Restroom

"It's almost too easy for you, like you were born to do this."

He felt the same way with a center-stage spotlight and excited, supportive surrounding sounds, and as if on cue, yelps and hollers came as if from a memory, along with a low, pulsing beat he could move to. There was a bright light on his back, making him shake his ass teasingly. Even the sounds of an announcer got him going.

"There's nothing you'd rather be doing that this right now; make the most of it."

"Ladies, give a warm-no, a sizzling welcome, to tonight's entertainment..." a male voice boomed around the soft commands from Berta.

There was a chair right in-front of him on whatever stage he'd walked onto. Boldly, one foot was placed on the chair to make him look like a conquering hero, a man's man who couldn't stop moving his hips provocatively. His other foot replaced the first, showcasing his ass again, teasing the belt that slid out of the confines like a snake in his hands, before throwing it down. Teasing his pants opening, but zipping back up before facing the crowd. Despite everything he was able to do, he still looked rather stiff, and facially seemed not totally into it.

"Spread your wings in that chair. Prepare to let yourself really feel it."

"For your dancing pleasure, taking the chill out of your cool, autumn night..." the announcing wingman provided, adding flair to the show.

Lying chaste on the chair for a moment, he was overcome by a tidal wave of hot water splashed onto his body and the stage. Berta smiled in Marilyn's direction and Marilyn smiled back, cheering with an empty bucket in-hand.

"Mesmerized Mike!"

The heat-based suggestion knocked the blankness completely out of him, stoking the fire in him reserved for the dancer he knew he was. Mike arched his back, moaning in ecstasy at how tingly his skin became, an unmistakable bulge in his pants protruding through his jeans while muscles loosened for the flexibility he'd need to prove his worth to the crowd. The mostly female crowd immediately noticed the change and stood up loudly cheering to the sight of Mike ripping his wet shirt off, his bare chest glistening in the light as he twirled the wet remains of his shirt in circles, tossing in into the crowd.

"And to present tonight's handlers, a pair of rambunctious wranglers, give a warm welcome to Rita and Sarah!"

Coming at him from both sides, the women he'd casually talked and flirted with an hour ago, approached like pack animals at cornered prey. In his past, the occasional woman joined him on stage, and he quickly learned to improvise. But Rita and Sarah took adjusting to as they tantalized him while he was trying to be tantalizing, caressing his face, taking turns teasing his bare chest. He looked ticklish on stage reacting to the his new dance partners.

"It's quite the dance of seduction ladies. Who will win? I think you all won't even need a spoiler alert this time."

Sarah urged him towards her, pulling at his crotch with what seemed like invisible rope as he walked toward her like Elvis, only to be pulled back by a wool scarf in Rita's hands. Mike's hips were more and more insistent to follow Sarah despite the surprisingly strong pull of Rita. She proved to be holding back as one pull jolted him right back into Rita's grasp. Sarah was still making the gesture, except pulling herself to Mike, hands at his zipper, unfastening his pants, lowering them while Rita fastened her scarf into a makeshift leash around Mike's neck. Mike let his body shimmy the pants down his legs, just to step out of them and kick them into the crowd.

"You don't need those boxers either," Berta's unmistakable words urged him. "Them remaining on your body is like an itch you know you'll need to scratch very soon."

Rita and Sarah took turns making Mike go in circles, telling him "You want Rita," "You want Sarah," while the other tugged on his leash, keeping him from fully grasping them, until he did hold one of them by the arm, and was told to pursue the other. The command alone was enough, but stroking and petting his hair gave more flare to his obedience. Both women loved when Berta added small things like that to make the whole package even better, with his coveted hair linked to his obedience. He pursued at arms-length, but it looked like he was guided by the dividing rod between his legs as he make humping motions while walking. They cajoled, touched his hair, his hip gyrations got more reckless, boxers itched more and more, until he faltered and ended up on his hands and knees, desperate to remove his boxers, revealing his bare male organ to the audience finally.

"You all requested a CFNM show, and you shall get a CFNM show!" the male announcer told the women.

"You feel so free now, so good now, especially on your hands and knees like that. Every touch to that dividing rod of yours will overwhelm with pleasure, so much so that you'll sink right back down to your hands and knees again."

Rita and Sarah brightened at the sound of that suggestion as their game with Mike slightly transformed into something like ping-pong. Sarah called to him, waiting impatiently on her hands and hips as he approached with means of seducing her. One simple touch to the head of his cock sent him to the floor landing at her feet. Before he could do anything else, Rita commanded the same of him, and leveled him to her feet with a simple touch, his skin feeling resembling tropical heat conditions the more they went, the hot sweat on his body reinvigorating the hot liquid suggestion he continued to act on. Over and over they put him down below them until he could no longer pick himself back up. The female wranglers took this opportunity to make use of him like that. Rita mounted his back and rode him across the stage like a petting zoo animal, teasing his back with her nails. The ride lasted as long as it took to end up with Mike's face in Sarah's unzipped crotch. Cheers from the crowd reached a fever pitch as Mike ate Sarah out until her climactic scream pierced the overall crowds. Rita received the same treatment after giving Sarah the reins of Mike for a ride around the stage.

