The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was her smile that first drew his attention—a subtle, secret smile that showed more in her eyes than on her lips. When the smile was followed immediately by a furtive glance in his direction, he pretended not to notice.

But he was hooked. He had to know what she was reading.

He shifted his laptop slightly on the table in front of him, the better to covertly observe the woman across the aisle. She seemed to be of medium height and slender—one might even say slight—build. Her hair was dark brown, long and curvy but carefully arranged to frame an attractive, woman-next-door face.

She was reading what looked like a soft cover textbook. It was fairly thin, maybe 150 pages. A paper jacket, of the kind school children make from grocery bags, concealed the cover. She studied it intently, every now and again letting that hint of a smile creep across her face and then catching herself.

A door opened and closed behind him. She looked up at the sound; his eyes darted back to his laptop screen, hoping she hadn’t caught him studying her. In his peripheral vision he saw her close the book, marking her place with the inside flap of the homemade book jacket, and lay it on the seat beside her.

“Your ticket, please?”

She gave a genuine smile to the conductor, who punched her ticket and returned the stub. “The café car is the next one up,” the conductor explained. “Non-alcoholic beverages are complimentary for business class passengers; just show him your ticket stub.”

“Thank you,” she said sweetly. Her voice was a little rough—she’d be taking advantage of that offer soon, her observer guessed.

Sure enough, a few moments later she stood up and headed toward the café car. Her eyes met his for just a moment as she passed, then moved on innocently. The conductor followed, having finished his job for the time being.

His curiosity would permit no further delays; with a quick peek at the other passengers, he casually stood up and eased across the aisle. He leaned over the woman’s seat, gently opened the book to the spot she’d marked, and read the title from the top margin of the page:

EROTIC HYPNOSIS: A Beginner’s Guide

by Eric Milton.

His book.

His head dropped with a sigh that was half amusement, half disbelief. Fate laughs at probabilities, he thought to himself. He put the book down carefully, making sure to leave it exactly as he’d found it, and returned to his seat.

He was back in his seat, staring into his laptop screen, when she passed him again in a whish of navy blue cloth. He noted the Diet Sprite in her hand, already open and sweating. She settled back into her seat with her book, and he made a serious effort to apply himself to his work.

It had been almost a year since he’d finished the first draft of the book his traveling companion was now reading, an entry-level guide to sexual hypnosis. Sales had exceeded expectations enough that his New York publishing house had just agreed to pay him an advance for the sequel. Which means, he scolded himself as he forced his gaze back from the reader’s legs to the unfinished chapter of that sequel on his computer screen, that you’d better get your mind back on business!

His hands hovered over the keyboard for a moment, waiting. His brain responded, and the words began to flow.

Fantasy #4: Sex at Sea

This fantasy may be particularly effective during a summer holiday at the beach, or by the pool, especially if your partner is already in a bathing suit or less. Place your partner in trance and deepen as much as you can—the deeper the trance, the more vivid the fantasy will be for her.

(Spoken to the subject) We’re on vacation in the Caribbean, just the two of us. We’ve rented a boat for the afternoon, and are cruising in a secluded cove. You feel the sun warming you as you lie out on the deck in your skimpiest swimsuit. You have plenty of sunscreen on, so you don’t have to worry about burning, and your favorite sunglasses are protecting your eyes from the glare.

The gentle thrumming of the boat’s engine is soothing to you as you lie there on the deck. The sun’s rays are warm, so warm that even in your skimpiest swimsuit you can feel tiny beads of sweat starting to form underneath your suit. (Pause for a few moments to let the feelings sink in.)

Still you lie there, enjoying the feel of the sun on your bare skin, but getting warmer and warmer. You decide to take off your swimsuit because it’s just too warm to be wearing it. Slowly, easily, using the least amount of energy necessary, you take off your swimsuit and leave it lying on the floor next to you. Your skin can breathe now, and it feels so much better now that it’s all exposed to the sea air and sunshine. (Again, pause a few moments to let her enjoy the sensation.)

His eyes stole another glance across the aisle: the woman sat upright, legs crossed, holding the book close to her face. Her eyes scanned the pages in front of them slowly and methodically while her lower lip seemed to recede into her mouth. Between pages, her left hand toyed idly with the top button on her blouse. Her visage merged with his thought stream until the mental picture in his mind was of her lying naked on the bow of a sailboat. His cock tingled and stiffened as the fantasy formed in his mind and energized his fingers.

As you lie there in the nude, so comfortable, you realize that there are parts of your body that don’t have sun block on them—the parts that were covered by your swimsuit. You certainly don’t want sunburn on those sensitive parts; you pick up your bottle of sun block and squeeze a generous amount of it onto your hand. It feels cool against the palm of your hand. Now, using your hand, you wipe the lotion onto your breasts, working it in to make sure every exposed part of your breasts is protected. As you rub the lotion in, you find yourself enjoying the sensation of your hand caressing yourself, sliding so smoothly over your soft skin. Your nipples become erect, and you play with them as you rub the lotion into them, enjoying the arousing feelings you get when your fingers touch them. You are feeling very sexy and aroused now, and it feels very good to indulge yourself. (Another pause. Depending on her trance depth, your partner may begin caressing herself as the fantasy plays out in her mind.)

Now you remember that your crotch is also exposed to the sun. You apply some more lotion to your fingers, and with a smooth, easy motion you begin spreading that lotion over your bikini area. You start with your mound, letting your fingers run easily through your pubic hair as you spread the lotion over the skin beneath. You open your legs slightly and slide your fingers between your thighs. As you rub the lotion up and down over your slit, your finger accidentally brushes your clit and a sudden wave of pleasure rushes over you. You caress yourself more, and soon you feel much more wetness in your center than just the lotion. You slip a finger inside your vagina and fantasize that you are having sex with me, letting your finger stand in for my penis. It slides in and out, and you feel a growing sexual arousal, an urgent need that must be satisfied.

You hear a sound and sense a shadow falling over you. Your eyes open and you see me standing over you, watching you fondle yourself. You can see by the bulge in my swim trunks that I am very aroused. I push my trunks down, and seeing the size of my erection gets you even more aroused than you already are because you know that I want you.

You don’t resist as I spread your legs apart and settle down between them. You take my penis in your hand and guide it into your vagina. It feels so good as I penetrate you, filling you up and pressing against all the sensitive spots inside you. You feel your hips moving up and down on their own, working my length in and out, and bringing you closer and closer to orgasm.

“Oh, shit!”

She hadn’t said it loudly, but the sudden outburst was enough to break his concentration. He looked up to see her kneeling on her seat, leaning over the one beside her, a grimace on her face. She fumbled with something unseen for a moment, then hustled up the aisle toward the café car again. The dripping wet napkin and empty can in her hands told the story.

She returned with the conductor, who carried an oversized sponge. “It’s not a problem,” he assured her as he dabbed at the seat and floor. “All the fabrics are treated. In half an hour you won’t be able to tell anything happened.”

“I’m really sorry,” the lady replied. “I didn’t realize it was that close to the edge.”

