Mind Games

As far back as I can remember I’ve been more in tune with females than with males.  Don’t get me wrong, now, I consider myself a definite X-Y chromosome kind of guy.  That, of course, is just one more reason why I’m in this particular situation.  You also need to understand that it took me a long time to fully realize why I had this particular capability.

As a small child I was able, unconsciously at that time, to communicate my needs and desires to my mother.  Dad was always somewhat bewildered that she was able to read me so well, but I just figured that all moms were like that.  Unfortunately, it also tended to work against me whenever I decided that “no” really meant “don’t get caught”.  Somehow mom always knew.

Playing with kids was another area where it turned out to be a mixed blessing.  I couldn’t seem to get the boys to go along with my particular interests any more than usual.  The girls were usually willing to go along, but that didn’t tend to be of much use most of the time.  I could always be the quarterback if I wanted to play ball with the girls.  At that time I wasn’t even interested in associating with girls any more than absolutely necessary.  Eventually, though, puberty and an influx of testosterone turned what had been a curse into what I then viewed as a blessing.

My teenage years were quite interesting, as you can probably imagine.  Obviously, it would have been even more interesting if I had fully comprehended what I was dealing with but, then again, it might have diminished some of the fun.  I began to suspect, however, that there was something mysterious happening, but couldn’t quite sort through the clues.  Besides, having sexual fantasies every eight seconds or so made for some severe discontinuities in the thought process.

Like most teenage boys, I really wished that I could read a girl’s mind but, even using hindsight, I know that I have never really been able to tell what the girls were thinking.  I did realize, however, that if I was in close proximity to a girl and having particularly lustful thoughts about her that she would often look a little perplexed, blush, and then look away.  Maybe, if I hadn’t been such a nerdy looking kid, they wouldn’t have looked so perplexed at having such thoughts pop into their heads.

Things got a little better as I got older.  For starters, I became slightly less nerdy.  Secondly, grown women were more apt to consider sex outside of the context of life-long commitment.  Having those kinds of thoughts didn’t seem out of place to them.  Most importantly, it finally dawned on me what I was dealing with, and I began to learn how to control it.  You see, it’s kind of like hypnosis in that you can’t really make someone do something against their will.  On the other hand, the power of suggestion can be very strong – especially when the suggestion appears to be internally driven.  I was enjoying the conquests but, even more so, I was having a lot of fun with the “chase”.  At least I was until I met Cindy.

Actually, to be correct, I should have said until I rediscovered Cindy.  I first met her back in my high school days.  One of the guys I hung around with had a cousin, Julie I think, who went to another high school.  Julie had some girlfriends so one rainy night a bunch of us guys drove up for a visit and that started it.  In those days it was sometimes difficult to tell who was going with whom, and the group always seemed to survive the ups and downs of any of the internal relationships.  I’m not exactly sure when Cindy started hanging around with us.  I think she was doing some babysitting for Julie’s younger brother, and just sort of latched onto us as a peer group.

Things kind of went on for a couple of years, but then graduation and Viet Nam started paring away at the group.  By this time, I was 19, and sweating out my draft notice.  Cindy was a gawky 15-year old, and madly in love with me.  I found this to be particularly interesting because I certainly wasn’t predisposed to thinking of her as a possibility for sex.  The guys who were still around really gave me a ration of crap about it, but I tried to be cool without hurting her.

My number finally came up in the draft so I enlisted in the Air Force in an effort to avoid the fighting.  For awhile I got a few letters from the old gang but, eventually, the letters got shorter and the gaps between letters got longer.  For three years, however, Cindy kept on writing.  Through her letters I got to watch her grow up.  I also realized that the relative age difference between us was getting smaller.  The last thing I got from her was a quickly scribbled note inside of her high school graduation announcement.

I tried to find her after I got out, but her family had moved to another state.  As the years went on, I basically got on with my life and gradually forgot about her.  I tried marriage for awhile, but couldn’t break myself of reaping the rewards of my “talent”.  It probably didn’t help either that my ex-wife and I really had nothing in common outside of the bedroom.  I never even felt close enough to her to divulge my secret.  The divorce was not particularly vicious in spite of my philandering, but I admit that I had to expend a lot of mental energy helping my ex-wife convince herself that I was mostly to be pitied for my “character flaw”.

If you will allow me a moment to wax philosophical, I will explain how I consider myself to be morally immoral.  Granted, I have consistently used my gift to wantonly appease my baser instincts.  I do, however, draw the line at using my influence on any woman who is married.  Besides the bag full of troubles that getting involved with a married woman can bring, I just happen to respect the institution of marriage.  It didn’t work for me, but I refuse to be the one to facilitate the demise of someone else’s relationship.  Making some poor sap a cuckold is not my idea of a good time either.  Enough said on that topic.  I think it does help point up some of the reasons why running into Cindy again proved to be so dangerous.

I just happened to run into Cindy one day while I was picking up some odds and ends at the local K-Mart.  I didn’t recognize her at first since she was 25 years older than the last time I had actually seen her.  She, on the other hand, seemed to know me instantly.  Maybe her memories had less dust on them then mine.  At any rate, we did the long lost friend thing for a few minutes and promised to get together soon to talk more.  We traded phone numbers and that was it.  I figured, like most of these types of encounters, that getting together again was not something that either of us would seriously think about by the next day.  A couple of days later, though, she called and we arranged to meet for lunch.

I must admit that I started feeling kind of like a high school kid again as I anticipated seeing her.  My anticipation, as it turned out, was justified.  Even at 40 and in the harsh light of day she was a fairly attractive woman.  Divorce hadn’t seemed to harden her either.  I also remembered that, at one time, she had shown me love without any mental prompting on my part.  Sure, it had been “puppy love”, but it was more genuine than anything I had received since.  Because of that, I actually felt momentary guilt as I began my mental seduction.  I really wanted her and didn’t want to take a chance on the possibility of never having a second meeting.

To say that we hit it off would seriously trivialize what happened that weekend.  The sex was better than I can ever remember it being and the non-sex instilled in me a warmth and security that I hadn’t even known I needed.  I was hooked – and gladly so.  Cindy seemed to be too and it wasn’t long before we were spending every night together, and most of them in bed.  Things seemed to have progressed so well, that I decided to try a day without forcing my thoughts into Cindy’s head.  No problem, I thought.  If things seemed the slightest bit cooler, I can always resume the probe.  At least that’s what I thought at the time.

When Cindy came home that night my thoughts automatically reached out to her.  Just a reflex I told myself but time to try exercising a little conscious control.  Carefully I eased off on the thoughts I was projecting.  Detecting no noticeable change, I eased off a little more.  Still nothing.  Gaining more confidence, I forced myself to shut off the projected thoughts altogether.  It was at this point that I noticed a slight change in Cindy’s expression.  Quickly she smiled, took my hand, and gently pulled me toward the bedroom.  Needless to say, my mental control vanished and my thoughts again flooded into her head.

The next day I tried to assess what had happened.  I had never had a problem consciously controlling my thoughts before but, then, I had never been this deeply involved.  Still, I was determined to make the relationship stand on its own.  I also realized that maintaining the level and duration of my projected thoughts was wearing me out mentally.

The next time I saw Cindy I was ready.  In fact, I had spent most of the afternoon practicing.  As she came through the door I was the master of resolve.  Cindy stopped for a moment then walked up to me and calmly looked into my eyes.  As I stared back I could feel something reaching into my mind, gently untying the knots that held back my thoughts.  Then Cindy reached up and whispered in my ear, “Give them to me David.  They’re mine.”