The Coffee Shop

Story Info
A gay man is granted super hypnotic abilities.
48.3k words
4.62
99.3k
60

Part 1 of the 5 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 08/16/2009
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Disclaimer. The following story, is a work of fiction. The characters portrayed within are a work of fiction as well, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead is a coincidence and unintentional.

Copyright 1998. This story is the property of the author, Canadian Cowboy (formerly known as Animal360). Any duplication, in whole or in part, is forbidden without the express written consent of the author, Canadian Cowboy.

Chapter 1: A Hot Cup of Coffee.

There is probably one somewhere in the city that you live. It is just your average neighborhood coffee shop. A place where all sorts of people come to read the paper, drink coffee, eat donuts and talk. There is nothing at all to make it seem out of the ordinary or unusual. In fact, you probably drive right by it every day, and that is why you've never noticed it.

I'm one of those 'strange' people who has never had, and probably never will have, a car. I tried to learn to drive once, but it was a very bad experience. Maybe someday I'll tell you about it, but that is another story which is best left for another time. So, over the years I've learned to take the local city bus, or 'public transportation' as it is called, and the occasional cab when I need to get somewhere in a hurry. But if the weather is nice, and I have the time, sometimes I walk.

That is how I came across the coffee shop.

It was a Saturday, one of the few ones I've had lately where there was no reason to go into work, and no chores to do at home. I was just enjoying my free time. Indulging myself by walking around the neighborhood, in a section of town that I did not often frequent. The wind was somewhat colder than I had thought it would be, so I ducked inside to get out of the wind and warm my hands around a hot cup of coffee...and maybe a donut.

I'd never been in the place before, but it seemed nice enough. Clean, bright, pleasant, and permeated with the aroma of hot coffee. As I sniffed the air, and the blood seemed to flow back into my frozen nostrils, I could detect the wonderful aromas of flavored coffees that I'd bought at the supermarket. These seemed to be richer somehow, stronger, and just breathing the air I could almost taste the coffee in my mouth, on my tongue. The shop was not exactly quiet, but it wasn't packed to the rafters, either. There were a dozen or so people spread out sitting at various tables, and a few in some of the booths. They were quietly talking with friends, reading their papers, or just looking out the windows at the people walking by. I know that this sounds so ordinary, and quite boring actually, but at that time the place was very unremarkable, except for the aromas of the different coffees in the air.

The woman behind the counter appeared to be of middle age, a sort of motherly figure, whose eyes seemed to sparkle with hidden joy and laughter, the sort of person that seems to brighten a room when they enter it. I was sure that she was probably the reason why people came here in the first place, or at least why they came back. I felt my mood improve from just seeing her smile a big warm welcoming smile as she said, "Hello, sir. What can I get for you?"

"A large hot cup of coffee, no flavor please. Oh, and I take cream and sugar," I replied.

"Just be a minute. There's plenty of room here at the counter, so why don't you sit here?" She replied in that warm motherly tone of voice.

"Sure. Okay." I said, as I plopped myself down on a seat a few feet away from her and the multitude of coffee pots steaming gently in the corner. As I waited for the coffee to arrive, I noticed that the shop had a warm and inviting feeling to it that I had not noticed when I first stepped inside. It made me feel a bit better and a bit more relaxed, but I was far from a happy person.

The waitress, if you really wanted to call her that, arrived moments later and placed a large mug of hot coffee in front of me, accompanied by a bowl of sugar and a decanter of cold cream. "Listen," she said. "You look like a man who needs a break. The first cup of coffee is on the house. And, I won't take no for an answer. So you just sit there and enjoy your coffee and try to relax a bit, okay?" She turned away from me and went over to chat with what appeared to be one of the regulars who was standing by the till, waiting patiently to pay his bill. The man just smiled at me and nodded, as I looked at him for a moment. He turned to the waitress, and conversed with her for a few moments before paying his bill and leaving.

