Dr Sorenson's patient was thirty-five, clean-shaven and unusually cheerful for a man seeking psychiatric help. She glanced at him over her glasses and frowned. "What do you mean, you're here because of a cosmic joke?"

"You won't believe me at first, Doc - but I woke up one morning and knew that I could control minds. No explanation for it; I just knew."

She crossed her arms across ample breasts. "And you came to me because this knowledge bothers you?"

His eyes rose from her long legs. "No, I came here because the power only works on psychiatrists."

My client gazed up at me with eager blue eyes. "Can you make me stop smoking, Doctor? I've got this uncontrollable oral fixation and absolutely no willpower."

"Well - I'm a hypnotherapist, not an MD. But we should be able to do something about your smoking pro ... I beg your pardon, but what are you doing?"

She'd raised her right leg off the couch, practically waving it in my face. "There's a run in my stocking!", she said, sliding her hands along the offered limb. "Isn't it terrible?"

"Ah ..."

She sat up, leaning forward to give me a revealing look down her blouse. "Tell me what I should do!"

I cleared my throat. "Are you, by any chance, hoping that I'll turn you into my hypnotized love slave?"

"Yes".

"I'm sorry, but I won't do it."

"You won't?"

"No - you want Fred Smith, room 702."

Floyd walked inside the sexy model's apartment. "Hypnotize you!" said Floyd.

"Eek! No!" said sexy blonde model.

Floyd waved his pocket watch. "Hypnotize, hypnotize"

"I am hypnotize" said model. "Master"

They had lots of sex.