Hypnotherapy
by le Duc de Kavaliere
Read no more if you are under 18, if reading this kind of material is illegal under your local laws, or if you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activity. This story is for fantasy only — do not try this in real life. It is not to be archived, spoofed, or reposted.
This is a work of fiction. The people, events, and circumstances depicted are imaginary. Any resemblance of any character to any actual person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. If you’re reading this anywhere other than mcstories.com, it’s been stolen.
Dedicated to the memory of Gaston Leroux (1868-1927) and to the eight people who wrote in to say they enjoyed “Midsummer Knight’s Dream.”
Prologue: 1998
“Look at your face in the mirror, I am there in... er...um... side...”
Russell looked around the theater in astonishment as the lights went out and the auditorium plunged into darkness. The actor playing the Phantom finished his line as the orchestra’s instruments petered out.
The exit lights were still illuminated, but no lighting came from the stage or the doorways. The Phantom’s moment of surprise had come when his microphone had died.
For a moment, the theater was utterly silent.
The actor playing the Phantom lit a match, inspiring chuckles from the audience.
The actor playing Raoul — whose facial features were invisible in the darkness — turned to the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he ad libbed, “remain in your seats — it was an accident — simply an accident!”
“The performance will continue in ten minutes time,” added the actress playing Christine, to general laughs.
The Phantom hurried off the stage, then returned a moment later. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to say that we are having a power failure, and it’s the entire block. We have no control over when the power will be back on.
“We’re not going anywhere right away, but if you wish to leave, call the box office tomorrow and your money will be refunded. OW!” The match had burned down to his fingers, and he dropped it in surprise.
I can sit here and wait, Russell figured, or I can go back home and call Alyson. People were rising all around him. There was no indication that anything was going to change.
Russell stood up and started making his way toward the exit. A third of the people in the theater had chosen that option as well. They did not have any more faith in the power company than he did.
He left the theater and inhaled the crisp night air. The report was correct: the entire block was dark. He could see lights from other parts of the city, but the only sources nearby were headlights.
Shaking his head in disdain, Russell stepped to the curb and raised his hand to hail a cab. The woman beside him fumbled in her purse, and let out a groan.
“Is everything all right?” he asked her.
“I just realized, I’ll have to stop by an ATM,” she sighed. “I don’t have enough cash for the cab ride.”
He smiled at her sympathetically, and she turned to glance in his direction.
Their eyes met. Russell felt his breath catch in his throat, and the bottom seemed to fall out of his stomach.
Maybe it was the darkness, but the woman had the sexiest, the deepest, the most incredible gray eyes he’d ever seen.
Russell tried to smile, but he was sure he was making a fool of himself. He felt his mouth go dry in a way it hadn’t since junior high school.
She was wearing an elegant black cloak, which is why she hadn’t immediately caught his eye when he’d taken the spot next to her. The hood fluttered off in the wind, revealing dark blonde curls swishing around her shoulders. She had a triangular face, a soft nose, and full lips. A Victorian dress, black with purple trim, peeked out from beneath the dark cloak. A car drove past, and in the flash of its headlights he beheld skin the color of cream. He blinked, and as she turned her whole body to face his he felt his heart leap into his throat. Her eyes were wonderfully dark, like the ocean at night. Were they truly gray, or just a dark blue? There wasn’t enough light to see. He was so curious, he wanted to know, he wanted to stare and stare and stare. He wanted to fall in, for his thoughts to plummet into those gorgeous dark eyes.
Damn, I have to say something, Russell thought. “Um.” Dang it, I can’t believe I said that. “Would you like to...” he began, but his voice died. He cleared his throat and continued. “To share a cab?”
Her lovely lips curled into a smile, and her eyes sparkled — or seemed to, even if it was just the light from a passing car. “I would REALLY appreciate that,” she admitted.
Yikes, I have to look away, he thought. She’s going to think I’m a creep! He forced himself to look out at the street again. An occupied cab drove by, but a second screeched to a halt in front of them.
Russell opened the door for her, and she flashed him a smile before climbing in. He swallowed hard as he walked around the automobile. That smile had been among the friendliest he’d ever seen, but there was something else about the way her lips curved that was adorably, mischievously sexy.
He sat beside her. “Where to?” the driver asked.