Actually, I was very surprised at her kindness, and appreciated it more than she could have known. It's the little small thoughtful things that impress me, about people. I found myself feeling a little better about myself, and feeling just a bit more relaxed. For just a second, I felt a smile touch my lips. I smiled a second time. I suddenly realized that all this, the free coffee, the warm inviting atmosphere and the cheerful attitude of the waitress, were all designed to make me feel better about the place of business, and myself. It is just good business, and a way to get repeat customers. A little psychology goes a long way. I'm actually very familiar with using this approach, when I want to hypnotize someone. You see, I'm an amateur hypnotist. I do it because I love hypnotizing people...guys mostly. Both to help them, and because it is a turn on for me. I don't get to do it as often as I would like, and certainly not to some of the good looking guys that I've seen. But I get by, I guess.

The coffee tasted very good. Smooth, and rich. Sipping it slowly was a luxury I had forgotten, or maybe it was just that the coffee here was very good. I soon felt the tension in my neck and shoulders fade away as I started to relax more and more. I was just looking around, at the people in the shop...as they came and left. Without quite realizing it my mug was soon empty, and I raised my hand to attract the waitress' attention.

"Hi, again," she said with that warm motherly tone of voice. "Would you like a refill? But, you'll have to pay this time. It's $1.50 a mug."

"No problem," I said as I smiled at her. "I think I can afford that."

"You seem to be feeling better, sir," she grinned, as she filled my mug. She came back a few moments later, after returning the pot of coffee to the collection of pots in the corner. "Listen," she said. "I've got a free ear if you need it."

I suppose, looking back, I should have been surprised at that statement, but I wasn't. I soon found myself talking to her, about me, and my life and my troubles. Sort of like pouring out your guts to your favorite bartender. Understand that I am a very private person, and I don't tell my secrets or problems to anyone. Well, I have to be private. I'm gay, and still in the closet. Sure, there are many guys out there who have come out successfully, but I haven't done that yet. So, as you might imagine, I have a lot of suppressed feelings and desires that I have to keep under careful control all the time. Is it any wonder I'm tense a lot?

I won't bore you with the details, except to say that this motherly waitress soon knew all about me...my being gay, my having a crush on my boss, and my fantasies about him. It was odd, as if spilling my guts to a total stranger was not odd enough, that as I was spilling my guts, she would just stand there and listen. Every now and then when someone would come near or she would have to leave me for a moment, she would touch my forehead and say "pause," and my mouth and tongue would freeze. When she came back a few minutes later, she'd touch my forehead again and say "continue," and I'd pick up right at the syllable where I left off. After this happened four or five times, it finally dawned on me that there must have been something in the coffee. (Okay, so Sherlock Homes I'm not.) I knew that I hadn't been hypnotized, but I had been drugged, and that drug was preventing me from feeling scared or frightened or even angry. I would have felt that way, if I had been in my right mind.

I finished my tale of troubles and woes about two cups of coffee later. The waitress just looked at me for a while. She didn't say anything, but a tear started to roll down her right cheek, and I heard a soft sob escape her lips. I knew that I should just get up and leave. After all I'd paid for the coffee, and I'd just told a complete stranger all my innermost secrets, but I couldn't leave. I could not stand up and walk out the door. I just couldn't. I didn't feel compelled to stay, and I knew that I didn't need her permission or anything. Whatever hold she had on me earlier had faded away and I KNEW that if I started to leave, she wouldn't even try to stop me. Something inside, some part of me felt that I should stay and listen to her. So I gently reached up with the napkin and wiped away the tear from her cheek, and then sat back down and waited for her to say something.

"You poor man," she said. "It's not fair that someone as kind and sweet as you should go through life with such burdens, and worries. You deserve better. You deserve a chance at some joy and happiness. There is much you can do to make this a more wonderful world, if you were just given the chance."

"Lady," I said, trying to bring the conversation back to earth, and to keep from losing my temper. "Just what the hell are you talking about, and what did you do to me? What was that drug you put into my coffee?"

"Paul," she said. "You did not leave now, when you knew you were able to, when you knew you had the chance. You chose to stay, and perform a small act of kindness for someone who you felt has just abused and humiliated you, and in public no less. Why do you think that is?"

"Probably," I said with disgust and anger clearly in my voice. "Because I'm stupid. I also want to know exactly what you did to me, and why."

