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From: "Mark Wiseman" <wiseguy35@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} BUSMAN'S HOLIDAY (MF md hyp rom cons slow) by Wiseguy [2/9]
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Date: Sat, 01 Sep 2007 07:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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NOTICE: This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity between 
consenting persons. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if 
you find it offensive, then stop reading now.

Teaser:  Jack left stage hypnosis behind years ago. But when he reluctantly 
agrees to do just a couple of shows at an adult vacation resort, his dark 
side comes out to play with a pair of attractive and interesting ladies. A 
hypnoerotic novel (92,000 words, 146 pages).


This story contains the following:

  MF - Sex between an adult male and an adult female
  MD - Male dominant (most of the time)
  HYP - Hypnoerotica:  consensual use of hypnosis with sex
  ROM - Romance:  sex motivated by mutual love (or maybe lust)
  CONS - All sex is by consent
  SLOW - there is no sex in Part 2, though there is a lot of sexual content 
(masturbation, stripping, orgasms...)


This story is Copyright 2002-2007 by Wiseguy and may not be reposted on any 
for-profit system. Posting on a noncommercial site is normally okay, but 
check with me first and do not alter the story in any way.

The full text of this and all Wiseguy stories is available for download 
(text or PDF) or for on-line viewing (HTTP) at my web site, 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Wiseguy/www.

I welcome all comments from readers (wiseguy35@hotmail.com).



BUSMAN'S HOLIDAY

(c) Copyright 2002-2007 by Wiseguy




ii


Several hours later I was sitting in the dressing room, rifling through a 
wooden recipe file. That file, and the little index cards inside, made up 
the closest thing I had to a script for my show. On each card was a brief 
description of a stunt or trick I'd either thought of or used in a show. 
They were divided into categories -- warmups, features, and closers -- and 
ratings.

The warm-ups were the simple things I used early in a show to find out how 
good my volunteers were going to be. The bad smell/good smell gag I'd used 
in the run-through was there, along with a dozen other minor tricks that 
were good for weeding out the spoilsports and the just plain unimaginative.

Features made up the meat of the show. For a two-hour show, I'd pick two or 
three from that section of the file and run my volunteers through them. They 
are mostly exercises in imagination; brief outlines of scenarios in which 
I'd appoint people to play certain types of characters, set up the 
situation, and then let them interact according to their instructions.

Closers were the best and most elaborate of the gags in my little box of 
tricks. They involved even more complex scenes where I could let the best of 
the volunteers really let go and invent things out of whole cloth. I only 
had a few but each was a guaranteed crowd pleaser, sure to end the show on a 
high note.

I don't pick specific cards and plan the show around them, though. Too much 
depends on how many good volunteers I get, what types of suggestions work 
best for them, what the gender and age mix is, etc. No, I typically just 
read through the cards noting which ones I haven't used recently (which in 
this case was all of them, since I hadn't done a show in almost a decade), 
just to have the ideas top of mind.

I sat there with the first set of cards in my hand, leafing through them. 
Most of them had little notes on them: lessons learned from past 
performances, ideas on variations to try, things like that. And, of course, 
the rating. I rate my gags based on the movie rating system -- basically, a 
gag rated PG would be allowed in a movie rated PG or higher. Most of the 
gags in my box were rated PG, PG-13, and R. The R cards were in the back 
section, secured with a thick rubber band, and turned around so the blank 
side faced front.

When I started doing shows, most of the audience was either my fellow 
college students or adults who lived and worked in the area. It was a pretty 
steady crowd, with lots of regulars and a smaller transient set. I started 
out heeding well the advice of my mentor: "Always treat your volunteers like 
members of your family -- with respect." I kept the show clean enough that 
teens could see it, and made a point of never asking anyone to make animal 
noises, take off clothing, or reveal anything personal about themselves.

The first half-dozen shows went beautifully. Then the club owner, a huge man 
named Solly, pulled me aside. "Kid," he told me, "you're pretty good. But 
your audience is shrinking. I'm gonna have to cut back on your slots and get 
some fresh blood in here or this crowd is gonna start spending their dollars 
at that new strip joint across town."

That hurt. Solly cut me down from two shows a week to two shows a month. And 
even then, I became increasingly aware of the growing number of empty seats. 
Solly's other acts were getting more and more racy, catering to the tone of 
the new competition. He started doing wet T-shirt contests, bikini contests, 
comedians known for their blue material. The message was clear: get with the 
program, or get out.