The conductor’s friendly smile didn’t waver. “Not to worry, ma’am. It happens a lot.” He continued dabbing at the spill while the lady passenger fretted over the mess.

The writer watched from his seat, then on an impulse slid out and walked through to the café car. A simple snack bar took up most of the space; the rest was dotted with round tables and stools, all of which were bolted to the floor. The snack bar attendant greeted his new customer with a friendly, professional smile. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Root beer and a Diet Sprite.” The writer held up his Business Class ticket stub.

The attendant nodded and place two ice-filled plastic cups and two cans of soda on the counter. “Anything else?”

“This’ll do for now.” With an answering smile of his own, the writer gathered his drinks and returned to the business class car. He set the drinks down on the table by his laptop and, with a tentative clearing of his throat, addressed the lady in the aisle. “Excuse me.” When she didn’t respond, he reached out a forefinger and touched her elbow. “Excuse me,” he repeated.

Her head turned at his touch, her eyes darting first to the intruding finger, then to his face.

“There’s plenty of space over here,” he offered, pointing to the table where his laptop sat. “The table is level, too. Why don’t you join me?”

He could see the doubt passing over her face. He put on his best innocuous smile and lifted the new Diet Sprite he’d bought. “See? I’ve even got a new drink for you—you wouldn’t want that to go to waste, would you?”

The smile worked—she broke into one of her own, chuckling slightly. “I suppose not,” she agreed. “But I hope that laptop is insured against moisture damage.”

“I’m willing to risk it. My name is Eric, by the way.” He put down the soda can and extended his hand.

Her handshake was well-practiced: firm and businesslike, but not so much so that an insecure man might feel challenged. “I’m Patty,” she replied.

“Welcome to the big table, Patty.” He winked at her and then slid back into his seat, moving the laptop closer to give her as much room as possible.

Patty took the seat diagonally across the conference table from him, opened her soda and poured some into the plastic cup. “This is much nicer than the fold-up tray,” she said, running a hand over the mini conference table between them.

Eric nodded. “Most business class cars have one of these tables at each end; I try to sit at one whenever I can. The extra elbow room is always nice, and my drink doesn’t slide off the edge.”

“That’s exactly what happened to me,” Patty said. “I set the cup down in the middle of the tray, and the next thing I knew it was face down on the seat.”

“Is this your first train trip?”

“Yes,” she answered, her eyebrows rising. “How’d you guess?”

He shrugged innocently. “Just a hunch.”

“I usually fly to DC on the shuttle,” she offered, “but with all the papers talking about a possible strike this week, I didn’t want to get stranded.”

“A smart move. I take the train for economy—a business class train ticket costs a lot less than flying coach, but look at the service and the amenities. I can eat or drink what I want to, when I want to; I can get up and walk around without being in anyone’s way; I can plug my laptop into the AC outlet right here and write for the whole trip if I want to. What airline can match that?”

“So you’re a writer?”

He paused a moment to admire the smooth movement of her throat as she swallowed some more Sprite. “Yes,” he confirmed, feeling the small rush of pride that usually came from answering that question. Go ahead, a little voice inside of him urged. Tell her. He thought about how to say it, how she might react—after all, she clearly didn’t want people to see that she was reading an erotic hypnosis book. He needed to be careful.

The moment passed. “That’s nice,” she said politely. “I’m a technical trainer; I teach people to use my company’s software.”

“That must be interesting,” he replied, feeling his chance slipping away.

She smiled and opened her book. “It has its moments,” she remarked, and then turned her attention to the book.

Eric watched her for as long as courtesy would allow, then took the hint and addressed his laptop again. The image of Patty, naked and writhing on the deck of the boat, came again to the front of his mind and he resumed his writing.

You don’t resist as I spread your legs apart and settle down between them. You take my penis in your hand and guide it into your vagina. It feels so good as I penetrate you, filling you up and pressing against all the sensitive spots inside you. You feel your hips moving up and down on their own, working my length in and out, and bringing you closer and closer to orgasm.

You sense my penis quivering slightly and you squeeze down with your pelvic muscles, doubling the erotic sensations for both of us. The pleasure pulses through your entire body; you are only seconds away from a wonderful orgasm. You look up into my face and see my eyes roll upwards, and you know that I am coming right now inside you. It pleases you to know you’ve made me come, and that knowledge triggers your orgasm.

(Watch for the physical signs of orgasm before continuing.) The pleasure sweeps over you as you come, so that you feel it in every part of your body all at the same time. The orgasm lasts as long as you want it to last; it is completely satisfying and leaves you with a wonderful, happy feeling all over. (Repeat the last line every few seconds until her climax appears to be over.)

And now, you are no longer on the deck of a rented boat. You are back (state your real location) with me, where we have just shared a nice hypnotic fantasy. When I count to three you will awaken, feeling contented and peaceful. (Conclude with a three count and make sure she is fully awake.)

Eric stopped and saved his work. The erotic charge hung over him like static electricity; he could feel it everywhere from his tingling scalp to his throbbing cock. His toes curled and straightened nervously inside his shoes. It was normal for him to get worked up writing these fantasies, but doing it with a specific person in mind—a person who was sitting not three feet away, totally oblivious to it—had added a whole new dimension.

Patty, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying her book. Her skin was flushed, her nostrils flared, and every few moments her hips would shift slightly on their own in a subtle, unconscious rhythm.

Above their heads the PA system clicked. “We will be arriving in Philadelphia in about 3 minutes,” a nondescript voice announced. “Passengers leaving the train in Philadelphia, please check around your seats now and gather your personal belongings. Also, please use caution when exiting as there will be a slight gap between the doorway of the train and the platform.”

Patty glanced briefly up the aisle at the announcement, then continued with her reading. Eric watched out of the corner of his eye, wondering. What fantasy was she reading? What lover was she picturing in her mind?

The train lurched slightly on the way into the Philadelphia station. Patty felt the movement, snapped the book shut and hid it in her lap under the table. She sat upright as a few passengers filed out past her. There was only a short delay before the train moved on, starting out slowly and picking up speed once clear of the station.

Eric looked at Patty and smiled. “I think the coast is clear now,” he remarked.

She blushed a little. “Was I that obvious?”

“It’s okay,” he joked. “Lots of professional women read romance novels.”

“Not this one,” she replied, shaking her head slowly. “Not today, anyway.”

Eric played along, looking more closely at the paper-covered book. “It’s too small to be hiding a nudie magazine,” he mused. “It must be some kind of perverted sex manual.”

“No.” Patty tensed up immediately and withdrew into her seat. The sparkle faded from her eyes and was replaced by a tense wariness.

For a moment, Eric feared she would get up and leave. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I was way out of line. I get a little too flippant for my own good sometimes.” He watched Patty’s eyes anxiously, and was relieved to see her relax a little bit. “Let me make it up to you,” he suggested. “How would you like to see the book I’m working on right now?”

Patty blinked. “You mean, the one you’re still writing?”

“The very one. Usually I’d rather have root canal than show someone a rough draft. But I owe you something for that last crack, and I have a feeling you might like this. Are you interested?”

