Curious Molly - by Sara H

"For Sharon, who holds my heart and soul, and who has stood with me above and before all others."

The wires were a pain.

 

No question.

 

Molly felt them attached to her head. She looked at the jumble of wires leading away to a rectangular console and sighed. The machine was buzzing her ears with the slightest whisper of a hum. The intrusive leads and the adhesive annoyed her, thanks to the tiny places where her hair had been removed and skin oils dissolved. She was strapped in,to a reclining chair, but wriggled a bit, thinking that this was a long way to go for a minor story about a minor underground fetish.

 

But it had taken her months to get here. Referrals. Dead ends. The faux brainwashing fantasy world was secretive, even paranoid. Some admitted to liking the idea, but many fewer admitted to the role-playing games that went so far as to actually simulate the act.

 

Rona had been the one who finally broke it open for her. She was, from all appearances, a quiet, demure and serious college student. When Molly met her, she had rolled her eyes, sure Rona would be the next roadblock to her story. But as she listened to the young woman, she'd found herself getting excited. The hairs on the back of her arm stood up as they talked - not out of fear, but out of excitement. It came with every great story. Breathing deeply, slowly, she remembered more.

 

After a few meetings and one lunch, Rona had introduced her to "Miss" Teresa. The woman was more matriarch than beauty, although beauty was no stranger to her. She had an air of emotional austerity that only comes from those who had lived in authority for a very long time. The air nearly crackled around her as she sat and talked in numerous interviews. The smell of her perfume, the way her eyes lingered and almost never blinked - Molly was in awe before the second interview was done.

 

As for Molly, she had been honest in her intentions. And Miss Teresa was more than happy to entertain her questions. Trust was built. It traveled back and forth between them with questions and answers - an electricity that wasn't all intellectual, but wasn't all curiosity, either. And over time, some of it became a kind of clandestine arousal. After weeks of taping and transcribing, taping and transcribing, Molly realized she liked Teresa  - in fact, felt drawn to her in an odd way that occurred to her in moments of distraction.

 

And then, something changed. For the life of her, she couldn't remember when or how, but it was Miss Teresa asking questions, choosing interview times, even demanding her presence. The threat of losing her subject was never spoken, but was there, nagging Molly into relenting.

As anyone would relent. She had no choice.