Archive-name: Control/contjenb.txt
Archive-author: Daniel Reinker
Archive-title: Controlling Jennifer -11


This is part 11 of the Controlling Jennifer series. This story is (c)
 1993 by Daniel Reinker, and while I do not mind it being
 distributed, I would appreciate it if you would keep this header on
 it so folks can know who wrote it.

		Controlling Jennifer XI: Forget-Me-Not

	"I just wanted to say I'm sorry." began Jacob. Jennifer sat on
 her bed, listening to him. His words sounded like he had practiced
 them over and over again, but Jennifer only half listened to him.
 She had heard the important part anyway, the 'I'm sorry' part. The
 rest was just filler, padding for the first sentence. Instead,
 Jennifer studied his face. He looked different from before, less
 intense and more tired, like he had gone through some sort of
 emotional upheaval and was now coming out of it. 
	"I'm sorry I came on so strongly, and pressured you so much.
 You were... well, to put it bluntly, that one day, making love to you
 was the most incredible experience I've ever had. I guess you could
 say it made me a little..." he hesitated. "...obsessed...with you."
	Jennifer's voice was a little distant, as she remembered how
 he had looked that day in the hallway, when he had asked her about...hmm, well, he had asked her how he had burned his hand.
 "You've been acting so...different." she said to him. Come to think of
 it, how HAD he burned his hand? Jennifer fought off the temptation
 to pursue this tangent in her mind; she had recently come to the
 realization that she, too, had been acting very different the past
 month, and now she was trying to get a grasp of all she had done.
	Jacob hung his head. "I know." he said quietly. "Like I said, I've
 been kind of obsessed with you. I hope I didn't scare you too
 much...if it means anything at all, lately, I've been kind of scaring
 myself lately. All I can say is I'm sorry, Jenn...I'm trying to get
 more in control of my life now." He looked up at her, and she saw
 something in his eyes, a glimmer of hunger as he looked at her.
 "You have to understand..." he breathed. "...that day was incredible.
 YOU were incredible. I've never had sex like that before... it was
 unreal."
	Jennifer bit her lip uneasily. It was her own fault, for acting
 that way...why had she done that in the first place, anyway? She
 had acted so crazy that first day, throwing herself at any man she
 saw. Throwing herself at Jacob. It was the beginning of everything,
 the start of the month of madness. Jennifer shook her head. "I have
 to apologize, too, Jacob. I've been acting really weird this month,
 too...well, since that same day. To be honest, I don't think I
 would've slept with you if I had really been myself." She turned
 away to look out the window, her next words inaudible except to
 herself. "I really don't know what's come over me."
	When she looked back at Jacob, she was amazed. He had a
 fervent, strained expression on his face, and it looked like it was
 taking all his willpower to keep from sweeping her up in his arms
 right then and there. He took a step forwards unconsciously, then
 noticed and forced himself two steps back. "Don't say that,
 Jennifer...you don't need to apologize for anything. Especially not
 what happened that day. I..uh...I gotta get going...can we be friends
 again? JUST friends?" He gave her a slight, almost melancholy
 smile.
	Jennifer thought about offering him a hug...but she still didn't
 trust that look in his eyes, and worried a hug might lead to more.
 "All right. Friends." she said. She tried to smile but wasn't able to.
	Jacob looked at her uncertainly, then grinned again. "Good. See
 you later, Jennifer." He walked out the door.
	"Bye." said Jennifer, and watched him leave. Her eyes drifted
 to his arm as he entered the hallway and disappeared from her
 sight. The bandage was gone now, and the burn was pretty much
 healed up...how had he received it, anyways? She would have sworn
 she was there, and that she had seen it happen...but she couldn't
 remember exactly when, or how. It had happened on friday, she
 knew that for sure, because he had burned it after he had broken in
 on her with Derrick. When Derrick had led them out to the parking
 lot for the fight. Or...was it Derrick? Or...someone else? Jennifer
 felt a familiar sensation, like something or someone was dancing
 at the edge of her memory, fluttering just barely out of reach, a
 moth bumping against the dim light of her mind. But, as usual, no
 matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pinpoint it, and soon it all
 faded. It had the feeling of a dream, disappearing quickly out of her
 consciousness until she had no grasp of it left.