Patty searched his eyes for a moment, considering. “Okay. But you really don’t have to.”

Eric smiled, and was pleased to see her smile back. “Maybe not, but I’d like to anyway. Here you go.” He pulled up the file with the book’s title page, turned the machine around to face his companion, and scooted back to get a good look at her face.

Patty tilted the screen to improve her viewing angle and saw the title page:

EROTIC HYPNOSIS: Tips, Tricks, and Fantasies

by Eric Milton

He was not disappointed. Patty’s jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide. The book slipped out of her hand and hit the floor near her feet, but Patty didn’t move—she simply stared at the title on the screen.

“It’s a sequel, sort of,” Eric explained haltingly. “For people who’ve finished the first book. It’ll have some new inductions, suggestions for cool posthypnotic suggestions that lovers can use, and ideas on how to create more vivid fantasies. I’m also going to include a companion CD with some recorded goodies.”

Patty looked at the laptop without reading while Eric mentally crossed his fingers and waited for her reaction. “You knew,” she finally said, in the voice of a child caught in a lie. “How did you know?”

Now it was his turn to blush a bit. “Curiosity,” he explained. “It’s one of my vices. When I first saw you sitting over there, you were clearly absorbed in what you were reading; I had to know what it was. So when you went to the café car for a drink, I peeked. And boy, was I surprised.”

“Is that why you invited me over here?” she asked skeptically. “So you could play ‘I Know Your Secret’ with me?”

“No no no no no,” he protested. “Well, okay, maybe. But not just for that. Sure, I wanted to tell you that I wrote the book you’re reading, and maybe even find out how you like it. I mean, I’ve never met anyone who’s read it before—anyone outside the publishing staff, anyway, and the couple of friends who looked at the proofs. You look like an interesting person, and I just thought it would be cool to meet you even before I saw what you were reading.”

Patty saw the anxiety in his face and smiled, relaxing a little. “How do I know you’re really Eric Milton?” she teased. “You could have made up that cover page while I was reading.”

Eric saw the smile and the slight twinkle in her eye, and a wave of relief swept through him. “You’re playing with me now. Okay, fine—ask me a question about the book.”

Patty bent over and retrieved the fallen book. “All right. What’s on page 83?”

“You’re kidding me—how am I supposed to remember one page, by number? At least tell me what chapter it’s in.”

She let him sweat for a second before agreeing. “Fair enough. It’s in Chapter 5, and it’s the third page in the chapter.”

Eric frowned. “You’re determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

Her smile grew broader. “You started this, and you admitted peeking.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “So be it. Let’s see, the fifth chapter would be ...” He ticked off the chapters in his memory. “Posthypnotic Suggestions. It starts out talking about what a posthypnotic suggestion is and what kinds of things are possible. There are a couple of anecdotes about suggestions that will and won’t work. By the third page, you should be into the Do and Don’t list for effective suggestions.”

“So far, so good,” Patty confirmed, looking into the book. “What are some of the items on the Do list?”

“Do be specific: use precise language, and don’t leave out any detail, like opening the eyes. Do repeat the suggestion several times, and make sure it is okay with the person. Do make sure the suggestion has definite limits and parameters to avoid unintended results. And do cancel every suggestion that isn’t meant to be permanent. Convinced?”

“Convinced.” She snapped the book shut and laid it on the table. Her eyes met his and paused there for a long moment. “Now what do we do?”

Eric made an exaggerated gulp. “Well, I suppose you could tell me what you think of the book.”

“I haven’t finished it yet.” A faint smile hovered over her lips.

“But you must have some impression.”

Seeing his anxious look, she sighed and let the smile show through. “I’ve read my share of hypnosis books—at least six or seven, ranging from Jung to Hypnosis for Dummies. Some of them are so simple and generalized that all they really seem intended to do is send people to a professional with a few less questions to ask. Others are so full of jargon that you have to be a shrink to understand them. Yours is the first one that’s struck me as something normal people can use.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I write from experience. Everything in that book is something I’ve done in real life—most of them several times.” He winked and added, “Research is important, you know.”

She laughed lightly. “I’m sure it must be.”

“Have you tried anything from the book yet?”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head gently. “I don’t even know if I can be hypnotized.”

Eric’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “All that reading, and you’ve never actually tried it?”

“Nope,” she confirmed. “I did try self-hypnosis, just to see what it was like. I put a little red dot on the ceiling above my bed and stared at it while I told myself to relax.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “I relaxed, all right—right to sleep.”

Eric looked around the car: there were about eight other passengers, most of them toward the back end of the car, all of them either engrossed in a book, staring into a laptop, or sleeping. “Would you like to try again?”

She thought about it for a moment. “You mean here? Now? Can you do that?”

Eric nodded reassuringly. “Yes, here and now. I’ve worked with people under worse conditions than a moving train; if you really want to experience a trance, I can get you there.”

Her eyes focused on a point in space while she contemplated. “Do we have time? First sessions usually take a while, don’t they?”

Eric kept his head very still, his voice even. “What’s your final station?”

Patty checked the ticket stub in her blazer pocket. “Alexandria.”

“That’s the stop after mine. We have a good two hours to work with; plenty of time, if you want it.” Holding Patty’s gaze, Eric could see desire sparring with hesitation. He waited quietly while the duel played itself out in the arena behind her eyes.

Desire won. “I want it,” she said quietly.

“Okay. Why don’t you go to the lavatory now so we don’t have to interrupt the session later, and I’ll get things ready here?”

While Patty was away Eric saved his work, closed the laptop and set it aside. He pulled the curtain over the window and cleared the table of excess debris from their drinks. His root beer was gone, so he refilled the can with fresh water from a dispenser near the end of the car. His mouth felt dry; half the water was gone before he realized it. Steady, Eric, he told himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Calm and confident.

He was standing in the aisle waiting when she returned from the lav. “Right here,” he said, motioning toward the seat she had already been in before getting up; an unnecessary instruction, he knew, but one that helped to establish their new roles in both of their minds. “Go ahead and get comfortable,” he told her before she could do so on her own. “Find a position that feels right, and that you can maintain for a while.”

“Can I recline?”

“A little bit, if you need to. Not more than a few degrees.” He waited until she had settled in before sitting down himself. He slid over to the window seat so that he could observe his subject without being directly in front of her.

“Now what?”

Eric smiled. She was already ceding control of the situation to him—an excellent sign. And was that an extra touch of pink in her cheeks? “We’re just about ready to begin,” he explained. “Since there are a lot of visible distractions, I’ll take you into hypnosis by having you close your eyes and imagine an hourglass filled with different colors of sand. As you envision the sand slowly draining from the top of the hourglass to the bottom, you’ll find yourself relaxing and falling just as easily into trance. Once you’ve achieved a workable depth, we’ll do a few tests to show you that you really are under hypnosis, and then see how much deeper you can go. I don’t like to get too ambitious with a first session, but if things go very well we’ll do a couple of simple, G-rated posthypnotic suggestions. You’ll feel yourself responding to them without thinking, and that will prove how good a hypnotic subject you are.” He paused a moment to let his predictions sink in. “Are you ready?”

