Busman's Holiday

a work in progress

ii

My mouth felt suddenly dry. Without bothering to even look, my hand groped for the nearest glass and I took a long pull of my drink. It was fruity and sweet, with the telltale bitter flavor of alcohol underneath.

"You want me to? Why? And why would I?"

Claire nodded, still meeting my gaze. "I've got two goals for this week, Jack. One of them is that I want to take a vacation from being Miss Perky and Proper Grade-School Teacher. What you did up there with those people was so hot, I'm going to be having dreams about it for months. But why stop there if I can have the real thing?" She leaned forward, lowered her voice, and put a hand on my leg. "I want you to put me under, Jack, and free me from myself for a while. I want to wake up in your room with no idea how I got there, no clothes on, and no desire other than to fuck your brains out."

Slowly, she took one of my hands in hers and brought it to her chest. "That's my motivation, Jack. Here's yours." She was wearing a satin dress and, I quickly discovered, no bra -- an erect nipple poked into my palm through the fabric as she pressed my hand against herself. "I know you want Monica. I'll even admit that she's probably closer to your type than I am. But I'm right here, offering myself to you. A bird in the hand, so to speak."

She was indeed. My cock was straining already as the blood rushed into it. I thought about Monica, alienated, maybe for good. I thought about Laurel, peacefully sleeping away her last night in this place. But the immediacy of Claire, the obvious willingness, was too much to pass up. I'd denied myself three times already that night -- once unwittingly, twice deliberately -- that was enough.

I pulled my hand away from her breast. "Are you sure?"

She nodded again, staring me down.

"Okay." With my left hand, I took Claire's right hand and held it firmly. With my right, I held up an index finger, just above her eye level, about a foot away from her face. "Watch my finger," I told her, as I began moving it slowly from side to side. "Focus your concentration on my fingertip, and see if you can follow it without moving your head. And as you do, see if you can remember what it felt like just an hour or two ago, as you focused your attention on my hypnodisc and felt yourself getting sleepy, drowsy, tired. Remember your eyes becoming so tired, so heavy, so sleepy."

If someone has been in hypnosis recently, they'll go back very quickly if you can get them to remember the sensation. So it was with Claire -- thirty seconds of induction, and she was already there. The hand that I held felt totally relaxed and limp, and her eyelids were drooping. "And as you remember exactly that feeling, notice that your eyes are becoming ever heavier now, ever so hard to keep open, so sleepy that soon it will be impossible for you to keep them in focus." As I spoke, I started moving my finger even closer to her face, making that last statement a self-fulfilling prophecy. "Soon you will be so deeply hypnotized that your eyes will no longer focus; when that happens, you can just let them close down now and you'll drift off into a deep, deep hypnotic sleep, deeper than ever before, deeper than you thought possible."

She was blinking heavily, her eyes becoming more and more reluctant to open again, and finding it harder and harder to focus on the finger. When I got to within about six inches of her face, I could see her lose focus. "Sleep!" I commanded, and tugged lightly on her hand. Claire fell forward, her body totally limp. I caught her head and set her in a comfortable position. It took only a few minutes and a standard deepener to get her to a point where I could see her eyes fluttering in REM under the lids. Her skin paled a bit as her breathing and circulation slowed.

"In a few moments, Claire, I'm going to count to three. When I reach three you will open your eyes and look straight ahead of you. You'll also feel some energy returning to your body, enabling you to sit up straight. You'll remain deeply hypnotized, however; in fact, the more you move and look around the more deeply your mind can continue to relax and go deeper into hypnosis. I will then ask you to follow me. You will stand up and walk with me back to my room, remaining quiet and staying with me at all times even as your mind slips deeper and deeper into hypnosis. One, two, three."

Her face took on a beautiful blank stare as she sat up in the chair. I took her limp hand in mine and stood up. "Follow me."

We walked hand in hand to the elevators in the main lobby. More than a few people noticed something odd about Claire -- the blank stare, the economy of movement, all had an odd movie like feel -- but none stopped to ask about it.

I led Claire into the nearest elevator and pressed the button for the twelfth floor. The car went smoothly and directly up and the doors opened with a discreet "Ding!" My charge followed me out of the elevator, to the door marked 1201, and inside.

I tossed my jacket on top of my suitcase and plopped into one of the two easy chairs while Claire stood waiting before me. Oh, Claire, I thought, contemplating her still form, what to do with you?

What do you mean, what to do?

I knew that voice. That was the voice I'd been listening to for most of the show; the one that likes to play the angles, see how far people will go; the one who used to enjoy zapping perhaps-willing women at frat parties; the one that, until a few hours before, had been securely locked away in a dungeon in the back of my head. The user.

For answer, I turned to my better half: the voice that looks for solutions; that treats people with respect; that minds the ways and teachings of my old professor. The teacher, if you will. The teacher would send Claire back to her room with instructions to sleep well and wake in the morning feeling satisfied and relieved.

Bullshit, protested the user. She wants this. You heard her say so.

True. But liking the idea of something in the abstract is a long way from liking it in reality. Why would anyone want to be compelled to have sex with a stranger?

She told you why, you moron. Accept that and go with it. She wants you. And you want her.

No, I wanted Monica.

But if you can't be with the one you love, buddy, love the one you're with.

The teacher knew it was a bad idea, but I stood up and put my hands on Claire's shoulders, sliding the straps of her dress aside. I stepped behind her and slowly lowered the zipper, allowing the dress to fall to the floor. My hands reached around to cup her breasts, my nose burrowing into the nape of her neck and filling itself with her scent. Somewhere in the distance the teacher was warning me to stop, don't do this, but his voice was drowned out in the rushing of blood to my groin. In a matter of moments I had Claire completely stripped, her clothes tossed aside on top of my jacket, her face still staring blankly ahead while she waited for instructions.

"Claire," I told her, "in a few moments I'm going to count to three. When I reach three you will wake up, completely alert and aware, no longer hypnotized. In fact, your conscious mind will have no memory of anything that happened while you were hypnotized. The more you try to remember anything that happened after the hypnosis show, the more impossible it will be for you to remember. All you will remember is that you can't remember. Those memories will remain in your subconscious, known only to your subconscious, until I hypnotize you again and tell you that it's okay to remember.

"And now, Claire, you're going to experience the fantasy you asked for. In a few moments I'm going to count to three. As I count to three you will slowly awaken from your hypnotic sleep, remembering nothing that's happened since the hypnosis show. You will realize that you are naked, but you won't know how you got that way. It won't matter; you will see me as the most sexually attractive man you've ever seen, and

the only thing you will want is to have sex with me. Even now you can feel yourself becoming aroused, the blood rushing to your erogenous zones, making your entire body sensitive and needing to be touched, stroked, and kissed. Each breath you take, each beat of your heart, increases your arousal and desire. The more you try to resist the feeling, the more you try to think of anything other than having sex with me, the stronger that need for sex will become. Any place that I touch you will send pleasure signals throughout your body as if I'd touched your most sensitive, intimate places. You will orgasm easily and often, as often as you'd like to, with each orgasm making you want more and more. This irresistible desire for sex will continue until I tell you to sleep; when I say, 'Sleep, Claire' to you, you will stop having sex and you will return immediately to a deep hypnotic sleep like the one you are in right now."

I walked slowly back to the easy chair, tossing my shirt aside on the way, and sank into it. "One, feeling a strong sexual arousal and desire building inside of you; two, feeling the energy returning to your body, the desire for sex increasing with each breath you take; and three."

From my spot in the easy chair I had a great view of her body and face as she came out of it. I saw her eyes flutter open, stare, and then come into focus. Her shoulders rose up. Her hands flexed and then, coming into contact with skin, felt around as she looked down to confirm that her clothes were gone. "What the ...?"

And then she looked at me. Her pupils dilated and her eyes took on an extra sparkle and the color returned to her cheeks. A soft, pink glow started to spread from the golden thatch below her belly up to her chest. All of this gave witness to her thoughts and yet she struggled to ask questions. "Where ... how ... ?"

I smiled, drinking in the sight of my confused, naked, horny girl. "None of that is really important right now, is it?"

She glared at me, showing both lust and anger. "It won't work, you know."

I shrugged that off, smiling all the more. Was this real resistance, or just Claire's subconscious embellishing the fantasy? There was only one way to tell: watch. If she truly didn't want to do this, I hadn't said anything that would stop her from picking up her clothes and walking out. If, on the other hand, she just wanted to feel compelled, then she'd make a show of fighting the urge and then give in gloriously. My shaft thickened, anticipating and hoping.

Her hands moved, one to cover her mound and the other her breasts. But within moments she was fondling rather than hiding. I had my answer.

I rose from my chair, peeled off my undershirt and tossed it onto the clothes pile. Then I came right up to Claire, my face inches from hers. "Let me do that." I took my left hand and gently pulled her forearm away from her breasts, and then with my right I cupped a breast and let my thumb play over the engorged nipple. Claire gasped and shuddered and fell forward into my arms. I held her firmly while she rode out her first climax.

In a few moments her breathing slowed a little. Her arms slipped out from between us and gripped me tightly as her lips found mine. The kiss melted my fillings and sent all of the blood rushing to my groin. She kept kissing, almost trying to climb into my mouth it seemed, while her hands explored my upper body. I returned the favor, and in a few moments I could feel fingers clawing at my pants. Claire dropped to her knees, pulling my pants and underwear down with her, and kissed her way down to my waiting member. Her tongue caressed it, sending shivers up and down my entire body. I felt her lips on the tip and knew there was no way I'd last more than ten seconds in her mouth.

I stepped back -- or at least I tried to. With my pants and underwear still around my ankles, all I succeeded in doing was falling backwards onto the floor. My head hit a corner of the easy chair and the room tilted for a second or two. By the time I recovered my wits, Claire had my legs pinned down and my cock in her mouth, and was doing things to it that only an inspired fellatrix could. I couldn't reach her, and the longer it went on the less I really wanted her to stop, but if I wanted this to last much longer, I was going to have to do something immediately.

So I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances: I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and triggered myself into hypnosis. Feel the pleasure, I told myself, but hold your release. I pictured a fire hydrant, with a fireman turning his wrench on the release valve at the top to shut off the water flow. I pictured a steel submarine door slamming shut, the latch wheel spinning clockwise to seal it. And I allowed the pleasure of an orgasm to flow through me, my whole body tingling with the sensations of it, while holding my flow. And I kept breathing, easily and deeply.

Three seconds, three minutes, three hours; I'd be hard pressed to say which is closer to the amount of time we spent that way. I'd have come twice over if not for my own conditioning. Instead, I lay there wallowing in the pleasure until Claire came up for air. I opened my eyes in time to see her climbing up my body and preparing to lower herself onto my iron spike. I reached up, found her breasts, and gave each a nice squeeze as she settled herself over me. She trembled again when she felt me slide home like a key in a very moist lock. "Come for me," I told her, and she did, rocking and grinding while she gasped and moaned her way through another climax.

She was tiring; I could tell by the way she let my arms support her upper body. How much more would she want? How much more could I take? I had no idea, but I was having the time of my life finding out.

Taking advantage of a post-orgasmic lull, I lowered Claire's body onto mine and rolled us over. My face landed between her breasts, so I gave each a few minutes of kissing, nibbling, and caressing until she started squirming under me. Then I kissed my way down her belly. She got the message and spread her legs for me.

The holy of holies was heavy with her scent, not to mention her juices. I dove in with relish, partly because she'd been so lovingly attentive to me a few minutes before, partly because she tasted delectable. I explored her lips, her canal, her button, while her legs squeezed my head and her breath came in ragged gasps. She came again, hard and fast, and for a moment I thought my neck was going to snap with the force of her gyrations. It would serve you right, I told myself, but what a way to go!

Claire was nearing exhaustion. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, her body moving without any real purpose to it. One more, I figured, and she'd be done. All the more reason to treat myself this time. Rising to my knees, I scooted forward and lifted Claire's bottom. "Oh, God, yes!" she panted, and tried to help by raising her legs up, but they were too tired and heavy for her. I grabbed a pillow off the bed, folded it over, and tucked it under the small of her back for support, then drove myself home. The initial contact jolted Claire into action -- her legs hooked around me weakly and pulled us together. I used a free hand to caress her belly, tracing circles on her skin, feeling her muscles tense in preparation for another climax.

Okay, I said to myself, sliding back into trance a little, now. In the back of my head, I felt the countdown begin at five. I ran my fingers through Claire's yellow pelt, petting her, preparing her, through four and three. At two I found her button and gave it a gentle nudge. At one I said, "Come for me," and felt the tight clenching of her muscles as she did. Then I reached zero and all of my circuits went haywire as I finally had a full-blown orgasm of my own. I know I called out incoherently, my voice mixing with Claire's, as my seed gushed into her. We stayed locked together on the floor until all of the energy left me and I collapsed onto her again, both of us semi-conscious at best.

We lay there panting and recovering for a few minutes before I felt her hands beginning to caress my back again. Enough is enough: I rose up and looked into her glazed eyes. "Sleep, Claire."

Her arms flopped onto the floor and her eyes closed with a deep, satisfied sigh. I found the energy to get up, wandered to the bathroom, had a glass of water and took a very quick shower to rinse off the sweat and musk. I brought an extra towel with me back to the floor where Claire lay entranced and wiped her off as best I could. Then I turned down the bed, lifted her in my arms and laid her in it.

"Claire," I said as I slipped into bed beside her, "in a moment I'm going to count to three. When I reach three you will relax even more, leaving hypnosis and drifting into a deep, refreshing, natural sleep. Nothing will disturb you during this sleep. You will stay asleep until you hear the alarm clock. When the alarm sounds, you will awaken and remember everything that happened tonight, including the things I told you not to remember earlier. As you remember these things, you will experience one more orgasm more intense than any you've felt tonight, and then you will be completely awake and aware and no longer hypnotized. The compulsion to have sex with me will be gone as well; from now on you will only have sex when you want to, and with whom you want to.

"One ... two ... three."

Claire took a deep breath and rolled toward me, a happy smile on her sleeping face. I set the alarm for 8:30 and put myself to sleep as well.

I never did hear the alarm go off; instead, I became aware of a warm, soft body pressing against mine and clutching me while a voice moaned heavily. There is nothing more beautiful to see than a woman in the throes of a really strong orgasm; I opened my eyes just in time to see Claire's face at the peak of hers, right on schedule. My hand stroked her side idly, waiting for the end.

"Good morning," I told her as her breathing began to return to normal.

Claire's eyes locked onto mine and I could see the passion continuing to burn in them. "You realize I'm taking that alarm clock with me, right?"

We laughed together, then lapsed into a pleasant silence. Claire toyed idly with the hairs on my chest, her face resting on my shoulder. "That was amazing," she told me. "You played my body like an artist last night."

"Not really," I corrected. "I played your mind; your body just came along for the ride."

Claire groaned and tweaked my nipple. "Keep that up and I'll give you detention."

"Do third graders teachers give detention?"

She rose up over me and grinned. "Only to the very naughty boys." She lingered over me, looking down into my face. "Now you've got me curious about something," she confessed.

"Oh?" She was straddling me now, and I was becoming acutely aware of how closely her mound hovered over my groin.

"I'm wondering how much of last night was the hypnosis and how much was real physical reaction."

My cock started growing almost immediately, stretching up, seeking her. "And how do you propose to satisfy this curiosity?" As if I hadn't already guessed.

For answer, she leaned down and planted a sweltering kiss on my mouth. Our lips parted and tongues met, and that was all it took to put my other head in charge. I probed her center with my fingers, stroking her inside button while sucking at an offered nipple until she was not only ready but eager. Then I let go and let her plunge herself down onto my saddle horn. I clenched down hard, pressing against her from the inside while she rode me. In a few minutes she sat up straight, flung her head back, and grunted her way to orgasm. Watching her chest heave with her exertions and feeling the convulsions around me was all the added stimulation I needed to join her.

We lay together in silence, still coupled, with Claire on top of me as we recovered our breath. After a while I felt gentle fingers playing with my hair. I opened my eyes to see Claire's face hovering over me again. "Teach me."

"It's too late," I told her, still riding a post-coital high. "You're already an expert."

She giggled. "I prefer to think of myself as a talented amateur. But that's not what I meant and you know it."

I sighed and waited.

"I saw what you did on that stage. I felt it myself in this room last night. I hadn't had one of those big, all-over, screaming orgasms in months, Jack, and last night I had at least three. I want to be able to do that."

