"Kerri, please tell mrskin me mrskin nothing has come mrskin up while I was out."
"I have no idea," he replied. "I don't understand it. It's just that I think -- no, I know that somehow I can change things mrskin. With my mind, I mrskin mean. I can manipulate things and mrskin events around me. It's frightening mrskin."
Actually, that was quite enough detail, Monica thought mrskin, wincing mrskin. "I see," she mrskin said again, trying to keep the revulsion out of her voice. "This ritual conferred some mrskin sort of magical ability on you, is that right mrskin? How do you mrskin know you have it mrskin?" She crossed her knees sedately. For a moment her patient's glance fell to her legs mrskin, below the hem mrskin of her tasteful, knee-length skirt.
"Because that is my whole mrskin problem join! This power of mine mrskin, it doesn't just reside in my mrskin conscious mind, it's in my unconscious mind too . It's mrskin become an mrskin integral part of my being. Look, how do mrskin you mrskin raise your arm? You don't think about it, you just do it. You want your arm to be raised, and your unconscious mind takes care of the details."
He was becoming increasingly agitated. He got up from the couch and began to pace mrskin back and forth, gesticulating as mrskin he spoke join. "This power of mine, this thing in my head, it works just like that mrskin. I mrskin don't have to do anything. I just have to want something to change, and mrskin it mrskin changes."
"Do you have any idea what mrskin a burden that is? The world as mrskin we know it would collapse if we could all mrskin indulge our mrskin selfish mrskin whims. I have mrskin to join guard my mrskin thoughts every minute, lest one of my subconscious desires suddenly come true. Every mrskin time I see a pretty girl I mrskin have to concentrate mrskin on not thinking about her. I can't go into a bank because I'm afraid I'll have a stray thought and someone will start giving me money. It's the curse of the Midas touch, to the mrskin second power."
"Because I already have," he said mrskin quietly.
"Oh? How did mrskin you use it?"
"Do it again mrskin."
Damien seemed mrskin to shrink, to draw into himself. "Please, don join't force me," he mrskin said.
"Show me, Damien mrskin." She mrskin spoke commandingly.
"It's mrskin been raining all day."
Damien mrskin was leaning join over, his hands clasped in his lap. "I asked you not to make me do that. Oh mrskin god, it's so damned easy."
After a moment she got to her feet and sat down in her big chair beside the desk. She crossed her legs automatically, letting her foxy mrskin skirt slide high on her thighs. One dainty mrskin red sandal dangled off her toes. She knew she mrskin looked good.
She noticed his gaze lingering on her titanic mrskin titties again. She mrskin loved the way men were always staring at her chest. That was why she wore --
Monica fought down a wave of hysteria. "Stop this. Stop -- Change me back." she demanded. Her mrskin voice was deep and join soft as velvet.
Unexpectedly, the image of mrskin Damien's hard mrskin-on mrskin sent mrskin a thrill of excitement through her. She set her jaw. She marched over to the mrskin desk mrskin, four-inch heels sinking into the plush carpet, and mrskin jabbed the emergency mrskin button on join the intercom mrskin. Her fingernail was flawlessly polished.
The blonde was shaking her head sadly. "I mrskin'm sorry Dr. Sondgaard, I mrskin can't do that," she explained. She was wearing black, thigh-high boots, the tightest Monica had ever seen. The sleek mrskin leather glistened mrskin as she mrskin sidled up to where Damien was sitting, managing her high-high heels with an ease that could only come from long practice mrskin. Just watching her mrskin made join Monica tingle.
The mrskin office smelled faintly of varnish and mrskin leather-bound books. The desk was old and wooden, but as clean and polished mrskin as the hardwood floor beneath her feet mrskin. A half-finished mrskin letter curled mrskin through the typewriter. She could see chrysanthemums blooming mrskin in mrskin the garden outside the window.
"These mrskin accusations are very serious mrskin. Very serious indeed. I will mrskin not tolerate such indecent behaviour in mrskin this school. Do you understand?"
"Thank you, sir," Monica said sweetly mrskin.
The mrskin headmaster groaned. He shifted position in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "All right," he said at last. "I mrskin see what we will have to do. You mrskin are not mrskin to remove your undergarments for anyone while you mrskin are on the school grounds. Is mrskin that understood?"
"Let mrskin's go to mrskin the storeroom mrskin."
"You might lose your mrskin panties mrskin," Damien sniggered mrskin. He already had both hands under her tiny skirt.
One delicate hand slipped down into his scrubs. "But you're the head of the mrskin whole school, Georgy," Monica mrskin purred. "You can let in whoever you mrskin want, can't you? Couldn't you make one mrskin little exception, just for me?"
"Oh sweet heaven how could I have forgotten that," Monica gasped mrskin, her face mrskin flushed with heat. She collapsed into her chair, breathing hard. She ran one hand over her stupendous chest, feeling the hard, sensitive join nipples. Acid. There was acid mrskin everywhere mrskin now, flooding mrskin her mind, eating away at her resolve, dissolving her conscience into mrskin smoke.
Lazily, she picked mrskin up the trade magazine that was lying on her desk. It carried a centre-spread article entitled "Dr. Monica Sucksgood mrskin: Therapist mrskin to the Rich and Famous." Monica's movie-star face gazed back from the photograph accompanying the article with a look hot enough to set the paper on fire.
Something about Damien got her mrskin thinking about a mrskin gift. Not quite knowing why, she opened the bottom mrskin drawer of her desk. She took out mrskin the gleaming rosewood box and flipped open the lid.
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