She licked her lips and met his gaze directly. “Ready.”

“Then close your eyes,” he instructed, letting his voice drop into a low, soothing tone. “Close them now, and imagine that you are staring at an old-fashioned hourglass. See the wooden frame, the shiny glass, and millions of tiny grains of sand inside it. The upper half of the hourglass is completely full, the bottom empty; but as you watch, you can see that the sand has already begun streaming out of the upper half of the hourglass into the lower half. See the sand, Patty. Concentrate on the sand so that you see every grain of sand in that hourglass; nothing else that comes to your mind matters. Let any other thoughts and idea just fall away; they’re not important right now. Focus your mind until the only things you are aware of are the sand in the hourglass and the sound of my voice.

“Focus on the hourglass, and you’ll find that as the sand flows smoothly, easily, and inevitably from the upper half to the lower, your body and your mind will relax just as smoothly, easily, and inevitably. You’ll feel all of the tension in your muscles fading away with the flow of the sand, leaving you nice and relaxed and comfortable. Each breath you take, each slow and easy breath, will help the sand flow and help your mind and body relax.”

Eric continued his monologue in a smooth, even, well-practiced voice, watching Patty for the first signs of physical relaxation. When her face went slack and her head began to sag several minutes earlier than expected, he felt the familiar, delicious thrill rush through his body. It’s been way too long, he thought to himself.

Seeing Patty’s body respond, he shifted into the present tense. “Your head is feeling heavy,” he said, carefully masking the growing excitement within himself. “It’s okay to let your head fall gently forward, letting it rest, letting those tired neck muscles relax. Your arms and legs feel limp and heavy, as if your whole body was turning into a big rag doll. And with every breath, you feel yourself relaxing more and more, watching the sand flow through the hourglass, taking you into hypnosis.

“Keep watching the hourglass, Patty, and listening to my voice. As more and more sand flows into the bottom half, you feel yourself floating deeper and deeper into a nice, relaxing trance. My voice is here to guide you; listening to my voice takes you deeper and deeper into trance, gently and easily going deeper and deeper into trance. You listen to my voice, and you find yourself responding to everything I say.

“The hourglass top is almost empty now, Patty. Empty, like your mind is becoming empty of all unnecessary thoughts. My words help to clear your mind, and my voice takes the place of your thoughts. You are now in a deep, relaxing trance and you will respond totally to everything I say.”

And she was deep, he observed, noting the change in skin tone and the tiny movements of her eyes below the closed eyelids. Plenty deep enough for the few simple tests he’d promised her.

“In a moment, Patty, I’m going to lift your arm to see how relaxed you are. I want you to keep watching the last bits of sand drain out of the top of the hourglass, and pay no attention at all to my touch. When I let go of your arm you will let it fall back to your lap, and when it does you’ll relax even more and go deeper into your trance.” Moving carefully so as not to jostle her or brush against her relaxed, extended legs, he got up and walked around the table to her side. Her right arm was totally limp and felt heavy in his grasp as he lifted it gently and hefted it. “This is excellent, Patty,” he commended his subject. “Feel how very relaxed your arm is. You’ve gone into a very deep, satisfying trance. Now I’m going to put your arm down so that you can go even deeper.” He lowered the arm until it was just above her lap, then let go and let it drop. She seemed to sink just a little deeper into the seat.

“I’m going to touch you in a few more places now, Patty,” he said. “On your neck, and on your face. Each touch will send you deeper into trance.” Slipping off his wristwatch, he placed an index finger against the side of her throat and counted the pulse beats in 15 seconds. Her heart rate was very slow but steady. The skin of her face had a slightly clammy feel, evidence of reduced circulation.

“Patty, in a moment I am going to count to three. On the count of three, I want you to lift your head and open your eyes. I do not want you to wake up; just lift your head and open your eyes. I don’t want you look at anything in particular or try to focus your eyes on anything, either. Just let them open and look straight ahead. One, two, three.”

Eric watched with satisfaction as Patty’s head rose slowly from her chest. When she was facing straight forward, her eyes slowly opened. The still, unfocused stare he saw in them sent another rush of excitement through Eric’s body. A first-class subject, he thought to himself. Even better than Kelly was. For a second or two he pictured Kelly’s face with that same blank stare. How long had it been since they’d ended it—six months? Eight months? Too long, certainly.

Stop it, he scolded himself. This is not a sexual encounter. His cock seemed unconvinced, standing at half-mast. For all I know, she’s married. One look at her left hand suggested not. She’s probably got someone back home, he tried.

Ask her out, an inner voice suggested. If she’s attached, she’ll say so.

“Close your eyes now, Patty, but leave your head upright.” He watched as her eyes closed, then slid back into his seat opposite her. “Now, Patty, I want you to imagine a thermometer. This one is different from most thermometers, though, because it is your trance thermometer. Its numbers run from zero to 100; zero means you are not in a trance at all, and 100 means that you are in the deepest trance you think you can reach. I want you to imagine your trance thermometer now, and on the count of three I want you to tell me what number it is showing. You can speak clearly and distinctly to answer me, and it will not disturb your trance state. One, two, three.”

Patty’s lips parted slowly. “Sixty two,” she said in a sleepy monotone.

His eyebrows rose—Patty was turning out to be a surprisingly good subject. If only they were in a quiet, private place ...

No, Eric thought, mentally tying a tourniquet around his swelling cock. This is not a seduction.

But you wish it was, the inner voice taunted. You know you want her.

Yes, I do, he argued back. But I can’t break trust again. That’s how I lost Kelly.

The voice had no answer for that one.

Eric jerked his mind back to the present. Patty had passed her tests easily, and was clearly deep enough to accept a posthypnotic suggestion or two. Time to get back to the plan.

“Patty,” he said, “you have done very well with the tests. You know now that you are a very good hypnotic subject; you have no difficulty at all following my suggestions while in trance. Because you are such a good subject, we are going to do some posthypnotic suggestions now. You will listen to my suggestions, and you will follow them to the best of your ability; you are such a good subject that you will always obey my suggestions. Let your head relax again now, sinking back to your chest, and listen to my suggestions.”

He waited for her head to settle back onto her chest before continuing. “Your first suggestion is your trance trigger. Whenever we are together, if I hold one of your hands and snap my fingers you will go immediately back into trance. You won’t think about it; you’ll forget about whatever you might be saying, doing, or thinking at the time and just let go into a nice, deep trance, deeper even than the one you are in now. You will go into trance only if I snap my fingers while holding one of your hands, Patty; if I just snap my fingers, or just grab your hand, it will mean nothing special. If, when I hold your hand and snap my fingers, you strongly do not want to go into trance, you will say ‘No’ and tell me why you do not want to. Otherwise, you will always respond by going immediately into trance whenever I hold your hand and snap my fingers.