	She slammed her fist down into her pillow, taking her
 frustrations out against its softness. She was sure that this
 elusive memory was the key to her recent madness; she didn't
 know how she knew, but she knew. If only she could remember.

	The next day, Jennifer found herself staring at a tree. She
 was in the park with Darlene, walking to the track, when she saw
 the tree, and abruptly she found herself completely focused on it.
 That tree. She knew that tree. She had been sitting under that
 tree...sometime recently...with someone. Not Francisco, not
 Darlene, someone else. Someone in a strange mood, a non-talking
 mood, and she was sitting beside him, waiting for him to speak.
 She could remember it faintly...maybe a dream? It was hard to say.
 It seemed like a dream, but she couldn't be sure.
	"Earth to Jennifer." Darlene's voice sounded right by her ear.
 Jennifer was startled out of her trance, and turned to look at her
 roommate. Darlene was grinning at her. "What's with you? See a
 ghost?"
	Jennifer once again focused on the tree. "That tree." she
 murmured. "I know it from somewhere. I can remember sitting
 under it...with...someone. It's weird. It's like I'm remembering
 something that didn't happen."
	"Like deja vu?" asked Darlene. She followed Jennifer's eyes to
 the tree. "Maybe where you met Francisco? Didn't you say you guys
 met in the park?"
	Jennifer shook her head. "No, that was somewhere else. Over
 in that woodsy area over there." She started to nod slowly. "But I
 think it was the same day. I was with someone else. Or...maybe
 not?" Now, when she thought about it, it seemed like it was all her
 imagination. Hadn't she been sitting there alone? And she had seen
 a bunch of boys throwing rocks at a squirrel...yes, when she
 thought about it, she had done it all by herself. All alone. Yet...that
 didn't seem exactly right.
	"Want to take a closer look?" asked Darlene. She grinned.
 "Anything to delay jogging." Darlene had started to jog somewhat
 regularly with Jennifer, although she usually quit after two or
 three laps, and sat in the shade while Jennifer finished the rest of
 the running. Jennifer didn't really mind; it was fun running with
 another person, even if Darlene was slower and got tired faster.
	"Okay." said Jennifer. They walked over to the tree. Jennifer
 looked at the area at its trunk. She knew where she had been
 sitting, at a space between two roots. Now, she looked at the
 space beside it, and it really felt like someone else had been
 sitting there at the same time she had. Her mind flickered to an
 image of hands, hands shredding a leaf into fragments. Or was that
 a dream? She had been there alone, she was sure of that. She would
 have certainly remembered if it was otherwise.
	Jennifer shook her head. "I think it's just my imagination." she
 said. "My mind is playing tricks on me. Let's go to the track, okay?"
 Darlene shrugged, and they walked back to the sidewalk and
 continued to the track.

	That night, Jennifer had a dream.  She was in her dorm,
 walking to the bathroom to take a shower, wearing her white
 cotton robe. But when she entered the bathroom, the walls on the
 left side of the bathroom were gone, and instead the room
 extended into another room, a dark study with high shelves of
 books covering each wall. The study had one chair, a large swivel
 chair turned backwards so that she could just barely see the head
 of the person sitting in the chair. He had dark hair, and Jennifer
 felt a touch of fear. But when she turned to leave, the door was
 gone.
	The chair squeaked as it swiveled slowly around, and she
 could see the man sitting there. He looked about the same age as
 her, with straight dark hair, and a darkness to his features that
 made him look slightly Italian. His eyes caught hers and held them;
 she realized that he didn't have any pupils, only blank white where
 they should have been. But she could tell where he was looking, and
 she realized he was tracing her body with his eyes. He grinned, a
 familiar grin.
	"Hello, Miss Cailly." His voice was familiar too. 
	Of course it is, she abruptly realized. It's Mark. How could she
 NOT recognize him? "Mark." she whispered.
	"Did you want to see me again?" he grinned. "Why don't you
 take off your robe? I want to see your lovely naked body."