Alarm bells were going off all over in my head. "Claire," I said, "you need to understand some things. Hypnosis is not just about getting people to shed their clothes and have orgasms. If you don't know what you're doing, you can hurt people."

"So make sure I know what I'm doing, Jack. Teach me."

Firmly but carefully, I rolled over and slid her off to my side. "It's not that simple. For starters, you should have at least thirty or forty hours of classroom training before you start hypnotizing people on your own. If you're going to try to do therapy, you should study more and get certified by NGH or IMDHA. And Indiana has its own requirements and regulations you'd have to follow."

She was shaking her head. "I'm not talking about doing hypnotherapy, Jack. Maybe later, but not now. Suppose I just want to do party tricks and seduce men?"

I looked her body over pointedly. "You do not need hypnosis to seduce men."

She had the grace to blush slightly. "Thank you, I think. But you haven't answered my question yet, Jack. Will you teach me?"

I looked into her face and read the eagerness in it. The user was all for it, of course; what better way to spend the week than showing the pretty lady a few tricks? And if I got to tap her highly attractive keg a few more times in exchange, so much the better.

The teacher, perhaps ironically, was reluctant. In a week, assuming we had that long, I could teach Claire enough to be dangerous but not enough to be responsible. It could be like handing a disposable lighter to an 8-year-old boy and sending him for a walk in the woods. She might only be interested in sexual hijinks, but an abreaction could happen at any time with anybody. Did I want that on my conscience?

I could see she was waiting for an answer. "Can I think about it?"

Disappointment crossed her face, but she wiped it off quickly. "Sure. You think about it. In the meantime, mind if I borrow your shower?"

"Be my guest."

I couldn't resist admiring her naked body as she slid out of bed and padded toward the bathroom. She caught me via the reflection in the mirror, winked, and disappeared behind the door.

When she came out a few minutes later, I was still lying in bed contemplating her request. "Next," she said, smiling. "That is, unless you'd rather watch me get dressed."

I gave her my best leer. "Right now I think I'd enjoy watching you do just about anything."

She chuckled and dropped her towel on the bed. I watched until the most interesting parts were covered, then hit the shower myself. When I came out, she was just hanging up the phone.

"I'd stay for the show," she said, "but I need to slip downstairs and change. I didn't plan this very well -- I'm going to look very strange walking through the halls this way."

She had a point. The evening dress and heels were a bit dressy for a morning stroll, and her total lack of makeup proclaimed to all that she'd spent the night in someone else's room. "I'd offer you something of mine, but I don't think it would look any better."

"Cute," she commented. "Will you be bringing your sense of humor to breakfast? Monica said she'd meet us in the dining room."

Hearing that name brought me back to earth quickly. "Is that a good idea?" I asked. "I mean, is she okay with this?"

Claire shrugged. "Good question. There's only one way to find out. Are you game?"

Curiosity won out over caution. Twenty minutes later I walked into the dining room with a refreshed Claire at my side. She'd changed quickly into a pair of white shorts and a terry tank top.

Monica was already seated at a round table near the middle of the floor, sipping amber liquid from a juice glass, when we spotted her. Claire led the way over, pulling me along by the hand.

"Good morning," Monica greeted us. Her smile was cool, polite, and slightly distant. Her eyes met mine and lingered for an instant longer than was necessary before moving on to Claire's. A test?

"Good morning," I echoed as I held out Claire's chair. I took the seat to Claire's left, across from Monica. "Sleep well?" It sounded so stupid I almost winced.

Monica's brow crinkled a little bit. "Very well," she said, "from the moment my head touched the pillow. That's unheard-of for me in a strange bed; I should probably be thanking you."

Okay, so she was inclined to give me a break. I shrugged. "My way of giving something back to the audience." Then I grabbed a menu before I had a chance to put my foot in it again.

We opted for the buffet, which was lavish enough that we could eat from it all week and never have the same thing twice. A uniformed chef cooked a Western omelet for me while I watched. Some hash browns and an English muffin filled the plate and looked like more than enough for me. Claire stuck close, having an omelet herself with some fresh fruit and a croissant. Monica opted for French toast, a thick slice of smoked ham, and her juice.

That awkward morning-after feeling faded slowly as we ate in companionable silence. It almost felt like a normal breakfast. Then Monica asked an innocent question: "So, are there any plans for the day?"

Claire grinned and nudged me. "That depends on Jack," she said slyly. "I made him a proposition, and I'm waiting for his answer."

Monica said nothing, but her face had "Oh, really?" written all over it.

"Not that kind of proposition," I hastened to say.

Claire laughed. "Not necessarily, at least." Then, to Monica, she explained, "I've asked Jack to teach me hypnosis."

Monica's eyebrows rose even higher. "Why?"

"Why not?" A touch of extra color seeped into Claire's cheeks. "Seeing Jack's show opened my eyes to what a creative mind can do. Maybe I'm looking to expand my horizons."

"That's fine," Monica replied. "It's just an odd way to expand. What would you use it for?"

"Who says I need to use it for anything? Knowledge is its own reward, isn't it?"

"But it's not just knowledge, is it, Jack?" Monica was looking at me now. "Hypnosis is a skill that has to be practiced. You can't just walk up to people and start swinging a watch in front of their faces."

"Of course not," I agreed. "It's definitely something you learn by doing."

"And if you don't know what you're doing, it can be dangerous."

Where was she going with this? "Sure," I said carefully, "just as trying to drive a car without proper training can be dangerous."

"Exactly. And that's why you have to be tested and licensed before you can drive a car by yourself."

Claire leaned forward. "You're missing the point, Monica. I'm not talking about learning hypnotherapy in five days. I just want Jack to teach me the basics. I'm intrigued by it. If it turns out that I have a talent for it, and it's something I want to do seriously, then of course I'll get licensed, or certified, or whatever it takes. But for now I just want try my hand at it, and Jack seemed like he might be receptive to helping me do that, so I asked him."

Monica was staring into the tablecloth, deep in thought. "You can't learn this in the abstract, I wouldn't think," she said after a moment. "Who will you practice on?"

"I'll find somebody," Claire answered defensively. "There were a lot of people at that show last night; there are bound to be more who are curious about it and wouldn't mind participating."

"You're probably right," Monica conceded, nodding slowly. "Would you like a study partner?"

Claire's face lit up. "You'd do that? You'd let me practice with you?"

"And me with you," she responded. "We could take turns. Assuming, of course, that the teacher approves. Would you be willing to teach both of us, Jack?"

Two faces watched me. Claire's was excited, hopeful, gleaming; Monica's was cool and thoughtful, with a half smile.

"Okay," I conceded.

Claire almost fell out of her chair as she lunged over to hug me. Monica just smiled. "When is our first lesson, Professor?"

I looked around. The breakfast crowd was pretty much gone, and the lunch crowd wouldn't be arriving for another hour or so. "No time like the present."

I'd caught Monica by surprise. "Here and now? Would you give me a few minutes to get my notebook?"

"Here and now," I confirmed. "Or at least, here and after you both get back from the restroom. And you won't need a notebook; you'll be learning by doing."

I shooed them off to the restroom. While they were gone, I sought out the restaurant manager, showed him my VIP key card, and told him I'd be borrowing the table for a little private instruction. He was very accommodating and promised to keep the staff at a distance while they set up for lunch.

My charges returned promptly, taking their seats with nervous little smiles on their faces.

"I could start with a long lecture on what hypnosis is," I told them, "but you've both experienced hypnosis recently, so you already know empirically what it is. Besides, lectures bore me. So instead, I thought I'd start out by teaching you the Dave Elman induction. It's a classic induction that works well for just about everybody, and only takes a few minutes to do. Sound good to you?"

They looked at each other and nodded. "But no note-taking?" Claire said. "How are we supposed to memorize the words?"

"You don't," I replied. "Hypnotic inductions aren't magical formulas that put people into a trance; they're proven ways of helping people put themselves into trance. Learning the exact words is less important than understanding the sequence of events -- the mechanism, if you will -- used in the induction.

"In the Dave Elman induction, for instance, there are five steps that you take the client through to lead them into a nice, deep trance in about four minutes. Step one is eye closure, getting them to close their eyes and relax the eyelids so that their eyes won't readily open. Step two is physical relaxation of the body, basically expanding the feeling of the eyelids into the rest of the body. Step three is fractionation, having them open and close their eyes on cue, going deeper each time they do it. Step four is deepening using an arm drop routine. Step five is relaxing the mind through a backwards counting exercise. If you take someone through that sequence, regardless of the exact words you use, you'll have completed a Dave Elman induction and your volunteer should be nicely hypnotized."

Monica was sitting to my left, Claire to my right. I scooted closer to Monica and addressed her. "So, are you ready to be hypnotized now by me, or would you rather have Claire do it after I demonstrate the induction?"

It was a classic double bind, of course -- either way, Monica was agreeing to be hypnotized. She searched my face, looking for clues of intent. I was careful to give her none; either she'd trust me or not. After a long moment, she lowered her eyes to her lap. "I'll go first," she conceded.

"Good." I scooted closer and adopted a brusque, slightly authoritarian tone. "If you follow my instructions, nothing will stop you from entering a deep state of hypnosis in just a few minutes. I'd like you to start by putting your feet on the floor and hands in your lap." Monica uncrossed her legs and put one hand on each thigh.

I was going to tell Claire to watch closely, but it wasn't necessary -- she was leaning forward in her chair, looking rapidly from Monica to me. She wasn't going to miss a thing. "Good," I repeated, addressing Monica. "Now, I'd like you to close your eyes. Go ahead and let them close down, and as they close I'd like you to relax the muscles around your eyes completely and totally, totally relaxed, so relaxed that when you try to open them, they will not open." I put just a little bit of extra stress on the relaxed and they will not open. Monica's eyes closed and the tiny muscles around them smoothed out, providing my cue. "That's good. Now when you try to open your eyes, you'll find that they are so relaxed that they will not open. Prove to me that they will not open."

The muscles in Monica's forehead twitched. I pointed that out to Claire wordlessly and continued. "That's right, they will not open. Stop trying to open your eyes now, Monica. Stop trying and just relax. Take that relaxed feeling that you have around your eyes and let it flow down through your entire body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Relaxing, letting go, breathing deeply, each breath bringing deeper relaxation." Monica's shoulders sagged and she leaned a little more into the back of the chair. Claire took note of these things as I indicated them.

I held up three fingers and mouthed the words Step 3 in Claire's direction. "Now, Monica, I'm going to count to three. On the count of three, and only when I reach three, your eyes will open. After they open, your eyes will close down again and you'll sink twice as deep into relaxation, twice as deep into hypnosis. One ... two ... three; eyes open, eyes closed, going twice as deep." Her eyes popped open, staring straight ahead, and dropped closed again immediately and on cue. "Very good. Now we'll do that again: one, two, three; eyes open, eyes closing, going twice as deep, twice as deep. And now we'll do it again: one, two ..." I deliberately paused, breaking the rhythm. Someone who isn't very deep, or who is faking it, will follow the pattern and open their eyes too soon. Monica's remained closed. "Three; eyes open, eyes closed, ten times as deep this time."

Monica's head sagged. She was already way down there, but for teaching purposes I needed to complete the sequence. Step 4, I indicated to Claire. "Now, Monica, I'm going to help you relax the rest of your body. In a moment I'm going to lift your hand. I want you to let me do all the work while you relax and go deeper. When I drop your hand back into your lap, you'll feel a wave of deeper relaxation flow through your whole body and you'll go twice as deep." Lightly, gently, I took hold of her right wrist and lifted her arm. It was dead weight. I only lifted it a few inches, then dropped it down onto her lap, saying, "Twice as deep," as it landed. Monica's shoulders drooped more and her head lowered almost to her chest on the first drop. After the second arm drop her left arm fell out of her lap and hung loosely at her side. The third sent her slowly teetering forward. I caught her by the shoulders and gently set her back in the chair. "Always able to remain safely seated," I told her, "always comfortable, always going deeper with each breath."

Claire was staring open-mouthed at her friend, one hand playing idly with the small jeweled pendant she wore. I had to wave a little to get her attention before indicating that Step 5 was about to begin.

"And now that we've relaxed your body, Monica," I continued, "we're going to relax your mind even more deeply. In a few moments, I'm going to tell you to start counting backwards from 100. As you count, I want you to imagine yourself writing the number on a chalkboard and say the number out loud to me. Then, as you erase the number, I want you to say, 'Deeper asleep.' Then you'll write the next number, saying it out loud, and saying 'Deeper asleep' as you erase it. Each time you erase a number, your mind will go deeper and deeper into relaxation. Soon the numbers will relax completely out of your mind, and you'll be able to just let them go. Begin counting now."

Monica's lips moved slowly. "One hundred," she mumbled. "Deeper asleep..."

"Deeper and deeper," I said, talking over her. "Mind going blank, relaxing more and more with each number."

"Ninety nine ... deeper asleep ..."

"The numbers fading, becoming harder to remember, fading away from your mind. ..."

"Ninety ... eight ..."

"Disappearing, mind blank ..."

"Deeper ... asleep ..."

"Going deeper and deeper as the numbers relax all the way out of your mind, and sleep."

Her lips stopped moving. I looked over at Claire, who was staring intently at her friend's still form. "And that," I said softly, "is the classic Dave Elman induction."

"Wow," Claire replied, echoing my quiet tone. "I've never seen Monica that zoned out. Even when she's asleep, she's not that out of it."

"She's not out of it," I corrected. "Monica can hear and understand everything we say. She's just too relaxed to pay a lot of attention to it unless she needs to. And right now, all Monica needs to do is relax and listen to my voice, drifting and floating, going deeper with each breath." That was for Monica's benefit, of course. "Right now, Monica, I'm going to talk to Claire for a few minutes. You can just ignore everything you hear until I tap you on the knee like this. When I tap you on the knee, you'll begin paying attention to my voice again."

Then I winked at Claire. "Any questions?"

She grinned back at me. "Can we have some fun with her?"

"In what way?"

Claire pointed to a busboy, who was busy wiping down the buffet table. "How about having her go over to that busboy and French kiss him?"

It was tempting, no doubt about it. To the user, Claire's idea was the perfect payback for walking out on my show in the middle of the best part. But the teacher took control. "No," I told her. "For one thing, she probably wouldn't do it. For another, this is a serious lesson, not a stage show. And for a third, how would it be if Monica gave a suggestion like that to you?"

Claire thought about it, looking at the busboy and licking her lips. "It would be incredibly hot," she answered. "Like last night, only more so."

The user filed that away for future reference. "But would Monica see it that way?"

My student shook her head. "No. Monica's too straightlaced."

"Exactly. So all that would really do is ensure she never accepts another suggestion from you."

Claire shrugged and gave a mock bow. "You are right, Wise One," she intoned, hands folded.

I tapped Monica's knee. "Soon, Monica, I'm going to count up to five. As I count up to five, you will find yourself coming out of hypnosis and back to your full waking state. You will remember clearly everything that happened while you were being hypnotized; so clearly, in fact, that you can easily perform the Dave Elman induction yourself, remembering all of the steps and the words that I used with them. This will enable you to hypnotize someone else as easily as I hypnotized you." I did a slow five count, giving Monica plenty of time to climb up from the depths she'd reached. At five, her eyes opened and she shook her head slowly, struggling to get reoriented. "How do you feel?" I asked.

She took a moment or two to answer. "Vaguely wonky still. As if I'd been jarred out of sleep in the middle of the night."

"It felt good, though, didn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed, still staring a bit into the distance. "Very good. Seductive, even."

"Excellent," I said. "Now let's see how well you've learned. I want you to use the Dave Elman method to hypnotize Claire."

Claire's eyes opened wide. "Just like that?"

"Sure," I replied. "Why not?"

"It's okay," Monica assured her. "I'm not going to try to make you kiss the busboy."

Claire's face took on a hurt look. "You were supposed to be ignoring that!"

"I was," Monica answered, a relaxed glow washing over her face. "It was strange, hearing and remembering but ignoring."

"And now," I inserted, bringing Monica back to the present, "you're ready to perform your first induction."

"Yes." Turning to Claire, she scooted her chair closer. "Are you ready to be hypnotized now?"

Claire looked from Monica to me, then back again. Her lips twisted into a tiny smile. "Sure. Do me."

Monica repeated the induction almost perfectly. I crept silently around to Claire's left, pointing out the signs of deepening trance to Monica as she followed the formula. By the end of the induction, Claire looked like a rag doll held in position by a wire run through the back of the seat.