"No," she said with a small smile. "Deep down you have a compassionate and caring heart. It is just in your nature to want to try and help people, even if it seems to you that you always lose in the end. That quality is very rare, and very precious. I think you may be the person I've been hoping would come in here someday." With that, she touched my forehead again, and I suddenly could not move a muscle! I was paralyzed, and scared to death!

"Paul," she said as she smiled at me. "Come with me to the back room.. We need to talk.."

And like one of those hypnotized zombies, or slaves you see on an old TV show, I found myself standing up, and walking with her to the back room. My face a mask of terror, and my guts turned to water. My GOD! Why didn't I leave when I had the chance? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Is all I could chant in my mind as I followed her like a good little slave, into the back room. Once there, I sat down in an ordinary chair, and waited. And waited. And waited. In darkness, and in terror.

Chapter 2: The Gift

Suddenly, my world exploded in bright light. After blinking a few times (I could still do that apparently), my eyes adjusted to the light and I saw the 'waitress' in front of me again.

"Paul, I know you are scared, and for that I am truly sorry," she said. "But you would not have stayed of your own free will, for the entire explanation. No harm will come to you, that I promise. Actually, I am going to make it possible for you to help yourself and a lot of other people at the same time. You have within you a power, that you can develop and control for the benefit of your life and the lives of others. I can teach you how to do this, but it must be your decision."

She stopped talking and looked at me, then, and sighed. She knew that if I had been able, I would have either run from that place and NEVER come back, or tried to kill her. I'm not sure myself what I would have done. So much, I thought, for being a "kind and sweet person."

"To begin with," she said. "Yes I did drug your coffee, but only the first cup. It is a drug that affects only those few types of people who have the 'spark' within themselves. This is how I was able to confirm that you have the power, even though it is dormant. I felt something special as soon as you walked through the door. I felt a resonance of my power with yours, but it was very faint. I had to give you the drug to be sure."

"The drug is, well, hard to explain. It opened up your mind and soul to me...and because we resonated, you were able to confide all your secrets to me...and were unable to lie. So, I know all about you, as is necessary if I am to help you develop your power."

"For example, I know that you have a crush on your boss at work, and have fantasized about hypnotizing him into doing a strip show for you." (At that I blushed so hard I though my head would explode. She DID know everything about me. I shuddered uncontrollably.) "I also know that there are a couple of good looking firemen at the fire station in your neighborhood that you've had your eyes on too. All you'd like to do is to see them slide down a fire pole, naked." (Another blush, even brighter than before if that was possible.)

"I can make all this happen for you. I can teach you how to do this, but only if you want to learn. I know that you don't believe me. I am going to give you a small sample of what your power could be, and allow you to use it just once, and only on one person...one man."

With that, she took my hand in hers, and looked deep into my eyes. I tried to close my eyes, or to look away, but I could not. I was compelled to look deep into her eyes. I felt my body start to float, and my mind begin to cloud. Vaguely, I heard some distant voice telling me things. Things that I knew to be real, but that I simply could not remember clearly.

____________

I blinked my eyes open, and there stood the waitress bending over me and putting a cool wet cloth to my forehead. I was lying on the counter in the coffee shop, and my head ached a bit.

"Wha... what happened.?" I mumbled.

"You okay now, honey?" The waitress asked with big concerned eyes. "You suddenly fainted or something, and hit your head on the side of the counter. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," I muttered. "Guess I'm not eating right." Well, that certainly would explain the ache in my head, I thought. All I want is to go home and crawl into bed.

"Listen, honey," the waitress called as I left the shop, walking without too much difficulty. "You go home, go to bed and get some rest. Come back when you want another coffee."

"Kind of a strange thing to say," I thought to myself...but I was more concerned about getting home and resting.

I spend the rest of Saturday, and most of Sunday in bed. I was just so damn tired that I couldn't DO anything. Come Monday morning I was my old self and ready to face another work week. My head was much better, and I felt better than I had in a long time.

The workday was uneventful. Nothing at all unusual happened, and for some reason I kept expecting something to. I smiled at my boss just like I always do, and he greeted me warmly just as he always does. Little does he know how much I long to see him out of that double breasted suit, preferably at my apartment. But that's what dreams are made of, I thought, sighing quietly to myself.