	Jennifer performed his actions without hesitation, untying
 the belt and letting the cloth slip off her shoulders to the floor.
 She could see his empty sockets wandering over her bare breasts,
 tracing her soft skin down to her triangle of dark pubic hair, then
 moving down each of her long legs, one at a time. "Beautiful." he
 grinned. His voice was darker, less human. "Beautiful."
	Jennifer found that she wasn't embarrassed by his frank
 appraisal. If anything, she wanted him to do more. She wanted him
 to pull her onto a bed and spread her legs open. She wanted to feel
 him inside her, feel him thrusting deep within her and making
 wild, passionate, uncontrolled sex with her.
	And then she realized the den had become a bedroom, and a
 canopy bed covered in silk waited to the side. Mark stood and held
 out his hand. "Come to me, Miss Cailly." he said. His voice was
 overpowering, and her body trembled to obey.
	But a question suddenly surfaced in her mind, and it stopped
 the lust that threatened to burst from her body. She peered at him.
 "Mark." she asked. "Mark, why did you leave me on Saturday?"
	He walked forward in three easy strides, and enveloped her
 naked body in his arms. His hands slipped down to squeeze her
 buttocks, and push her crotch against his. She could feel his
 erection pressing against her pelvis, straining against his clothes.
 "Hush." he whispered into her ear. "Did I say you could speak? Come
 with me, Jennifer. Come to bed."
	But the passion was ebbing inside her, leaving her cold and
 empty. All she could think of was that question. "Why did you leave
 me? Please, Mark. Please tell me why." she whispered as she
 latched her arms around him and fell into his embrace. Just like on
 Saturday, she thought. It was all coming back to her. Mark. That's
 what she had been trying to remember. How could she have
 forgotten him?
	But he released her and shrugged her off. His face was
 disgusted, and she was still disquieted by his empty eye sockets.
 "You're a bad slave." he said. "I'm willing to please you, more than
 you deserve, and you won't please me back. You disgust me." He
 wandered back to his chair. "I'm willing to give you what your body
 wants. You should thank me for that. Instead, you turn me away.
 You don't deserve a master such as I, Jennifer Anne Cailly." He sat
 down in the chair, grinning once again.
	"Please, Mark." she said, taking a hesitant step forward. "It's
 more than that, can't you see? More than just sex." He only grinned,
 as if the smile was frozen on his face, and his chair slowly
 started to turn.
	"Mark!" she cried. She started to walk towards him, her pace
 becoming faster as his chair continued to turn.  "Don't go! Just
 answer me...tell me why you had to leave me!" And Jennifer rushed
 towards the chair.
	But when she got there, the chair had turned all the way
 around, and Mark was gone.
	That was when she woke up. It was still dark, and her panties
 were slick and wet with fluids. Darlene's slow breathing came
 from the next bed. Jennifer checked the clock. It was 3:35, she
 still had a couple hours left to sleep. 
	For a while, she laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling and
 thinking of her dream. Mark. She had seemed to recognize him in
 the dream, but now she couldn't remember where from. Mark. Maybe
 she had made it all up; that sometimes happened in dreams, she
 would recall memories that were all part of the dream. That
 seemed likely in this case. 
	But the name kept repeating in her head. Mark. Mark. She knew
 it somewhere. It felt right. She didn't know where it came from,
 but it felt important.
	Write it down, a voice said in her mind. In her sleep dimmed
 memory, she could remember someone had written  a poem in a
 dream, but only wrote down the first few lines, and afterwards
 couldn't remember the rest. She felt the same way. If she didn't
 write down the name, she would surely forget it. Jennifer searched
 the top of her desk in the dark until her hand encountered a pencil.
 Then she found a piece of scratch paper, and scrawled: Mark.
	She nodded, pleased with herself. Yes, that name somehow
 felt important. Her mind drifted back to sleep, and this time, she
 didn't have any dreams.

	Ann walked up after another boring Chinese Culture class.
 "Are you eating lunch, Jennifer?"
