The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Well, look who the cat just dragged in,” Trixie quipped as John made his way behind the stage, holding his head, groaning softly. “Let me guess. Another late night spent at the bottom of a bottle, drowning out your sorrows?” John groaned again, tapping his nose lightly with a forefinger. “Thought so,” Trixie chuckled. “Um, hey, Chief, there ARE plenty of less painful ways of killing yourself, yanno? I hear the guillotine is making a comeback, for instance.”

“Smart ass,” John mumbled, maneuvering his way past her. “You know the only reason you get away with comments like that is because I can never tell you and your sister apart, and I don’t want to punish her for YOUR mouth.” The dark haired beauty merely laughed again.

A small smile creased John’s face. Dixie and her sister were true godsends. After so many years traveling alone, trying to perfect his act, he’d been ready to chuck it all and give up, when he’d decided to spend some time in a local strip club in Los Angeles. Content merely to watch, he’d only been there for a few minutes when a disturbance caught his eye. A set of twins were dancing on stage, when one of them swerved a little too close to a drunken patron, who’d managed to grab her by the g-string. Outraged, she slapped him across the face, and tried to pull free. The man, angry at the abuse, had pulled back, jerking her completely off her feet and into his lap. She’d screamed, thrashing, fighting to get free. Her sister, outraged that the bouncer hadn’t immediately stepped in and tossed the rowdy out, had leapt from the stage, grabbing a mug of nearby beer, and dumped it over the man’s face. He’d let go of the sister he’d held... and backhanded the sister that doused him.

At which point the bouncer, who’d apparently been in the bathroom, returned, charging straight into the fight, grabbing the guy up by his collar, and shaking him like a leaf. A moment later, the owner of the club arrived to see what was going on, and why his girls weren’t on stage. Arguments ensued, and when the smoke finally cleared, three things became painfully obvious. The creep was a big wig with the State Zoning Commission. He was also happily married, and while having spending a night out at the local bar with the guys was alright with the missus, spending it in a titty bar definitely was not. The girls had managed to mark him, scratching his face up pretty well, which would no doubt raise lots of uncomfortable questions from his wife once he went back home. Long-story-short, he blamed the owner, the owner blamed the girls, and the girls were canned, End of story.

“Hey, Chief,” Dixie called from above on the catwalk, where she was making final adjustments to some equipment, “don’t let Trixie get to ya. We’re just concerned about you, that’s all.”

“That’s right,” Trixie said, returning a few minutes later, holding a small tube of tennis balls. She patted him lightly on the shoulder. “We just don’t wanna see our meal ticket expire any time soon.”

John chuckled softly at that. The night that he’d witnessed the incident at the strip club, he’d offered the two eighteen year olds a job as his assistants on the spot. Suspicious at first to his motives, they’d nevertheless accepted, stating that they would stay with him ‘for a while’, until something better came along. Relatively naive and innocent, a few nights spent on the streets of L.A. had quickly educated them on the harsher realities of life. Both girls were jaded, distrustful, and outwardly aloof to hide an inner anger and sadness; nevertheless, they hadn’t let their misfortunes break their spirits. After a few weeks of treating them with kindness and respect, the twins had warmed up to him considerably, eventually confiding in him as if he were an old friend instead of their employer, a trait he encouraged. Within a year on tour, they’d amassed more than enough money to go wherever they desired, if they so wished. Despite their occasional jokes of him being their ‘meal ticket’, John knew that he had come to mean more to them that just a job and money.

“If that’s the case,” John quipped, managing to keep a straight face, “maybe I should let YOU do the big finale in tonight’s show.”

Trixie’s eyes widened, and she laughed nervously. “Yeah, right. You’re kidding, aren’t you, Chief?” When John didn’t respond, she gulped slightly. “Chief?” she asked again. “You ARE kidding... right?”

John pretended to consider for a moment, before grinning. “Of course I am. Even knowing the secret behind the trick, I wouldn’t put you guys in that kind of situation.” He rubbed his left arm. “Hell, I’ve been doing that one for a while now, and I came pretty close to losing a limb last night.”

Trixie said nothing, her earlier jovial mood gone. Truth be told, she and her sister were very concerned about their boss. They knew of his powers, shown to them the night that they’d accepted his offer when he’d avenged them by demolishing the State Commissioner’s car with a fireball. After that night, they’d have no secrets between them... for the most part. Over the years, they’d all become very close, and while he tried very hard to hide his pain, Trixie saw through his facade. More than a little smitten with the older, charming, and in her eyes, debonair, man, she would have been more than happy to ease his loneliness. Alas, to her regret and frustration, though John routinely used his magic to enthrall and seduce any number of women that struck his fancy, he refused to even entertain the even entertain the idea of doing so with either of them. He looked on the both of them the way an older brother might look on his younger sisters.