The woman gave him her cross-streets. Damn, that’s not anywhere near me, Russell thought — then berated himself mentally. I’m engaged. I’m going home to call Alyson. I love Alyson.
They were both looking at him. “Um,” he began, and gave his address. “You can take my friend first,” he added.
The driver nodded, and the cab lurched forward.
“We don’t have to share if it’s any inconvenience to you,” the woman said. “You can just drop me off at another ATM, and I’ll catch another cab.”
Russell smiled at her. “It’s no problem, really,” he told her. “I’m happy to help.”
“Thank you,” she said, and smiled at him again. Her face was so friendly, and her smile so sensuous! The light glittering in her eyes sent shivers down his spine.
She laughed. “Ah, my hair’s all windblown,” she said, gathering it up and letting it fall over her shoulders. Russell had never seen hair so sensual. He was enthralled by the way it tumbled around her face in twisting, teasing curls. She was full-figured, but she carried herself so confidently that her features only made her seem lovelier. “You must think I’m a freak,” she added.
“You look perfect for attending Phantom of the Opera,” he told her.
The woman cast the cloak around her and raised her chin, looking at him through half-closed eyes. “Thank you, kind sir,” she said mysteriously. “Mysterious” was the only word Russell could think of to describe it. Somehow, with only a tiny change in the pitch of her voice, she’d wrapped herself in a cloak of mystery.
“It doesn’t matter,” she continued in her normal tone, looking at him with a grin. “I’ve seen it eight times. I have the whole thing memorized.”
“I’m a fan too,” he said. She was looking at him again, happiness on her face, and giving him every excuse to fall into those deep gray eyes enhanced by just a touch of eyeliner. He was torn. He wanted nothing but to stare into her eyes, to admire the wonderful dark color somewhere between blue and gray. But he couldn’t. She’d think he was a stalker.
I’m engaged, for crying out loud, he thought. He’d wanted to take Alyson to Phantom, but she was busy with her family in Wheaton, so he’d gone by himself.
“I love the way the Phantom and Christine interact,” the woman said, oblivious to his lunatic thoughts. “Even with Erik’s disfigurement, I can’t understand why she chose Raoul. She inspires him — he’d never hurt her — and the way he gets inside her head.” She shivered. “It’s scrumptious.”
You’re scrumptious, he thought. What’s wrong with me? I’m engaged, and she’s not my type. He liked short women; she was nearly as tall as he was. He liked brunettes; she was blonde. Yet there was something about the way she carried herself. It wasn’t the dress, though that was lovely; it wasn’t the eyeliner, though it helped. Was it her smile? Those kissable lips...
Would he be reacting this way even if she had brown eyes or green eyes?
“I suppose there always has to be a losing party in a love triangle,” Russell said philosophically.
“How could he ever get over Christine?” the woman asked.
Yes, I’d be smitten even if her eyes were another color, Russell thought. “That’s what I want,” he heard himself admitting. “The Phantom and Christine, two names always together, the story not complete without both.”
“Neither person complete without the other,” the woman finished.
“Yes.” He was losing himself in her eyes now, no doubt about it, and she was smiling back at him, her lips loving and sensual. She brushed a stray blonde curl away from her face. That quick gesture was so alluring. He felt energy between them. Her lovely eyelids lowered, her head tilted at the same time as his.
The cab screeched to a stop, and the jolt broke the moment. The two looked at each other, human beings once again.
She laughed. “Thanks,” she said, and tossed a wad of bills to the cabbie.
Russell jumped out and ran around the car to open her door for her. She extended her hand, and he took it, helping her to rise. Her hand was soft and warm in his.
“Thanks,” she said again.
He felt a rush of the energy over his scalp and down his spine. “Don’t mention it,” he said breathlessly.
He felt her finger tap the inside of his palm as she withdrew her hand. Huh? She flashed him a final, dazzling smile, then turned and walked down the block. Her cloak bellowed in the wind. She hadn’t put the hood back up, so he saw the breeze tease her blonde ringlets.
“You coming?” the driver asked.
“Er, yes,” Russell said, and sat down again. The cab started up, and pulled away from the intersection.
She was gone.
I’m engaged to Alyson, Russell told himself.
Dammit, why didn’t I ask her name?