Monica looked a question at me. "Give her the same suggestions I gave you," I told her as quietly as possible, "and bring her out with a five count."

She parroted my suggestions perfectly, giving Claire full memory of the trance and of how the method was used on her. Claire came up more quickly, opening her eyes at five and beaming at both of us. "It's my turn now, right?"

Her eyes were sparkling as she waited for my answer. "Of course," I said. Claire started to approach me, grinning. "No," I corrected. "You'll be hypnotizing Monica."

Claire's lips closed in a micro-pout, then she scooted her seat over nearer to Monica. "This hardly seems fair, since you were just done a few minutes ago," she said to her friend, "but are you ready to be hypnotized again?"

Monica smiled. "He can't coach you if he's in a trance," she pointed out. "And yes, I'm ready."

Claire was able to point out the signs to me this time, having seen them herself already. The induction went quickly and sent Monica into a very impressive depth of trance. As I watched, free to observe without having to concentrate on progressing, I found myself growing hard at the sight of Monica's slumping form. Such fun we could have, I thought to myself.

I let Claire finish the induction. She turned to me then and asked, "Now what?"

I smiled. "Sleep, Claire."

A look of total surprise flashed onto her face, only to be immediately replaced as she relaxed into hypnosis. "Sleep," I repeated. "Deeper and deeper with each breath, with each beat of your heart." I took her down all the way. "Now, Claire, I want you to tell Monica that she will listen to my voice and obey my suggestions."

Claire's mouth opened. "Monica," she intoned, "I want you to listen to Jack's voice now and obey his suggestions."

"Monica and Claire," I said, "your first lesson is almost over. You have both learned to use the Dave Elman induction to place each other into a deep state of hypnosis. It is now time to receive your homework assignment. Between now and dinner time tonight, I want you to practice hypnotizing each other using the Dave Elman method. I want each of you to hypnotize the other at least three times in each of three different locations. And as you practice, I know that no matter how tempting it may seem, you will only give each other suggestions that will deepen trance or end it - you will learn about other suggestions later, after you've mastered inductions."

I then reached over and touched Claire's knee. "This suggestion is for Claire and Claire only: after you awaken from hypnosis, you will feel an overwhelming need to go over to the busboy and give him a long, passionate french kiss. That need will continue to grow, becoming the most important thought in your mind, until you do it. Once you've kissed the busboy you'll thank him and the need to kiss him will be completely gone and the suggestion cancelled. Your conscious mind will not recall this suggestion until after you've kissed the busboy and thanked him."

I gave them a nice, slow five count and brought them out of it. Monica stretched and yawned, her face looking beautifully relaxed and content. Claire stood up and stretched, her eyes scanning the buffet table.

"Looking for something?" I asked innocently.

"No," she said, totally unconvincingly. "Is that the end of the lesson?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "You have the rest of the day to do your homework. Let's meet back here at, say, seven?"

Monica nodded, grinning at me with our secret knowledge. Claire's head just bobbed slightly, her eyes still scanning the buffet. Finally the busboy appeared, broom and dustpan in hand.

"That's fine," Claire said. "Excuse me a second." She walked briskly around the table and over to the working busboy.

He saw her coming, stopped sweeping, and started to speak. I couldn't hear the words, but it had the look of "May I help you?" or something similar. The look on his face when Claire wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body into his was priceless. Then she kissed him. Their lips stayed locked for a good 30 seconds. The busboy went from total surprise to getting into the spirit of it, letting his hands run down her sides and cupping her bottom.

She let him go and took a step back. I could see her jaw move in thanks, and then the lift in her shoulders as she gasped with the memory returning. Her entire face and neck were flushed crimson when she turned back to us and then fled in the direction of the restroom.

"That was evil," Monica scolded me.

"I know." Our eyes locked, and I thought I detected half a smile on her lips.

I spent my day in unashamed, luxurious idleness: surfing the 'net from my room, playing a little blackjack in the casino, surveying the lovely people idling on the beach. I deliberately avoided my charges, although I did spy them practicing on each through the little telescope on my deck. Claire sported a tantalizingly thin leopard print one-piece. It looked like a tan-through; if not for the busy print, it probably would have been see through as well. Monica in a simple black racing suit was also a treat for the eyes. The lady has class, I noted.

I went down a little early for dinner, flashed my VIP key, and got a premier table right away. While I waited for my students, I indulged in a little idle people watching.

A pair of women, both brunettes, at a distant table caught my eye. One was thin and spare, taking little nibbles from a salad; the other had broad shoulders and hips, and a mouth that moved constantly while chewing generous hunks of steak. Friends or lovers? I took in their body language: legs crossed toward each other, making a subtle circle of inclusion; hands stretched across the table, almost but not quite touching; long, unbroken stretches of direct eye contact. Definitely lovers, I decided.

Another table held a foursome. Two of them I quickly dubbed Barbie and Ken because of their impossibly good looks and country club clothes. Their companions were real people: a mousy-haired girl with big breasts and a heavyset, balding guy. She wore a peasant blouse and skirt, he a plain polo and jeans. What drew my attention, though, were their faces. They smiled and nodded a lot as Barbie and Ken dominated the conversation, but their eyes kept searching each other out. Something isn't right here, I deduced.

My reflections were interrupted by the arrival of my students, looking relaxed and at ease. "You two look well rested," I remarked as I rose to greet them.

Claire smirked. "Gee, I wonder why."

We were all hungry, so I waited until dinner had been ordered, received, and mostly eaten before starting the discussion. "So?" I began, "How did your assignment go?"

"Well," Monica answered. "We practiced once each in our room, then on the beach, then in the sauna after working out a little."

"In the sauna was amazing," Claire jumped in. "I dropped like a stone almost from the word go. Monica, too."

"It was very easy to get comfortable wearing nothing but a big, soft towel," Monica agreed. "After that we went back to our room and tried it a few more times. I think it's safe to say we have the Dave Elman induction down pat."

An impulse hit me, and I went with it. "Do you think so?"

Monica nodded, her eyes opening wider.

"All right, then," I challenged. "Show me."

Looking mildly confused, Monica shrugged her shoulders and turned to Claire. "Are you ready to be hypnotized, Claire?"

"Not Claire," I said. "Me."

Monica's eyes darted over to me. I could see the doubts running behind them, then getting pushed abruptly aside. "Very well," she conceded, scooting her chair closer to mine. "Are you ready to go into hypnosis now, Jack?" She smiled awkwardly at what was becoming a trite ritual.

"Ready," I assured her, projecting confidence.

"Okay," she said. "I want you to start by closing your eyes, Jack. Just let them close down, and I'd like you to relax the muscles around your eyes. Let them relax, completely relax, until they simply will not open no matter how hard you try. ..."

She had a smooth voice and a well-practiced manner. Before long I was drifting, following her velvet voice, feeling the waves of relaxation as she lifted and dropped my hand. I counted the numbers down and got maybe as far as 96 before they disappeared completely. Then Monica counted up to five and I was awake again.

My eyes opened and I saw her looking at me with ill-concealed anxiety. "That was very good," I told her, smiling. She sighed and smiled back.

Claire practically jumped out of her seat. "My turn!"

Claire's technique wasn't quite as good as Monica's -- she spoke a little too quickly, a little too urgently -- but having just been in hypnosis, it was easy for me to recall the state and go back. Go back I did, way down, losing the numbers almost immediately. I drifted, with no sense of time or place, until Claire counted me back up.

Monica's face looked tense, and she'd moved back away from me when I opened my eyes again. I started to process that, to recall the last few minutes, but I was interrupted by Claire. "How do you feel? How did I do?" She was squirming in her seat, eyes bright and mouth open, like an overexcited puppy.

"Fine, and fine," I said. "You need to slow down a little on your delivery, give the person time to assimilate what you're saying and react to it. It helps sometimes if you let yourself drift into trance a little yourself as you do the induction. But you did well."

It was time for the evening's entertainment to begin. The familiar voice of Stu Redman came over the sound system to introduce Brain Drain, an improvisational comedy group. Monica excused herself, leaving Claire and me to enjoy the show.

Being a Chicagoan, I've seen a lot of very good improv acts, and Brain Drain would be completely at home on stage with any of them. Four men and four women, they had everything that good improv needs: energy, balance, freshness, irreverence. The show was wonderful; Claire and I were still chuckling at parts of it as we made our way to the elevators. Claire pulled me along gently and I followed, quietly enjoying the way her muscles moved in her Capri pants and halter.

About six other people got into the same elevator. I pushed the button for 12 and watched Claire. She stood by as people pressed buttons for 3, 7, 5, and 2 (Take the damned stairs! I grumbled silently). Her finger hovered over the 9 button for a moment. I felt a pang of disappointment when she pressed it.

In a few moments the elevator was empty except for the two of us. The counter reached 9 and the doors opened with a bong.

"I had a great time," Claire said, standing in the doorway. "Thank you." She held her arms out, inviting a hug.

I stepped forward to meet her. Her arms went around me, and her face turned up to mine for a kiss. It was a fairly chaste kiss -- a brief meeting of closed lips. But the effect on me was electrical. My pulse quickened, my cock sprang forward into full erection, and I found myself in the grip of the strongest sexual desire I'd ever felt. My hands gripped Claire tightly and pulled her back into the elevator. My mouth opened and I thrust my tongue between her lips to find hers.

She backed away from me. I pursued her, pinning her into the corner by the control panel, and dropped to my knees. She gasped and tried to back away, but there was nowhere for her to go. "Hold on, Jack!" she protested. "Not here! Somebody might walk in on us."

I ignored her - the only thing I cared about was how quickly I could get her pants off. I reached around her, found the STOP switch, and flipped it. The floor beneath us shuddered as the elevator came to an abrupt halt. My hands grabbed the waistband of her Capris and yanked them down, taking a pair of black G-string panties with them.

Her voice said, "Wait," but her body was already responding to me. The scent of her juices filled my nose and drew me in, shutting off almost all conscious thought. I buried my face in her center, licking the moisture off every surface, probing for the places that I knew would bring a hitch to her breath.

Claire moaned, "Oh, my god," and I felt her knees start to weaken. Standing quickly, I spun her around and bent her over, letting her grab the bar on the other side of the elevator car. With one hand I undid my belt and zipper and let my pants fall to the floor; with the other I reached around Claire, pushed up the halter, and kneaded a breast, feeling the plump nipple poking out at me. My boxers dropped onto the pile around my ankles, freeing my sword to find its sheath.

I plunged myself into Claire from behind, keeping her bent over, and pulled myself in as deeply as I could. Claire squealed and pushed back against me, squeezing my cock with her muscles as it worked in and out. Her breathing grew ragged. "That's it," she gasped. "Just ... a ... little ... bit ... uuunnnhhhh!!"

I couldn't hold back any more. My body lurched forward and my cock convulsed as I joined her in orgasm. We stood there, jammed together with Claire's face pressed against the side wall, until the climax loosed its grip and my knees buckled. I dropped to the floor and rested my head on Claire's exposed bottom, holding her legs loosely with my weary arms. And in the aftermath, the memory of Claire's voice came flooding back into my conscious mind: The next time I kiss you, Jack, you'll feel an overwhelming, immediate urge to pull my pants down and have sex with me. You won't care about anything else until that need is satisfied. You won't remember this suggestion until after we've finished having sex, then it will come back to you and you will remember everything.

I looked up to see Claire staring at me from above. "Jesus Christ, Jack," she panted.

"Well, what did you expect?" I could feel a tinge of anger rising through the post-coital high.

She blinked twice. "I expected that you'd get incredibly horny and that once we got to your room we'd have amazing sex."

"Then that's what you should have suggested."

"I'm sorry, Jack," she began, hitching up her pants.

I wasn't letting her off that easily. "You should be," I insisted. "That was a stupid, dangerous, irresponsible suggestion. We could both be in a lot of trouble tomorrow over this."

"Huh? Why? Nobody saw us."

Silently, I pointed to the plastic bubble in the elevator ceiling. Our faces reflected back at us, elongated by the shape of the bubble.

Claire's jaw fell and her face turned six shades of red. "Oh, shit!" Then she burst into a fit of giggling, hiding her face from the camera we assumed was inside the bubble.

I stepped over to the control panel, flipped the switch from STOP back to RUN, and shook my head ruefully, imagining the security guard's face during our performance. As the doors opened on the twelfth floor, Claire kissed me goodnight again. I punched the ninth button for her and let the doors close between us.

The ringing of the telephone nagged me out of a sound sleep the next morning. At first I groped the empty space to the right of the bed, where my nightstand is at home; then I noticed the sound coming from the other direction, and found the offending device. "Hello?"

"Good morning."

It took me a moment to place the voice. "Monica?"

There was a tiny pause. "I woke you, didn't I? I'm sorry."

The cobwebs were slowly clearing. "It's okay," I told her. "What's up?"

"I wanted to see if you were all right," she said tentatively. "No ill effects or anything."

"From what?"

There was a long silence. I winced as my higher brain functions began working again and I realized what was going on. "Forget I asked that," I said. "I wasn't entirely awake yet. Yes, I'm fine. No ill effects for either of us, as far as I know." Except maybe one, I thought, remembering the security camera bubble.

"That's good," Monica replied, sounding a little relieved. "We don't have a breakfast date set, do we?"

I looked at the clock: 8:50. "Not yet. I could meet you two down there at 9:30 if you like. Is that too early?"

"No, that's fine. We'll see you there. And Jack?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're all right."

My girls were dressed down this time in shorts, tee shirts and sneakers. "Opting for comfort over fashion?" I queried, smiling.

They both shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," Monica volunteered.

We helped ourselves to the buffet again. Claire was a little hesitant at first, but after we'd filled our plates with no sign of the busboy from the previous morning she seemed to relax. We kept the conversation light and casual while we ate; it wasn't until our empty plates were neatly stacked beside us and our coffee cups mostly drained that we got down to business.

"Time for Lesson Two," I announced. Both women sat up in their chairs and focused on me. "I was going to teach you a few more inductions and have you practice them." Fixing my eyes on Claire, I continued. "However, given recent events, I think it more important that we have a serious discussion about formulating and using suggestions."

Claire had the good grace to blush a little bit.

"For your purposes, there are really two kinds of suggestions you need to be concerned with: hypnotic suggestions and post hypnotic suggestions.

"Hypnotic suggestions are things you say to someone while they are in hypnosis that you want them to act on while in hypnosis." I focused for a moment on Monica. "For example, I might say to you that your right arm feels very light and tingly, so light that it begins to lift off the arm of your chair." Monica's right arm lifted slightly off the chair, and her hand flexed. Her attention, however, stayed on me. Looking to Claire, I continued. "Or I might wonder if you've noticed yes how your eyes are becoming heavy and tired as I continue to speak." She blinked heavily, also without seeming to realize it. "In fact, if you focus on my voice, you'll find it very easy to relax into hypnosis without even realizing that you're doing it. I don't need to tell you to close your eyes and sleep now because you already know that you can go deeper and deeper all by yourself, all the while taking in everything I say to you. You may even find that as you take a deep breath and send a wave of relaxation from your head to your toes, you can easily remember all that I say to you even as your mind slips deeper and deeper into hypnosis."

I paused to admire my work: two entranced ladies, hanging on my every word. Oh, the possibilities...

But no. Not yet, anyway. "Erickson was famous for his use of indirect suggestions with his clients. An indirect suggestion is a simple command embedded in an innocent-sounding sentence. The conscious mind sees the sentence as an abstract statement, but the subconscious mind picks up on the embedded command and acts on it. I used a number of indirect suggestions a few moments ago to place you into hypnosis. With your conscious mind busy listening to the informational content of what I said, the embedded suggestions went directly to your subconscious; you may not have even realized you were going into hypnosis until it had already happened. And as you listen to me, going deeper into hypnosis with every breath you take and every word I speak, you'll realize that indirect suggestions are a powerful way to communicate with the subconscious, whether the person is already in hypnosis or not, which is why I use indirect suggestions a great deal in doing therapy. In entertainment, however, I tend to use direct hypnotic suggestions.

"Direct hypnotic suggestions are often used to deepen the hypnotic state, like this one: each time I touch your hand like this..." I reached over and gently pressed down on Monica's hand, then Claire's. "... you will go deeper into hypnosis." I pressed their hands again and watched them drop deeper. "Direct hypnotic suggestions can be very simple, as with the example I just gave you, or very complex as with the suggestions I use in my show.

