The Hypnotist’s Assistants

He was waiting and listening for his chance to escape when the bathroom door opened and he heard the unmistakable voice of his boss, Marlin Schafer.

"Damn, George, that was fucking amazing," said Marlin as he moved up to the urinal.

"Goddamnest thing I have ever seen, Marlin. Thanks for inviting us," answered George.

"You are welcome, my friend. Actually my security director, Ken Smith, told me about this place months ago…"

Ken grasped his chest. He felt again as if he had been hit squarely by a football linebacker.

"…but we hadn't had a chance to make it here until tonight. By the way, I hope you and Marge don't mind skipping our night cap. That show left me randy as all get out. I need to get Carmen home to the play room as soon as possible."

George laughed aloud. "I might give Marge the old in-out tonight too. Thanks to you for the evening, Marlin...and thanks to your security guy for suggesting it. Marge and I will find our own night cap!"

George and Marlin's voices disappeared out the bathroom door.

Ken tried to decide whether to leave, to stay, or to just vomit.

How can they do this? How did they do this? I once knew all about this place…I even told Mr. Schafer…I signed the book…a book…what book…I signed a book…why do I remember a book?

The image of the coughing man and his thick leather book suddenly danced in Ken's memory.

The ticket guy! He has the book!

Ken eased out of the stall and peeked out into the lobby. A few people lingered, but no one was in the ticket booth. Carmen and Marlin Schafer were making their way out the front door. Ken watched as Marlin's hand slipped down and caressed Carmen's round ass. Then they disappeared into the growing darkness.

Ken made his way to the ticket kiosk and at once his eyes fell on the thick brown volume, just as he remembered it, resting behind the counter. He took a quick look around the lobby and, seeing no one but a few last exiting patrons, he grabbed the book.

A cold dagger of horror stabbed him square in the chest when he saw the contents. Every third or fourth page contained his signature…and Beth's…over and over again. His stomach seemed to rise to his throat as he frantically thumbed through the pages.

Mr. and Mrs. Ken Smith obviously were frequent visitors to the Klub Kasbah, very frequent!

Chapter 6

Ken's drive home seemed to take forever. The closer he got to his front door, the more apprehensive he became. He couldn't decide how to confront Beth. By the time he finally arrived, his hands were shaking so severely that he could barely get his key in the door.

Beth stood at the sink scrubbing a dish. She glanced over her shoulder as Ken entered the kitchen.

"Hi honey! How was your golf game?"

Ken's stomach churned. He fought away nausea with each breath.

"How was Bible study?" he answered quietly.

"Great…well, I suppose great is not the right word. It was informative, inspirational…the usual."

"What did you talk about?"

"What, dear?"

"What did you discuss at your Bible study?"

"Revelations…The Book of Revelations…weird stuff…hard to grasp, but fun to try to get your mind around though…very relaxing too."

"Didn't you study that last week?"

"Hmm…yes, I believe so."

"…and the week before that?"

"Honey, it is a long and complicated book in the Bible."

"What was the one most important thing you learned tonight?"

"Well, it was…ah…well we…hmmm…I can't seem to remember exactly. I was kind of bored toward the end, to tell you the truth. It was…you know…all that prophesy stuff in Revelations. Hey, why all the questions anyway?"

"Just curious."

Ken stepped up behind Beth and put his arms around her waist.

"That's better," she said. "I've been missing you."

Ken kissed the back of her neck.

"Hey, Mister, that gives me chill bumps."

Ken slowly moved his hands up to Beth's firm breasts.

"Hey, you." Beth wiggled away giggling. "Watch those wandering hands. What do you have on your nasty mind tonight, Mr. Smith?"

"I have you on my mind."

"Silly, boy…it's Wednesday…and it's late. You are tired from playing golf and poker and I'm exhausted, plus tomorrow is a work day. Go shower and let's get ready for bed."

Beth turned back to the chores at the sink. Visions of Beth on stage charged through Ken's mind and plunged down to his enlarging cock. She seemed so absolutely innocent now, yet only hours earlier; she had licked and sucked other men in ways that always had been forbidden to Ken.