I love Alyson, Russell told himself. I will call her as soon as I get home.
Part One (Ten Years Later)
Mina sat down on her couch and suppressed a yawn. The clock showed that there was still another half hour to go before closing. Did she even have any more appointments?
She allowed herself a few more seconds of indulgence, then stood up and walked through the open doorway to the lobby. Andie, the receptionist she shared with the other psychologists, gave her a kind smile.
“Anything more on the calendar for today?” Mina asked.
Andie shook her head. “No, ma’am, but you do have a walk-in. He just arrived.”
Mina glanced over at the waiting area. The only person seated was a tall man with brown hair, reading a newspaper. He looked up at her and smiled.
“Well, I suppose I can talk to him and see what kind of help he needs,” Mina said, and walked toward him.
The man put the newspaper down and rose politely, offering his hand. She shook it.
“I’m Mina Sutton,” she said without preamble. “What can I do for you?”
“Russell Hawkins,” he replied. She looked into his eyes and couldn’t help but smile. His brown eyes were warm and thoughtful. He was handsome, too, with angular features and wavy brown hair. “I know this is a cliche, but I’m an alcoholic.”
“Come in, and I’ll see what we can do,” she said, and led him into her office. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his glance linger for a moment on the open door. The lettering read “Mina Sutton, Ph.D, CHt,” and she suppressed a grin of pride.
She stood in front of her chair, and he stood beside the sofa. What was he waiting for? Oh! “Do sit down,” she told him, and he did so.
She smiled gently at him — her therapist’s smile, not the one that she’d been about to use when she realized he’d been waiting for her to sit down first. “How long has this been going on?” she asked, sitting down as well.
His friendly face took on a wry smile. “Six or seven months.” He shook his head sardonically. “I hate to admit this, but I need help.”
“I hate to ask, but have you tried Alcoholics Anonymous?” Mina asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “It doesn’t work for me. I was researching alternatives, and I read about a hypnotherapist in California who has a program for using hypnosis to overcome addiction. I was hoping I could find someone who did that within driving distance.”
Mina took a deep breath. She wanted to help, but he deserved the truth. “I do understand how to address alcoholism, but I have to be honest with you: I don’t have much experience with it. I have had a lot of success helping people quit smoking, though.”
Russell smiled kindly at her. “Close enough.”
“So tell me: when did you start drinking?”
“College,” he admitted. “It’s only been a problem in the last few months — okay, more than a few months, I guess. I used to drink only at parties. Now, I’m drinking every night.”
“You’ve already taken the first step by admitting that,” she told him.
He smiled cynically. “That’s what my sponsor said. None of the other steps helped, though.”
“Why do you think you’re having a problem quitting?”
“Probably because I hate myself,” Russell said wryly. Mina looked at him in surprise, and he shook his head. “No, I do. I’ve woken up with a hangover every day for months. I go in to work and my boss yells at me, and having a headache makes it a hundred times worse. I promise myself all day that I won’t have a drink when I get home, then when I get home, I find myself doing it anyway. I know in my head that I’m only making it worse, but I can’t make myself stop.”
“What about tonight?”
“I came here right after work,” he admitted. “After this, I’m going home. I don’t plan to drink tonight, but I have this pattern. Even if I don’t have any with supper, I have a sip around 8:30, and the next thing I know I’ve finished the whole bottle. I want it to stop.”
“Alright,” Mina nodded. “Can you come by during business hours?”
Russell thought for a moment. “Probably,” he said. “I arrive at work at seven in the morning and the day ends at four, so I can probably get here at this time in the afternoon. I take lunch at eleven, so we could try then if there’s room on your schedule.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a stockbroker.”
She gazed at him. “No wonder you’re stressed!”
He shrugged, and Mina looked through her meeting book. “I think four thirty is fine,” she said. “Shall we meet for a month on Monday afternoons?”
“You can fix me in a month?” Russell’s eyes widened.
Mina nodded confidently.
“What about tonight?” he asked.
She grinned at him. “You want to start right away?”
“I want to get better. I’ve never understood therapists’ schedules. You know, you get an hour appointment to talk about your problems, then you have to go back to your life for another twenty-three hours. I always thought that the therapist and the patient should keep working until the problem’s solved!”