After calming down from their pony rides, Rita borrowed a mic from the announcer's booth nearby, and regarded a heavily breathing Mike.

"Why did naked guy cross over to the left side of the road?"

"...because...women are always right," Mike's voice spoke in a lost, yet sure of his words, tone.

Uniform applause, whistling, and chants of the club's unofficial motto rang through the club, before Berta herself came onto the stage herself, with a shirtless Yancey trailing on his own hands and knees by her side. She gave a bow and Yancey bowed his head simultaneously as the crowd clapped again for the show-woman.

"Thank you one and all, I hope you enjoyed the show as much as we did. Seems like we've made a mess up here though. I notice there are a few guys in the audience now. Marilyn and some others have supplied a few mops, towels, and other cleaning agents needed for the stage. I think you'll want to come up and help clean up for us, won't you?"

The few men that were sitting in the audience soon moved to the stage to do exactly as Berta bid of them, nothing but contented looks on their face as they worked until the stage was as clean as before the show.

* * *

Rita and Sarah still retained hold of Mike's leash and hair as they walked off stage toward one of the club's bigger booths. Berta took Yancey and Craig to meet a gold-clad woman who would've spoken with a southern accent if she could find the words she wanted for the show Berta and co. put on.

"Why don't we have a seat over here Mrs. Mackey," Berta gestured to the booth near the recent stage trio.

Marilyn came to their table with more drinks. "Let's see, warm water for Craig, more hot coffee for Yancey, and two chardonnays for the ladies."

"Much obliged," the gold-clad southerner regarded Marilyn, receiving a smile in turn.

"So, did this rank like the 'standard stage hypnotism show' you thought it would?" Berta said with a knowing smile.

"You," Mrs. Mackey cleared her throat. "You said 'treat it like a promenade show,' but it was kind of hard to take my attention away from the ringleader."

"Kind words, I thank you for them, but I really do hope you got a good lay of the land."

"I guess that explains the 'you can even enter the men's room. They won't mind in the slightest' line."

"And they didn't, did they?"

"No, they didn't. They looked almost happy to see me, and not in a perverted way. You've got them so...well-trained. I never even understood the appeal behind 'clothed female, naked male' before tonight."

"Hopefully that might persuade you to invest in my little club here."

"Things are looking on the positive side. A stage hypnotist with little-to-no business experience did sound dubious at best, especially for a marquee property like this. The question of how you think you can keep things under control has more than been answered though. But still, as an investor, I would be interested to know..."

"How I do it all?" Berta finished, making Mrs. Mackey nod.

"Yancey, you enjoy the female voices you hear, like you always do. You barely have to pay them any attention as you just listen. When you've finished your coffee, you'll lay your head down on my lap; you can kiss my thighs if you like."

Yancey breathed heavily but smiled as he downed the rest of his coffee and put his head back on his controller's lap, while Craig just stared into space.

"Well Mrs. Mackey, my showmanship philosophy has always been 'the stage you perform on is more than just the stage.' I can and have operated from just the stage alone, but I've found it rather boring over the years, and I love the freedom to turn a whole club or property into my own little playground. Part of that is thanks to the genius of this starry-eyed young man staring at nothing. Craig Burdell, interior decorator extraordinaire. Did you get a chance to visit McMillian's downtown?"

Mrs. Mackey nodded, realizing why Berta had recommended that restaurant when negotiations had started about investing in Berta's club. It was a known man's man restaurant in-town, where business bigwigs loved to come in and shoot the shit, basically an unofficial male elitist club. Craig helped design parts of it, especially the restroom with a design that made most men laugh, and most women frown. Being a lone business woman herself there, Mackey found it was a place she'd have to attend instead of want, just for the sake of doing necessary business.

"I had that same look when I first saw it, but I had to give the designer points for creativity, and balls. I found Craig a few weeks later, and commended him on his work, but not without giving him a piece of my mind. He seemed to like the piece so much he kept it in his mind," Berta joked.

"He told me that all the blahs was a reflection of how he saw women, women who loved to talk and couldn't stop once they got going. As we talked, I asked him if he thought I had a nice voice, as I asked in a hypnotic tone. He said I did, to which I applied the logic that if women like me like talking so much, which I do, then it stands to reason that you love how much I, or we, talk."

Berta turned toward Craig, and though vacant, Craig knew he was being addressed.