So I got with the program. I started warning my audiences that they may find 
themselves doing things they wouldn't normally do, then spicing up my 
material accordingly. I had people taking off clothes, thinking their sexual 
organs had suddenly gotten huge (or tiny), thinking the audience was naked, 
suddenly feeling sexually drawn to the person next to them. And audiences 
loved it. The more I pushed the envelope, the larger my crowds got and the 
more shows Solly let me do. Since I was paid a percentage of the bar take, 
my income was rising as well. And amazingly, even after getting people to 
debase themselves, I still had no problem finding volunteers. In fact, by 
the end of the first year I had a small cadre of hypno-groupies -- people 
who'd come to show after show, coming on stage as often as I'd let them, 
practically begging me to make them do a striptease or have an orgasm 
whenever someone said "blue" or grope some guy they'd never met before. More 
than a few of my volunteers went home with me after the show, having 
realized that I held a compelling sexual attraction for them beyond that of 
any other man.

Then I started getting invited to do frat parties. The brothers would slip 
me an extra twenty for every girl I got to screw one or all of them while 
under hypnosis. I told myself that I wasn't hurting anyone -- everybody 
knows that hypnosis can't make you do something you wouldn't normally do, 
right?

The turning point for me came when my mentor, the highly-regarded stage 
hypnotist who'd taught me, came to visit. We had a wonderful dinner 
together, catching up on each other's lives, talking about work and family. 
Then he came to one of my shows and sat in the front row. Half an hour into 
the show, he got up and walked out.

It was a cold slap in the face for me. What the hell was I doing? And why 
were these people letting me do it? I never did come up with a good answer 
to the second question, but I knew I needed to change. I told Solly I was 
through, consigned all the R-rated cards to the back of my file, and spent 
the summer mending the damage I'd done to my most important non-family 
relationship. When the fall came again, I found a struggling comedy club on 
the other side of town from Solly's and made an arrangement with them: four 
shows a week, nothing above PG-13, on a straight percentage basis. They went 
for it, and with my newly-aligned moral compass always in front of me both 
the club and I prospered.

And now, as I sat there in the dressing room at Uninhibited, I was removing 
the rubber band from my collection of R-rated gag cards. What would my old 
professor say to this?

There was a soft knock on the door. "Come in."

A slender young woman in black jeans and a black shirt came in: Regan, the 
camera operator. She came in just far enough to allow the door to close. 
"Hi," she said timidly, "I'm Regan. You said to come by before the show?"

"I remember," I assured her, trying my best to look comforting. "We were 
going to help you stay awake during the induction."

She nodded.

"It's really very easy. All we need to do is get you back into hypnosis, and 
then give you a suggestion or two that will keep you nice and alert while 
everyone else is drifting off. Are you ready to do that now?"

A small shrug. "I guess so."

I gave her a paternal smile. "Don't guess," I said. "Be sure. Are you ready 
to go into hypnosis so that I can help you?"

She returned the smile. "I'm sorry. Yes."

"Good." I had her stand facing me, with the makeup chair behind her. "This 
will be quick and easy, and you'll remember everything that happens."

She nodded her understanding. "Now," I continued, letting my voice drop into 
induction mode, "all you have to do is exactly what I tell you, without 
thinking about it too much, and you'll find it very easy to get back into 
hypnosis. I want you to stand here with your feet close together. I'm going 
to touch your forehead with my thumbs, and trace them down the sides of your 
face. While I do, I want you to keep looking directly into my eyes while 
your eyelids follow my thumbs."

Without waiting for a response, I placed my thumbs together with the tips 
touching in the center of her forehead, just below the hairline. Her hazel 
eyes locked onto mine obediently and her feet slid together. Slowly but 
steadily, I separated my hands and traced a line along the top of her head, 
then down her temples. As my thumbs passed over the temples, her eyelids 
tried to follow them and began to close. At the first quick flutter I closed 
my hands, grabbing her head, and firmly pulled it forward while barking the 
command, "Sleep!"