“Looks like we’re all set up top,” Dixie said as she walked up. “Listen, John... about the finale—”

“I know what you’re going to say, Dixie,” John said, cutting her off. “It stays, as is. I’ve taken every precaution humanly possible...” He smirked. “And even a few beyond humanly possible.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a freaking sorcerer with mystical magical powers beyond those of normal mortals,” Trixie muttered, exasperated. “We get that. We all get it. But, Chief, you’re not immortal. You’re not invincible. And maybe you don’t think we’ve noticed all the close shaves you’ve been having lately, but we’re not stupid.” She sighed, clenching her hands in frustration. “You’ve taught us almost everything you know about the art of illusion and magic, and I gotta think there are any number of ways you could pull off the same trick without putting yourself in that kind of danger.”

John sighed. “Look. I know you’re both concerned about me. Yes... I’ve been drinking a bit more than usual lately. Yes, I’ve been a bit moody as well. But I’m not out to kill myself, alright? I designed the finale that way because it’s dramatic. It’s something that will grab the audience’s attention. And believe me, I’ve survived far worse.” He took Trixie and Dixie’s arms, pulling them both into a deep but friendly hug. “Thanks for your concern, ladies, but it’s fine as is. The finale stays.”

The twins watched him head back into his dressing room to change clothes. As one, they sighed deeply, both thinking the same thoughts.

“He can’t keep going like this,” Dixie said sadly, taking out her cell phone.

Trixie frowned. “Who are you calling, sis?”

“Someone who can help him. Maybe the only person in the world that can help us help him. I only hope I can reach him in time,”

The muffled words of the audience drifted back to John as he stood just behind the curtain, psyching himself up. Trixie, who was about to do the introductions, squeezed his shoulder as she walked by. Dixie did the same, stopping to straighten his bow tie before moving to the opposite side of the stage. Despite his depressive mood, he smiled. It was nice having someone that cared about him. If only he still had Phoe—Forcing his mind away from that train of thought, he refocused on his performance, running through it in his mind one last time before the curtain rose.

It’s funny, he thought as the PA system squealed, getting the audience’s attention. The worst thing about performing on stage is the moment just before you go out there, but once you step out, the first moment on stage when you look out into the crowd makes up for it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Trixie said in a loud clear voice, “it’s my pleasure and privilege to announce our night’s feature entertainment. Returned from his tour in Europe, where he recently performed for Queen Elizabeth herself, back home here in beautiful Las Vegas, here he is, the Master of Amazement, the Sultan of Surprise, the Paragon of Prestidigitation! The One! The Only! The Amazing Mystify!”

The curtain rose quickly, revealing John in all his splendor. Dressed in a black tuxedo, white shirt, gloves, and bow tie, with a black top hat and matching cape, he made a very dashing figure. He bowed low as the audience clapped loudly, then stood waiting for them to quiet down again. “Thank you, thank you all, for that wonderful reception. It’s a pleasure to be back here in,” He pulled a small index card from his shirt pocket, “Las Vegas once more.” He frowned, peering at the card again, then glanced around the stage. “Las Vegas? Really? Huh. When did we get back here... oh never mind.”

As expected, the crowd laughed. John smiled. Jack Frenks, the man who’d taught him magic had also impressed upon him the value of showmanship. His motto had always been that if the audience wasn’t laughing, they weren’t having fun. John had embraced that motto, but to a different degree. Most times a crowd at a magic show spent most of their time watching so intently, trying to spot the invisible wires, the hidden trap doors, and trying to spot how the trick was done, that they missed the best part of the act—the fun. Over the years, with practice, he’d managed a routine that made him come off as a bit of a goof, at least on the surface, walking a fine line between knowledgeable magician and slapstick sideshow entertainer. And amazingly, the crowds loved it, relaxing more and simply watching to see what he’d say or do next rather than trying to find out HOW he did what he did.

“Oh, and before I get too deep into the act,” John said, looking to the side, “let me introduce my lovely assistants, Trixie, and Dixie. Girls, come out and take a bow, willya?” After a moment, the two lovely girls came out, bowing slightly before slipping back offstage. The crowd cheered again, and several of the younger men whistled appreciatively. John chuckled. “And now you know why I draw such big crowds.” The crowd laughed again.

“Alright. I’d like to start the show with a simple little trick, something that any of you could buy from any magic shop, and learn to do in the confines of your own homes. I’m going to pull a rabbit from my hat.” Trixie approached seconds later, pushing out a small clear glass table, more of a pedestal than a table. She placed it front of John, then stepped to the side. John removed his top hat, placing it on the small pedestal, and gestured over it, chanting softly. Then, in a loud voice, he said, “Ipso, facto, meenie mo, magico!” Then, sticking his hand inside the hat, staring at the crowd, he pulled out a carrot.