“Your second suggestion is a test, to show you how powerful my suggestions are to you. Sometime after you awaken, I am going to say the words ‘animal magnetism’ to you. When I say ‘animal magnetism’, your hands will feel a powerful magnetic force pulling them upward towards the roof of the train. The force will be irresistible; the harder you try to keep your hands down, the stronger will be the force pulling them up. Your hands will rise until your arms are pointing straight up at the ceiling, and they will remain that way despite any efforts you make to bring them down again. The force will not be strong enough to lift you out of your seat, or make you uncomfortable in any way, but your arms will continue pointing straight up until I clap my hands once. When I clap my hands once, the magnetic force will go away; you will once again have full control of your arms, and this suggestion will be completely cancelled.”

Eric repeated his suggestions, reinforcing them in Patty’s subconscious mind, until he judged she had absorbed them fully. “In a few moments, it will be time to wake up. I’m going to count from one to ten, and with each number I count you will find yourself slowly rising out of your trance. When I reach the number ten, you will be fully awake, alert, and feeling refreshed.” He counted up slowly, giving Patty plenty of time to rouse herself in response to his commands. When he reached ten, her eyes fluttered open.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She considered for a long moment before answering. “Wow,” she finally said. “I feel good. Refreshed, like you said I would. It was weird, though. I remember everything, but it’s like I wasn’t really paying attention. Does that make sense?”

“Sure it does. A lot of people get that disconnected feeling when they’re in a trance. For me, it’s like my body responds to the hypnotist on its own while my mind just sits back and watches.”

“Was I really that deep?”

“It looked that way. You could have gone a lot deeper, too, according to the depth test we did.”

“Sixty two,” she said with wonder on her face. “Sixty two out of a hundred. I wonder what a hundred feels like.”

“Practice, and you’ll find out.”

“Speaking of finding things out,” she countered. “Aren’t you supposed to say something pretty soon?”

He grinned. “You mean, some kind of remark about animal magnetism?”

Patty let out a soft gasp as her hands rose quickly above the table. “Wow!” she exclaimed. Her face flushed red; Eric could see the concentration in her eyes as she fought the imaginary force. Her arms quivered with the effort, but succeeded only in slowing their ascent. “I ... can’t ... stop it ... arghhh!” She growled and gave up; her hands, already at eye level, shot up the rest of the way and remained aloft, pointing to the ceiling of the train car.

“Surprised?” Eric asked, seeing the tiny beads of sweat that had formed during her effort.

“I shouldn’t be, I guess,” she replied. “You told me it would be like this. I thought I’d be able to fight it for a few minutes, though. Jesus! It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me to strip.”

I could, the inner voice piped up. He choked it off. “That might have worked,” he said instead, “but probably not the same way. Unless you’re accustomed to being nude in public, your mind would have found a way around the suggestion. You might have gone into the lavatory and stripped there in private, then put your clothes back on to come back here and tell me off. Or your mind might have just postponed following the suggestion until you found yourself in a place where you felt comfortable taking them off. Either way, you’d have good reason not to let me hypnotize you again.”

“Can I help you, Miss?” Neither of them had noticed the conductor entering the car.

“No, thanks,” she replied, thinking quickly, looking at her arms. “Just stretching a bit.”

“Okay, Miss.”

Eric clapped his hands lightly as the conductor walked by. Patty made a point of visibly stretching, then brought her arms to her sides and rested them on the table. She and Eric shared a conspiratorial giggle. Overhead, the PA system announced their imminent arrival in Wilmington, Delaware.

“Nice thinking,” Eric remarked as the train pulled out of the Wilmington station. He held out his hand across the table.

“Thanks,” she said, unconsciously taking his offered hand. “It seemed like a—” The rest of her sentence vanished unspoken from her mind as Eric snapped the fingers of his free hand. Her eyes glazed over and lost focus, then closed down as her body slumped back in the seat.

“Very good,” Eric said, watching her settle into the seat. “Your subconscious remembers and responds to your trigger. Every time I hold your hand and snap my fingers, you will fall more easily and quickly into trance, and go deeper than the time before. Let yourself go now, and sink deeper and deeper. Imagine your trance thermometer, Patty; as you sink deeper and deeper into trance, you will see the indicator on the thermometer go to higher and higher numbers. When the indicator reaches 75, I want you to squeeze my hand once.”

He didn’t have to wait more than a minute for the squeeze. “Very good,” he told her. “You are now at 75 on your trance thermometer. I’m going to count to 10 again, and as I’m counting you will wake up. When I reach ten, you will be completely awake but unable to let go of my hand. Nothing you do will enable you to let go of my hand until I tell you that you can.” He counted to ten again, enjoying the sight of her eyes fluttering open.

As soon as her eyes focused again, Eric saw her left shoulder begin to flex. “It’s working,” she confirmed, her eyebrows crinkling up in concentration. “I’m trying to pull my hand away, but the muscles won’t work. I can’t do it.”

Eric grinned. “Of course not. I told you, you’re a very good subject.” Before she could reply, he snapped his fingers again and she slumped back into the chair. “That’s good,” he said. “Deeper and deeper, deeper than before. See your trance thermometer, and when you reach 80 you will squeeze my hand.”

It took only a few seconds, then he felt the pressure around his hand. “Excellent, Patty. Now, on the count of three, I want you to open your eyes and act as though you are completely awake. I don’t want you to wake up; you will remain in a deep trance, but you will sit up and move around and talk to me as though you were awake, all the while obeying my every instruction. One, two, three.”

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up in the seat. “I still can’t pull my hand away,” she observed.

“True—I haven’t cancelled that suggestion yet. How do you feel?”

“Fine,” she said. “A little spacey, maybe, from all the passing out and waking up.”

“Not dizzy at all?”

She looked puzzled. “No.”

“Yes, you are,” Eric said, watching her face. “You are becoming very dizzy, as if you were very drunk. The entire train feels as though it is spinning around.”

The puzzled look quickly faded into a slack-jawed, disoriented expression. “Holy shit,” she said. “I am dizzy. What the hell is going on? Why is everything spinning around?”

“It’s not,” he replied. “Even now, the dizziness is passing. Everything looks normal again, and you feel fine.”

Patty looked around her and nodded wonderingly. “Yes, I do. I’m fine again. This is amazing.”

“This is hypnosis,” Eric told her. “You’re in what’s called a waking trance; able to act as if awake, but your subconscious is still in control—and I control your subconscious.”

“Wow ... how long are you going to keep me like this?”

“Not much longer. It’s an advanced trick, especially for a first session. I wouldn’t even have tried it if you hadn’t responded so well to the other suggestions.”

“You are very good at this, aren’t you?”

He smiled. “Pretty good. But it’s you doing most of the work. Do you have any requests before we end the session?”

She looked thoughtful. “Requests. Do you mean, suggestions to try?”

“Sure.”

She flushed a little bit. “I’d like to try something a little more ... risqué. Something from the book.”

“Really?” Eric was surprised, and aroused. “You mean, like one of the fantasies?”

“God, no,” she said quickly. “I’m pretty loud when I’m ... you know. The whole train would know what I was doing. I was thinking about the switch trick from Chapter Five; you know, ‘Switch On’ and ‘Switch Off’?”