"Post hypnotic suggestions are instructions given to someone while in hypnosis that are intended to take effect when the person is awake, sometimes much later. For example, any time I give Claire the command, 'Sleep, Claire' she goes back into deep hypnosis for me.

"There are some basic rules to keep in mind when formulating good suggestions. The first rule is, keep it positive. The subconscious is like a child; it tends to disregard negative words, so a suggestion like, 'You don't want to smoke' is likely to be accepted as 'You want to smoke.' A better suggestion might be, 'Every day you find the desire to smoke reducing, becoming less and less a part of your life.' In my show, I tell people that they are stuck to their seats instead of telling them that they can't get out of their seats in order to keep the suggestion positive.

"The next rule is, be specific. The subconscious is very literal, and needs to be told exactly what you want it to do or believe in order to get the results you are looking for. The subconscious disregards anything it doesn't understand, and any suggestion that is vague enough to be interpreted in multiple ways will probably be interpreted in a way other than you intended. In college, I once suggested to a girl that she would come every time her boyfriend touched her pussy. A few days later, the boyfriend told me that my suggestion hadn't done anything for their sex life, but that every time he petted her cat his girlfriend would stop whatever she was doing and stand next to him. Her subconscious interpreted slang differently than I intended her to.

"Being specific also means remembering the details. If I were to give you a suggestion to get up and walk over to the buffet table, you might find yourself stumbling around trying to find the buffet table with your eyes still closed. To make that suggestion safe and effective, I'd have to say that you will open your eyes, stand up, and walk to the buffet table. And to be sure you didn't start before I wanted you to, I'd tell you to do it on the count of three. I count to three a lot with people because it leaves no room for doubt as to when I want them to do something. And as important as knowing when a suggestion should start is knowing when it should stop. If I tell you that whenever I snap my fingers you will become thirsty, and leave it at that, then you might stay thirsty for hours or days no matter how much you drank. But if I say that you will remain thirsty until I snap my fingers again, or until you take 3 sips of water, then there is a definite ending to the suggestion.

"The most important thing to remember is that no matter how deep in hypnosis a person may be, she will never accept a suggestion that violates her personal moral code. If I were to tell one of you to go and French kiss the busboy, and you had a strong objection to doing so, you would come out of hypnosis immediately and the suggestion would have no affect on you at all. When I used that suggestion with Claire yesterday, I knew she would obey it because she'd told us herself that she found the idea exciting.

"It may seem to you that during my show I had people doing things they would never do normally, but it's really a matter of context. What people find morally acceptable depends on the circumstances. For example, an average woman might strongly object to being asked to enter a room, strip naked, and allow a man she's never met before to touch her breasts and genitals; however, if that room is a doctor's office and the man is a doctor conducting a physical examination, then the suggestion becomes acceptable to most people. Similarly, people who know they are part of an adult-oriented hypnosis show at a resort known for encouraging hedonistic behavior might find themselves willing to do a number of things that they wouldn't do under other circumstances."

Enough lecturing; it was time for a practical exercise. "In a few moments, I'm going to count to three. When I reach three you will lift your heads, open your eyes, and look at me, still remaining deeply hypnotized. You'll be able to look at me and follow my suggestions without disturbing your hypnotic state. One, two, three."

Both heads lifted and looked at me. To a casual onlooker, they would seem to be merely paying close attention to me. From my shirt pocket I produced two hotel pens and six blank index cards, the latter taken from the spare section at the back of my file box. "I am now placing in front of you a pen and an index card," I told them. "When I count to three, I want you to pick up the pen and write down on the index card three post hypnotic suggestions that you are certain you would follow if I gave them to you. When you finish writing, you will put the pens down and wait for your next instructions. One, two, three."

I watched as they picked up the pens and wrote, slowly and deliberately, on the cards. When they had both put their pens down, I pulled the cards over to me and labeled them, then tucked them in my shirt pocket. "Very good. Now I'm putting another blank index card in front of you. At the count of three, I want you to pick up the pen and write on the card three suggestions that you are not sure whether you would accept or not. When you are done writing, put the pen down and wait."

Again I gave them a three count and watched while they wrote. It took a little longer this time, but soon I had both women sitting still and waiting for me. I labeled and pocketed the second set of cards and handed out a third. "Now, at the count of three, I want you to pick up the pen and write three suggestions that you are certain you would never follow, no matter what the circumstances. When you finish writing I want you to put the pen down, close your eyes, and allow yourself to drift deeper, ignoring everything you hear until I touch you on the shoulder."

At the final three count they picked up the pens and wrote, taking no time to consider the words. When both girls had their eyes closed, I added the last cards to my collection. I'd look at them later; people were starting to wander into the dining room looking for lunch. Walking around the table, I touched Claire on the shoulder and spoke quietly into her ear. "When I let go of your shoulder, I want you to count to five and bring yourself out of hypnosis, completely awake, remembering everything that happened except what you wrote on the index cards. Whenever you try to remember what you wrote on those cards, all you will remember is that you should not remember. Once you are awake, you will get up and leave us. You can go anywhere you like except my room. After we have dinner this evening you will come back to my room with me for a private lesson using the index cards."

I let go of Claire's shoulder and watched as she brought herself out of trance. Her eyes fluttered open and found me. She let out a heavy sigh and stood up slowly. "That's it for now?"

"That's it."

She glanced briefly at the still figure of Monica. "I guess I'll see you at dinner, then. Tell Monica I'll wait for her upstairs." She gave me a brief kiss and headed on her way.

After watching her go, I placed a hand on Monica's shoulder. "From now on, Monica, whenever I say to you, 'Sleep, Monica' you will immediately and easily go back into hypnosis, just as you are right now, without even realizing you are doing so. When I let go of your shoulder, I want you to count to five and bring yourself out of hypnosis, completely awake, remembering everything that happened except what you wrote on the index cards. Whenever you try to remember what you wrote on those cards, all you will remember is that you should not remember. Once you are awake, you will get up and go back to your room, where Claire is waiting for you. At exactly four o'clock this afternoon you will come to my room, room 1201, for a private lesson using the index cards."

By the time I returned to my seat, her eyes were open and watching me. "There are so many things I want to ask you right now," she said, "but I feel as though an invisible hand is pulling me out of the chair." She stood up and smiled a little nervously. "Room 1201, four o'clock."

I smiled back, projecting reassurance. "See you then."

As Monica walked away, I found myself studying the sway of her hips and quite enjoying it.

I spent the middle of the day strolling around the grounds, enjoying the scenery and letting my mind wander. By 3:30 I was back in my room. I took a cold bottle of apple juice from the mini fridge and sat down at the desk. Taking the index cards from my shirt pocket, I laid Monica's out in front of me in a column in the order in which she'd filled them out.

Forget my name.

See, hear, or smell something that isn't really there.

Become sexually aroused.

Those were the things her subconscious felt she would definitely do. My eyebrows rose at the list on the second card:

Disrobe in private.

Get drunk.

Act out a sexual fantasy.

The user liked the possibilities there, of course. The "absolutely never" list read like a challenge:

Disrobe in public or on stage.

Act like an animal.

Masturbate in view of someone else.

I rearranged the living room a little bit, moving the coffee table away from the couch and one of the two easy chairs closer to it, and armed myself with a red pen. Then I settled into one of the chairs and pictured my guidance counselor lying on the couch, relaxed and deeply hypnotized, her breathing growing faster and deeper as her hands played over her body, aroused from within by my words ...

A soft knock on the door brought me back to reality with a start. "One second," I said, willing my raging hard-on to subside quickly. It wasn't time yet, but I assumed it was Monica at the door.

Wrong. I opened it to find a tall, well-sculpted man in a security guard's uniform standing before me. "Mr. Torrance?"

"Yes," I replied cautiously.

That was when I noticed the manila envelope tucked under his right arm. He offered the envelope to me. "Sgt. Parks, sir. I was instructed to give this to you by Mr. Santiago, the night manager. He said to inform you that there are no other copies."

Even as he was adding the last sentence, I knew what it had to be. I thanked the sergeant and let the door close as I opened the envelope. Inside, as expected, was a T180 VHS video tape. The label, made on one of those thermal labeling machines, read "ELEV B2, 11-7." There was also a business card for Galeno Santiago, Assistant Manager, Hospitality.

My watch said it was only 3:47, so I had to take a quick peek. I flipped on the TV and opened the cabinet below it. The tape slid easily into the VCR. I tapped a few buttons on the remote, and was rewarded with a sharp black-and-white picture of the inside of an elevator, taken from a high vantage point near the back of the car. Bright white letters in the lower right corner indicated the date and time: the night before, at 11:02pm and counting. Another set of indicators in the lower left showed the floor and direction. My thumb pressed the fast forward button as I reconstructed the evening in my mind: we'd met for dinner at seven, and had a slow and leisurely meal; then came the after-dinner wrap-up and the final set of inductions; Brain Drain had taken the stage at about 9:00 and done two sets with an intermission between them. I figured Claire and I had hit the elevator at around 11:30, maybe 11:40.

I was close -- the tape counter read 11:47:18 when I spotted us entering the picture. I goosed it forward a little more and watched the others shuffle in and out of the elevator in double-time until we were left alone, dropping back to normal play just in time to see the kiss that had started it all. For a security camera, the quality was impressive. The range of emotions on Claire's face -- mischievousness, then surprise, then worry, then raw arousal -- came through clearly. In fact, most of our anatomy was clearly visible. Nothing like starring in your own home-made porno flick, I reflected wryly.

Another knock came from the door. It was time for Monica's visit. I powered off the equipment and closed the cabinet before letting her in. She was still dressed in the white running shorts and short tee that she'd worn at breakfast.

"Very impressive," she said, surveying my suite with wide-open eyes. "I think your living room is larger than our whole space."

"Rank has its privileges, I suppose." I shrugged and gave her my most self-deprecating smile.

She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands folded in front of her. "I'm a little nervous," she confessed.

"I can see that," I said, trying to make my voice as reassuring as possible. "Any idea why?"

Her lips pursed and her eyes looked into the distance for a moment. "A feeling of uncertainty, I suppose. Wondering what's going to happen up here without my chaperone."

I tried disarming it with a joke. "Well, I'm not going to bonk you on the head, tie you up, and do unspeakable things to you."

I didn't quite get the reaction I was expecting. She looked sharply at me, her eyes meeting mine. "But you wouldn't have to, would you? You can just say two words and here I'd be, putty in your hands, just like those people on stage."

Ah, so that was it. "You don't really believe that, do you? I thought I'd made it clear this morning that everyone has limits, and that no suggestion is strong enough to make anyone break those limits. Even the reinduction trigger is subject to that rule, Monica -- if you don't trust me, it won't work."

She was nodding, but not necessarily agreeing. "Yes, that's what you told us. That also agrees with everything else I've heard or read about hypnotism, barring some very strange fiction that Claire likes to read online. But it also flies in the face of what I saw the other night, Jack. Not to mention Claire throwing herself at that bus boy yesterday. Which am I supposed to believe?"

"I explained that to you already. Claire wasn't averse to following the suggestion -- she even said herself that would be hot."

"Yes, I know. And, to be fair, Claire does seem to be looking to walk on the wild side on this trip; she told me as much before we'd even left home. But am I supposed to believe that every woman on your stage that night was a closet exhibitionist who secretly yearned to expose herself to a room full of people? Even here, doesn't that seem just a little too easy an explanation, Jack?"

"There was nothing easy about it." Whoa, Jack, I cautioned myself, don't get defensive. I blinked twice and started over. "Look, Monica," I said, "I could stand here and tell you about how my opening monologue was designed to encourage people to come up who wouldn't mind flashing a little skin. I could give you a long lecture about how a lot of people are just looking for a chance to do wild things without anyone being able to judge them for it, because they 'just couldn't help it.' I could explain the sequence of steps I used to make sure those people would be okay with what I asked them to do before I ever asked them to do it. But in the end, it's not an intellectual thing. It's a gut thing. Instead of standing here debating whether a hypnotized person has free will or not, why don't you let me prove it to you right now? Will you trust me to do that?"

Monica was looking off into the distance. "I do trust you," she finally said. "I'm just not sure I trust myself."

I stepped forward and took her hands in mine. "Then let me show you that you can."

She looked straight into my eyes and nodded.

"Sleep, Monica."

I caught her in my arms as she crumpled. With a skill born of practice, I scooped her up in my arms and laid her out on the couch, giving her deepening suggestions all the while. And in the back of my head, I was calculating risks.

Years before, I'd had a similar conversation with my old mentor. We'd had a lot of spirited discussions - he was a firm believer in learning through discovery rather than through lecture - and I was certain that, common teachings aside, a deeply hypnotized subject could be talked into anything given the chance. So my old professor proved his point with a practical demonstration, and I learned the lesson in dramatic and lasting fashion. Now I'd use the same method to pass on the lesson to Monica.

"Now, Monica," I said softly, "you are very deeply hypnotized. You may feel as if anything I say, you must accept and obey. In a few moments, I am going to count to three. On the count of three you will open your eyes, stand up, and walk out to my patio. When you reach the patio you will take off all of your clothing and drop it over the railing." Monica began to twitch, her body suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Then you will take the elevator to the lobby level and walk into the dining room to the stage." She fidgeted more, and her head started to move back and forth. "Once on stage, you will sit down and masturbate in front of everyone there."

Monica's eyes popped open. "I will not!" she insisted, rising to a sitting position.

I smiled and counted to three. Monica sat there and stared at me, fuming.

"Tell me something," I said. "Do you feel the slightest urge to go stand on my patio and strip?"

"No," she answered emphatically.

"Or to go down to the dining room and masturbate?"

"Absolutely not."

"And you're not hypnotized anymore either, are you?"

That stopped her cold. "No," she replied cautiously, "I don't think I am."

"Exactly," I responded. "So, who was really in control?"

Monica sighed and her eyes narrowed. "I was," she conceded. "And wipe that smirk off your face, Jack. What would you have done if I'd started walking toward the patio?"

I did my best to look innocent and shocked. "Stop you, of course."

"Hmmmm." She studied my face. "Before or after I'd taken my clothes off?"

Was that a tiny gleam in her eye? "I'll take the fifth on that," I joked, "on the grounds that it's a moot point because I knew you'd never do it."

"And what made you so sure of that?"

"These," I answered, holding her index cards in the air. "Do you remember these?"

"No," she said, looking at the cards in my hand. "In fact, I distinctly remember that you told me not to remember what's on those."

I nodded. "It's something my old professor did with me. Each card has three things written on it, three hypnotic suggestions. This card has three things your subconscious is positive you would do if asked; this one has three things your subconscious isn't sure whether you would do or not; and the last one has three things your subconscious is positive you would never do. Would you like to see them?"

I held out the cards to her eager hand, and watched as she read them. As Monica read her writing, a bright pink flush formed on her face and worked its way down her neck. "My subconscious," she remarked after reading all three cards, "is a blabbermouth."

"That's one of its more appealing qualities. I'm guessing that your mind chose to interpret the request in the context of things I might ask of you in a show. But you can see that I took two of the things on your 'never' list and told you to do them, and it immediately broke the trance. You felt no desire whatsoever to carry out the instructions."

"Which proves what you were saying all along," she finished for me. "There are limits to what hypnotic suggestions can do."

"Exactly," I agreed. "Ready to finish the lesson?"

She shifted a little, getting more comfortably seated on the couch, and then nodded.

"Sleep, Monica." I watched in satisfaction as she dropped on cue, slumping down into the cushions on the couch. I never get tired of seeing it.

"And now, Monica," I told her, "I'm going to give you more suggestions to follow. The suggestions I give you will be completely acceptable to your subconscious mind; if you feel that you can't follow a suggestion, you can simply say 'No' to me and I'll adjust the suggestion until you are comfortable with it."

I watched her body closely for physical signs of agreement. Her head moved up and down infinitesimally. "That's good. Before we demonstrate a suggestion from that second card, we'll start with something you already know you can do." I approached Monica and sat down on the couch next to her. "I'm going to lift your arm now. Let me do all the work. And as you feel me lifting your arm, I'm sure it will feel perfectly natural to you that your arm becomes stiff and rigid, as if there were a steel bar supporting it from underneath. Stiff and rigid, pointing straight out from your body. And now that your arm is in position, stiff and straight, I know that you can let it slowly drop back down beside you no faster than your mind can recall a time in the past when you've been extremely sexually aroused, perhaps even the most aroused you've ever been. And when you have that moment in mind when you were the most sexually aroused you've ever been, you'll find that your arm becomes loose and limp and relaxed again, coming comfortably to rest next to you."