“Viola! One... carrot?” he said, sounding confused, staring at the carrot in obvious bewilderment as the crowd roared with laughter. “What the heck?” Sticking his hand back into the hat, he went felt around, going in deeper, until his arm was in up to his shoulder. The small clear pedestal made it clear that there was no hidden hole within for his arm to slide in, yet the brim of his hat was easily touching his shoulder as he continued to search around.

“Well,” he said after a moment, withdrawing his hand, looking puzzled. “I don’t know what to say. I was pretty sure Fluffy was in there... Oh! I know. Must be the wrong hat!” At that, Dixie approached from offstage with a small hat rack on wheels, to a chorus of chuckles from the audience. Taking the first top hat from the stand, he stuck his arm deep inside, feeling around. Smiling, he withdrew, holding up a small Chihuahua. “Pepe? What are you doing in there?” Handing the dog to Dixie, he took a second hat, and reached inside it as well, this time pulling out a small orange tabby. “Garfield?” he exclaimed, to another chorus of laughter. “Okay, this is just getting ridiculous now.” He frowned, looking at the hat stand, with the last hat, a grey and white checkered Newsie cap. With a sigh, he stuck his hand inside up to his shoulder, and pulled out a fluffy white rabbit.

“Ah! There you are!” The crowd began clapping and cheering wildly as he held up the rabbit. “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t in there this morning. I think one of my girls is playing a joke on me.” From behind him, Trixie and Dixie both waved to the crowd, putting a finger to their lips, shushing them, which only made them laugh louder. Whirling around suddenly, John turned towards his assistants, who immediately dropped their hands, trying to look innocent. Frowning, John turned back to face the still laughing audience. Shrugging, he gestured to the girls to removed the props, then he stepped forward before the crowd again.

“Alright. Now that we’ve gotten your attention, let’s make things a little more serious. Besides being an accomplished magician, I am also a very accomplished hypnotist.” Behind him, Trixie and Dixie returned with several small chairs, setting them up in a row. “For this next part, I need about seven volunteers from the audience to join me here on stage.” He grinned, pulling a small silver pocketwatch from his pocket. “How about it, folks? Anyone feel like being hypnotized tonight?”

A plethora of hands rose at the invitation, and with a nod to Dixie, she ventured out into the audience, picking seven volunteers from the group. Once they were seated, he moved to the first chair. “Before we get started, I’d like for you each to tell me a little about yourselves. Number one, what’s your name, and what brings you here tonight?”

A large, heavily muscled and deeply tanned blonde spoke up. “Um, hi, My name’s Nathan, and I’m visiting here from Santa Maria, California for the week, visiting relatives.”

John nodded, turning to the second volunteer. “And you, Sir. What’s your name, and what brings you to Las Vegas?”

“My name is Tom,” said a dark haired older man with a well trimmer goatee, “and I’m here on vacation with a few business associates.”

The interviews continued on in the same vein until John reached the last volunteer. “And what about you, Miss? What’s your name and what bring... you... here...” John floundered, staring in shock at the woman sitting in the last chair. She wore a black evening dress with gold trim and matching sandals. Her shoulder-length black hair was straight and long, and her dark hazel eyes were covered in a pair of stylish glasses. And yet, when he stared at her face, despite the obvious differences, she looked so very much like his beloved Phoebe that she could be her twin!

“Well,” the girl said, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort, “My name is.... um, Tammy. Tammy Wilkerson. I’m here visiting an old friend of mine from college.”

John stood there for several long seconds, just staring, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out. A light touch on his arm—Dixie— brought him back to reality, and forcing a smile, he turned back to face the audience. “So... um, yes, I have my seven volunteers. And a fine looking group too. Now tell me: have any of you ever been hypnotized before?” In the row behind him, two people raised their hands: the third chair, a young brunette named Melissa, and... the girl in the last chair. Tammy. John forced his eyes away from her, and turned to face the audience again. “So. Looks like we have five ‘virgins’ then. I do so love breaking in first-timers.”

Facing the crowd, he held up his pocket watch. “Now, the thing about stage hypnosis that differs from the kind you’d receive in a clinic, is the timing. Anyone can be hypnotized, at any time, though its generally harder when the person is on guard. So, the key is to get you off your guard.” He lowered his hand, but the pocketwatch continued to float in midair, slowly rocking back and forth. “The key is to distract you, misdirect your attention, or even better, redirect that attention exactly where we want it.” Turning back to the row of volunteers, he smirked, seeing all seven were gazing intently at the floating swinging watch in rapt attention. Reaching up, he snatched it back in midswing.

