to Danny's next emergency, I walked back to my office
and settled in to wait for Angel. Her scent lingered, teasing me.

While it was fresh in my mind, I typed up a quick incident report for
Danny, and strongly suggested he meet with both Rob and Shannon about her
staying on. It might take some creative concessions to Rob, but not only
could we keep a productive employee, there was an opportunity to bolster
our offerings. I knew what most people thought about us, but frankly, most
of the staff were pretty normal in their outlook and it wasn't easy to
accommodate some of the kinks our customers requested.

With that sent, I leaned back to think about what to do about Angel and
Rose. That prompted me to lean forward again and dash off the lesson plan
request and a query to Angel's driver, which killed another two minutes.
The clock on my desk stubbornly advanced at only the usual 60 seconds per
minute.

I grabbed a chamber music CD at random from my collection, started it, and
crossed to sprawl on the sofa that doubled as guest seating. If I had to
wait, I could make a virtue of it and catch up on my meditation. Maybe I'd
even get lucky and my drifting mind would hit on a solution to my dilemma.