I watched while Monica's arm slowly lowered itself, her mind searching its memory for the right moment. Then, all of a sudden, it relaxed and dropped the rest of the way. I could see the color rising in Monica's cheeks again and I knew she was thinking of her moment. "That's right. And you may even notice that recalling that time of arousal causes you to become aroused again, even now. And it's okay to let yourself become increasingly aroused, to feel that lust and desire overcome you, and to let that feeling become magnified, become twice as strong, each time I say your name. And the more times I say your name, the more aroused you become, until it's perfectly natural, perfectly normal, for you to begin wanting to touch yourself in the places that are most pleasurable to you. You may even find that it's more comfortable for you if you take your shirt and shorts off so that you can more easily reach those places that you long to touch. And once you've done that, once you've taken off your shirt and shorts and begun to touch yourself in those most pleasurable places, it's okay to allow yourself to experience a very intense, very powerful orgasm. Only when you've had that intense, powerful orgasm will you return to whatever state of arousal may be normal for you under the circumstances.

"And now, on the count of three, I want you to open your eyes and return to your normal waking state. Your subconscious knows what it's been told to do, and will take care of that naturally and automatically, letting your conscious mind remember only that which it needs to remember for you to enjoy the experience to its fullest."

I counted her up slowly and watched her face as she came out. The flush of arousal remained, coloring her cheeks and down her neck. To help her subconscious suppress the memories she didn't need, I used a simple misdirection. "How many students did you say you work with at school, Monica?"

Her mind ran to fetch the information, even as her body reacted to the sound of her name by quickening its breathing and deepening its color. "About 350."

I nodded. "Does it seem a little too warm in here, Monica? You look a bit flushed."

She fought back a moan as her arms folded themselves across her midsection. "It is a bit," she said.

"I'm sorry, Monica. Let me find the thermostat and turn up the air conditioning a bit." I got up and headed for the bedroom, leaving Monica squirming on the couch.

The thermostat really was in the bedroom, although for my purposes it didn't really matter. I had no intention of adjusting it; I just wanted Monica to feel that she was alone and in private. "This may take a few minutes, Monica," I called. "This thing has more buttons and settings than a small battleship."

I heard Monica moan softly, and then I made a most happy discovery: the full-length mirror on the closet door, if angled properly, would give me a view of the couch in the living room. Moving quietly, I pulled it open just enough to put Monica in the center of the reflection. She was pawing at her clothing already.

"Did I tell you how much I like the name Monica?" I asked rhetorically, watching her arch her back in response. "All my life I've been surrounded by Monicas. I have an aunt named Monica; my first girlfriend was named Monica; my old professor's wife was also named Monica." At that point she practically tore off her tee shirt and flung it to the side. I could see the flaming red patch of skin covering her chest and abdomen, testifying to the extent of her arousal. "Now, I suppose, since that whole Lewinsky mess, nobody is going to be naming their little girl Monica for a while. And that's a shame, because Monica is such a beautiful name."

Very beautiful, I thought to myself as I watched her kick her shorts across the room. She was wearing a very pretty lace bra and matching G-string panties. There was already a dark spot in the middle of the panties. As I watched in the mirror, one of her hands slipped down inside them while the other pushed one bra cup out of the way and kneaded a breast. Her eyes were closed and her face slack. Just for fun, I walked back out into the living room and sat in a chair facing the couch. "Is that better, Monica?"

Her eyes opened wide and locked on me, then slammed shut again as her entire body shuddered and heaved. She squealed and grunted her way through the climax, having just enough presence of mind to pull her hands out and back to her sides but not enough to remember to cover her breast again. She had a lovely, pink, erect nipple and a perfectly formed breast. Thanks to the sheerness of the G-string fabric, I could also tell that she was a natural redhead with very neat trimming habits. I sat quietly, taking all of this in and becoming increasingly aware of my own erection, while Monica rode out her orgasm. Then, when she started to move again, I triggered her back into hypnosis.

"And now," I told her, "as you feel the afterglow of a most satisfying orgasm, you can allow the arousal to fade away, back to your normal level. You'll find that hearing me say your name will no longer cause you to become more aroused unless you want to be.

"And there are a few things I'd like you to remember now about the experience you've just had. First, I'd like you to notice that I used a number of indirect suggestions to achieve the result you experienced. I used constructions such as 'you may notice ...' and 'it's okay to ...' to turn a direct suggestion into an indirect one. And because the suggestions were indirect, your conscious mind ignored them but your unconscious mind heard them and accepted them easily. I also linked an obvious, unavoidable event to a suggestion that was really completely unrelated, creating a cause and effect situation where there really was none. For example, I told you that your arm would go down only as fast as you could think of a time when you were sexually aroused; normally, of course, you arm and your memory have nothing to do with each other, but by linking them together I made sure your unconscious mind would accept both statements as inevitable.

"You may also notice that I created a situation in which you would feel the least possible reason to resist doing what I wanted you to do. Because you wrote that you might be willing to undress in private, I first created an emotional state for you in which undressing would be a reasonable and natural thing to do -- a state of advanced sexual arousal. Then, I left the room while the suggestions took effect, giving you as much privacy as possible while still being close enough to observe you and give verbal cues.

"And finally, of course, I used a posthypnotic trigger: that saying your name would increase your state of arousal. I'd like you to remember those points, consciously and unconsciously, whenever you are in a position to give someone else suggestions. You'll find that as you practice formulating suggestions and giving them to people, that you'll recognize when using indirect suggestions is more likely to get you the results you want than using direct suggestion. Both kinds of suggestion are appropriate and useful.

"And now, I'd like to show you just how powerful and creative your mind really is. At the count of three, I'd like you to open your eyes and look at me. You'll be able to talk to me, and to answer my questions, while remaining deeply hypnotized and following my suggestions. One . two . three. Eyes open, looking at me, still deeply hypnotized."

Monica's eyes opened slowly and came to rest on me. "On the second card," I said, "you wrote that one thing you might do under hypnosis is to get drunk. Did you mean that I might be able to have you drink a lot of alcohol until you become drunk?"

She nodded at. "Yes."

"Do you get drunk very often?"

"Not often," she answered. "Sometimes at a big party, I'll lose track and drink too much."

"Does it bother you when you get drunk?"

"Not at the time. I get very flirty and loose when I drink too much, and I have a lot of fun. But it makes me miserably sick the next day."

I nodded, all kinds of interesting ideas popping up in my mind. "I'd like for you to choose a time in your past when you got extremely drunk, and had a tremendous amount of fun doing it. When you can remember such a time, I'd like you to tell me about it."

Monica paused. I could almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes while her subconscious shuffled through her memories. "My twenty-fifth birthday party," she told me. "Claire arranged it all: a private party room with an open bar at a hotel, a suite for us to crash in when we needed to, a DJ, the works. And somehow, she and her boyfriend Robb talked me into trying shots of tequila with them. Before I realized it, I was laughing at everything that anyone said and holding on to people because the room kept spinning around. I woke up the next morning in the suite, in the same bed with Claire, Robb, and Robb's friend Shawn. We were all naked, and none of us could remember who did what with whom. Our hangovers were so bad we almost didn't make checkout time."

I took a deep breath and willed my erection down before it ripped through my pants. "Thank you," I said. "Let your eyes close down now and drift even deeper into hypnosis."

Clearing my throat, I continued the lecture. "For the past several minutes, you've been responding to direct suggestions. Direct suggestions can be just as effective as indirect ones as long as you are working in the short term. For behavior modifications, indirect suggestions typically work best. And now, we'll use the power and creativity of your mind to demonstrate a post-hypnotic suggestion. In a few moments I'm going to count to three. At the count of three you will wake up, feeling completely refreshed and alert, totally comfortable and at ease even though you are not dressed. It will feel perfectly natural and okay for you to be undressed in my presence. Your subconscious mind will allow you to consciously remember only as much of this session as you need to for maximum enjoyment of the results. And every time I say the word 'drink' to you, you will immediately feel as though you've had a shot of tequila and it is taking full effect. Each time I say 'drink' you will feel the effects of an additional tequila shot. These will be special tequila shots, though: no matter how many shots you have, you will never become sick from these drinks. If you have enough drinks to make you pass out, you will slip into a deep hypnotic sleep instead of becoming unconscious. Then you will listen to my voice and accept more suggestions."

I counted her up slowly and watched as she woke up. "Feeling a little cooler?" I asked, again to distract her mind from the trance itself.

She looked down at herself, noted her bare breast, and tucked it back inside her bra. "Yes, I'm very comfortable right now."

"Good. Can I get you something to drink?"

Her face blanked for an instant. "It's a little early for me," she said, indicating the clock. "But I won't object if you want something."

"I was actually thinking about a soft drink," I corrected, watching the quick eye flash as the second "drink" kicked in. "I usually don't drink alcohol in the afternoons either. How about a Sprite?"

"Sure, why not?" Monica was smiling broadly and sinking into the couch. Her pupils were beginning to dilate.

I poured some cold Sprite from the mini fridge into a glass and brought it to her. "Drink this," I told her. "It'll help wet your whistle."

She drank some, but tilted the glass too quickly. A long line of Sprite dribbled down her neck, between her breasts, and down her flat belly. "Whoopsie," she giggled. "I wet the wrong whistle."

Ever gallant, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and offered it to her. "You can do it if you want," she volunteered. So I gently dabbed her front with the towel, starting at the neck and working my way down. Monica arched her back and opened her legs, stretching sensuously while I patted her down with my towel. When I reached her groin area, she grabbed my neck and pulled me down to her face. "If you're going to do that," she said, "you can at least kiss me."

I wasn't at all averse to that idea, so I kissed her. It was long and hot, her lips and tongue sliding over mine. And while we kissed, I rubbed the towel up and down over her crotch. "You're a great kisser," she told me, slurring her words a little bit. Then she buried her nose in my chest and inhaled deeply. "Mmmmm, you smell good, too."

"Careful with that drink," I cautioned. "You wouldn't want to spill it before you get a chance to drink it."

Monica blinked heavily, her eyes losing focus. "You better take it," she slurred, thrusting the glass in my direction. "And shee if you can get the room to shtop shpinning around sho much."

"Okay," I said, taking the glass from her. "Is there anything else you'd like?"

"I really wanna seduce you," she mumbled. "Why don't you carry me to your bed, lover?"

God, was I ever tempted! My cock screamed at me to do it, to take her to bed and help her out of the rest of her clothes and screw her in every position we both know. But no, that wasn't the purpose of the lesson.

"Drink. Drink. Drink."

I watched Monica's eyes roll back into her head and her body slump into a corner of the couch. "That," I told her, "was your lesson in posthypnotic suggestion. If you remember the structure of the suggestion I gave you, it will be easy for you to formulate suggestions to use with other people. The one thing I did not do with you, which we talked about this morning, was to give you a time when the suggestion would stop working; that was because I intended to take you back into hypnosis and remove it, which is what I will do now.

"On the count of three, Monica, you will wake up feeling completely sober, refreshed, relaxed, and comfortable. All of the tequila shots will have worn off completely, and the word 'drink' will no longer have any special significance to you. You will always feel completely comfortable in my presence, even without your clothes, and as always your subconscious mind will allow your conscious mind to remember only what it needs to for maximum enjoyment of the experience. One . two . three."

Her eyes came back into focus, and she sat up on the couch. I picked up her clothes and then took a seat in the nearest armchair, the shirt and shorts in my lap to help hide my erection. "Any questions?" I asked.

I could see her rifling her memory. "Why are there long blocks of time that I don't remember?"

"I told your subconscious to limit what you remember to only enough for you to fully enjoy the experience. So if there's something missing, it's something you think might spoil the fun if you remembered it right now."

She looked mildly suspicious. "You didn't leave any triggers in my mind for later, did you?"

"Just one," I assured her. "The one that lets me put you back into hypnosis quickly. We may use that a few more times before the week is out."

She thought about it, then nodded. "Any homework?"

I hadn't thought about it, but an idea came quickly to mind. "Just this: between now and tomorrow morning, decide on three suggestions you think will work if you try them on Claire. One you'll do with indirect suggestion, one with direct, and one as a posthypnotic suggestion. Don't tell Claire what they are."

Monica gave me one more nod.

"Class dismissed," I said, handing Monica her shirt and shorts. She took them and dressed with a strange, speculative smile on her face.

Standing in my doorway as I let her out, she turned back to me. "You could've had me in your bed so easily," she said. "I even asked you to do it. Why didn't you?"

I looked into those clear, blue eyes and said the first thing that came to mind. "I'll be asking myself that same question for a long time, I think."

Dinner turned into an extended tease for poor Claire. She tried valiantly to get us to talk about Monica's afternoon session, but with zero success. Each attempt we deflected into safe territory. It was fun, in a mildly sadistic way.

Finally dinner came to an end, and Monica and I decided to give Claire a break. Monica stayed behind to catch the evening's entertainment while Claire and I headed for the elevators. Claire was in a mint green open-backed cocktail dress that shimmered as she moved and managed to cling to all the right places without looking tight.

The doors opened at the seventh floor and the elderly couple with whom we'd been sharing the car left. "Alone again," Claire noted with a wink.

I pulled her gently back until her bottom was pressed lightly against me, my hands resting on her hips. Then I put my mouth by her ear and said, "Sleep, Claire." She fell back against me, head lolling to one side. I held her firmly, keeping her on her feet. "You can feel yourself sliding deep, deep into hypnosis. Your body is relaxing more and more with each breath, unconcerned because you can feel my arms holding you up. And as you sink deeper into hypnosis with each breath you take and with each beat of your heart, you may begin to notice that you can stand on your legs and support your own weight, even as you continue to relax every other part of your body."

Her legs responded, taking her weight. All I had to do was provide a little balance assistance. "When you hear the elevator doors open, Claire, I want you to open your eyes and follow me to my room, remaining deeply hypnotized even as you do."

The red numbers changed to 12, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Claire opened her eyes and stood still, staring forward. It took me a half second to realize I'd said "follow me," so she was waiting for me to go first. I stepped out from behind her and walked out of the elevator. Sure enough, she followed close behind.

Once inside the entrance to my room, she stopped again. "Claire, I want you to walk over to the couch, take off your shoes, and lie down face up on the couch. Once you are lying down you can close your eyes, adjust your body position until you are completely comfortable, and drift a hundred times deeper into hypnosis. You can ignore every sound until you feel me touch your shoulder."

I watched, enjoying the view while Claire walked over to the couch and followed her instructions. I waited to see her relax and drop way down, then went about my business. I put out the Do Not Disturb sign, turned on a table lamp, and sat down to review Claire's cards from that morning.

Go back into hypnosis on command

Forget what happens during a trance

Follow you to your room and have sex with you

Have an orgasm on command

Strip in public

Be tied up for sex

Lesbian sex

Smoke

Commit a crime

The first card gave me nothing new to work with -- Claire had already done all of those things the night we'd met. The second offered some possibilities, and made me briefly wish that I'd taken Claire first so we could go down to the beach. The final card told me that as far as she was concerned, I could pretty much do anything I wanted.

But this isn't about what you want, the teacher admonished. You're supposed to be teaching this girl about types of suggestions and the limits of what hypnosis can do.

My eyes followed the slow rise and fall of her chest as she lay entranced on my couch, and I felt the user sneer. She's no innocent. She loves to play and to be played with. She'll be disappointed if she wakes up still wearing that dress.

There was a thought. I leaned over and touched Claire on the shoulder. "Claire, I want you to come up now to a level where you can hear and respond to my suggestions physically. When you are ready, I want you to stand up but remain deeply hypnotized."

I waited a minute or two, watching some color return to Claire's face as her metabolism revved up a little. Then, with the slow, hesitant movements typical of subconscious control, she slowly sat up and rose to her feet.

"That's right," I told her. "And now, Claire, I'm going to demonstrate for you direct hypnotic suggestion. You've already accepted and followed a number of direct suggestions tonight: to follow me from the elevator, to lie down and sleep, and now to stand up while remaining deeply hypnotized. For the next demonstration, you won't be needing your clothes, so I'm going to help you to take them off now."

As good as my word, I unfastened the dress and let it fall to the floor at her feet. She wore nothing under it except for a cream-colored thong, which I also eased down her long legs. Lifting one foot at a time, I picked up the clothing and hid it behind my chair, out of her sight. Then, enjoying the view, I had her lie down again in the same position as before.