"That bathroom design you made, one blah versus so many blahs, wasn't satire against women, it was really against men." Craig nodded his head. "Men are so boring by comparison, so little to talk about, so little on their minds, while women are full of ideas, and sound so nice as they talk about them. It doesn't matter if you analyze every last word I say or let them pass by you as you if it was just a bunch of 'blah blah blah,' you love hearing it, and your attention goes to all of it whether you admit it or not. You just breath a little deeper, move a little slower, settle yourself into a lovely opportunity to have a woman speak to you and address you, even fill you with important words. And as your breathing gets deeper, as you find it harder and harder to move, you know all of this is what's supposed to happen. You're supposed to listen, because you love the 'blah blah blah.' You feel empty without it. You designed the door painted with 'blah blah blah' because that's what you want, where you want to be."

For every deep breath Craig took, five nods filled that time.

"And you remember your luck because listening to Berta is the opportunity to enter that restroom, where there is only my words, where there is only female words, where all that you are is what I tell you, or what I or a woman wants you to be. You're happy to do this because of the purpose this gives you. A woman's 'Blah blah blah' is the gift that keeps on giving, and you shall cherish it, forever."

"But as I was saying," Berta turned her attention back to Mrs. Mackey, almost hypnotized herself by how easily the male designer was tranced. "He was more brilliant than I had anticipated. He had degrees in marketing and psychology, so he, like me, knew how to work people certain ways with his creativity. We put our heads together and came up with the the restrooms this club has. Laced with the turquoise patterns of the men's room are words designed to help them see the light in regards to female enlightenment."

"In other words, you zap the men on stage, and everytime they use the john, they go deeper?"

"If only it was as easy as zapping, but yes, it's my little deepening room. Their trance state almost never stops after the stageshow."

"And the men who attend are all..."

"A select, happy few. This is mostly a women's club, but we're always happy to have guys here, especially one's like Craig and Mesmerized Mike over there."

"And the boy who's probably looking fondly up at you?"

"Yancey, Craig's younger brother. He told me Yancey was a follower, and I figured hanging out with big brother was a bit like following the wrong crowd. I told Craig, like I tell all my male members' subconsciousnesses, 'don't hesitate to bring your friends.' I'm surprised it took this long for Craig to bring his friends, to be honest. This cute pet was much more respectful of women before, unlike the other two which I could tell right away. Just too shy to go against his brother and friend's will, which won't be a recurring issue. I think he'll not be shy about publically facing down opposition to women anymore, while still lovably shy around said women. They all will eventually, to their and our benefit. Yancey's a little more special for having an agreeable foundation to build upon."

"I see. He's more or less claimed?"

"The head-patting is a claiming system of mine, cause a ringleader has to have her own exclusive fun too, but it's not an indefinite hold. He might be available, or if you like, some strapping young assistant or business rival can be yours if he happens to find himself here one night."

Mrs. Mackey nodded her head at all the possibilities. Berta's establishment seemed all but a lock to invest in, but she still had to ask.

"You mentioned the patterns in the men's room, for deepening. You also have something similar in the ladies room, a goldish-yellow. Should the woman patrons here be concerned of their show-woman?"

"A fair question, but no. Yes, there are similar subliminals in the ladies room, but the words spoken are in-place to give them confidence, empower them, if for no other time their busy or troubled weeks, to let loose and let the part of them that needs to roar, out. Programming on my part is minimal, if any, and Craig has made it much less invasive than what the men get. Women are free to ignore the suggestions in there, or indulge in them at their own pace."

"When is there programming on your part where women are concerned?"

Berta's thoughts ran to when she first met Rita, Sarah, and Marilyn. "A few regulars here have faced debilitating daily lives, heavy, immoral pressure from men, even ranging on physical abuse sometimes. Besides counseling, I've had them visit the ladies room almost daily as a means of building them back up to a place where they can actually believe in themselves. Some take issue with that, helping people outside of a professional setting, but it's something I'll never be sorry for. I hope my answer was candid enough for you."

"It was Berta. Thank you for being so forthcoming. It's high-time women had their own establishment just like this. I think you know that you already have my investment, and there are some other ladies in the city who'll want to hear about this place, for investing, among other things. You might even hear suggestions of expansion."

Berta smiled at that. She wondered if there could be more establishments like hers, headed up by Rita, Sarah, and Marilyn who, with training, could be well on their way to Berta's level of proficiency.

"Of course, as this place gets more notoriety, there will be those who want and find ways to shut you down."

"Would a Mr. Mackey be looking to do that?"

"Not my dear husband; he's one who already treats women equally, otherwise we wouldn't be married. But I'm not opposed to learning a trick or two for the occasional...roaring."

"Any tips I can offer are on the house. But the others you meant, I'm always prepared for that. Men with free-will, so peculiar sometimes to me. Minds change so easily, whether they're thinking from their left vortexes or not. But you know what they often find in the end?"

"No," Mrs. Mackey replied.

"Yancey, when men of all kinds use any or especially the left part of their brains, what conclusion do they come to?"

"Women are always right," Yancey reminded the ladies.