“But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” he said, chuckling again. “And pocketwatches are rather cliché, don’t you think?” Putting the watch back in his pocket, he slowly removed his hand, fingers bent in ‘gun’ shape, holding it gently with his other hand. “Let me give credit where credit is due. My old mentor, Frank Jenks, taught me this one. I’ve... spruced it up a wee bit, added my own little twist to it, but the original idea of using a ‘hypno gun’ came from him.” He held his ‘gun’ out in front of him like a pistol, aiming at a few people, then lowered it gently. “Like any firearm, one needs to be particularly careful with a hypno gun.” He turned and pointed offstage, towards Trixie. “Luckily, it’s not loaded yet.” His finger twitched slightly.

Just beside the curtain, in view of the audience, Trixie gasped, then sighed, her head slumping down to her chest. The crowed let out a collective ‘ahh’, and John turned, then glanced down at his hand. “Huh. Hmmm. Guess it had a few shots left in it after all.” He whirled around to the other side of the stage, pointing a finger at Dixie. “Um, Dixie,” he said, finger twitching again, “would you do me a favor and go tend to your... ah, nuts,” he said, as Dixie likewise went still, her eyes closing, her head slumping down, asleep on her feet like her twin.

“Oooooookay,” John said slowly, to the crowd’s soft chuckling. “Ahem. Anyway... on with the show.” He held his hand up at the volunteers, who were now eyeing his ‘gun’ more cautiously. “When I shoot you, you will drop instantly into a deep trance, just like my two unwary assistants.” He pulled the ‘trigger’ twice, and the two men on the end slumped over, asleep. John grinned.

“Feel free to try and resist, if you like. As I have hinted at before, hypnosis is—Bang!” he said suddenly, firing his imaginary gun at the third volunteer, sending Melissa into a deep sleep as well. “Is that it works best when you don’t—Bang! Bang!—expect it’s coming.” Two more volunteers slumped over, out cold.

“But, of course,” he continued, turning towards the last two still awake, “in the end, it’s not really that important. I’ve already altered your perception of how this encounter will end. Even knowing it’s coming, knowing it’s about to happen, isn’t even to stop it.” He slowly raised his hand at the sixth volunteer, and pulled the trigger. Letting out a soft sigh, his eyes slammed shut. “You know it’s going to happen. The idea of succumbing to my power has already entered your mind. And seeing every person succumb before you only emphasizes how useless it is to try and fight it.” He took aim at the last volunteer, who met his eyes directly, her chin up, almost as if daring him to fire. “Fear turns to dread. Dread turns to anticipation. And deep within your mind, you actually WANT to go under, because the fear of being hypnotized is less than the anxiety of waiting for it to happen.” His fingers twitched one last time, and volunteer number seven succumbed.

John stood off to the side while the audience roared their enjoyment of the spectacle he’s set up for them. Nathan and Tom, the two very macho, very masculine young men were making out, hugging and necking lightly, acting as if they were deeply in love. Melissa, the third volunteer, had regressed in age, and was currently sitting in the middle of the stage sucking on her thumb, holding her discarded sweater like a favorite blanket. A blonde rather heavyset young man, thinking himself a prized harem girl in service to a Sultan, stood off to the side, performing a surprisingly well rendered middle eastern dance to the tune of music that only he heard. The fifth volunteer, a willowy thin redhead, utterly convinced she was a sumo wrestler, stood behind the others, having an imaginary match against the current Yokozuna.

Number six, a young black man, was engaged in a titanic tug of war with a marlin he’d hooked fishing off the coast of Florida, struggling to keep the fish from escaping. And Tammy, the last volunteer, the one that so closely resembled his beloved Phoebe, sat in an empty spot, building an imaginary sandcastle, trying to keep it stable despite the steadily increasing tide.

The crowd was having a ball, laughing at the volunteers antics. Suitably occupied, John had a free moment to contemplate, and staring at volunteer number seven, his thoughts focused entirely on her. Why does she look so much like Phoebe? Does she know her? Are they related? I... I have to talk to her. Maybe... maybe when the show’s over, I can invite her back to my dressing room... no. No, stupid, and do what? What would I say to her? What COULD I say that wouldn’t sound completely insane? No... better to just drop the whole idea. And yet... maybe I could... make her come back to the dressing room... dammit! No. Not again. Phoebe is gone out of my life, and trying to make other girls into a substitute for her doesn’t work. Even last night, drunk off my ass, I could tell the difference...

The crowd’s laughter finally began to subside, and John, taking his cue, stepped back in front of them. “Alright, now, let’s get our volunteers back up into their seats again. Come on, come on, everyone, you too, Melissa.” Once they were all seated again, he put them back under. “Alright folks. As much fun as this is, we need to move things along. So, when I snap my fingers, everyone will awaken fully, feeling completely refreshed as if they’d just awoke from a restful sleep. You’ll remember EVERYTHING that went on while you were under,” he said with a wicked grin, digging into his pocket, “however, you will NOT feel the need to punch me in the face. It’s all in good fun, after all. Now then... one, two, three, awaken!”