Regan collapsed forward onto my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, holding 
her up against me, and gently steered her into the waiting makeup chair. 
"That's right," I told her, "Sleep now, Regan. Let your entire body relax 
and slow down, your mind floating and drifting, as I settle you comfortably 
in the chair." She was pretty well gone already, but I spent a minute or two 
on a basic deepener anyway. When her arms hung limply at her sides and her 
chin rested on her chest, I figured she was deep enough.

"Regan, you have an important job this evening: you need to run the camera 
for my show. It will be your job to focus tightly on my swirling hypnodisc, 
making sure it shows up and fills the screen on the monitors so that 
everyone can see it clearly. While you are doing that, you might find 
yourself slipping back into hypnosis, as you did earlier today. And that's 
okay. But from now on while you're working at the camera, no matter how 
deeply you find yourself slipping into hypnosis, you'll always be able to 
maintain full alertness. Even though I may be telling everyone to close 
their eyes, your eyes will remain open except when they blink, and you'll 
easily be able to maintain your concentration on your job. You will only go 
into hypnosis if you want to, and if you are not actually working at the 
time."

I looked closely at her, blissfully zoned out before me. There was a time 
when, faced with someone of her age and physical charms, I wouldn't have 
hesitated to get at least a peek at what was under the black work clothes. 
It would be so easy, and nobody would have to know.

The strength of the temptation shocked me a little. I'd been hypnotizing 
attractive young coeds for years, after all -- fully half my practice comes 
from the University. And not once had I ever even fantasized about taking 
advantage of one of them. I thought I was safely beyond that point. Then 
Anita de los Santos's words came back to me: *This place has an aura, a 
reputation. ... The normal rules do not apply.*

Perhaps not, but this girl wasn't a thousand miles from home looking for 
adventure. She was an employee -- my employee, technically. "And now, it's 
time to wake up and go to work. As I count to three you'll feel yourself 
returning to full wakefulness. When I reach three you'll feel refreshed and 
energetic and confident, remembering everything that happened in this room 
clearly and completely. One, two, three."

Her eyes opened and blinked a few times.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

She stretched and smiled, her eyes shining. "I feel great. And awake. And I 
remember everything you said. Will it work?"

"Of course," I assured her, returning the smile. "Did you think that's never 
happened before?"

That got me a chuckle. "I guess not. I'm going to get to work now. Thanks."

She scooted out of the makeup chair and through the door, waving as it 
closed behind her. I went back to browsing through my cards.

As show time edged closer, I found myself getting restless and pacing around 
the green room. There wasn't much to look at in there. On one end hung 
lineup board listing the names of the acts: Coco Brown, the opener; Tony 
Colangelo, the feature; and me, the headliner. On the opposite end there was 
a snack table stocked with coffee and pastries under a wall-hung monitor 
showing the video feed of the show in progress. The heavyset Jamaican woman 
performing now would be Coco Brown, I deduced. When she was replaced by a 
short Italian guy in jeans and a Van Halen sweatshirt, I couldn't stand the 
solitude any longer; I wandered into the main room, trying to get a feel for 
the mood of the crowd.

My attention was immediately diverted, however, when I got my first 
uncropped look at the stage. The cityscape background was still there, 
artfully backlit in red and orange to give it a warm look, but there were no 
chairs and no risers -- nothing but the comic and his microphone stand. 
Where were my chairs?

At far house left, about half way back, I heard a familiar voice. "Jack! 
Over here!" I looked around and spied my lunch companions, Claire and 
Monica. I put the chair mystery out of mind -- Stu Redman must have 
something up his sleeve, I figured -- and headed for them.

"Hi," I said, sliding into the booth next to Monica. "It's good to see a 
pair of friendly faces."

"You probably won't see us from the stage," Monica remarked ruefully. 
"Without your pull, this was the best table we could get."

I jerked a thumb at the stage. "You could join me up there."

She smiled. "We'll see."

"Whatever you're comfortable with," I said. It would be nice to have two 
guaranteed gems on stage, for sure, but I didn't want to be too pushy. For 
one thing, I didn't think I'd have a hard time finding volunteers; for 
another, I could feel the seeds of something between me and the guidance 
counselor trying to take root. Indianapolis isn't that far from Chicago, 
after all. "But if nothing else, can I get you to stay and have a drink with 
me after the show?"

Both nodded their heads. Which was fine; I'd included Claire in the 
invitation too. If things went well, I felt sure we'd be able to send her 
off gracefully.