Or had she? Ken wondered. Everything seemed all confused once again.

"Hey, I said scoot, Mister."

"But honey, I have something that is in need of attention."

Ken pressed his erection against Beth's round ass and pulled her hips tight against his crotch.

"Yikes," cried Beth, "Put that thing away. What has come over you?"

"I'm going to go and wait for you in bed," said Ken suddenly sullen. "Then I'll put this…thing…away…in just the right place."

Ken turned on his heels and went straight to the bedroom. With a growing sense of desire, he striped off his clothes and lay back in the cool sheets. His hard cock stood straight up. For good measure, he left all the lights on as well.

Tonight starts a new era, he thought.

Beth was unbuttoning her blouse as she walked in on the spectacle.

"My god, Ken, what in the world has come over you? Did you and your golf buddies go to a dirty movie or something? Cover yourself up and don't be gross."

"Come here," said Ken. He crooked his finger enticingly at her.

"Well…ok…but…this certainly is out of the ordinary."

"Come kiss your lover."

"Alright." Beth leaned over and gave Ken a quick peck. "I do love you…very much."

"Now here…"

Beth looked confused at first. All of a sudden, Ken's meaning became clear.

"Kiss me right down here…"

"Oh, my god, Ken! Don't you have the least bit of respect for me? If you did, you wouldn't ask me to do…things…nasty things…like…that. You know how I feel about that sort of thing."

"Its ok, baby," moaned Ken in his most fetching voice. "Try it…you might like it…just this once…just for me, baby…I'm about to burst there…everyone does it, don't you know. I'm going crazy. Help me this once, por favor."

Ken stroked his erect cock in Beth's direction.

"Kee-yun! First, you need a shower…a cold one at that. Second, I am going to get ready for bed…while you shower…and if you want to make love with me…I said 'make love'…then that's fine…I'm happy to. But, don't expect any gross stuff. If you really respected me you would not even hint at…at that…that other stuff."

A moment later, Ken stood under the full blast of a cold shower trying to sort through all his thoughts. He vacillated between full-fledged anger and sympathetic understanding. Earlier his cock had throbbed, but now that pulsation had moved painfully back to his temples.

Beth must not know anything…she's completely oblivious. She has no idea what she has been doing…fucking other men…sucking other men…but not me. This has to stop…I…I have to stop this once and for all.

Tears welled up in Ken's eyes. On one hand, he was shocked and shamed by his wife's behavior. On the other hand, he felt more sexually stimulated than ever before in his life.

Visions of that young woman hungrily devouring her husband's cock next to him in the Klub Kasbah booth projected like an IMAX movie in Ken's imagination. The man's face, grotesquely contorted with passion, appeared over and over again. Deep within Ken, feelings of anger and lust swelled like a balloon at its bursting point and a plan of revenge and ultimate power began to form in his mind.

I'll go and confront the hypnotist…I can tell him I will call the police…no, I'll tell him I will kill him unless…unless…he let's Beth go…wait…even better…I will force him to hypnotize her to do what I say…like that man in the booth and his wife…shi…not Beth…not that way…I have to get Beth completely out of his control…forever…wait, I have it…not Beth…I'll make him hypnotize someone else…someone to service me…ah…fucking A…someone like Carmen Schafer…that's it…hypnotize Carmen and let Beth go.!

The cold water seemed to bring Ken new clarity.

What am I saying? Am I dreaming all this? No, it is real…and placing Carmen Schafer in my power would be real too…very real…fucking A real! But, to be real it all has to make sense…make sense…I have to think it all through.

The ice…the ice in my drink…that proves it…now I understand…it melted while I was under…I saw it there and then instantly it was gone…my instant was not an instant for everyone else…the ice melted while I was under his spell for a long time…but then I came out…and I saw something else…what? I can't remember…what was it? What? It is just beyond my reach, just beyond my mind's reach.

Strangely, the image of a black woman, popped into his mind…legs apart, panties exposed.

Panties…why is that important? Nita…who is Nita…panties…Beth and Nita…shit…something about panties…I just can't quite remember…

It was as if a translucent shroud, almost like a theatrical scrim, hung between him and his memory.