Just at quitting time, my boss called me into his office. My first thought was, great, more work to do. I could not have been more wrong. Upon arriving in his office, I noticed that there was a young police officer sitting across from my boss chatting with him. Well, there's my 'unusual thing,' I thought to myself.

"Ah, Paul," my boss grinned at me. "You're here. I'd like you to meet the son of a friend of mine. This is Officer Steven Stokes. I've been telling him about the success you've had with hypnosis here in the office and some of the good it's done for stress among some of our workers. Steven, here would like to reduce his stress level, and I though maybe you could help him."

It was true. I had hypnotized a lot of my coworkers, male and female....but always in groups. Never alone. I didn't want to tempt myself or torture myself with something that I knew I'd never be able to have. It was no surprise to you, I'm sure, that my boss Phil, was one of the few people in our department that I had not hypnotized at least once, at one time or another. He always joked about it, when I asked him why he did not want to go under, by saying something like he had to keep an objective view of everyone including me, and besides it wasn't going to get me a raise anyway.

"Sure, no problem, Phil," I said to my boss. "I'd be more than happy to help out.." I am not sure exactly how I did it, but I managed to walk over to Officer Stokes and shake his hand without stuttering a hello or drooling. This Officer Stokes had to be at least 6 feet tall, and maybe 200 pounds. He was built like a brick blockhouse, with well muscled arms, and legs, a beautiful torso and clean cut almost chiseled features. Add to that short cropped brown hair, and deep olive green eyes that made you want to dive into them, and a smile that could have melted the north polar ice cap. And a gold ring on his left middle finger. DAMN!!!

Concealing my disappointment at finding him 'off limits', I asked him, "Officer, when would be a good time for you?" "Tonight would not be too soon for me," I thought silently to myself as I looked directly into his eyes.

(ping) "Funny, though, I thought I heard a bell or something ring very softly in my ears," I thought to myself. "Guess I must be working too hard."

"Please, call me Steve," he replied. "And would tonight be too soon?"

"Not at all. Here I'll just give you my address and you can drop by after work," I said, concealing my delight at this unexpected turn of events.

"My shift ends at 7:30 PM tonight. I'll go home, change, grab a bite, and be at your place by, say 8:30? Okay?" Steven asked me.

"Sure. Sounds good." I replied. Of course, what I was thinking to myself, as I stared into those deep olive green limpid pools that were his eyes was, "Don't bother to change. I want to hypnotize you in your uniform, and cuff you too."

(ping) There it is again. I must not be getting enough sleep.

Officer Stokes looked at me for a few seconds, as though having second thoughts. "Listen," he said. "Just so that we have a bit more time, in case this takes longer than you think it might, I'd like to drop by your apartment, right after work. I'll grab something on the way over. So I'll see you at maybe 8 PM then?"

"Sure. That's fine too," I replied. A chill went down my back though. This was just a bit too much of a coincidence for me. But, I had made an appointment and I intended to keep it. Besides at the very least, I'd get to hypnotize a good looking guy and cop to boot. Funny, but that had always been a fantasy of mine. My last thoughts of Steve, as I caught his eyes while saying goodbye to him as he left the room were that I'd like it better if he did shower and put on a new uniform before he came over. (ping) "Great. There it is again. Maybe if I take some aspirin, it'll go away before my evening with Steve starts."

____________

He was late. It was already 8:15 PM and no sign of Officer Steven Stokes. Sighing to myself, I finally accepted the fact that I'd been 'stood up' and went to the kitchen to drown my disappointments in a hot cup of tea. A couple of minutes before 8:30 PM my doorbell rang. I tried not to run to the door like some hormone deranged teenager, but I couldn't help myself. Even if all I was going to do was to hypnotize this hunk of a cop, so that he could get rid of some of his stress, it was still very exciting. I'd wanted to do this for years, and never dared to hope I'd ever get a chance. And here it was being offered to me on a silver platter. My boss, Phil, didn't know it, but I owed him one for this. Big Time. I had to take a couple of deep relaxing breaths, to calm my trembling arms before I could open the door.