I looked at my watch. "I'd better get back to the green room," I told them. 
"I'm on in about ten minutes."

Monica leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. "For luck," she said.

"Break a leg," Claire chimed in.

I grinned at both of them. "I hope not -- it would make for a really strange 
ending."




Rudi the sound tech was waiting for me in the green room, staring anxiously 
at the clock. "It's about time," she scolded me. "We should have been done 
with this ten minutes ago." Without waiting for my response, she held up a 
tiny black lavaliere microphone with a white cord. "Inside the shirt, or 
outside?"

I noted the white cord, which matched my shirt. "Let's go inside. I might 
want to lose the jacket once I'm up there."

She nodded. "Smart. Okay, drop the jacket and lift up your shirt."

I complied quickly. Rudi handed me the mic and let me feed it inside the 
front of my shirt, clipping it to front. She secured the cord to my skin 
with two pieces of flexible cloth tape and hung the transceiver on my belt 
in the back. As I tucked my shirt back in, she touched a button on her own 
transceiver unit. "Level check on three. Start talking, Jack."

"There was a farmer had a dog, and Bingo was his name-oh ..." She motioned 
for me to keep going. Thirty seconds always seems like an eternity when you 
have to keep talking.

Finally, she gave me the OK sign and handed me a cordless hand microphone. 
"There's a slide switch on the side if you want to turn it on and off. If 
you see a blue light flashing at you from the booth, it means the lavaliere 
isn't picking you up well enough and you'll need to use this for yourself, 
too."

"Got it," I said, feeling the switch and flipping it up and down a few 
times.

"One more thing: when you get on stage, look for a circle of pink spike 
tape. That's the elevator. Key the hand mic three times when you want us to 
raise it, and three times again when you want us to lower it."

I gave her the thumbs-up. "Thanks."

"Get in here earlier next time." Then she winked and left me alone.

I made my way back stage and cautiously crept forward, hiding myself just 
inside the center opening of the cityscape. On the way, I was impressed to 
notice how much smaller and lighter this transceiver was than mine; I could 
barely feel the weight of the little pack behind me. No wonder Rudi had been 
appalled at the idea of using my old rig.

The comedian finished his act and then, as arranged, introduced me. "Ladies 
and gentlemen, it is my contractual obligation to present to you the 
headline act for this evening." He paused for the small titter from the 
crowd. "Seriously, you folks are in for a treat. I saw this guy doing his 
act in Detroit a few months ago, and it was awesome. He had this beautiful 
heirloom pocket watch and he was swinging in front of the audience, telling 
everyone they were getting sleepy, sleepy, sleepy, until he had everybody in 
a trance. Then he started to put it in his pocket, but he had his hands full 
and he accidentally dropped it. The watch fell off the stage and shattered. 
He looked down at the pieces and said, 'Shit!' It took the staff all night 
to clean up the mess."

I groaned softly. Such an old joke. But he told it well, and the audience 
laughed and applauded for him. "Ladies and gentlemen," he concluded, "let's 
give an Uninhibited welcome to the very talented Jack Trancer!"

As I took the bare stage, I sensed motion around me. From each wing, a pair 
of Redman's stage hands was pushing a curved, two-stage set of risers with 
chairs. I suddenly wondered whether anyone was taping the show. As I moved, 
a spotlight found me and led me to my mark at downstage center. I waved to 
the audience with my right hand and waited for the generous applause and 
music to die down.

"Good evening," I said as the noise quieted. They seemed pretty loose -- 
probably a combination of the preceding comedians and an open bar -- but I 
always start with a joke or two to get things moving. "Thank you. First of 
all, let's hear it one more time for my good friend, Tony Colangelo." I 
didn't know Tony Colangelo from Adam, of course, but he'd given me a good 
set-up so it was incumbent on me to return the favor -- that's why they post 
the names in the green room. "Someday I'm going to get him alone for a few 
minutes, and then maybe I can finally start to live down that Detroit 
thing."

They responded well, laughing loudly. "The scary part of that story is, I 
almost said, 'Fuck me!' instead. That would've made for a whole different 
kind of show." That got me another good, extended laugh as everyone imagined 
my alternate ending. *Not bad for an ad lib*, I thought.

