The Talent Agency
Copyright© 2025 by bpascal444
Chapter 13
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 13 - In this third installment, we continue Tom Carter's story of coming to terms with his new-found abilities to influence others, discovering other aspects to these powers, and beginning to understand how he came by them in the first place. He finds that his gifts are the accidental byproduct of failed military experiments to enhance the senses and abilities of soldiers. But even if the failures ruined a lot of lives, the prime movers aren't ready to give up, having come so close to success.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Mind Control Heterosexual Fiction Group Sex Anal Sex Analingus Double Penetration Facial Oral Sex Safe Sex Sex Toys Voyeurism
And so the week continued. On Wednesday the number of orders that had arrived was way above anything I’d seen before. Ted started telling the people with phone orders that it was unlikely that they’d arrive in time, given how late the order had come in. I actually missed lunch because there was so much to pack. I wondered how Ted had ever handled this on his own.
By Friday things had tapered off a bit, and we were able to relax somewhat. Ted sent me off to lunch at my usual time, and I swung by the bookstore to see if Karen was available to join me.
She was not only available, but was even standing outside waiting.
“So you got paroled early, huh?”
“I did,” I said. “Apparently the rest of America has decided that they can get through the weekend without a supply of raunchy cocktail napkins. That means I get to eat lunch.”
She chose Taco Bell again, which surprised me a little since she didn’t really do fast food. But clearly her desire for sorta-Mexican food overruled her usual culinary restrictions.
I glanced at her while we walked there. I thought she was looking a bit more relaxed, losing some of that careful self-control that she had always carried around with her.
“Okay, so it looks like my dad is doing the barbecue extravaganza tomorrow. He’s making a thing of it, inviting the neighbors, some folks from his company, so for once maybe he won’t cook too much food. You’ll come, right?”
Like I’d miss the chance to hang out with her. “Of course. Just let me know what time.”
We sat at a table with our tacos and lemonades while she rambled on about her high school charges goofing off at the bookstore. I saw it again, that she wasn’t carrying that shield that she often seemed to have which protected her intellect from the shallow world around her.
“Do I have something in my teeth? Why are you staring at me?”
“Was I? Sorry. I just thought you looked a bit different today in some way, trying to figure out what it was.”
“Different how?”
“I dunno, maybe more relaxed, at ease somehow, less edgy, like that.”
“I don’t think anything’s changed, so I don’t know what you’re seeing.”
She stopped and stared off into the mall for a few seconds, then said, “Oh.”
“Oh?”
I suddenly realized that the sense of control I’d always admired in her, the way she handled all the details of her social and academic life, did not extend to sex. She was still a little embarrassed by it. It was the fact that I saw her start to turn pink that prompted the thought. It’d be hard to see unless you were as close to her as I was.
“Um, that present you gave me, remember? I’ve been using that quite a bit at night. I have to be careful that I don’t get too loud, but it does a real good job of removing some of the stress I carry around from work. Maybe it’s that.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Anyway it’s a good look for you.”
Then she really did blush.
Ted finally threw in the towel around 4:30. “Okay, that’s it, enough. Everybody go home, enjoy the weekend. If you show up Monday, the door will be locked because I’ll still be sleeping. See you Tuesday.”
So I gathered up my books, stuffed them in the backpack, and waved goodbye as I left. It was humid, a typical early July day and the bus was like a sauna. The buses were supposed to be air-conditioned but I’d yet to ride one where the A/C actually worked.
But there was a shower at the end of the ride and the weekend to look forward to. My mother asked about my plans for the holiday over dinner and I told her about the Sunderland barbecue and that I wouldn’t be here for dinner.
“Just as well,” she said, “as we’re going over to the Casey’s for dinner tomorrow. So Mindy, you’re on your own for meals tomorrow night.”
“Won’t he here anyway,” said Mindy, “‘cause Lainie is having a Fourth party at her house.”
“So what little guilt I had about not preparing dinner is now gone. There’s something to be said for your kids growing up.”
After dinner and cleaning the table I took one of my assigned reading texts out back and read in one of the lawn chairs under the tree until it got too dark. Then I went inside and read until I fell asleep.
Saturday again felt like all the summer days I’d spent as a kid, with nothing to demand your attention, an infinite number of time-wasting possibilities available to you. I did a few of them at random, feeling for once absolutely no shame at being indolent.