He snapped his fingers, and the volunteers, the two assistants, and one or two people in the audience suddenly perked up, looking around. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give a warm round of applause for our brave and noble volunteers!” The crowd cheered loudly, and walking up to each of them, John handed them a small slip of paper as he shook their hands. “Just a little something to say thanks for making a spectacle of yourselves for the audience. This coupon is for a free dinner for two at the Aureole at Mandalay Bay. Stop by after my show, and tell them ‘Mysty’ sent ya!”

The crowd murmured appreciatively. The Aureole was a four star establishment, with an average price tag easily seventy dollars per person. Many of the audience members, seeing the bounty being offered to the volunteers, regretted not going up onstage themselves. John merely smiled. The next show would no doubt have a much larger audience, with twice as many volunteers eagerly wishing to go up onstage once word spread; the agreement he’d made with Aureole’s owner, and several other of the local businesses, was definitely starting to pay off.

Once everyone was seated again, and the stage was clear, he gestured offstage, and the stagehand dimmed the lights. “The next trick you see will be performed not by me, but by my lovely young assistant, Trixie.” He chuckled loudly. “Funny story. I used to have just one lovely assistant, but then I tried to the ‘saw-the-lady-in-half’ trick, and the saw slipped... and well, now there are two of them.” A tennis ball flew from off stage, hitting John in the middle of his chest, and the crowd again burst out laughing. “Alright, alright, sheesh. Can’t take a joke. Seriously, though, folks, Trixie, and her sister, Dixie, have been with me for a number of years, and they are more than just beautiful eye candy. No, for you see they both possess an aptitude for magic that surpasses even my own. They flipped a coin backstage to see who would get to perform tonight... so, my friends, without further ado, give a warm welcome for the lovely Trixie!”

Blushing furiously, still smiling, Trixie walked out into the spotlight. “Um, yes. Thank you, Amazing Mystify. I’ll get you back for that little intro once the show is over.” The crowd chuckled appreciatively.

“Hey, as least I didn’t announce you as ‘The Great Zatanna’,” John replied loudly, as he exited the stage. “With that ensemble and the black hair, you certainly look the part.”

Rolling her eyes, Trixie shook her head in mock anger. “Oh, great. Thanks. That’s all I needed!” she lamented dramatically. “Now everyone’s going to have ‘Z’ on the brain... Ahem. Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I’m going to attempt an act that’s not only a feat of magical aptitude, but also a public service to all of us—making the Amazing Mystify disappear!” The crowd chuckled as John returned onstage, pushing a large transparent vertical box on wheels. Giving Trixie a withering glare, he sighed, and opened the Plexiglas door, acting the part of the assistant.

“As you can see,” Trixie said as John turned the box, showing the audience all four sides, “this box is transparent, completely see-through, allowing all of you to judge for yourselves just how good of a magician I am.” She gestured, and with a roll of his eyes, John stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “There. Safe and sound.... for the moment, at least.” She flashed an evil grin, then turned to her sister. “Alright, Dixie, raise it up!”

Seconds later, a hook on a wench descended, snagging the steel wire stretched across the top of the box, lifting the box and John ten feet straight up. “There he is, ladies and gentlemen, suspended in mid air in a transparent box so that you can see every single second of this trick. Now, other performers in the past make have done something similar, then dropped a sheet over the box, giving the person inside a brief window of opportunity to make some kind of miracle escape. Well, that’s not the way our boss taught us this trick.” A moment later, Dixie emerged, pushing a small round tank of water below the bottom of the tank. “Magic is not sleight of hand,” Trixie continued. “And while sleight of hand is an amazing thing to see, real magic is even better. Now... watch closely folks...” she said, holding up a small wand, pointing it at John, who was frantically shaking his head ‘No’ at this point. ”Enog mih ekam!“ she shouted, gesturing with the wand.

In an instant, the bottom of the box opened, and John slid downwards... and disappeared somewhere between the edge of the box and the pool of water below. The crowd gasped in surprise, going completely silent... then began clapping loudly in applause. Trixie smiled, bowing at the waist. The sound of loud clapping from off stage caught her attention, and she turned, grabbing the audience’s attention as well. John stepped back on stage from behind the curtain, clapping loudly. He walked up to Trixie, hugging her tightly, before grabbing her hand and taking a bow with her.”

“Fabulous. Simply fabulous,” he said in a low voice. “Almost makes up for the comments about my hangover earlier,” he said with a wink. To the crowd he said, “Give her a hand folks. Can you believe that the first time she’s performed that trick?” The applause grew louder, and Trixie took one last bow before joining her sister back offstage.