Mina nodded sympathetically. “Well, hypnosis is particularly effective that way, because it can achieve results quickly, but it’s best when used in conjunction with other forms of therapy. I can give you a short boost today, if you’d like.”
She could see the man’s throat move as he swallowed. “I hate to ask, but how much would this set me back?”
“If you keep all of the appointments we’ve set up, I won’t charge you for today,” she told him. I shouldn’t do that, she told herself, but it’ll be okay this once.
Mina went on to explain her rates and how she’d have to charge him a cancellation fee for her time if he had to back out of an appointment later on. “If you have to cancel, just let me know a day in advance.”
Russell nodded. “Not a problem.”
Mina smiled kindly at him. “Lie down on the sofa.”
Russell did so, and clasped his hands over his chest. “Do I have to do anything?”
She shook her head, and moved her chair next to the sofa. “Just relax, deep breaths, close your eyes, and listen to my voice.” Then something else occurred to her. “Oh, by the way — would you like me to give you a trigger?”
“Which is?” he asked, opening his eyes again and looking at her. His eyes were and warm, and brown, and thoughtful. He was quite good looking!
“A typical induction can last up to fifteen minutes,” Mina explained. “A trigger is a phrase that takes you into trance in five seconds or so. The advantage of that is, if we have an hour appointment, we can spend an hour doing therapy instead of taking fifteen minutes inducing trance and only forty-five doing therapy. However, if you’d be more comfortable with me doing an induction every time, that’s fine too. The important thing is that you’re as comfortable as possible.”
“A trigger sounds like the best use of time, then,” Russell replied.
She nodded. As a professional, she thought, I shouldn’t notice that I’m about to hypnotize a good-looking guy!
“Very good,” Mina said aloud. “Now close your eyes and relax, take deep breaths, and focus on the sound of my voice.
“Imagine that you and I are walking together on a beach,” Mina said softly, dropping into her hypnotherapist’s tone. “The sun is low on the horizon, the sand is soft between your toes, the waves are crashing on the shore. You will find the waves are relaxing, the sand is relaxing, the air is fresh and clean and relaxing, and listening to my voice makes you very relaxed.
“Now imagine walking by the shore beside me,” she continued, and caught herself. Why did I say that, she wondered for a moment. I’m sitting right here, I hardly have to talk about myself! Oh well, move on. “The sand beneath your feet is soft and relaxing. You can hear the birds singing, soft and relaxing.
“You find yourself breathing easily and deeply as we walk along the beach. Being here is so relaxing, no cares, no worries, leaving everything behind, just being here, enjoying the moment, and focusing completely on the sound of my voice.
“You find the more that we walk along the beach the easier it becomes to hear my voice, and the more you listen to my voice the easier it is to picture the beach in your mind, to feel the fresh air in your lungs, to feel the soft, clean sand beneath your feet. Each step we take is an easy rhythm, each breath you take relaxes you more and more.
“Off in the distance you see a comfortable blanket that you left there earlier in the day, and you’re looking forward to arriving at the blanket. The sun is beginning to set now, and you imagine that it will take fifteen steps to reach the blanket and lie down. With each step you become more relaxed, more calm and tranquil, leaving everything behind.”
Russell’s face had already relaxed, and he was breathing regularly, along with the rhythm of her voice. Mina smiled — he seemed to be enjoying the beach analogy. For a moment she pictured them walking down the beach together, just like she was describing.
“Fourteen steps to go, becoming more relaxed, more comfortable, more focused on the sound of my voice,” she told him. “Walking along the sand makes your feet and your legs very relaxed and comfortable, and you’re looking forward to lying down on the blanket and closing your eyes. Thirteen steps to go, and your stomach and chest are getting very relaxed, and you are completely focused on our conversation, listening to the sound of my voice, focused completely on the sound of my voice. Twelve steps to go, twelve easy steps for us to take together. The sun is setting, and the sunset is beautiful, you’re enjoying the sunset as we walk together along the beach.”
A sudden image flashed through Mina’s mind. She and Russell were walking down the beach together, not only side by side, but with his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist. No, no! She scolded herself. He is my patient. Behave.