I was feeling good. Sure, this crowd may be three times of the size of any 
I'd ever faced before, but they were relaxed and happy and ready to have 
fun. Time to get to work.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I began, "thank you all for coming to see my show 
tonight. I'm always pleased when I get a good sized crowd like this because 
so many people think that what I do is really fake. By quick round of 
applause, how many of you think that hypnosis is fake?"

They were a little hesitant. "It's okay," I assured them, "I won't be 
offended. How many think this is all bullshit?"

The applause got a little stronger from the back corners of the room. I 
smiled and nodded and waited for it to die down. Then I looked straight out 
at the loudest part of the room. "So what the hell are you doing here?"

Laughter and applause rolled through the room.

"I ask that question all the time, ladies and gentlemen," I told them. "No 
matter where I go, no matter how many shows I do, there are always people 
who think that this is all fake. They think I have people planted in the 
audience that I pay to come up here and pretend to be hypnotized. I can hear 
them sometimes, telling everyone at their table that I'm full of shit. But 
sometimes, my friends, their girlfriend or boyfriend comes up here anyway 
and is absolutely awesome. And you know what happens then? They come up to 
me after the show, they want to shake my hand, they tell me how they always 
knew there was something to this." People started chuckling. "And then comes 
the part I always love to hear: 'My girlfriend was hypnotized tonight,' they 
say. 'Could you teach me to do that at home?' So in the space of two hours 
I've gone from being a bullshit artist to the hypno-pimp."

I paused while they laughed some more. "But seriously, I don't plant people 
in the audience that I can pick to come up here and play along. In fact, I 
don't pick people -- whoever decides to come up here tonight, that's who 
we're going with. I hope that at least some of you will give this a try, 
because if you don't ... well, let's just hope there's something good on 
cable tonight.

"If we get the right kind of people, everyone will have a really good time, 
especially the volunteers themselves. If we get a few of the wrong kind, 
then there's a good chance this show will just suck out loud. So to be fair 
to all of you, let me tell you what I'm looking for and what I'm looking to 
avoid.

"Hypnosis is a very natural thing. People go into hypnosis all the time when 
they read, watch TV, drive, listen to music, whatever. It's a state of 
focused concentration that lets people tap into the creative, spontaneous, 
intuitive part of their mind that we like to call the subconscious. Just 
about anybody can be hypnotized if they want to be, and nobody can be 
hypnotized if they don't want to be. That's just the way it works. Now 
hypnosis does require concentration; if you're the kind of person who can 
tune out distractions when you're trying to get something done, then chances 
are you'll be great up here. If a dripping faucet keeps you awake all night, 
then you'll probably have more fun if you stay in the audience.

"I say this all the time, too: hypnosis is not mind control. If you come up 
here and get hypnotized, you won't find yourself doing anything that you 
personally find immoral or humiliating or wrong. Now having said that, I 
should warn you that most people are willing to go a lot further than they 
think in a setting like this. This is an adult show; I'm basically working 
from the same guidelines as an R-rated movie. If you have hang-ups about 
nudity or adult content, or if you're here with the pastor of your church, 
it might be wise to enjoy the show from the audience.

"And finally, a short list of definite no-no's. If you're drunk, please 
don't come up here. It's very hard to concentrate when you're drunk, and I 
don't want you disturbing the people around you because that ruins the show 
for everyone. If you're just looking to prove that I can't hypnotize you, 
don't bother -- like I said, I can't hypnotize anyone who doesn't want to be 
hypnotized. Save the seat for someone who sincerely wants to play. And if 
you're the kind of person who doesn't like people laughing at stuff they do, 
or if your friends tell you that you don't have a really good sense of 
humor, please stay in your seat. I don't want anyone up here who isn't 
having fun, and I don't want anyone to leave here feeling like they were 
misused in any way.

"Having said all that, let's bring up the house lights. If you'd like to be 
part of the show tonight, please make your way carefully and safely to the 
stage and have a seat in one of the chairs behind me."

The lights came up, and I got my first good look at the audience. There was 
some shuffling and a murmur of conversation, then chairs moved back and 
people started making their way toward the stage. I looked back at the far 
table where Claire and Monica had been. They were still there, looking at 
the people who were heading toward the stage. I was a little disappointed, 
but not too much -- it looked as though I'd have plenty of people to work 
with, and I could always bring them up later if some of the people on stage 
didn't work out.