“Well. That was something, wasn’t it. Guess I’m going to have to do something pretty spectacular to top that, huh?” He moved to the exact center of the stage, where a large metal grate had been left. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a couple of tennis balls. Tossing one, then another into the air, he began juggling. “I’m not a juggler, per sae,” he commented idly, fishing a third tennis ball from his pocket, juggling three balls now. “Frank always said I just didn’t have the hands for it. So, if you’re expecting to see any more added to these, you’re in for a disappointment. Buuuuutt,” he said, focusing his attention carefully, freeing one hand, and juggling the balls with his other, “my Uncle Max used to tell me, quantity isn’t always the important thing. Quality is.” Chanting quietly, he flicked a finger of his free hand at the tennis balls, sending a large plume of fire roaring out of his open hands. The balls ignited in midair, and John continued to juggle the flaming spheres, tossing them up, one after the other, quick enough that the heat didn’t have time to register.

Again, the crowd applauded. “Thanks. But a little juggling hardly compares to my assistant’s last act. No... this is just the set up. Now, I bid you to glance skyward, to the large heavy polymer tube that is being slowly lowered from the ceiling. Specially crafted for this trick, it’s a present from the Las Vega P.D. Bomb Disposal Unit. Yes, friends, what you’re seeing is a slightly modified, transparent version of a bomb blast shield.” Stepping in the middle of the stage, he again slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out a long orange colored tube. “And a good thing we have it too, since I’m holding here in my free hand, a stick of standard issue T.N.T.”

The crowd began murmuring loudly. Their responses varied from sheer disbelief, to slight alarm, but no one seemed unduly panicked. Believing it was an illusion of some kind, a magic trick, they all stayed in their seats, waiting to see what happened next.

“This is real T.N.T. folks,” John cautioned. “I do not recommend trying this particular trick at home... or anywhere with a large number of people. Dixie, please bring the blast shield all the way down.” As the clear tube began to descend once more, he gave the crowd one last warning. “Alright. As soon as the shield is in place, I will light the fuse, and we’ll be in for an ‘explosive’ conclusion. I do want to warn you, not to panic. The shield will protect you all, and deaden the sound of the blast a lot, but it will still be very loud. If any of you have weak hearts, now’s your last chance to leave the room.”

The shield finally struck the stage, the hidden groves latching onto the metal grate on which John stood. Holding the T.N.T. by the edge, he brought the fiery balls close, igniting the fuse on its first pass. Dropping it at his feet, he continued to juggle, closing his eyes, chanting softly under his breath even as he counted the seconds in his head. The crowd, particularly those on the front row, began to grow alarmed, waiting for him to try and escape, knowing that he had only seconds before the bomb went off.

The explosion, when it came, was loud, shaking the theater. Several people in the crowd screamed, standing up, looking at horror at the smoke and splatter filled shield. Silence followed, as Trixie and Dixie ran onto the stage, staring in apparent shock at the blast shield where until seconds before, their boss had stood.

“Hey! Why’s everyone so quiet? I told you before... it’s JUST a magic trick.”

As one, the audience whirled around, turning as a familiar face stood up from his seat in the fifth row. Two women screamed as John, sitting comfortably, stood up from his seat, and made his way down the aisle. Once the shock passed, the crowd began cheering loudly, clapping their hands and stomping their feet, whistling and catcalling in a deafening roar. Joining his two assistants on stage, he bowed politely, then gestured for them to do likewise.

“Oh, my GOD, you gave me a heart attack, Chief,” Dixie whispered softly, forcing a smile.

“Boss or not, friend or not,” Trixie whispered, “if you ever do that trick again, we’re leaving!”

John said nothing, continuing to stand, basking in the crowd’s affection. He held his pose, as always, as Dixie gave the closing spiel, thanking everyone for coming, and inviting them all to catch their next show two days from now. Then finally, blessedly, the curtain fell, and the lights went dim once more.

Weary, worn, coming down from the adrenaline high from his big finale, John stepped inside his dressing room, tossing his hat and cape aside, and loosening his tie as he reached for the bottle of scotch on his dresser. Only after he’d taken his first drink did he lot out a sign of relief.

“That was a really nice trick,” a feminine voice spoke.

John paused, the glass just a inch away from his lips. He lowered the glass slowly, and turned around, scanning the seemingly empty room. “Thank you. You seem to be a bit of a magician yourself. My dressing room was locked and the backstage area is pretty well guarded.” Seeing no one in sight, he glanced behind the door. “I’m flattered that you’d go to such lengths to get an autograph... Miss...”

“Wilkerson,” the girl said, standing up and stepping out from behind the couch. “Tammy Wilkerson. I think you might remember me from the show?”

John’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Um, y... yes, actually, I do remember. You... made quite an impression on me.” Moving back to the desk, he poured himself another shot and quickly drank it down. “So. What can I do for you?”