As Karen’s barbecue time approached I took a shower and found some clean clothes. My mother, being occupied by getting ready for her own dinner outing, forgot to nag me for not bringing some contribution to Karen’s. She really had no idea how much food Mr. Sunderland prepared for his culinary extravaganzas.
I bicycled there because it was a nice night, not too hot, and I wanted to feel the breeze from the ride on my face.
The front door was open, apparently an invitation to enter, and as I stepped in I saw Karen down the hall in the kitchen. She spied me and waved me in.
“Just in time, Tom. Help me bring these things out back, please.”
She loaded my arms with several bowls of different kinds of salads, and grabbed paper plates and boxes of plastic eating utensils for herself.
“This looks like a bigger spread than usual,” I said conversationally.
“A holiday is just an excuse for him to pull out all the stops, food-wise. He made a special trip to the butcher this morning for all the meats he ordered. They spent most of the day being marinated in his special sauce while he prepared the sides. He’s been at it since like six this morning.”
“It’s nice to have a hobby.”
“This is not a hobby, it’s a compulsion. If he wasn’t so good at it I’d probably talk to him about his problem.”
“Maybe a discussion for another time. Where do you want these?”
The two of us spent perhaps half an hour being the gofers for her parents, who would suddenly think of this thing or the other that needed to be fetched right now. As other guests started to arrive it appeared that everything that needed doing had been done, and we were dismissed.
She finally decided to sit outside on a couple of lounge chairs because, she said, the house was too warm. That was fine with me because she was only a few inches from me and I could reach out and hold her hand when the mood struck me.
She started a rambling conversation that jumped from work to school to politics to ... It was the kind of conversations we’d had in high school when she finally relaxed enough to get her mind away from projects and upcoming tests. It was one of the things I’d missed most while she was away, the way we could follow each other’s thought process wherever it went, and contribute along the way.
I was so completely focused on her that it surprised me when I realized that the yard was packed with people chattering with each other. When did that happen, I wondered? And her father chose that moment to holler, “Food’s on!”
The crowd moved slowly toward the grill and surrounding tables like the tide advancing on the shoreline. In a short time people were balancing plates and drinks, looking for a place to eat.
“You think it’s safe now?” she asked.
“Maybe if we circle the herd we can snatch up a few crumbs they overlooked.”
But we both knew there would be plenty, there always was. She got a chicken breast and salad, and I took a plate of ribs, cole slaw, an ear of corn and cornbread. Amazingly, our two seats were still empty so we settled back in.
We focused on our meal till almost everything was gone. She’d grabbed a couple of those wet-wipes in foil packets and passed me one.
“Your face is shiny, use this.” I did and felt a little better. I saw her father not far from the grill surrounded by laughing friends and neighbors. He had a pleased smile on his face.
“He really likes this, doesn’t he? Feeding the masses.”
“He does. I think, when he finally retires, that he’ll probably open a restaurant. He gets a rush from people telling him how good his food is. He doesn’t really get that kind of feedback in his management job.”
“It’s a rare person who gets to do what they love. He’s balanced this pretty well, but I won’t be surprised if he does what you say.”
We went back to our rambling conversation again until I noticed that people were carrying around dessert plates and coffee cups. I couldn’t let that opportunity pass by, so I found brownies and ice cream for myself, while Karen found an apple. The woman certainly knows how to live on the wild side.
We resumed our conversation and when I finally poked my head up again I found that the crowd had thinned considerably. Her father, near the grill, was still trying to peddle the last of the food to passersby, who just smiled, shook their heads, and patted their stomachs.
“So no work on Monday. We’ve got the rest of the weekend open. What should we do?” she asked me.
“I dunno. There’s a parade downtown tomorrow. We could dress up as George and Martha Washington, walk around signing autographs.”
“Yeah, why don’t you do that. I’ll hold your coat and try to pretend I don’t know you.”
“No patriotic spirit, that’s your problem. Okay, we could just go see the parade, get some ice cream.”
“I suppose. I don’t have a better suggestion, though this one sounds pretty lame.”
“Well, think on the matter, perhaps you’ll come up with a better idea. Let’s talk in the morning and decide.”
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