I can almost remember…but…Nita….Nita? I don't know a Nita. But…wait…panties…me…ice…Beth? That fucking hypnotist will know everything…I'll force it out of him…I'll force everything out of him!

Chapter 7

"It was a good, actually great audience for a Wednesday, Roger. I'm glad we decided to do early shows on Wednesdays instead of Sunday matinees."

Darlene sat at a small table counting money. Roger was across the room nursing another scotch.

"Maybe two, three empty seats in the entire house," Darlene continued, "and, at premium prices too…people will pay most anything to see a real naughty sex show, especially one with audience participation, amateurs instead of pros. Go figure."

"Yep, they will."

"In the old days, when the show just included 'regular' behaviors…god, remember all those cruise ship shows…I hated living in those fucking tiny staterooms. Anyway, those tame, clean shows made us nothing but tired…no money at all."

"Yep."

"We have a good thing going here, my dear...a very good thing…a way for us to retire like real people."

Roger, with feet propped on a dingy old ottoman, glanced around the ancient cluttered dressing room and wondered just how good things truly were. He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. He had a lot invested in the show now. He stretched his arms back and smiled. The smile was fleeting though. Soon his furrowed brow returned.

"Yes, the show's going good, but it's fucking dangerous. If the cops ever get a complaint and sneak someone in here, we're fucked." Roger laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. His arrest phobia caused reoccurring nocturnal visions of him being led from the club in handcuffs.

"Hey, stop worrying. We're screening the customers and all the subjects sign releases. In the releases, they agree to everything. They have no legal ground to stand on if they wanted to sue, so don't worry about it."

"The law is not that simple, Darlene. But, looking on the bright side, I was very glad to find that Mrs. Smith suffered no ill effects from our would-be assassin the other evening. She is a great subject…a perfect subject. Did you see her going after that new guy's ass with her tongue…man…what a sight! She must have all sorts of pent up sexuality deep in her little weird psyche. Even I got horny watching that one."

Just then there was a very loud knock at the dressing room door followed by the sound of a doorknob turning.

"What the hell…"

Words were still emerging from Darlene's open mouth when the door burst open and there stood Ken Smith holding a pistol.

"That's 50 bucker…," shouted Roger.

"Shut the fuck up!" screamed Ken as he made sure for the hundredth time that his newly purchased earplugs were firmly in place. "Don't say a word or I will fucking blow you away right now."

Ken waved the gun menacingly at Darlene and then tossed a roll of duct-tape on the table in front of her. The pile of bills in front of her erupted like a pile of maple leaves under the feet of a child at play.

"Lady, tear off strips and put them over both your mouths…right now…or I will use this gun. And, you better believe that I know how to use it…I am a fucking Marine."

Darlene quickly obeyed and placed shiny silver strips of duct-tape over Roger's mouth, then hers.

"Now I want some questions answered," shouted Ken as he slammed the door behind him. "Just nod…don't utter a sound. Understand?"

Roger nodded wide-eyed. Darlene's eyes flashed with anger.

"I know that you have been using my wife in your act for weeks, right? And I know that you have had her doing all sorts of obscene acts with other men, right? So, you had better believe one thing right now…I could kill right here and now…and no jury in the country would find me guilty after they heard what you have done to my poor wife…and to me."

Ken saw Darlene's eyes dart around the room.

"Listen, bitch, don't get any ideas. Pull your chairs together and turn them toward me. Darlene, isn't it…duct-tape one of your arms and one of his to the chair's arm…yeah, that's it. Do it up tight."

Darlene did as she was told. After a moment, Ken inspected the tape and decided that at least they wouldn't be able to move easily.

"Now let's review, shall we? You have been taking advantage of innocent people without their knowledge and have been making them do lewd and lascivious acts in public…against their will…and for profit. This is so outrageous and grotesque that angry citizens like me might form a lynch mob or something and come after the both of you. I can't decide whether to turn you over to the police right now or just kill you and save wear and tear on the legal system. Do you get my drift?"

Roger mumbled a response through the duct-tape.

"If you need to say something, you had better write it down," said Ken.

Roger shrugged and pointed to his taped hand in a gesture of futility.