The girl smiled. “Actually, I just wanted to ask you a few questions... about your act. It really was amazing.” She walked over to the front of the couch. “May I?” she asked. John nodded, and she sat down. “Thank you. You really are too kind.”

“No problem,” John muttered, forcibly tearing his eyes away from her. “So. Um... you had some questions? Well, of course, you know the magician’s credo about giving away secrets...”

The dark haired girl laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not one of those annoying fans that tries to pick apart every trick to discover how it’s done. And I’m not a rival magician, or anything. I’m a doctor by trade, an orthopedic specialist.” Seeing the expression on John’s face, her smile grew. “No, the questions I had were more... personal... in nature.”

“I see,” John said, pouring another glass. Staring at the glass for a moment, he held the glass aloft, offering it to Tammy, who shook her head. “Suit yourself,” he murmured, sipping once more. “What is it you want to know?”

Glancing down briefly at her watch, she nodded slightly. “The first thing I wanted to know was why you reacted the way you did when you first saw me on stage?”

John blushed slightly. “You, um, noticed that, did you?” He sighed. The reason that she unnerved him—and continued to unnerve him even now— was her uncanny resemblance to his beloved Phoebe. Of course, he wasn’t planning on admitting such to the lovely young woman on his couch. So, he felt utterly shocked and confused when the next words out of his mouth were his exact thoughts on the matter.

“You look just like a girl I knew long ago, the only girl I’ve ever truly loved.” His eyes widened, but his lips continued to move, almost of their own accord. “Her name was Phoebe, and aside from the hair, and the color of your eyes, you could be her twin.” Frowning, he shook his head. “That... that wasn’t what I wanted to say, just now. What... is going on here?”

“That would be the effects of a little drug I slipped into Scotch before you came in,” she said boldly, crossing her legs. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing that will cause any permanent damage, just a little truth serum mixed with a few other special chemicals, to ensure that you behave yourself during this little interview. Now, please, have a seat across from me, and make yourself comfortable.”

Feeling suddenly woozy, John quickly made his way to his lounger, sitting down across from the doctor. “What’s this all about?” he asked, concerned about the lack of fear and panic he felt. I don’t know she just dosed me with, but it’s keeping me really fuzzy-headed. Gotta keep her talking, try and figure a way out of this before she makes her move.

“Tell me more about this... love of yours. This Phoebe you mentioned,” the doctor continued, ruthlessly. “Where is she now?”

“I... don’t know,” John gasped, trying again to hold back his words, and finding himself completely unable. “The last time I saw her was ten years ago.”

“Ten years? That’s a pretty long time,” the girl said, scowling. “If you love her as dearly as you claim to, why did you break up with her? Why did you send her away from you?”

Break up? Send her away? I never said anything about that! “It was... for her own... no. I THOUGHT it was for her own good. I’m... a dangerous person,” he said with a sigh, resigned. “I was afraid that if I stayed with her, I would end up hurting her, physically, mentally, emotionally... in some horrific way. At the time... I was struggling against my own inner darkness, and our relationship... she was becoming more and more submissive to me each day. I had to push her away... to protect her.”

“I see. How very noble of you,” she replied scathingly. Reaching up, she pulled the raven wig from her head, tossing it aside, revealing her short cut blonde curls. A flick of the finger at each eye, and she removed the colored contact lenses as well. “To protect me,” Phoebe accused, “you stunned me, reached inside my head, and took away every memory of our time together, every laugh, every smile, every single GOOD experience of time. Then, you left. You left college, just packed up your belongings, and moved across the whole fucking country, getting as far away from me as possible! All for MY OWN GOOD!”

She jerked to her feet, standing over him, glowering, hands clenched tightly into fists. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her chest heaved with barely suppressed sobs. “Let me tell you what happened after you left. Yes, you managed to remove every lingering trace of yourself from all of our memories, so much that the school didn’t even have a paper trail of you ever having been accepted there. The very next day, I went to my next final exam, as if nothing strange had happened. And I aced it. But instead of feeling pride, or enthusiasm, or joy... all I felt was sadness. And emptiness. Even though I didn’t remember you, I could FEEL that something was missing in my life. I became a good student because of YOUR influence, and even without you, I continued to achieve. I graduated with honors, went on to medical school, became a doctor... all the while, feeling a deep ache in my heart that I had no idea how to fill!”

She took off her gloves and rolled her sleeves up high, showing John her wrists. “A year after getting my medical license, I tried to kill myself,” she said softly. “Obviously, I failed. Afterwards, the administrator suggested that I see a specialist, someone to help me find the source of my depression. Luckily, an old friend of mine from college had just started a psychiatric practice. You remember Anne, don’t you? Well, she, too, had felt the effect of your tampering, though not as much as I. She knew what I was going through, and I trusted her enough to let her hypnotize me, put me very very deep under, and uncover exactly what the problem was.”

