The Show
Samantha sat sexily in her bedroom’s sofa, black silk nightgown hugging her DD breasts. The barely legal blonde had a lot going on for her but nothing as exciting as her skill to effortlessly hypnotize anyone she wanted. Despite having dozens of willing pets at her disposal in the form of classmates, all the girls in the cheerleading squad and even a couple of teachers, her favorite was Tom, her older brother, a rock star wannabe that loved to believe all women had been put on this Earth to suck his cock until he got bored. (Note: he never did!).
He received her text as he was driving home after an improv concert in a local bar. “Ntt 2 u. Mit m3 ups.” it said. He frowned at her exaggerated used of acronyms but conceded. Talking to her was always a joy unless she brought out the swinging watch. When that happened, all he felt like saying was:
“Oh no, no, no, no… NO!”
“That means ‘Yes’, right?” She had said the last time, the prelude to his untimely demise.”
“No, it means ‘No’ through and through.”
“I could have sworn we had agreed before that ‘No’ was ‘Yes’, and ‘Yes’ was ‘Yes’. For me, at least.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“So, it’s ‘Yes’ to ‘No’ then?”
“Hmmm… yes, I mean, no… wait, I’m confused.”
“Not surprised. That’s what happens when you say ‘No’ wanting to say ‘Yes’ when you could just have said ‘Yes’ in the first place and then keep on saying ‘Yes’ to me.”
“I… I suppose…”
“In that case, let’s start again.” She swung the watch before his trembling gaze. “Are you entranced right now?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go deeper?”
“Yes.”
“Is ‘Yes’ your favorite word?”
“Yes.”
“Mine is ‘slave’. Sleep!”
Tom hit the brakes and wiped the sweat off his brow. The memories were clear and so was his confusion. Every time Samantha wanted something of him, all she had to do was spin a little tale, plant a seed of misdirection and let the watch do the rest so now the question was obvious: did she really want to talk or did she want to… ‘talk’?
“What’s up?” He texted her back.
“Ntt 2 u.” She replied, the same economic phrasing that added nothing to the conversation.
“That’s not an answer, Sam. Is this one of your games?”
Silence. Two minutes without a reply that told him everything he needed to know. Finally, the cell phone screen lit up again.
“No.”
“I don’t believe you. Sorry, sis, not tonight. The concert was a bust. I’m tired and I need to sleep.”
This time, her reply was swift, wrapped in winking yellow emojis: “What concert?”
Tom blinked and both the car and the road dissolved into pure nothingness.
Samantha sat sexily in her bedroom’s sofa, black silk nightgown hugging her DD breasts. Her brother kneeled in front of her, holding an invisible guitar. He couldn’t play anything of worth not even in trance and his singing was so bad one could mistake it for a cat in heat. It made for an amusing video though and her followers were eagerly awaiting her next upload.
“Keep going.” She commanded. The show had to go on.