Then I saw another familiar face, front row center, looking smugly at the 
people as they settled onto the stage: Anita de los Santos. *Come on,* I 
dared her in my mind, *get up here. Let's see how *mui arrecho *you can 
get!* But she didn't come up.

Soon I had eighteen volunteers seated in chairs on the risers, looking at me 
expectantly and, in a few cases, just a little nervously. It was a 
good-looking mix: a dozen women and six men, all members of the resort's 
prime demographic. I looked them over for signs of intoxication or 
belligerence -- they all looked fine. One of them, a young Asian girl in a 
green tank top and black miniskirt, looked familiar, but I couldn't quite 
place her. A former client, perhaps? No matter.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's give a hand to these people who have 
volunteered to entertain us all tonight." I waved down the house lights 
while the crowed applauded politely. With my left thumb, I flipped the 
switch on my handheld microphone up and down three times. A second or two 
later I heard that faint hydraulic hum, and my hypnodisc rose from the trap 
door in the stage. A spotlight caught it as it appeared, making for a nice 
dramatic affect.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is my hypnodisc," I explained. "The most 
effective, most powerful means of inducing hypnosis that I've found in my 
career. In a few moments that disc is going to start slowly spinning, and 
you'll be able to watch and see how the people on stage find their eyes 
drawn to it. Those of you in the audience will be able to watch the disc 
too, if you wish, through the monitor system. But be warned: most people 
find my hypnodisc fascinating, so fascinating that they find themselves 
slipping into hypnosis along with the people on stage. If that happens, 
don't worry; you'll still be able to see and enjoy the show, and you may 
even have an opportunity to join me on stage and become part of the show. 
Even if you stay in the audience, you'll find that letting yourself be 
hypnotized is a great way to enjoy the show, and you'll feel absolutely 
wonderful when the show is over."

I walked over to the hypnodisc and turned on the switch. "Ladies and 
gentlemen on the stage, and in the audience, watch closely now. Try to clear 
your mind now and focus your attention on the center of the spiral. Notice 
how the colors alternate and weave together, drawing you further and further 
into its depths. It may even seem to some of you as if you are falling into 
the swirling depths, even as you remain safely in your seat, relaxing and 
gazing ever deeper into the middle."
All of my volunteers were staring obediently at the hypnodisc. Several of 
them were showing signs of eye fatigue already; a few had already gone into 
a light trance and didn't realize it yet. "That's right. As you continue to 
look into the spiral, your mind blank, your attention fixed completely on 
the spiral, you will soon find that your body begins to relax. The more your 
focus your attention on the spiral, the more your body can relax; the more 
your body relaxes, the more you can focus your complete attention on the 
spiral. You may even find that as you concentrate on the spiral, and your 
body relaxes, that your eyes want to blink. It's okay to blink; that is just 
your eyes relaxing, letting the spiral take you gently into hypnosis. Each 
time you blink, it's a little bit harder to open your eyes again; each time 
you open them, they only want to blink again."

Almost all of my volunteers were blinking heavily now. "With each blink, you 
find that your eyes become more difficult to open, more sleepy, more heavy. 
And that's okay. You can let them close down now, closed and relaxed, as 
your body becomes ever more relaxed. I'm going to count down from five to 
one, and with each count you'll find that your eyes become twice as tired, 
twice as sleepy, twice as hard to keep open. You can let them close down 
now, or as soon as you'd like, letting them close and relax completely when 
I reach the count of one." I watched my volunteers while I counted down. All 
but three of them closed their eyes before the count of two. The holdouts 
closed them down at one, on my command.

It was hardly necessary for most of them, but I led the volunteers through a 
good, strong deepener anyway. When I got through with that, my best 
prospects were slumped against each other, barely remaining seated, and the 
holdouts were looking pretty well along as well. I switched off the 
hypnodisc and signaled for the crew to lower it down while I set up the 
first test.

"Ladies and gentlemen in the audience," I said in a low voice, "if you look 
around the room you may notice that there are a number of people around you 
who are also deeply hypnotized. I know it's tempting, I know why you're 
going to want to do it, but please do not disturb those people. They are not 
missing the show; in fact, they may find themselves becoming part of it 
later on. Just let them be.