"And now, Claire, we'll use direct suggestion to create an illusion. Your subconscious knows that you are naked now, but when you wake up from this trance your conscious mind will believe that you are still dressed in the clothes you wore to dinner. Everything that you see, feel, hear, or sense in another way will confirm for your conscious mind that you are actually fully dressed. I will snap my fingers once, and when I do that, you will feel as if your clothing had suddenly dissolved, just like you did during my show when I had you imagine your clothing had dissolved. This time you really will be naked, of course, but your conscious mind will believe that it's a hypnotic illusion, and that you are actually still completely dressed. No amount of evidence will be able to convince your conscious mind that you are truly naked."

I counted her up and watched while her eyes fluttered open. "What the ..." Claire sat up slowly and looked around. "Where did the elevator go?"

"Would you like a drink?" I asked, channeling her thoughts in a different direction to encourage amnesia for the trance.

It worked. She blinked twice and then shook her head quickly, as if to clear it. "Just some water."

"Sure," I agreed, retrieving a bottle from the mini fridge. "It'd be a shame to risk spilling anything on that dress that might stain."

Claire looked down at her body and ran a hand over the imaginary fabric. "This is my bar-hopping dress," she explained. "Draws men like flies to honey."

"So I see," I replied, grinning inwardly. "What are you wearing underneath it?"

She grinned wickedly. "Play your cards right, and maybe you'll find out."

"I can find out anyway," I assured her. "Just like this." I snapped my fingers loudly.

Claire's eyes went wide for a moment, and then she grinned again. "Nice try, Jack, but I already know this trick. I'm not really naked."

"You're not?"

She shook her head slowly, her eyes shining in triumph. "No. It's just an illusion. You told me under hypnosis that when you snapped your fingers I'd feel as if my clothing dissolved, but it's really still there. You did that one at your show the other night, remember?"

"Yes, I do," I agreed. "Would it change your mind if I told you that you were wearing a cream-colored thong under the dress and nothing else?"

The smile faded momentarily then came back strong. "Good recovery, but no. You must have peeked inside my dress while I was zonked out before."

"I see. And if I were to mention that large freckle you have on the underside of your left breast?"

She cupped the area in question, still watching my face. "I'd assume you remember that detail from the other night, of course."

I shrugged. "I guess you've got me," I confessed. "Why don't you go use the bathroom while I figure out where to go from here?"

Claire got up, smoothed out her nonexistent dress, and headed for the bathroom. While she was in there, I laid out her dress and thong on the couch next to where she'd been sitting.

When Claire came back out she headed straight for the end of the couch and sat down. "What's next, Professor?"

I was impressed. The conscious mind can't be confused by what it doesn't see, so to Claire the clothes draped over the couch were simply not there. "So there's no way I can convince you that you're sitting there in your birthday suit?"

"Nope," she answered with certainty. "I know you too well, Jack. Can we get on with the lesson now?"

"Of course. Sleep, Claire."

Deepening suggestions were hardly necessary for Claire anymore, but I gave her a few anyway while I hung her clothes up in the closet. I also gave her the same lecture I'd given Monica about the use of direct suggestions. Then, on a whim, I picked her up in my arms and moved to the bedroom, where I laid her out on the bed.

"You already know that indirect suggestions can be very powerful, Claire, because you've experienced it yourself already. Indirect suggestions bypass the conscious mind by using framing structures to embed a command inside of an innocuous comment. For example, you may not have noticed yet that I am tying your hands and feet to the bed now." As I talked, I placed her hands and feet in spread eagle positions and pressed them down firmly. "Can you really enjoy the sensations in your wrists and ankles of being firmly tied and unable to move? If you try to move them, you'll find that that the more you try to move them, the more firmly they will be tied down. If you wish, you can try to move your hands and feet now." Claire's arms and legs twitched weakly. "That's right. You can stop trying now, and accept that your hands and feet are securely tied down until I tell you that you are free."

While Claire's subconscious digested that, I slipped back into the living room and retrieved the video tape from the elevator. Uninhibited was kind enough to provide a VCR not only in the living area, but also in the bedroom, doubtless for the convenience of VIP guests. I slid the tape into the bedroom VCR, turned on the television, and queued the tape to the point where Claire and I were just entering the elevator.

"In a few moments, Claire, I'm going to count to three. On the count of three, it's okay to open your eyes and awaken completely, no longer hypnotized, but still obeying all of my suggestions. Your conscious mind will remember only that you have been hypnotized and are learning about indirect and posthypnotic suggestions. You will realize that you are totally naked and have been since shortly after entering the suite. You will also realize that you are now tied to my bed, and that realization will be very sexually arousing to you.

"Once you are awake, I'm going to show you a video that may remind you of an intense sexual experience that took place recently. You'll want to watch the video very closely, because you'll find it extremely interesting. As you watch the video and realize who the people in it are, you may find that you can feel all over again the same physical sensations that you felt during the experience itself. You may even feel those sensations much more intensely, even to the point of having a powerful orgasm when the woman in the video orgasms. And you can, Claire, have another, equally powerful orgasm each time I say the words 'Please come again' to you. For the rest of the week, whenever we are together and I say the words 'Please come again' to you, it's okay to let yourself relax and experience an intense, extremely satisfying orgasm without worrying about what anyone else might hear or think."

Holding the remote in my hand, I pulled up a chair next to the bed so that I could watch Claire and the video easily. "One ... two ... three. Eyes open, wide awake."

Her eyes opened and immediately registered surprise. "Comfortable?" I asked, mostly as a distraction.

She looked over at me, and I could see the realization sinking in. "Oh, my god," she said, tugging with her arms against the imaginary ropes, "What are you doing?"

In a matter of seconds, as she tugged some more, her nipples swelled up and stood high. I reached over and played with the nearest one. "Somebody's enjoying this," I remarked, tweaking the nipple gently and watching her squirm.

"We could be enjoying it a lot more if you weren't wearing all those clothes," she suggested.

"Don't be in such a hurry. Here, let me get you another pillow." I grabbed a spare pillow from the bedroom closet and propped Claire's head up a little. "How about a little video to put us in the mood?"

"Looks to me like you're already in the mood," she replied, nodding her head toward the obvious bulge in my pants. "Why wait?"

"Oh, I think you'll like this," I assured her. "It's obviously low-budget, but the acting is superb. Watch."

I touched the Play button on the remote, and the screen came to life. Claire's eyes opened wide. "That's us!"

"Yes, it is. This is the security camera tape from last night. The night manager was kind enough to remove it from circulation and give it to me."

I was going to continue, but Claire wasn't listening. Instead, she was staring intently at the TV screen, her mouth open in a little circle. As she watched, her eyes and mouth opened wider and wider.

"Some people say that watching yourself on video is extremely arousing," I said softly, while my hand idly played stroked her thigh. "One might even imagine that you are there now, feeling me peeling your clothes off in a frenzy. It feels good to let your body relive those sensations now, Claire, does it not?"

Claire didn't answer me -- she didn't have to. Her breathing became labored and gaspy, and I could see the pulse racing in her neck. Her back arched and her arms yanked at the unreal ropes but couldn't get free. With an upward thrust of her hips, Claire spoke. "Oh, my god!" I looked at the TV and saw her mouthing those same words, with my face buried between her legs.

The word STOP flashed in white at the bottom of the screen, apparently an indicator that I'd hit the Stop switch on the elevator panel. Claire's moans grew louder and more frequent. A quick brush of my finger along her slit told me there was plenty of moisture down there. "Soon," I told her, "you'll feel my rock-hard penis plunging into you from behind. Can you really enjoy the sensation of me entering you, working myself in and out, putting pressure against all of your most sensitive places? It's okay to let go and enjoy the feeling, Claire." She groaned and arched her back again, spreading her legs wider and thrusting her hips upward. "Careful," I said. "Don't have a thundering orgasm too quickly because you're going to have several orgasms before this evening is through, and you'll want to enjoy each one completely."

The embedded commands in my words pushed Claire along the way. She started babbling incoherently, her eyes locked on the image of us humping away in the elevator, her hips thrusting against the imaginary cock inside her.

"And you know," I continued, timing my words carefully to the image on the screen, "that that first orgasm, that first tremendous orgasm, is building ... building ... coming NOW!"

Claire on the screen and Claire on the bed threw their heads back and cried out together. "Ah! ... Yes! ... Yes! ... AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!! ... UUNNNNNNNHHHHHH!!"

I let her ride it out until the vocalizations slowed to a mumble, then turned off the tape and sat down on the edge of he bed facing her. One hand idly stroked the smooth, flat skin of her belly while I continued my lecture. "As you can see, indirect suggestions can be extremely powerful, even when the subject is not in hypnosis at the time. By using vocal structures such as 'It's okay to ...' and 'One might even ...' and 'Can you really enjoy ...' one can send a message directly to the subconscious, bypassing the conscious mind. Maybe you'll remember this lesson vividly when it comes time for you to construct suggestions of your own."

Claire nodded hard, her body still recovering from the extended orgasm.

"That's right. Another kind of suggestions is the posthypnotic suggestion. You already know that a posthypnotic suggestion is one given to a person in hypnosis that is intended to affect them after they are awake. People often think of posthypnotic suggestions in terms of triggers: a certain word, or phrase, or event that triggers the suggestion and causes the person to behave in a certain way. For example, you know that if I say a certain phrase you will go back into hypnosis right away. What you may not remember consciously, although your subconscious certainly does remember, is that I gave you another trigger this evening that has quite a different effect."

Her face turned to mine, her eyes beginning to focus again. "What trigger?" she panted.

I smiled. "Please come again."

That look of total surprise came over her again. Claire threw her head back and cried out again. "Oh ... shit ... I can't ... believe ... ooooooooooohhhhHHHHHHHH!!!!"

I paced her with my hand, stroking her in time to her gasping breaths. "It feels so good, doesn't it, Claire, to lie there, helpless, having orgasm after orgasm?"

Almost recovered, she stretched herself sensuously under my hand. "Why don't you untie me and let me show you?"

"It wouldn't be the same, really," I said to her. "After all, a man needs a certain amount of recovery time after he has an orgasm. But you can come again and again, can't you? Please come again, Claire."

This time there was less surprise on Claire's face as another rocking climax took her. Tiny beads of sweat formed a sheen all over her body that I could trace shapes in with my fingertip. The pulse in her neck was strong and racing, and still her muscles fought against the nonexistent ropes.

"This morning," I continued, "while you were in hypnosis, I asked you to fill out three index cards. On the first card, I asked you to write three things you are positive you would do under hypnosis if asked. You wrote down three things you'd already done. On the second card, I asked for three things you aren't sure whether you'd do or not. Your subconscious mind can allow you to remember what you wrote on that card ... now."

Claire blinked twice and looked at me in wonder. "Orgasm on command," she recited. "Strip in public. Be tied up for sex."

"Exactly," I said, grinning. "As the song goes, two out of three ain't bad."

"But you cheated," she complained, pulling on her arms. "You put me to sleep and just tied me up without asking."

"Did I? Take a look at your right wrist, Claire. Do you see any ropes there?"

She turned her head and looked. "Yes. Plain white rope, wrapped around my wrist."

Interesting, I thought. Another supporting hallucination. "And to what is that rope tied, other than your wrist?"

She craned her neck to see. "I can't tell," she admitted, "but it feels like something very solid."

"You think so?" Slowly, deliberately, I slid my hand under her arm at the elbow and moved it away from her, toward the hand. Claire gasped as she watched my hand slide all the way past her wrist and hand despite the ropes she saw. "You see rope because your subconscious was told that you've been tied to the bed, just as you thought you were still wearing your clothes earlier when, in fact, I'd already taken them off of you. You felt and saw the clothes on your body then, just as you can see and feel the ropes on your wrists and ankles now."

I watched the look on her face as the realization sank in. "Your subconscious is very creative and powerful," I told her. "Thus endeth the lesson. You're free, Claire."

Just like that, Claire lifted her arms and held her hands in front of her face, staring at the unmarked wrists. Her legs shifted and closed together, her feet wiggling to celebrate their freedom. Then fire lit up her eyes and she glared at me hungrily. "You are so going to get it!"

My laugh died in my throat as Claire grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me across her body onto the bed. In no time at all she had my pants and boxers off and one hand pumping my already throbbing cock. I opened my mouth to speak, only to have her other hand clamp down tightly over it. "Uh-uh," she told me. "Not a word out of you until I see those eyes of yours rolling backward."

Given my prolonged state of arousal, it didn't take very long before my hips started gyrating on their own and I felt myself passing the point of no return. I grunted under Claire's hand and let my eyes roll up in my head.

"Gotcha!" she cried out in triumph. Her hand came away from my tingling cock and she plunged herself down on top of me in one smooth, fast motion. The sudden warmth and strength of her muscles around me overloaded my system -- I came like a fire hose, growling into her hand like a wild thing while every muscle in my body stiffened in celebration of a long-awaited release. Claire mimicked me, stroking the hairs on my chest in time to my labored breathing. Only after the waves had subsided did she finally pull her hand away from my mouth. "There," she said with a heavy sigh. "Now what have you got to say for yourself, Professor?"

I mustered the energy for one more evil grin. "Please come again."

Sunlight was streaming into the room. I opened my eyes to find a naked blonde bending over me, nudging my shoulder and talking. Her body smelled of soap and shampoo and her skin had that pink glow that comes from a hot shower. "Huh?" I grunted, buying time.

She signed, and a pair of erect nipples wiggled before my face. "My clothes, Jack. Where did you put my clothes?"

For a long moment my mind was blank. Then I remembered a mint green dress and cream-colored thong. "The closet," I mumbled. "Hanging up in the closet."

Claire giggled. "A sex fiend with a neat streak -- who knew?"

I was awake enough to laugh with her now. "By the way," I said to her retreating backside. "You have a homework assignment." And while I watched her dress I told her about the need to come up with three suggestions to give Monica. "Sorry for the short notice, but it's due after breakfast."

"That's okay," she replied, fitting her breasts into the support shelf in the dress. "I think I can come up with something. When's breakfast -- the usual time?"

I squinted at the clock: 8:52. The usual time was half past nine. "That's fine."

The dining room staff had noticed us, it seemed -- when I got down there at 9:25, our usual table was already set for three and had an elegant RESERVED sign standing in the middle. The hostess greeted me by name and ushered me to the table, removing the sign as she left me.

Stu Redman's crew had been active as well. A large sign at the main entrance announced to everyone walking by that tonight's featured show was JACK TRANCER, MASTER HYPNOTIST. Several more signs, adorned with spirals and sketches of slack-faced people staring blankly ahead, decorated the walls inside.

Beneath one such sign sat Barbie and Ken and their companions from the previous morning. Ken was holding forth on the subject, apparently inspired by the poster. "It's all hooey," he assured his small audience. "They plant people in the audience to go up and pretend to be in the guy's power."

Barbie nodded enthusiastically. "Real people won't do those kinds of things," she asserted. "My uncle uses hypnosis in his psychology practice, and he says stage hypnotists are charlatans."

Their friends were skeptical. "So you're saying that nobody really gets hypnotized in these shows?"

Ken shrugged. "Oh, sometimes they do -- if you get a big enough crowd, you're bound to find a few weak-minded people who'll get taken in. But it's just a show."

Oh, yeah? I thought, struggling to maintain my poker face. Come up on stage tonight, and we'll see how much of a charlatan I am! Then my students arrived, driving thoughts of the stuffed-shirt couple to the background.

"Good morning," Monica said, her smile broad and slightly teasing. "I see you're doing a bit of advertising now."

I threw up my hands in mock protest. "Not my doing. I may have mentioned to the tech crew that building up anticipation helps a lot, but all these signs were their idea."

"But you approve."

"Sure," I admitted. "If people come in here tonight expecting to be hypnotized, my job becomes a lot easier." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ken stand up and make for the buffet. I rose up as well, a naughty idea forming in my brain. "Shall we eat?"

Ken was standing in front of the omelet chef's station, watching the preparation of his breakfast. Motioning to the girls to stand back, I deliberately backed into him, causing him to drop his empty plate.

"What the f---" He wheeled around at the same time I did.

"I'm sorry," I said, with all the fake sincerity I could muster. "I was looking somewhere else."

He looked me over and apparently decided I wasn't a threat. "No biggie," he replied, and started to turn back to the chef.

"I don't think we've met," I continued. "My name is Jack." And I extended my hand in the classic gesture.