	Jennifer hadn't paid any attention to the lecture; instead, she
 had filled up the blank page in her notebook with that name. The
 name Mark. She felt like the man in Close Encounters of the Third
 Kind, the one who had spent the first half of the movie building
 replicas of a hill with a flat top. Like him, she knew the name Mark
 was somehow significant, but couldn't figure out how. 
	She looked up at Ann. "Huh? Oh...actually, no. Sorry, Ann.
 Francisco said he would take me out for lunch."
	"Oh. Ok, that's all right. Have a good time." 
	"Bye!" said Jennifer. Ann walked out as Jennifer gathered her
 things.
	She met Francisco by her mailbox. "Hi, Jenn!" he said
 cheerfully. "You ready to go?" She smiled and nodded, and together
 they walked across the street to Joanne's Coffee Shop, which was
 a restaurant near the campus often frequented by students. The
 place was fairly crowded, as usual during the lunch rush.
 Fortunately, Jennifer and Francisco didn't have to wait too long
 before they were seated. 
	"So how was your day?" he asked as they waited for the
 waitress to notice them.
	Jennifer sighed. "Kind of weird. For some reason, I have this
 name running through my head. I keep trying to place it....it sounds
 so familiar... but I can't get it."
	"So what's the name? Maybe I know."
	Jennifer doubted it, but she told him anyway. "Mark."
	"Mm. Mark what?"
	"Just Mark. I can't remember a last name."
	Francisco grinned. "Just Mark? There's lots of Mark's,
 Jennifer."
	She sighed again. "I know. But it feels like a Mark I should
 know." She considered telling him about her dream the night
 before, but abandoned the idea. It was too personal.
	"Hmm. Should I be jealous?" Francisco joked. But, even though
 she knew he meant it in fun, it struck a chord in her. That had
 something to do with Mark. It seemed like Francisco SHOULD be
 jealous of Mark...for some reason. Jennifer went quickly through
 the names of all her previous boyfriends, all the guys she had
 dated, all the men she had had sex with. But none of them were
 named Mark.
	Her consideration did not go unnoticed by Francisco. "Hey!
 What's with that look on your face? Is Mark a competitor?" 
	She smiled. "No, no. I was just going through the names of
 men I've dated, to see if any were named Mark."
	"None were?"
	She fought to keep from pausing again. This also struck a
 chord in her. She KNEW she had never dated anyone named
 Mark...but...it seemed like she had. "No, none were."
	"Well..." he said cheerfully. "I'm sure you'll figure it out." Then
 he started telling a story, about something that had happened in
 his Chemistry class. Jennifer only half listened, her mind
 wandering. Mark. Who was Mark?
	The waitress came and took their orders. Jennifer ordered a
 chicken salad, and Francisco had a burger. They started to talk
 again. And then, while Francisco was talking, Jennifer looked over
 his shoulder, and she saw him.
	It was the man from her dream. It was Mark. And he was
 staring right at her.
	Jennifer went pale, her eyes linked with the strangers. She
 could see he was sitting at the counter, drinking a coke, staring at
 her. He didn't look away when she met his gaze, but continued to
 stare at her, his eyes tracing a line into hers as if doomed to do so
 eternally. He had a pained expression, as if he would have rather
 returned to his coke and oblivion, but could not wrench his eyes
 from her face. Jennifer felt a weird loneliness go through her as
 she watched him. Even though she was with Francisco, she felt
 lonely.
	Francisco couldn't help but notice her attention had shifted.
 "What is it, Jen?" he asked, turning to follow her gaze. Jennifer
 could see Mark's eyes shift to Francisco's face, then returned to
 regard Jennifer for a moment, before returning to his coke.
	Francisco turned back. "What's wrong? You know that guy?" he
 asked.
	Jennifer could only shake her head weakly. "No. I'll be right
 back." She stood on wobbly legs, and walked over to Mark, not
 knowing what to expect. Maybe she was crazy. But somehow, she
 had to know who he was.
	Mark stared down into his soda, waiting as she approached.
 She stood next to him uncertainly. "Hi." she started. "Um...do I know
 you?"
	He didn't look up. "Jennifer." she heard him say.