Eric worked hard to contain his excitement; meanwhile, his cock sprang to full attention. “We can do that, certainly. On the count of three, you will close your eyes and return to your deep, relaxed trance state. One, two, three.” On command, she slumped back in her seat again. “Patty, I want you to let yourself drift deeper and deeper into trance. Watch your trance thermometer, and squeeze my hand when you get to 85.”

He waited, repeating his mantra of “deeper and deeper,” until he felt the squeeze. “Patty, you’ve read the chapter in my book on posthypnotic suggestions. From now on, whenever I say the words ‘Switch On’ to you, you will become extremely aroused, sexy and horny. The foremost thought in your mind will be having sex at the first available opportunity, and the longer you have to wait for that opportunity the stronger that sexual desire will become. Your sexual need will continue to grow until you actually have sex, or until I say the words ‘Switch Off’. When I say ‘Switch Off’, any sexual feelings that have been caused by a ‘Switch On’ command will be negated, and you will have complete control over your sexual thoughts and feelings again.”

After reinforcing the suggestion several times, he woke Patty one more time. “How do you feel now?”

“Good,” she answered. “A little anxious; I can’t wait to find out what being switched on feels like.”

“Switch on, then,” Eric replied with a smile.

Patty shuddered, and her eyes opened wide. “Oh, God,” she gulped, her free hand pulling instinctively to her gut. She stared at Eric as if seeing him for the first time, studying every aspect of his face. “Do you have any idea what this feels like?”

“A little bit,” he said, grinning openly. “I know what it feels like when I’m the one being switched on.”

“This is such a rush,” she said. “I’ve never been so out-and-out horny in my life as I am right this minute.” As she spoke, her free hand crept upward and cupped a breast.

Overhead, the PA system crackled to life again. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching Baltimore station. Baltimore station in about two minutes.”

“Had enough?” Eric asked.

She squirmed in the seat and grunted softly. “Yes,” she said, nodding vigorously.

“Switch off.”

She blinked, took a deep breath and let it out with a long sigh. “Whew,” she said, fanning herself with her free hand. “Somebody turn up the air conditioning for a few minutes, please.”

“Okay.” Eric snapped his fingers one more time and Patty dropped back into the seat. He coached her back down to 85 on her depth meter, then gave Patty her final commands. “On the count of ten, you will wake up and be completely alert and refreshed. Your body will feel completely comfortable, neither too warm nor too cold, and all of my hypnotic suggestions to you will be cancelled—” an idea struck him and he changed his mind. “Except for your trance trigger. You will still go immediately into a deep trance whenever I snap my fingers while holding your hand, but none of the other suggestions I’ve given you today will affect you after you wake up this time.”

The train was stopping—they had reached Baltimore. He counted her up much more quickly than usual; Patty struggled a bit to open her eyes. “Wow,” she said, slowly pulling her hand out of his. “That was a trip.”

“I know,” Eric replied, willing his cock to settle down again. “You’d like to do that again sometime, wouldn’t you?” It was a suggestion disguised as a question.

“Absolutely,” Patty replied automatically.

“Good. Did you have any plans for this evening?”

“Nothing—just check into the hotel, have dinner somewhere, read some more, and go to sleep. My work doesn’t start until tomorrow morning.”

“Let me take you to dinner,” he suggested, suppressing a wince as his conscience flogged him.

“Sure,” she agreed, seemingly a little surprised at the speed of her own answer.

They sat together making pleasant small talk while the train wound through Baltimore. It stopped at BWI airport, and again in New Carrolton, Maryland.

“That’s my cue,” Eric said as the train pulled out of New Carrolton. “Next stop, Union Station. Alexandria comes after that.”

“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked. “I didn’t bring anything very dressy.”

“I know a nice place in Springfield,” he said. “Good service, a nice, casual atmosphere, and succulent prime rib.”

“Sold,” she said with a smile.

Pulling a notepad from his laptop case, he jotted down her hotel name and phone number. “I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”

“That’s fine.”

He gathered his things together as the PA system announced their imminent arrival at Union Station. “By the way,” he said with nonchalance. “Do you have a CD player with you? Something you can listen to while in your hotel room?”

“Not with me,” she replied. “Why?”

“Just an idea,” he told her. “I’ve done some audio recordings for the new book, and if you had a player I thought it might be fun to have you try them out. I haven’t had a chance to test them yet.”

She shrugged. “Sorry. I’d love to, but I don’t have anything to play them on here.”

The train slowed and stopped. “It’s okay. I’ll see you again soon.”

“Seven,” she repeated. “I’ll be in the lobby.”

They exchanged smiles. Eric watched the train pull away from the platform and sighed, feeling excited and guilty at the same time.

Patty was waiting in the hotel lobby when Eric arrived at 6:55. She had changed into a lightweight blue dress and heels. She took his offered hand without thinking, then suddenly tensed; her eyes met his and she paused for a breathless second, part of her wanting him to snap his fingers and part wanting to pull the hand away before he could.

Eric saw all of this flash across her face and smiled reassuringly. “Ready to go?” he asked, releasing her hand.

She nodded and followed him to his car. They headed west on the Capital Beltway toward Springfield and stopped at Kilroy’s, a cozy restaurant/pub tucked into a shopping center off Braddock Road. A pretty hostess led them to a corner booth with high walls.

“Nice place,” Patty remarked, looking at the wartime memorabilia covering the walls of the booth.

“I like it,” Eric replied. “It’s comfortable, there’s a lot of privacy, and the food really is splendid. Wait till you taste the honey-buttered biscuits they serve here.” He reached toward her for a menu and was amused to see that flash of conflict cross her face again.

“When you took my hand in the lobby, Eric, it felt like ... I mean, I thought you were going to ...”

“I know,” he said, keeping his voice light. “Occupational hazard. When I’m with someone I’ve hypnotized several times, I have to be careful to keep my voice from slipping too low—if it gets too close to my hypnotist’s tone, they tend to fade out on me.”

Their waitress brought them tall glasses of iced tea. “Ready to order?”

Eric looked at Patty, who squirmed a little in her seat. “Can you give us a few more minutes?” she asked the waitress.

“Sure,” she said, and retreated with a smile.

Patty became clearly uncomfortable. “Eric,” she began, looking at anything and everything in the booth except Eric. “Before you get the wrong idea, I really need to tell you something.”

Eric waited, a lump growing in the pit of his stomach.

Patty drew a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sort of engaged.”

He let it hang there for a few moments. Calm and confident, he reminded himself. When she gathered the courage to meet his eye, he was ready. “Sort of engaged? Is that anything like ‘sort of’ pregnant?”

“Sort of,” she replied, flashing a weak smile at her feeble joke. “Craig is a great guy. We’ve been together for about three years. We live together, in my apartment on Staten Island, and we’re going to get married eventually. Right now we’re just waiting for his next promotion, and then we’ll make it official.”

Eric kept his voice light and casual. “Are you happy with him?”

“Of course,” she answered quickly. “We have our off days, but so does every other couple in the world. We have a lot invested in this relationship. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since I met Craig. I’m not even sure why I’m here with you now, Eric. I really shouldn’t be, it’s not fair to either of us.”