"Shit," said Ken.

Ken quickly taped Roger's other arm to the chair, then produced a pen knife from his pocket and cut through the bindings on Roger's writing hand.

"I will fucking shoot you both if you try anything," shouted Ken.

Roger waved his freed hand as if to say "no problem."

"Now I have some questions…was my wife under hypnosis when she did those horrible things on stage…kissing another man's asshole and all that?"

Roger looked wide-eyed again this time at Darlene and then nodded, "yes."

"She didn't know she was doing any of that? I mean she was unconscious, as it were, so she was totally unaware, right?"

Roger shook his head, "yes."

"Have you had her doing other things than what I saw last night? Has she been the one to suck off a guy or get fucked doggy-style right there on stage?"

Roger's eye brows went up, he looked knowingly at Darlene and then he quietly nodded, "yes."

"Jesus!" screamed Ken. "You fucking bastards!"

Roger and Darlene flashed glances at each other, but their primary attention was directed toward the barrel of the large pistol Ken brandished.

Without warning, Ken began to laugh. Darlene and Roger's fearful demeanors changed to looks of bewilderment. Ken positively roared with laughter. Finally, he regained enough composure to speak.

"You know the irony of all this?" Ken said between guffaws. "My wife won't even do any of that stuff with me! Yet, you have her doing…doing everything. Jesus, I can't believe it. Well, that's going to change. Here's what I want in return for letting you live…I want my wife out of the show…completely. But, I want to still be able to use hypnosis on her in the future."

Roger's eyes twinkled with new life. He looked knowingly at Darlene. The hypnotist and his assistant now had arrived at familiar territory…another greedy husband.

Roger grabbed the pen that Darlene had been using in her financial calculations and wrote, "ok," on a notepad.

"And I want to know everything!" added Ken.

Roger nodded.

*****

It took Roger a very long time to write everything down. Ken kept interrupting the written discourse with questions. Finally, Roger was able to explain that Beth and all the rest of his "subjects" were chosen because they were highly impressionable and could be induced into a state much like total meditation in yoga. Those who meditated deepest or whose minds often wandered into deep day-dreaming were the best subjects because they could be trained to remember or forget at the will of the hypnotist. The most prized subjects, like Beth, were those who could be led into such a hypnotic state by a single trigger phrase. Those like Beth also could be trained to react to complicated sets of self-induced triggers that conjured up impressions so seemingly real that the subject could not separate implanted impressions from genuine reality.

"Jesus," groaned Ken. He was beginning to see why his poor wife was such a good subject. His mind also began to race. The possibilities associated with this new knowledge also began to intrude into his imagination. The image of buxom Carmen Schafer winking at the camera kept appearing in his mind's eye.

"Can anyone have a trigger implanted in them?"

Roger wrote NO in big letters on the tattered piece of paper.

"What if I wanted you to hypnotize another woman…a particular woman?"

"Probably won't work," wrote Roger. "She would have to come to the club of her own accord. Then we could find out for sure…there's maybe a 2 or 3 in 50 chance."

Ken imagination now was blazing.

"What if she already has been in the club?" he asked.

"If she has been in the club then we have her signed release and we have records on her, if she showed potential as a subject," wrote Roger.

"Her name is Carmen Schafer. She was here last night."

"If her hand went up during the show, we will have a record," wrote Roger.

"So, what is my wife's trigger?"

Roger wrote, "It is not that simple. Plus, misuse can be very dangerous. You can harm a person's mind."

"I will misuse this very large gun, if you don't tell me," answered Ken angrily, "now!"

Roger looked at Darlene. She nodded affirmatively and then looked away.

Roger wrote, "Your wife's readiness trigger is you like red wallpaper? That makes her begin to seek my voice. When I say, "Ruba-dub-dub," she goes under without memory."

Ken's heart leaped. It was as if he had discovered the Holy Grail. His joy was short lived, however.

Roger's continued to scrawl, "But, she won't react to your voice unless I tell her to do so."

"Shit," groaned Ken.

Roger continued to write, "And, she has been trained to react in a sexually different way than normal only when she is inside the club. Outside…well, you know how she acts outside."