“Eleven steps, your arms are completely relaxed, breathing easily and deeply, with every breath you take your body becomes more relaxed, with every step you take your mind becomes more relaxed, relaxed and tired, tired and calm, calm and quiet, focusing on my voice.”
Mina looked down at him. His face was relaxed and his eyes were closed. She’d noticed his looks when she’d met him in the lobby, but now they were only a few feet apart, and he seemed even more handsome. Oh well, she’d had handsome patients before. He had come to her for help with alcohol abuse. The last thing he needed was his therapist checking him out!
“Ten, nine, your neck and face, your eyes and your head becoming more relaxed and more heavy,” she chanted. “Eight, it’s hard for you to keep your eyes open.” Of course, they were already closed in real life. “Seven, your breathing has become deep and rhythmic; with every breath you breathe in relaxation, with every breath you become more tranquil, calm and happy. Six, you are focused completely on my voice, and your steps have become relaxed and lethargic. Your body is almost too heavy to move, but you have only five more steps to go, and four, your eyes are so heavy.
“Three... you have arrived at the blanket, and two, you are lying down on the blanket, soft, relaxed, warm and comfortable, with me sitting down beside you. The sun has dipped below the horizon, and your eyes are too heavy to keep open. One, you’re falling asleep, you’re relaxed and comfortable on the blanket. Zero, sleep, deep asleep, deep asleep, completely focused on my voice.”
Mina swallowed hard. Russell was in a trance. It was so easy to imagine him lying on the blanket with his head in her lap. His face was so peaceful; his wavy brown hair was thick and handsome. How nice it would feel to run her hand through it, she thought.
I’d get sued, and lose my license, Mina scolded herself. Hush, you! I’ve hypnotized good-looking men before. This fellow is no different. If I do anything underhanded, I’d lose his trust, and I’d lose him as a client — and I’d deserve to.
All right. She spoke softly and intently to him, re-affirming his ability to resist alcohol. She reminded him there was a better way to unwind after work. She told him how much better he’d feel the next morning, waking up knowing he hadn’t gotten drunk the night before. He could look forward to being proud of himself.
She suggested that he leave his work at work. When you’re not at work, she told him, focus on things that you really like to do, things that make you happy.
She asked him what else he liked to do in his spare time, and he whispered that he was a piano player. He hadn’t played much since his divorce, though, and not at all since his firm had been bought.
Poor man! She whispered a suggestion that he think about calling some friends to see if they were available for the next few evenings — friends who weren’t drinkers. She suggested that he take some time re discovering the piano, and that he feel proud of himself whenever he played a piece well. He asked him if he was comfortable, and he said he was.
Mina leaned back, and for a moment considered the other news. Russell was divorced? How did that happen? He was good-looking and gentlemanly. Still, she thought, marriage brings out the best and the worst in people, and who knew what he and his ex-wife had gone through.
Not that it’s any of your business, silly, she scolded herself. Now to awaken him.
She would wake him up with a click of her fingers. One snap from her and his eyes would open.
Why did she feel so odd? She did this all the time without feeling a rush. This wasn’t any different!
She’d forgotten the trigger. What should it be?
“Russell, I am going to give you a trigger,” she said aloud. “Whenever you hear me say this phrase you will instantly fall into a deep sleep, even deeper than you are now. This phrase will only affect you if I say it, and will only work if you and I are alone together. If anyone else says it, it will have no power at all. But from now on, whenever we are alone and you hear me say this phrase, you will fall into a deep trance. This phrase will be...”
Goodness, Mina thought. What should it be? She had a list of phrases she usually used with clients, but the one that kept coming to mind was...
I can’t say THAT, she thought.
What did it matter?
“...’You are under my power,’” she told him. “So, Russell, what will happen when you and I are alone, and you hear me say the phrase ‘you are under my power?’”
“I will fall into a deep trance,” Russell whispered, his voice low and gentle.
“That’s right,” she said with a smile, “you will fall into a deep hypnotic trance, completely focused on my voice.
“On the count of three, I will snap my fingers and wake you up. You will be wide awake, refreshed, happy, and ready to start your first week of sobriety. One, two, three.”
Mina snapped her fingers, and grinned most unprofessionally when he opened his eyes.
“Did it work?” Russell asked, sitting up. “I can’t have been asleep for more than five minutes.”
“It was forty-five,” she said, pointing to the clock.