Sighing, she walked across the room. “I have to give you credit where credit is due. You did a hell of a job hiding what you did to us. It took almost another year before she was able to break through my mental blocks enough to recover my repressed memories.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I suppose its lucky that it was Anne that helped unlocked those memories. If anyone else had heard me babbling about some mystical magical sorcerer, working his magic over us, or me helping him fight another old friend, who happened to be a magic wielding cleric, I’d probably have ended up in a padded room somewhere. As it was, even with my memories back, I took a long time to accept it. Not that magic was real. No, that was a pretty easy pill to swallow.” She turned and stared hard at him. “The thing I couldn’t bring myself to accept was the memory of the night you left me. The way you left me, lying there, helpless, crying, my hand stretched out to you, begging you not to go.”

John hung his head in shame, feeling his heart shatter. He’d held onto that memory himself for ten years, often waking up in the middle of the night crying, clutching his pillow to him like a baby with a blanket. It had been the single most painful moment of his life, and the only respite he’d had for the past ten years was the knowledge that Phoebe would never have to remember their parting. Now, it seemed that everything he’d done to try and protect her had backfired. The memory of their parting had taken its toll of her as deeply as it had him, and even removing the memory of it had not spared her the pain. Indeed, she’d even tried to end her life from a depression that she didn’t even understand.

It was all for nothing. John closed his eyes. He wanted to die. His own life had been hell after that night, but he’d endured it knowing that at least he’d given Phoebe a chance at happiness. He’d wanted to spare Phoebe any pain, but his absence had hurt her more than anything he could have possibly done to her in person. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt her... oh God. She must hate me... so much...

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, moving to stand over him. “Nothing to say in your defense? No apology? No explanation? Not that it’s do any good at this point, anyway... still, I’d think at this point you’d at least have the decency to grovel.” When he refused to respond, she grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head up to face her. “Answer me, goddamn you! Say something!”

“There’s nothing I can say,” John replied, finally looking her in the eyes. “No words could possibly undo the pain you suffered because of me. I’m not worthy of your forgiveness... not even worthy to ask for it. I thought without me in your life, dragging you down, you would be happy. I thought...” He closed his eyes again. “But I was wrong. So very, very, wrong...” He opened them again. “I deserve your hatred for all of this, Phoebe—”

“Yes, you do,” she affirmed, her hands releasing their grip from his hair, moving to cup him under the chin. “You deserve for me to hate you for the rest of my life. But... that wouldn’t really get us anywhere, would it?” She walked back to the couch and plopped down wearily. “I’m angry at you. Fucking angry. I want to yell, and scream, kick and bite, and scratch your fucking eyes out. I want to do major physical harm to you.” She smiled, laughing softly. “If I still had that damned pipe from back when Chris wanted me to smash your legs, I’d use it. Yes, I’d pound on you until the muscles in my arms gave out.” She shook her head. “But I could NEVER hate you, John. Never.”

“And you shouldn’t hate YOURSELF, either,” she continued softly. “What you did... well, it was stupid. And wrong. You took away something very precious to me... but I understand why. You had the best of intentions. I see that. I understand. And when I finally regained my memories, when I found out who you were and what you were doing with your life, I felt angry, and betrayed, and hurt, that you could so easily push me aside and then go on with your life while mine was in the toilet. But the more I learned about you, the more I heard about how you spent your nights, the way you still pined for me, after all these years...” Tears sparkled in her eyes once more, threatening to spill out. “Oh, John... you stupid, stupid fool... all this time you’ve been even more miserable as I have, suffering in silence, slowly killing yourself with alcohol. And I couldn’t even make myself stay angry at you anymore.”

“What do you want from me, Phoebe,” John asked at last, getting to his feet. “Anything I can do to make up for this... just name it. Anything.”

Wiping her eyes, Phoebe stood up as well, facing him. “There’s only one thing you can give me that will make up for the ten years of hell I... no, that we BOTH endured, without each other.”

“Anything, Phoebe. Just tell me what you want!”

Lip trembling, Phoebe sank down to her knees. “You. All I want is you. I just... I want to go back to that place in my memories, that happy time when we laughed, and played, and fucked with complete abandon. I want to go back to being your slave again, to not having to worry if I’m making the right choice or decision about something... to just let go trust you to take care of it all, to take care of ME... I want to wake up in the morning and be given the role I’m going to play throughout the day firmly in place, knowing that I can’t step outside of any boundaries you place for me, and loving every single second of it.” She looked up at him, pleading. “I just want you, John. That’s all.”

At which point John sank to his knees as well, breaking down, holding Phoebe close to him, crying. It seemed impossible, an impossible miracle, that despite all that had happened, happiness was still a possibility. The pain deep within his heart that he’d had for so long began to heal...