“It’s all right,” Eric lied. “I wasn’t looking for a life partner on that train. I asked you out because I like you, because I knew you’d probably be free, being away from home and all, and because I’d like to ask you a favor. As for why you accepted ...” Eric cleared his throat. “I have a good idea, and I feel pretty guilty about it.”

“What did you do?” she asked, surprise and suspicion creeping into her voice. “Did you use a hypnotic suggestion to get me to go out with you?”

“No, no, no,” he said. “Nothing that underhanded. What I did do was take advantage of a side affect of deep hypnosis. When you come out of a good trance, it takes a while before the critical thinking facility comes fully back into play. During that time, which varies with the subject, you’re still very susceptible to suggestions—especially from the person who helped put you into the hypnotic state to begin with. Therapists take advantage of that phenomenon to help reinforce their suggestions even after the patient is awake; they call it ‘waking suggestion’. I took advantage of it to ask you out at a time when I knew you’d be strongly predisposed to agree.” He let his head drop. “I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry.”

Patty waited for him to look up again before answering. “I’m sorry, too,” she replied, meeting his eyes. “Sorry that I didn’t tell you on the train that I’m not available. I think it would have been fun and exciting to date you, Eric. But as it is, I should probably go.”

“Don’t,” he insisted, reaching across the table for a hand. “You don’t have to go. You still need to eat, and this is a good place to do it. So we’re not on a date; that doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time and just be friends.” Inwardly he winced at the cliché.

“I suppose not,” she mused. “As long as there are no false expectations, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

“I think we’ve both put our cards on the table. That is, unless you’re secretly a man or something.”

The joke was just funny enough to break the tension. “Not the last time I checked,” she replied in kind.

Some time later, Patty slid into the passenger seat of Eric’s car and let out a contented sigh. “That was delicious,” she said. “Thank you, Eric.”

Eric smiled and looked into her eyes, wondering.

Patty picked up on the look. “What?”

“We’ve been sitting together talking and eating for over an hour,” he observed. “In that time, you haven’t said a word about your fiancée.”

Patty flushed a bit and became very interested in the handle of her purse. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear about him.”

“But I do,” he said. “I’m interested. In writing my book and doing erotic hypnosis seminars, I’ve met a lot of couples; I enjoy hearing about successful relationships.”

His earnest look overcame her initial suspicion. “Craig’s a great guy,” she told him. “Confident, outgoing, fun to be around.”

“Does he know about the book?”

Patty shook her head. “I haven’t shown it to him yet; I wanted to read it first, see if it was really something I thought we could do. He won’t have a problem with it, though—as a rule, he’ll go for any activity that ends with us in bed.” They shared a soft chuckle, which subsided quickly. Patty stared out the window at the Beltway traffic while Eric contemplated his next move.

She gave him his opening. “You said at the restaurant that you wanted to ask me a favor,” she said. “Do you still?”

Eric wanted to grin; he limited himself to a friendly smile instead. “Yes, if you’re willing.”

“What did you have in mind?”

He popped open the armrest storage bin, removed a small cardboard box, and handed it to Patty. She opened the top flap to find a Rio Volt, a pair of good-quality headphones with a long cord, and a CDR disk. Eric cleared his throat and explained. “My publisher thought it would be helpful if the second book included a CD with some sample sessions on it, so people can hear what an experienced hypnotist sounds like. She thinks it will boost sales; I don’t know, maybe it will. So I recorded a long induction, a short induction, a couple of deepeners, and a few of the fantasy sessions. The problem is, there’s too much material there for a regular CD—I had to convert the tracks to MP3 format to fit them all on one disk. I need someone to listen to what’s there and tell me which ones work the best, so we can put the best stuff on an audio CD.”

“And you want me to help you with that?”

Eric nodded. “You’re such a good subject that it isn’t really a fair test; things that work well for you might not work at all for someone less skilled at going into trance. But I need someone other than myself to bounce these off of, and I hoped you’d give it a try.”

Patty examined the Volt with interest. “I will have a lot of free time this week,” she remarked. “This would certainly be a relaxing way to spend some of it.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Sure. How do I work this thing?”

Eric let himself sigh. “The instruction book for the Volt is in the box. It’s pretty simple, really; I put a paper list of the tracks in there for you. You can program the Volt to play an induction, a deepener, and then one or more of the other tracks for you. There’s a wake-up track to finish off with. All I ask is that you try each track at least once and rate them for me with how well they worked for you.”

She nodded. “And how do I get this back to you at the end of the week?”

“My phone number is on the sheet. Give me a call and I’ll come pick up the Volt. Keep the disc if you want—you can use it on your home computer. I’ll even give you a ride to the train station if you want.”

Patty eyed him appraisingly. “You’re making it very easy to say yes to you.”

Eric gave her an innocent shrug. “It would help me a lot,” he explained. “I’m not seeing anybody right now, so I have nobody to test this stuff on. In fact, if Craig is interested, I’d love to have you and him try some of the material from the new book. I go up to New York every month or so to meet with the publisher anyway; we could get together and exchange notes.”

“One step at a time,” Patty said, giggling softly. “He doesn’t even know about this particular kink of mine yet. But I’ll be happy to be your guinea pig while I’m in town, at least.”

The car came to a stop in front of Patty’s hotel. Eric held his hand out. “That’s good enough for me,” he said. “Thank you.”

Patty took his hand and shook it. Then, on impulse, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll call you on Friday.”

Eric watched Patty until she was inside the lobby and out of site, then sighed and pulled away. On the way home, he found himself singing along with the Black Crowes.

Action speaks louder than words

And I’m a man of great experience.

I know you’ve got another man,

But I can love you better than him ...

Patty sat in the armchair in her hotel room. The Rio Volt lay on the table beside her, the headphones in her hand. For the fifth or sixth time, she raised them to eye level and then put them back down. Her stomach felt queasy, her knees weak and shaky. Why am I so nervous? she asked herself.

Because this is powerful stuff, her conscience answered. You got a taste of how powerful it is on the train.

Yes, she argued with herself. But it’s still just hypnosis—it can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.

Oh, really? Are you saying you wouldn’t have willingly jumped Eric right there on the train if he hadn’t given you the switch off command?

She paused, the memory of the experience flooding through her, bringing a tingle to her erogenous zones. He’d said, “Switch on,” and in that moment every nerve and fiber in her being had only one desire—sex, hot and wet and reckless and right away. If, instead of “switch off,” he’d said “Fuck me,” would she have done it?

In a heartbeat, she realized. Craig or no Craig, privacy or no privacy, she’d have given him anything he asked at that moment, done anything to satisfy the sexual need brought on by the hypnotic trigger. That was scary.

And titillating.

Patty stared into space, daydreaming. In her imagination, Craig was sitting on the bed nearby, smiling. “Switch on,” he said to her. She saw herself moaning, ripping off her clothes, bowling Craig over onto the bed. A raw, animal lust drove her as she forced down his pants and took his thick, rigid cock into her mouth ...