	He knew her name. How did he know her name? She couldn't
 remember him. Yet, she could. Her mind struggled to come to grips
 with what was reality in her mind, and what was not. Finally, she
 asked, quietly, "Mark?"
	He looked up at her. His eyes were creased in amazed
 disbelief. She watched him, uncertainly, waiting for him to speak.
 Finally, he did, and as he spoke, she felt something reach into her
 mind and clean away the darkness. "Jennifer. Remember." he said.
 And suddenly, it all came back to her, flooding into her mind. All
 the memories of the past month. Memories of Mark. She knew him.
 He was Mark Robert Antonio. 
	"Mark." It all came flooding back. Meeting him in the park.
 Going with him to La Rochelles. Meeting him at the dance. Talking
 to him in the park. Obeying him. Hating him. Fearing him. Kissing
 him. It all rushed into her mind in a torrent of images. "Mark. Of
 course. Mark."
	"You remember." he said.
	"Mark..." she said again. She gasped as her memory finally
 caught up. "It was you! You made me forget everything!
 Mark...why...?" She could remember her shock, just before his words
 had erased her memory, when she had realized what he was going
 to do.
	"I couldn't stand it anymore...I couldn't stand that look you
 had." he said. But he was talking to himself. His voice was low and
 strained. "I couldn't stand you not knowing who I was."
	"Mark. How could you?" she felt betrayed. Hurt and betrayed.
	He looked at her. "Jennifer...I had to. I have to do it again. It's
 better for you if you don't remember anything. You can go back to
 the way things were." He shook his head, his eyes squeezing tightly
 together. "I just couldn't take you not knowing who I was."
	"Don't you dare!" she said, her voice louder than she intended.
 Almost a shriek. She caught herself, and spoke again, slower and
 carefully controlled. "Mark...please." Now her voice was pleading,
 but she couldn't control that. "Please...you can't...don't put me
 through that again. I thought I was going mad." The words started
 to rush out now. "Mark...why did you leave me? Why are you doing
 this to me? What's did I do to you? How could you put me through
 all this? What's wrong with you? Tell me, Mark...what happened?"
 She finally managed to stop the flow of words and emotion pouring
 from her mouth. 
	Mark looked like every question had pounded against him,
 tearing him down worse than any insults ever could.
 "Jennifer...please...I had to...I have to again...it's better..."
	Jennifer sat down next to him, feeling her legs go weak under
 her. "Mark....Mark, don't do it again. Please. If I mean anything to you
 at all...don't make me forget again." Her mind was swirling in
 emotions, and it was all making her dizzy. She didn't know whether
 to hit Mark or hug him. Her mind jumped from memory to memory,
 reliving her experience with Mark backwards, forwards and
 sideways. She felt completely torn up inside. 
	Mark, too, looked uncertain, and Jennifer could feel the
 emotions battling on his face, too. Finally he whispered "I have
 to...it's better if I do..."
	"Better for who?" she whispered quietly, feeling like her soul
 was drowning in a sea of anguish. He would do it again, he would
 make her forget. She tried to tell herself that she wouldn't forget
 this time, but she knew his power would sweep her away like
 before. It was all bitterly inevitable.
	"I have to...but I can't, Jennifer. I can't." And he reached out
 for her. That tipped the scales in herself, and before she was even
 aware of it, she was in his arms again. Letting herself feel safe
 and comforted in his grip. Clinging to each other, saying nothing.
 She could feel him shaking. That's all right, I think I am, too, she
 thought.
	Some colder, logical part of her mind told her that Francisco
 was getting up and leaving. It informed her that she was letting
 the possibility of a safe, happy relationship drift away, while
 clinging on to what was most likely the most screwed-up
 relationship she could ever have.
	Que sera, sera, she thought as she pressed her cheek onto
 Mark's shoulder and felt him hold her tightly.

To be continued
--

This story is an elaborate procrastination technique
perpetuated by Danny Reinker.
comments can go to: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu
Occidental heartily supports my right to post this story,
though they do not specifically endorse the contents contained
therein.
All places and characters are absolutely fictional, not based
on real life at all. No, sirree.
Hope y'all enjoyed it.
--