"To the people on stage, you may notice as you sit there, drifting ever 
deeper into hypnosis, that there is movement around you or noise coming from 
the audience. None of that needs to disturb you; in fact, every sound you 
hear or movement you sense will just help you drift even deeper into 
hypnosis. Some of the suggestions I'm going to give you will be meant for a 
short time, and some for the entire evening. All I ask is that you take 
every suggestion I make quite literally, and allow your natural creativity 
to come to the foreground. No matter what happens on stage, you'll always 
feel totally comfortable, remaining safely seated in your chair, having a 
good time.

"In a few moments I'm going to count from one to three. When I reach three, 
I want everyone on stage and everyone in the audience to open your eyes, 
remaining deeply hypnotized and ready to follow my suggestions. I'm going to 
start out by asking you a very simple question. When I ask the question, 
you'll instantly know the answer and you'll be very eager for me to call on 
you to give me the answer; however, the second I put my microphone near you 
face, the answer will completely disappear from your mind. No matter what 
anyone says to you or shows you, the answer to my question will be 
completely gone from your mind and it will stay gone. If someone tries to 
tell you the answer, what they say won't make any sense to you. If you see 
the answer written somewhere, the letters won't make sense to you either. 
The only way you'll be able to remember the answer to my question is if I 
snap my fingers right next to your ear.

"Now, everyone on stage and everyone in the audience, let us begin. One, 
breathing a little faster now; two, feeling some energy returning to your 
body; three, eyes open, still deeply hypnotized." I looked at my two rows of 
volunteers. They returned my gaze expectantly, waiting obediently to see 
what would happen next.

"I'd like to start off by getting to know you all a little bit," I said, 
walking over to stage left. Sitting on the end of the first row was the 
Asian lady who'd caught my eye earlier. "We'll start over here. My first 
question for you all is, what is your name?"

On cue, every hand on stage went up into the air. I held the mic out to the 
young lady. "What is your name?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. A look of shock, 
surprise, and embarrassment came over her pretty face. "Remember that look," 
I said to the laughing audience. "That's exactly what we want here."

I left her looking dumbfounded and tried the guy next to her. "Your name, 
sir?"

I got another blank look. "Somebody must know," I remarked, and went down 
the line. Of my eighteen volunteers, six managed to tell me their names.

Just for fun, I want back to my first victim. "Have you remembered you name 
yet, Miss?"

She looked up at me with confusion and perhaps a touch of fear. "No."

I pretended to think about it. "Hmmm. Did you know it when you came in?"

"I think so."

"Let's see if we can get you some help. Does anyone in the audience know 
this young lady's name?"

From house left, in the shadows, someone yelled out, "Laurel!"

"Ah, thank you. Someone over there says your name is Laurel. Is that right?"

Again, the blank look. "What did you say?"

She was getting a little spooked. "Never mind," I said, "I'm sure it will 
come back to you just like that." As I said "that," I put my left hand next 
to her ear and snapped my fingers.

The effect on Laurel was electric. She jumped up in her seat and shouted, 
"Laurel! My name is Laurel!" Then she grinned at me as if she'd just guessed 
the answer to the $64,000 question.

"Are you sure?" The audience laughed.

"Oh, totally. I can't believe I forgot that for a minute."

"That's great," I told her. "Can I ask you another question? What do you do 
for a living, Laurel?"

Her mouth opened, then her eyes opened wide. "I ... I ..."

The audience loved it, of course. I let her stew for just a few seconds. 
"Never mind, Laurel. It's probably the lights up here. In fact, I'm going to 
lower my hand and as I do, the lights will come down. As the lights come 
down, I'd like everyone on stage and in the audience to just let your eyes 
close down, let your body relax, and sleep." I drew out the word "sleep" as 
I lifted and then dropped my arm. On cue, the lights dimmed and my 
volunteers' heads dropped.

It was time to begin the weeding out. Addressing the six people who had 
remembered their names, I had them wake up and carefully make their way back 
to their seats in the audience. That left me an even dozen for the next 
test. I opted for the bad smell gag that I'd used in the run-through. It 
worked very well on eight of them; four didn't react as much, so I dismissed 
them too. It was time for one more test.