He responded automatically by reaching his hand out for mine, as I intended. I grasped his wrist gently but firmly with my free left hand and lifted it up to within about eighteen inches of his face. Ken's face blanked as his mind tried to deal with the unexpected break of the ritual pattern. "That's right," I said quickly, lifting my right hand to point to his. "Keep watching that hand, focus on that hand, and as it moves slowly toward your face, you'll be able to notice the change in focus and the way your eyes want to close down now." As I spoke, rapidly but softly, I pushed his hand a little closer toward his face and let it go. At the words "close down now" I swept my right hand down, causing his eyes to follow it and close on command. "That's right," I continued, noting that his arm was now cataleptic and moving on its own. "And now you can allow your hand to slowly creep in and touch your face no faster than you can let your entire body relax and your mind to float free. And I don't know which will happen first, whether your hand will touch your face first or your mind will drift off into a deep state of profound relaxation and peace, or maybe they'll happen at the same time, I don't know. But I do know that you can experience deep hypnosis as easily as you can allow your hand to drift closer and touch your face now."

Ken was mine. His body stood motionless, except for the gentle drift of his right hand toward his face. I kept up a barrage of indirect suggestions to get him deeper, tying his physical experiences to deepening trance, until his hand touched his cheek. "And now that you have experienced hypnosis yourself," I told him, "you know that your unconscious mind can remember what your conscious mind can forget, and that's that you are in hypnosis now and you can be hypnotized easily any time you wish to be hypnotized again. But like the series of movements you make when you shake hands, you can just let your unconscious remember that and make it happen, and your conscious mind can just remember that you made a new friend at the buffet. Just as I know your unconscious mind can remember to be interested in hypnosis, and you may even find that you want to come to the hypnosis show tonight and volunteer to be hypnotized, even though your conscious mind may forget to remember why. And now you can allow your hand to drop down to your side only as fast as you can decide to participate in the hypnosis show tonight and return to your normal waking state."

Ken's eyes moved rapidly under closed lids, and his hand began to sink toward his side. When his eyes began to open I grabbed his hand and finished the handshake. "Jack Torrance."

His eyes snapped back to full alertness and he completed pumping my hand, putting too much pressure on it. "Theo Kane," he responded. "Pleased to meet you."

I needed a distraction to help cement amnesia for the trance; the unnecessary squeeze seemed gave me an idea, so I took a guess. "You played ball, didn't you?"

He grinned broadly. "Tight end for USC, until I broke an ankle and missed my whole senior year. You follow the team?"

"Not as much as I used to," I lied. "Hey, your omelet's ready."

"Oh, yeah. Nice seeing you." He took his omelet from the chef and lumbered back to his table.

The chef grinned at me and started making my usual. Monica and Claire looked a dozen questions at me, but asked none until we got back to the table. There, Monica nodded her head toward the other group. "Are you going to tell us what that was about?"

I tried on an innocent shrug. "I thought that for today's lesson I'd show you some other ways of inducing trance. The handshake induction I did with him is a famous technique that Erickson used a lot. It got so that at conventions, nobody wanted to shake his hand because they knew what he would do."

Claire looked puzzled. "But how does it work?"

"The unconscious mind is the seat of all learning," I explained. "Everything you've ever seen, sensed, or experienced is in there. It also coordinates all of our habitual actions -- those things that we do automatically, that if we actually stopped to think about them would be too complicated to explain. Like steering a car in a straight line. When we first start to drive, we have to think about that consciously, making all the little adjustments needed to keep the car on a straight course; later, that activity filters down to the unconscious level and we do it automatically, freeing up our conscious mind to think about where we're going and how to get there."

"Or to fiddle with the radio and watch for speed traps," Claire injected.

I chuckled. "That, too. Each of us has a number of complex tasks that we've learned and installed into our unconscious minds. Each is a pattern of physical responses to external stimuli, and the unconscious plays out the pattern every time it perceives the stimulus. For example, the handshake: it's almost universal among North Americans that when someone puts out their right hand, you extend yours and shake it.

"But if something happens to interrupt that pattern -- for example, my taking his wrist in my left hand and manipulating his arm in a different way from the expected -- then the learned pattern is broken. That sends the person's mind into a trans-derivational search: the unconscious mind doesn't know what to do, so the conscious mind has to think of an appropriate response. That state is a form of trance, and the unconscious will accept just about any suggestion that it hears during the second or so that it takes to recover. The suggestion could be as simple as sleep, which usually results in a light to medium trance state and the ability to give more suggestions. With that guy, I gave him a series of suggestions designed to overload his conscious thought process. With too many things to think about at once, his unconscious took over and he did what I told him to do."

Monica raised a finger. "Isn't the unconscious the same as the subconscious?"

"Sure. They're both just words for that inner mind we all have, the part that stores all of our memories and experiences. I tend to use both because I've had teachers that used both, but it's all the same thing."

She lowered her voice for the follow-up question. "And why did you give him those suggestions to come to the show tonight and volunteer? I thought you didn't pick volunteers ahead of time."

"Duly admonished," I allowed. "Before you came down, he was holding forth for his little group over there, telling them how stage hypnosis is always fake and the people in the audience are shills planted there to be entertaining. When the handshake induction worked on him so easily, I knew he'd be good on stage. I may have him eating some crow later tonight."

Monica gave me kind of an odd look, but didn't pursue whatever she was thinking.

By the time we were through eating, the dining crowd had thinned out as usual. Monica wiped her mouth, set the napkin aside, and put her hands in her lap. "Is it time to review our homework now?"

I thought about it for a second or two. "No," I said, surprising them both. "I'd like to change the venue, and Claire hasn't had much time to work on hers because she got a late start. How about if we meet in the lobby in, say, an hour and do today's lesson on the beach? And bring your suggestions in written form."

"The beach?" Claire looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Why not?" I countered. "It's a comfortable place with people around, but where nobody really pays any attention to what you do. Besides, this is my fourth day here and I've yet to set foot on it. You don't want me to go home looking like I stayed indoors the entire time, do you?"

Laughing, they agreed to my plan. The user smiled.

When we met in the lobby an hour later, the girls were in terry cloth jumpers, sandals and shades. Monica had a beach blanket with her, and Claire a small cooler. Both had large canvas bags as well. "You brought that with you from Indiana?" I asked, pointing to the cooler.

She giggled. "No, silly -- I borrowed it from the front desk. They have all kinds of things if you just ask them."

"Oversized beach blankets, for instance," Monica added.

"You two think too much."

A smooth clay path took us away from the hotel, past the tennis courts, and down to the beach. As the grass gave way to sand, the clay was replaced by a wooden boardwalk lined with kiosks. Shades, beach balls, sun block, cold drinks, folding chairs ... anything you might want on the beach could be bought or rented right there on the way.

We found ourselves a semi-secluded spot high on the beach near the bluff and spread out our blanket there. Rolled into the blanket was another surprise: three contraptions that looked like they might once have been part of a folding deck chair. It took me a few minutes to figure out how they worked, but in the end we got it. They were backrests for sitting up while relaxing on the beach. Smaller and easier to carry than a chaise lounge, but by varying the angle you could get pretty much the same comfortable positions.

I plopped down in the middle of the blanket and watched while the girls stripped off their jumpers. Monica was in her black triangle bikini. Claire wore a sky blue bikini with a very brief bottom, almost but not quite a thong. Both of their bodies glimmered with applied sunscreen. "You planned ahead," I remarked, rubbing some of the oil on my own arms and chest.

"You don't know the half of it," Claire assured me. "We put on extra sun block before getting dressed, just in case our bathing suits mysteriously dissolve while we're out here."

"I'm shocked," I jokingly protested. "Do you really think I'd do something like that?"

"You'd try," Monica teased. "And after yesterday, we're taking no chances."

The user, of course, was thrilled -- if they were prepared for the possibility of ending up nude, then they were convinced on some level that it could happen. Therefore, a well-worded suggestion could make it so. Pleasant as the thought was, though, that wasn't why I'd brought them to the beach.

I got up and turned around, sitting with my back to the water so I could face both of them. Monica sat on my left, Claire on my right, both looking expectantly at me.

"Before we get into the homework on suggestions," I began, "I'd like to change gears a little bit, maybe slow things down a little. There is a well-known hypnotic induction that starts out by having the person imagine they are sitting on a beach watching the sun set. I'm not going to ask you to imagine that now because that would be ridiculous; after all, here you are, really sitting on the beach, so you don't have to imagine it. You can feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, the softness of the blanket beneath you, the texture of your bikini top stretching as you breathe slowly and deeply in and out. And as you listen to my voice, and the background sounds of the surf, and feel perhaps a very slight breeze blowing against your skin, you can also notice how time seems to just stretch out until it becomes quite meaningless to you. You can float and drift, relaxing and letting your mind wander where it will, while the part of you that learns and remembers listens to my voice and takes you deeper inside, deeper and deeper. That's right. You may even be noticing soon how sitting on the beach brings you the same feelings as being in trance: a soothing, quiet, sleepy sort of feeling in which your conscious mind can float free, paying no particular attention to anything, while your unconscious listens and attends to every word I say. And you can let go and let yourself go all the way down ... now."

Everything about their body language said that they were totally relaxed. They were so accustomed to going into trance for me that it almost didn't matter what I said, as long as I used the same tone of voice that I normally use for inductions. I could probably read them my laundry list in that tone and see their eyes glaze over.

"What you just experienced," I told them, "is a simple technique called pacing and leading. Pacing means making a statement that is obviously true about what the person is experiencing at that moment, preferably something they may not have consciously noted yet. Each time I made a pacing statement, your conscious mind checked to see if what I said was true and found that it was. After several pacing statements, I can then put in a leading statement -- something that I want to be true, but that probably wasn't until I mentioned it. A good rule of thumb is to make three pacing statements, then follow with one or two leading suggestions. If you follow that structure, you can lead someone into a trance before they even entirely realize that you're doing it. If you practice pacing and leading, you can improvise a hypnotic induction for just about anyone.

"Another new technique that I used with you just now is accessing a previous trance. If someone has been in a trance before -- and by now you realize that we've all been in trances before -- you can get them there again simply by saying things that cause them to recall what that trance experience felt like. Since you were both in very deep trances for me yesterday, I made reference to that and it brought you quickly back to the same state today. If I want to, I might tomorrow ask you a question or two about how you are feeling right now, and in order to answer the question you would have to go back into this state you're in now, which would be what I had in mind by asking the question. And doesn't it feel wonderful to be so deeply hypnotized, on the beach, going deeper and deeper with each word I say? That's right."

Reaching to my right, I put a hand on Claire's knee and squeezed. "And now, Claire, I want you to just drift along in hypnosis. Until the next time I squeeze your knee like this, it's okay to just ignore anything you might hear or feel."

Then I turned to Monica. "And you, Monica, can allow the energy to seep back into your limbs as you return to your waking state. One ... two ... three, wide awake."

I enjoyed the view while Monica stretched, her muscles moving smoothly under the skin. I could imagine her eyes fluttering open and focusing behind the dark glasses. Her hands went straight to the bikini top and patted it. "Feels like I'm still dressed," she remarked.

"Of course you're still dressed," I replied, feigning exasperation. "What kind of pervert do you think I am?"

She lowered her glasses enough to let me see the twinkle in her eyes. "That remains to be seen," she quipped. "But you did have a golden opportunity yesterday, and you willingly passed it up. That counts for a lot."

"Thanks ... I think." I lowered my own glasses and winked at her. "Now, let's see what kind of pervert you are. Your homework, please?"

Monica frowned slightly as she removed an index card from her bag. "These are going to seem awfully tame compared to yesterday," she warned me.

I took the card from her and read the contents. "They look perfectly doable," I judged. "And there's a little room for some fun in there. I think this will work out fine." Reaching out to Claire, I squeezed her knee. "And now, Claire, you can feel the energy returning to your body as I count up to three, allowing yourself to become fully awake by the time I reach three. One ... two ... three. Welcome back."

Claire stretched her limbs out and adjusted her bikini straps. "If nothing else," she joked, "I'll go home well rested."

"How long do you think you were in trance?" I asked, smiling.

"I'm guessing not too long, because I'm not turning red or blistering," she answered. "But other than that, I couldn't say whether it was two minutes or two hours."

"Time distortion," I noted. "Shows how good a trance subject you are. And now, if you'll lend me your sunglasses, we'll let Monica have her way with you."

Claire squinted as the sun shone into her newly-uncovered eyes. Monica moved over and knelt right next to her subject, with her back to me, and removed her own sunglasses. "Are you ready to go into hypnosis now?"

"Ready," Claire confirmed.

"Good," Monica said, letting her voice soften into a tone vaguely reminiscent of mine. "I'd like you look directly into my eyes, Claire," she said. "Notice the change in focus as you let them make contact with mine. You may still hear the sounds of people playing around us, and feel the sun warming your skin. And as you take a deep breath in and relax, you may begin to notice how your eyes are already becoming tired, wanting to close down ... now."

The teacher was very pleased with the way Monica had learned to use pacing and leading and indirect suggestion. Consciously or otherwise, she'd even chosen an induction that would make the most use out of the eye fatigue that would quickly set in as Claire stared up into Monica's face, with the sun streaming down behind it. The user, meanwhile, was very pleased with the close-up view of Monica's delightful back and shoulders, and the lovely shape of her rear end as she knelt before me.

Claire's eyes had closed already. "That's right," Monica told her, "Closed down, way down. You already know how to go deeper and deeper, just as deep as you were a few minutes ago. And you can, Claire, count down from five to one no faster than you can allow yourself to drift as deep as you can possibly go ... now."

Claire's lips moved slowly. "Five ... four ... ... three ..." As she counted, Monica continued giving her deepening suggestions and Claire's body took on all of the signs of deep trance. "Two" was a bare whisper, with her lips hardly moving. Neither of us heard the last number.

Monica turned and looked at me inquiringly. I grinned and mimed silent applause, then pointed to the first suggestion on her list. She nodded and faced Claire again. "And now, Claire, as you float comfortably in hypnosis, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin ... it's a warm day today, ninety degrees ... and I wonder when you'll notice the air around you becoming colder and colder. Can you enjoy feeling the temperature around you falling to eighty degrees? How will you feel when the temperature reaches seventy degrees? In a moment you may even feel a cold breeze across your skin as the temperature falls to sixty degrees." As she said it, Monica pulled a newspaper from her bag and began waving it, fanning Claire's body, creating the breeze even as she mentioned it.

Claire's body reacted to the falling temperatures. Her nipples stood up, poking up visibly under the cups of the bikini top. Her arms and legs pressed more closely against her body, huddling for warmth.

Monica unfolded the newspaper and blocked the sun, putting Claire's face and upper body into shadow. "And as the sun sets and night falls, I wonder how your body will feel at a temperature of only fifty degrees."

Goosebumps formed on Claire's arms and legs and spread quickly across the visible surfaces of her body. Her arms wrapped themselves tightly around her chest and her chin began to quiver. "Take her back up now," I told Monica.

Nodding, she folded the newspaper and set it aside. "Nights are short in Puerto Rico," she said. "Even now, you may notice that the sun has come back and the air around you is warming. As the temperature rises past sixty degrees, past seventy degrees, you can feel yourself becoming warmer and warmer. How much more comfortable will you feel at eighty degrees?"

Claire's goosebumps smoothed out and her body took on a much more relaxed, comfortable posture. "Keep going," I suggested. "Let's try the other extreme."

I could see the wheels turning in Monica's face. "Okay. And now, Claire, as you become increasingly aware of the heat of the sun on your body, you may be surprised to know that the temperature continues to rise to ninety degrees. Can you notice an increased tendency to sweat as the temperature reaches one hundred degrees?"

On the blanket, Claire was fidgeting again. Beads of sweat formed all over her body.

"As it gets hotter still, one hundred five degrees, can you sense the humidity in the air? And how will you try to remain comfortable as the temperature reaches one hundred ten degrees?"

Rivulets of sweat were now running down Claire's front. Her arms went behind her back and neck and pulled, freeing the strings on the bikini top. She wadded it up on one hand and began patting herself down, using the bikini to absorb sweat. Monica looked back at me sheepishly. "Oops!"

Claire was starting to pull at her bikini bottom. "You'd better bring her back down," I advised.

Monica grabbed her newspaper again and started fanning Claire. "And now, Claire, a pleasing afternoon breeze comes across your body, cooling the air around you to ninety degrees again. It feels so good now, so comfortable, that you can just lie back and enjoy it without removing any more clothing. The air is exactly the right temperature now; even as the breeze subsides you can remain comfortable exactly as you are."