His eyes widened. “It really does work that way! I read about that before coming, but I never believed... never mind.”
He looked at her. “Thank you, Ms. Sutton,” he continued. “I feel a lot better, and I actually believe I can go home without having a drink tonight.” He stood up. “So, Monday at 4:30?”
“That’s right,” she said, and they shook hands.
When he was gone, Mina stepped into the bathroom. She took off her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose, then unclasped her hair and shook it out. Her red curls fell around her shoulders. Nothing much to look at there, she thought glumly as she regarded her reflection. Still, why couldn’t I have met Russell in a bar instead of at the office?
What’s wrong with me, she thought. I’ve never had a hard time keeping my personal and professional lives separate before.
I still haven’t, she thought. I didn’t say or do anything unprofessional, except for that silly trigger. Russell likely won’t remember it, much less know the difference!
Russell drove home, parked, let himself into his condo, and started fixing dinner. Just a burger and salad tonight, he decided.
He had just put the meat on the grill when he realized he hadn’t even thought of drinking. Well, so far so good, he thought. Maybe Mina — Ms. Sutton, he told himself — really would be able to kill the urge in a month.
He vaguely remembered her suggesting he engage himself so he wouldn’t be tempted, which was a good idea. Who did he know who didn’t drink? Well, there was Leo and Sally. Sure, he sometimes felt like a third wheel around them, but he hadn’t seen them in months, and it had been too long.
He gave them a call. He talked to Leo, who said he and Sally would be happy to see him on Saturday.
Well, that’s fine for Saturday, Russell thought, but tonight?
Hadn’t Ms. Sutton recommended he take up the piano again? He’d probably be so bad at it he’d be tempted to drink again.
He flipped the burger, then went to the fridge. He took out all the beer, all the wine, all the vodka, and dumped it by the door. He then did the same for the liquor cabinet. He’d give the whole lot away to his coworkers tomorrow. Who would turn down free beer?
It might not last, with the liquor store a block away from his condo, but he had to start somewhere.
Later that evening, after he’d tapped out a few old songs on the piano, Russell finally went to bed. Another day at work tomorrow, he thought. But I didn’t drink, and I won’t be hung over. Dang, Ms. Sutton was right. She really had helped him not take his work home with him.
Ms. Sutton. Was she married?
Bah. Even if she were single — by some miracle — there was no way she’d consider him. First impressions were everything. He was an alcoholic, and so she’d always think of him, even if he did kick it permanently. He’d managed liquor-free days before. All he’d done today was tie the record.
Now Russell knew he had an addiction-prone personality, and he’d always have to be on his guard. He mustn’t find some other obsession to replace the alcohol. If only he were lucky, Mina Sutton would take advantage of him when he was hypnotized and make him fall madly in love with her.
He sighed. If I wanted that, he thought, I could just look on the internet for a dominatrix. He was sure he’d never find one like Ms. Sutton, who was professional, smart, and easy on the eyes.
She hadn’t told him to look into her eyes when she hypnotized him. Oh well, another cliche dead. He hadn’t even noticed the color. Were they brown? Blue?
It was so easy to imagine. He and Mina could stand on a beach like the one she’d described to him, only they would be holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes.
“You are feeling relaxed and comfortable, focused completely on me,” he imagined her saying. “Look deep into my eyes. You are falling under my power, and you will do anything I ask.”
“Anything you ask,” he would whisper.
Her wonderful eyes would glitter as she smiled. “I will be your queen,” she told him in his imagination, “and you will be my champion.”
He would bring her fingers to his lips and kiss them. “Yes, my queen,” he would tell her.
Before he knew it, he was asleep.
Russell dreamed.
He was in a taxicab, and beside him was a blonde woman in a black dress.
She was beautiful. How incredible it would be to take her in his arms and hold her, dance with her, hear her laugh, see her smile.
What am I thinking, he wondered. We just met! But she turned to him, and he was enthralled by the beauty of her face, the curve of her cheek, her sensuous lips, her gorgeous, thick blonde curls.
“It’s you!” he exclaimed. The woman just smiled at him.
He reached for her hand, and took it. “Please, tell me your name.”
She grinned, her eyes flashing in mirth, and opened her mouth to tell him.
He woke up.