She shivered at the image. Powerful, she thought.

This time she actually put the headphones on. She’d skimmed the Volt instruction manual; it wasn’t too hard to use, for all the features it had. She worked the buttons to program a sequence of tracks. Just an introduction, she told herself, and hit the Play button.

Eric’s voice filled her mind almost immediately. The quality surprised Patty; there was none of the usual hiss or background noise she was accustomed to hearing, just Eric, speaking as if from within her own mind, telling her to get comfortable and relax. He told her to find something to focus her eyes on, either a spot on the wall or a favorite object, something she would enjoy looking at intently. Patty’s eye settled on her own reflection in the dressing mirror across the room. She looked deeply into her own eyes and, on Eric’s cue, took a series of long, deep, slow breaths. As Eric’s voice droned on, Patty became increasingly aware of every detail of her face as reflected by the mirror: how her eyes had those tiny flecks of gray in them, how her nose seemed to flare out as she exhaled, and how very sleepy and relaxed she looked. Her eyes wanted to close; it wasn’t time yet, she knew—Eric had only just said that her eyes would begin to feel heavy and tired soon—but holding them open was just too much effort. The lids dropped, and her head sank down onto her chest.

Eric sat in the makeshift study of his Dupont Circle home. The laptop was open on the desk, but his fingers couldn’t find the will to type. His mind kept returning to the image of Patty, deep in trance; Patty, eyes open, staring blankly ahead; Patty, in switched-on mode, radiating sexual desire with her every move and look.

Patty, at the restaurant, saying, “I’m sort of engaged.”

He let out a deep, unhappy sigh. The good ones always are, he thought to himself.

Why are you so stuck on this woman? a voice inside him asked. Just because she’s so hypnotizable?

Of course not, he answered. Because she’s pretty and smart and shares my interests. She’s classy but still approachable, easy to talk to, with a really nice smile.

In other words, the voice remarked sarcastically, she’s just like Kelly.

He had no comeback for that one. It didn’t matter anyway, he reasoned, since Patty was engaged. He’d see her one more time, to retrieve the Volt and get her feedback on the recordings, and that would be it.

In his mind, he pictured himself knocking on a hotel room door. Patty answered, in a silky bathrobe and slippers, looking surprised to see him. “Switch on,” he said to her, and watched the wariness in her face turn to unfettered desire. In seconds the robe came off, revealing Patty’s trim body adorned in a lacy, see-through bra and panties. He stood still, watching with interest while she stripped off her underwear and posed for him, trying her best to be sexy for him. He smiled as he pictured himself going down on her, driving her to the edge of incoherence before finally sinking his cock inside her...

No way, the inner voice proclaimed, breaking his daydream. Not gonna happen.

Frustrated, and sporting a half hard-on, Eric grabbed his spare headphones from the desk drawer and plugged them into his laptop. He pulled up Winamp, pointed it to a saved play list of old WAV recordings, and hit Play.

A rich, smooth female voice came through the headphones. “Relax for me, Eric,” it said, and even though it had been months since he’d heard Kelly’s voice it melted him instantly. Eric let go and allowed himself to slide out of consciousness, floating along in the silky smoothness of Kelly’s voice as it guided him into fantasy.

“We’re at a party,” she told him, “a semi-formal affair full of people we don’t know, arranged by the publisher. You didn’t really want to go, but felt obligated. To make things a little more pleasant for you, I’m wearing my pink dress—the one with the spaghetti straps and the scooped back, the one that always seems to grab your eyes and pull them directly to my cleavage, the one that you love seeing me in almost as much as you love getting me out of it.

“You’ve already suggested once that we leave, but we’ve been there less than an hour so I tell you we have to stay and mingle a while longer. You sigh and we drift apart, working the room. You find yourself talking to one of the senior editors, saying all the right things, with half your mind idle and wanting to take me home and get me out of that dress. You spot me across the room talking with your editor and his wife; our eyes make contact, and a playful, impish thought comes into your mind.

“The next time you see me looking at you, you touch your left earlobe. It’s my trigger, the one that makes me so incredibly horny I can barely concentrate on anything except how much I want your hard cock inside me. You watch with satisfaction when you see me react to my trigger: my eyes get wide, and my breath catches. You see me trying to dissemble, to explain away the sudden change to you publisher and his wife, all the while being unable to keep my eyes from searching you out and staring at your crotch.

“You tease me for a while, working the room, letting the various VIP’s draw you into short conversations, knowing that I’m getting hornier and more distracted with every passing minute. Finally you come up to me alone, and ask if I’m ready to go yet.

“You can smell my arousal just standing next to me, and knowing how desperately I want you arouses you as well. Taking my hand, you lead me to a nearby office and shut the door. I wrap my arms around your neck and kiss you with all the built-up passion in my body. You lift my dress up and stick a finger inside my panties; they’re soaking wet, and the feel of your finger against my slit makes me latch onto you even harder. You pull my panties down, lift me up, and sit me on the edge of the desk.

“I wave my arms back, pushing desk accessories and paperwork out of the way, and lie back on the desk for you. You pull the spaghetti straps off my shoulders and roll my dress down. My nipples are stiff and hard, and when you caress them with your hand I can’t help but moan loudly. You can see that I’m ready to come, and knowing what you’ve done to me makes you so hard and ready that you don’t want to wait any longer. You drop your pants and underwear and thrust your cock deep inside me. I’m so wet that it slides in easily, all the way, until you can feel yourself pressing against the end.

“The pleasure is too much for me. I start squealing and moaning, getting very loud. You know how loud I can get when I’m excited, so you give me something soft to bite down on—a little cloth beanbag, the kind people squeeze to help relieve stress. I put that in my mouth and bite down hard on it, muffling my screams of ecstasy. You thrust your cock in and out, getting us both so aroused, so ready, so needing to come.

“Finally, you feel my muscles clamp down on you as I scream into the stress ball. I’m coming, and knowing that you’ve made me come like this feels so good that you can’t hold back any longer. You come, pumping inside me while I squeal and pant. It is the longest, best orgasm you can remember having.

“Some time later, our breathing returns to normal. You withdraw yourself from me and pull your pants back up. I’m too exhausted to move right away, so you kiss my thighs and wipe me off with a cloth napkin you pocketed from the party earlier.”

A few minutes later, Kelly’s voice counted up and Eric opened his eyes. He was dazed and a little disoriented. A wet, sticky stain was spreading across the front of his pants and a vivid memory of something that had never actually happened was haunting his heart.

You had Kelly, the inner voice taunted him, and you blew it.

I know.

Patty opened her eyes at the count of ten. She shifted in the chair, stretched and yawned. A good ride, she judged. She’d set the Volt to play back the long induction, followed by a deepener, then another deepener, and then the wake-up track. Her watch told her that she’d been under for slightly under an hour, which agreed with the play times on the tracks. She felt refreshed, calm, content, and a little excited.

See, she scolded herself lightly. No adverse effects. I’m not suddenly, uncontrollably lusting for Eric.

The voice quieted, she undressed and went to bed.