Claire looked like someone napping after an exhausting workout. Her skin glistened with unwiped sweat. Her breasts moved slowly with each deep, easy breath and her arms lay rag-like at her sides. Monica must have seen me looking; when my gaze turned back to her she was smirking slightly. "Would you like to rub some more lotion on the places she wiped? Sunburned breasts are very uncomfortable."

"I'm not big on fondling the unconscious," I replied, disappointing the user. "She can do it herself in a few minutes. Why don't you proceed to the next suggestion?"

Monica smiled. "You just keep surprising me, Jack." Addressing herself back to Claire, she continued with the exercise. "And now, Claire, for a direct suggestion. In a few moments I'm going to count to three. On the count of three you can open your eyes and find yourself feeling completely awake and aware, but remaining deeply hypnotized. It will seem to you as if the beach is completely deserted. No sight, sound, feeling, or smell will reveal to your conscious mind that there is anyone on this beach except you. You'll be able to get up, call out, look around, or do anything else you want to but you will always remain on this beach blanket and your subconscious will always respond to my voice, even though your conscious mind won't hear it. One, two, three."

Claire's eyes opened and immediately squinted against the bright sun. She sat up and looked around. "Where the hell did everyone go?" she asked the air.

Monica waved her hand in front of Claire, but the girl paid no attention. "You need to apply more sun block to your chest," Monica said.

Claire looked down at her own chest and ran a finger across her skin. "Uh-oh," she muttered. "Good thing I woke up." She pulled her bag closer, pulled out a bottle of sun block, and applied a liberal amount to her bare breasts and chest area. Then she looked around again. "Monica? Jack?"

With no answer, she stood up and looked as far as she could see in all directions. "Monica! Jack!" she called out, cupping her hands around her mouth and projecting. She took a few steps forward, causing Monica to scramble back without looking first and land in my lap. That created a minor dilemma for me: I should have been watching Claire for signs of any problem, but too much of my mind kept paying attention to the feel of Monica's rump pressing against my groin, and noticing that her bikini bottom had slipped down a little as she scooted. And these thoughts were beginning to have physical consequences that Monica would be noticing shortly if things didn't change.

But they did. Claire gave up shouting and returned to her seat, allowing Monica to roll out of my lap and back to hers, adjusting her suit along the way. She looked back at me, grinning, and mouthed the words, "Was it good for you too?"

"And now, Claire," Monica said, "you can let your eyes close down and drift back into deep, deep hypnosis."

We exchanged a look. "Last one," I prompted.

She nodded and perched again right next to Claire. "The next time I count to three, Claire, you will come out of hypnosis and wake up completely, feeling refreshed and energetic and completely at ease. All of your senses will report correct information again, and you will realize that we are back and that there are other people on the beach as well. However, every time either Jack or I say the word 'touch,' you will feel as though someone you can't see has tickled you in a very sensitive place. You'll know that it isn't me or Jack doing the tickling, but you won't have any idea who it is or where it's coming from. One ..."

I reached out and tapped Monica on the back. "You have to give it a definite end point," I counseled. "A signal or a time limit that ends the suggestion."

She nodded. "more thing, Monica," she continued, using the word she'd already spoken. You will feel that tickling every time Jack or I say the word 'touch' until Jack tells you that you are no longer ticklish. Once he tells you that, the word 'touch' will no longer make you feel as if you are being tickled." She looked back at me and I nodded approval. "One, two, three -- wide awake."

While Claire was waking up, I grabbed the cooler. "Who wants a drink?" I asked, as a distraction. "Claire?"

"I'll take a Sprite," she said. "My mouth is dry."

I handed her a cold can. A drop of chilly water ran down the side of the can as she took it and landed squarely on a nipple. "Ack!" she yelped at the sudden cold. Then her eyes widened and she looked at Monica accusingly. "What happened to my top?"

Monica blushed. "I, uh, made you feel like it was a hundred and ten degrees out here. You took it off and used it as a sweat rag, then tossed it aside somewhere."

Claire felt around her seat area and found it wadded up in the sand next to our blanket. "Yuck," she groused, "it's got sand all through it. I can't put this back on."

"That's horrible," I joked. Then I had to dodge a sand-infested bikini top as it was flung toward my face.

"For what it's worth, Claire," Monica added in, "Jack didn't even try to touch you."

At the magic word, Claire suddenly bounced upward, spilling icy cold Sprite onto herself. "Something just grabbed my ass!" she squealed. "And holy shit is that cold!"

"That should feel good," I said. "When it's hot out like this, I love to let something cold touch my skin."

Claire jumped again, this time to one side as if someone had goosed her armpit. "Hey!" she said, looking in Monica's direction.

"Don't look at me that way. I didn't touch you."

"Eek!" Claire rolled off the blanket and lifted up one side to look underneath.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"Whatever it is that keeps tickling me!"

I feigned confusion. "I didn't see anything touch you." While Claire yelped again, I looked to Monica. "Did you see anything touch Claire?"

Monica shook her head. "No touch that I could see. And I didn't touch her, and you didn't touch her. Did you touch yourself, Claire?"

Claire was writhing on the sand, giggling and spilling her soda everywhere. "Stop it!" she cried out loud. "Whoever you are, wherever you are, stop it now!"

We worked in a few more touches until Claire was laughing too hard for coherent speech, at which point I took pity on her. "This is very odd," I said, "because I know for a fact that you are no longer ticklish."

Claire finished laughing and let her body sprawl, half on the blanket and half off. She rolled over onto her back and looked up at me gratefully. Her chest was heaving, and her nipples stood fully erect and begging to be played with. I couldn't resist flicking a little sand off of one of them. "Somebody enjoys being tickled more than she's willing to admit," I mused with a smile.

"I will get both of you for this," our victim promised. "But first, I'm going to rinse this sand off and get another drink." She rose to her feet, dropped the glasses, and ran for the water. Monica and I watched her take a few splashing strides and then dive into the surf.

Monica and I sat quietly for a moment or two. Then her eyes met mine. "Well, Professor?"

"I'd say you pass," I assessed. "But you're probably in for some interesting paybacks when we continue. Are you nervous?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Claire's not the vindictive type, for one thing; she won't do anything worse to me than I did to her. And, worst case, there's nobody on this beach that we're likely to see again after this week is over, other than you."

I wanted to follow up on that, but Claire rejoined us at that moment. I handed her another Sprite. Claire took a long pull from the can, then sat down cross-legged in front of me facing Monica. "Here," she said, handing me the bottle of sun block over her shoulder. "While you're in the neighborhood, you can do my back."

So I spread the lotion on her back while Claire spread some on her front, replacing what had been washed away by her brief swim. Then she pointed at Monica. "You're starting to look a little pink in the middle, Mon," she said. "You'd better slap some more on." She took the bottle back from me and held it out toward Monica.

Monica's hand came out to take the offered bottle, only to have Claire pull the bottle away. She grabbed Monica's wrist and lifted the hand up to Monica's face. "Watch this hand," she commanded firmly and quickly. "Notice the changing focus in your eyes as your hand drifts slowly up to touch your face, letting it happen honestly and easily, knowing that as soon as that hand touches your face your eyes will close down and take you into deep, deep hypnosis ... now." Monica's hand drifted toward her face as Claire spoke. At the final now, Claire pushed the back of Monica's hand just a little, causing it to touch Monica's face.

Monica crumpled and fell forward into Claire's waiting arms. "That's right," she crooned, "Deeper and deeper. Letting each breath take you deeper into hypnosis. Feeling yourself sinking down, drifting down, all the way down." As she spoke, she gently guided Monica's limp body down onto the blanket, propping her up on the backrest. Monica's legs were folded loosely together, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Her head lolled over to one side, eyes closed, lips slightly parted.

"Very impressive," I said, watching Claire closely as she took a sitting position next to her victim. "Can I see your suggestions, please?"

Claire pulled out her index card from inside her bag. "Hold on a second," she said, retrieving a pen as well. "I want to make a last-minute substitution." She scratched something out and wrote briefly, then handed me the card.

She'd scratched out the first suggestion too thoroughly for me to make it out, then scrawled next to it the replacement: Take off her bikini.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" I asked. "She might not go for it."

"She will," Claire said confidently. "Miss Monica keeps her wild side pretty well hidden, but it's there. And it's been coming out to play a little down here. Besides, she did it to me; her conscience will dictate that I can now do it to her."

I shrugged. "We'll see. If she wakes up and tells you off, that could be the end of the whole course."

She winked at me. "Not a chance. I've learned from the master himself." Turning back to Monica, she let her voice drop back to a fair imitation of my hypnotic tone. "And now, Monica, as you lie back drifting deeper and deeper into hypnosis, I wonder if you can notice that you have sand inside your bikini. Gritty, rough, abrasive, uncomfortable sand. Some people say that a bathing suit with sand inside it is incredibly uncomfortable to wear, and that it's far better to be on the beach naked than to be stuck wearing an itchy, scratchy, sand-encrusted bikini."

Monica frowned. Her hands began to move toward her body, which twisted slightly as if trying to get comfortable.

"That's right," Claire continued. "You may already be starting to feel the sand scratching against your skin in your most sensitive areas. It gets into everything, doesn't it? And one might even find, Monica, that the more you try to get comfortable the more uncomfortable you will find it having all that sand in your bikini. Eventually, you'll realize that it must come off in order for you to be able to relax and be comfortable. Only when the bikini comes completely off will you be free of the itchy, scratchy, irritating feel of sand against your skin."

They were very well-worded indirect suggestions, and the effects were dramatic. Monica's hands slipped into her suit, trying to brush out the sand she imagined was in there. As Claire continued bombarding her with indirect suggestions of increasing discomfort and of the futility of trying to remove the sand without removing the bikini, Monica grew increasingly fidgety. After about a minute of fidgeting, Monica finally reached behind her, unfastened the bikini top, and flung it aside. As I'd suspected that first night, Monica's breasts were spectacular: firm, teardrop-shaped, made by God to fit into a man's hand and be adored.

"That's right," Claire said. "And now that your breasts are free of that irritating, itchy bikini, you can notice how much better they feel. And I wonder when you'll decide to have that same comfortable feeling between your legs instead of the itchy, scratchy, sand that's inside your bikini bottom. It would feel so good to just pull off that bikini bottom now and get the sand away from your privates."

I thought for sure this would be it -- that Monica would wake up, grab her jumper, and head for the hotel. Instead, she lifted her hips off the blanket and slid the bikini bottom off, tossing it aside into the sand next to her top. My eyes opened wide as I beheld her flaming red tuft, neatly trimmed into a racing stripe that led to the delights below.

A sharp slap hit my knee and startled me. "Didn't your mother teach you not to stare?" Claire was grinning at me with that lusty sparkle in her eye.

"My mother is probably rolling over in her grave right now," I said, feeling the color rising in my cheeks even as my cock rose in my trunks. "She always hoped I'd give up this hypnotism thing and find honest work."

"And here I am, putting temptation in your path."

I shrugged. "I'm not complaining."

"I didn't think you would." With a wink, she turned back to Monica. "Feels much better now, doesn't it? You can feel so much more comfortable now, relax so much more now, go so much deeper into hypnosis now. And you know that from now on until we leave this island, any time I say the words 'Time out, Monica,' you'll come back to this wonderful place right away. Each time I say 'Time out, Monica,' you can easily and immediately come back into hypnosis just as you are right now."

That was suggestion number two, the posthypnotic trigger. I gave Claire a thumbs-up sign and watched while she moved on to direct suggestion.

"In a few moments, Monica, I'm going to count to three. When I reach three you will wake up feeling completely alert and refreshed. You will know that you're naked and that Jack can see you, and that will be okay with you. It feels good to be naked and to let Jack look at your body; in fact, you will even find that it brings you pleasure to let Jack look at your body. You will also realize that Jack's show is wonderfully entertaining, and a great opportunity to learn more about hypnosis. You will want to make sure that we go to Jack's show tonight, and you'll want to stay for the entire show. And finally, Monica, when Jack says that our lesson is over for today, you'll feel a strong need to go back to our room and take a nap for at least an hour."

I looked quizzically at Claire -- the first and last suggestions she'd given were not on the card at all. She mouthed "trust me" and counted Monica up. As Monica's body began to move again, Claire said the magic words: "Time out, Monica."

The guidance counselor's body dropped back against the back rest immediately, and her arms slumped to her sides. Claire counted her up into alertness again, gave her just enough time to start to sit up, and then dropped her again. "Damn, that's fun," she said to me. "Do you get as big a charge out of that as I do?"

"Sometimes." I picked up the sun block bottle. "When you bring her out of it this time, continue the gesture of handing her this bottle. Her conscious mind will link that to the time just before you induced her, closing the loop, and she'll have complete amnesia for everything that happened in between."

Claire took the bottle from me, then counted Monica up one more time. As Monica stirred, Claire held out the sun block bottle again.

"Thanks," Monica said, taking the bottle. "Give me a minute, and then we can start." She squirted a dollop of the lotion onto her hand and began rubbing it into her skin. Her hand slowed when it touched a breast and Monica looked down at her body. "I seem to have lost something."

"I told you I'd get you back," she said, grinning.

Monica's eyes widened. "You did it already? How? When?"

"Don't you remember?" Claire teased. "How strange."

Monica looked at me again and giggled. "I supposed I deserve this after all," she granted. "I never realized how good it felt to be naked outside. You don't mind the view, do you, Jack?"

I just smiled. "You don't see me reaching to retrieve your bathing suit, do you?"

"See? I knew you were a pervert at heart."

We all had a good chuckle while I, to prove my virtue, did retrieve Monica's bathing suit. "I don't think I'll put it back on," she said, looking at it. "It's full of sand."

I nodded. "In that case, let's wrap things up before anybody starts to burn."

Both girls sat back and looked at me. Neither made any attempt to cover anything. I crossed my legs, hoping it would help to conceal my raging hard-on a little better, and forced my mind back into lecture mode.

"You've both now experienced giving and receiving the three basic types of hypnotic suggestions we discussed yesterday. You did very well at forming your suggestions positively, being very specific with what you wanted the other person to do, and keeping within each other's moral boundaries given this very, shall we say, unique environment.

"You've also learned a couple of different ways to induce trance, which is a good thing. If you only know one way to get someone into hypnosis, you can only hypnotize maybe a fifth of the population. Now you have several options, so you can pick and choose which ones you want to try. Tomorrow I'll give you a couple more to add to your repertoire. Any questions?"

Monica raised her hand. "Why did this work?" she asked, indicating her naked body. "I know I told you yesterday that I'd never strip naked in public."

"How do you feel about it?" I asked, mostly for Claire's benefit.

"Fine," she admitted. "I don't really mind it at all. Not with you, anyway. But that feels strange to me."

I nodded. "Only you can tell for sure, of course, but I can give you my best guess: as often happens with these things, it's the environment. We're out here on the beach, where people tend to be pretty uninhibited even normally. On this beach, a good half to two thirds of the people on it are either topless or completely naked, so it's a context in which nudity is not taboo. Nobody even seems to really look. And within the context of the beach, we've put ourselves in a spot that's more or less apart from everyone else anyway, which adds a degree of privacy. With nobody else near us, it's really just the three of us that are in a position to notice and appreciate our nudity. Through our talks and exercises we've reached a certain level of intimacy where we can feel comfortable with each other."

Monica nodded thoughtfully. "So does that mean that if we asked, you'd take off your trunks?"

Claire was grinning lecherously. "It's only fair, Jack."

I thought for half a second. "Sure, probably," I answered. "But we've been out here long enough now that we really should get out of the sun. Today's lesson is over."

Monica's face glazed for a second. She stretched and yawned, giving me a breathtaking view. "You're right, of course. All this sun is making me sleepy, too. I'm in the mood for an afternoon nap."

We packed our things quickly, the girls slipping back into their terry jumpers for the trip back inside. We shared an elevator as far as the ninth floor, where Monica got out with another yawn and agreed to meet us for dinner at seven. The doors closed behind her, leaving me alone in the elevator with Claire.

"What was that nap suggestion all about?" I asked.

"Simple," she said, pressing her body against mine as the elevator lifted us upward. "All that sitting around half-naked, getting tickled, and shucking Monica out of her bikini made me incredibly hot, and I could tell it was doing the same to you. Now, with Monica off to take a nice afternoon nap, we can go back to your place and do something about it."

It was the best suggestion I'd heard all day.

*** Work in Progress ***

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4