"People on stage, and also in the audience, in a moment I'm going to count 
to three again. At the count of three you'll open your eyes and sit up, 
feeling comfortable and relaxed, remaining deeply hypnotized. You'll also 
feel very happy and talkative; you'll want to tell me whatever random things 
happen to pop into your mind. At some point while we're talking I'm going to 
snap my fingers twice into the microphone and when that happens, you're 
going to find that all of your clothing has dissolved and fallen away. In 
fact, you and everyone you look at will be completely naked, including me. 
One, two, three."

The lights came up. I took a few minutes to get to know my volunteers a 
little bit. Besides Laurel, who turned out to be a paralegal on vacation 
with friends, I had: Brad, a computer service guy; Jennifer, a department 
store clerk; Jim, an auto mechanic; Nicole, a medical student; Brenda, a car 
saleswoman; David, an architect; and Sophie, an HR director. "Thanks very 
much for coming up here tonight," I said to them. "I think you'll find that 
the time passes just like that." Looking straight out into the house, I 
snapped my fingers twice into the mic. I heard gasps from the volunteers 
behind me, and from quite a number of places nearby in the crowd as well.

I decided to have some fun with my volunteers. Approaching the lip of the 
stage, I squatted down to talk to the people there. As soon as I did, a 
fresh round of squeals and howls came from the crowd, as the people on stage 
reacted to what they thought was my naked butt in a squatting position. "You 
think that's good?" I said. "Watch this: when I snap my fingers again, my 
penis will grow to enormous size -- I'm talking two feet long and three 
inches thick." I snapped, then stood up. Slowly, I turned to face my 
volunteers.

At that point I was looking for two things: their reaction to my enormous 
penis, for its entertainment value, and their body posture, for what it 
would tell me about how much farther I could push the limits.

The reaction was great. All of the women stared at my crotch with a sort of 
disturbed fascination. The men looked anywhere else they could -- mostly at 
the women, seeing them naked in their minds. Just for fun, I walked around a 
little and let my imaginary manhood sway. The audience hooted and clapped 
and laughed. Meanwhile, I evaluated my volunteers for the rest of the show.

Laurel was definitely a keeper. She was clearly taking in the sights, but 
her body language was very open. She had her hands at her sides, legs 
loosely together and tucked under the chair, apparently quite at ease with 
being naked. Brenda, on the other hand, had one arm clenched around her 
breasts and the other hand shielding her crotch, legs pressed tightly 
together. I'd keep her, but take it easy on her. Brad seemed to be Laurel's 
male counterpart, sitting back comfortably enjoying the view, not seeming 
too concerned about his own exposure. David was flushed red, holding his 
hands in his lap, looking straight ahead. Everyone else fell somewhere in 
between, with Brenda being the only woman actively trying to cover her 
chest. That was a good omen for me.

"I'm sorry," I said to my volunteers, "obviously this is making some of you 
uncomfortable. At the next snap of my fingers, my penis will return to its 
normal size." Winking at the audience, I added, "Nine inches, semi-erect." I 
snapped, and the reaction of my volunteers was good. The women looked 
lustfully, the men wistfully, at my resized member.

And then, as I paced the front of the stage, I noticed one more pair of eyes 
fixed on my crotch: those of Anita de los Santos. She eyed my package like a 
hungry man contemplating a fresh T-bone steak. This was too good to pass up.

I stepped off the front of the stage into the audience area. A spotlight 
came on and surrounded me almost immediately. I walked over to Anita de los 
Santos and held the microphone near her face. "How are you this evening?" I 
asked casually.

"I feel wonderful, *Senor *Jack," she said.

"You seem to be very interested in something," I remarked, swinging my hips 
a little bit.

She smiled, looking again at my crotch. "You have a fine *pene*, *Senor 
*Jack. It is no wonder that you enjoy showing it off."

The audience roared. "Thank you," I said. "Everyone in the audience, and 
everyone on stage, please let your eyes close down now and sleep." I waved 
the lights down low as heads all around me dropped onto chests -- including 
the head of Anita de los Santos and the man next to her.

"For the people in the audience," I said, "when I touch your shoulder I'd 
like you to open your eyes and look up at me, still remaining deeply 
hypnotized, and answer my questions. You'll find that talking to me helps 
you to sink even deeper into hypnosis." I placed a finger on Anita's 
shoulder and watched as her head rose up to look at me.

"What is your name?" I knew, of course, but the audience didn't.

"Anita."

"Anita, are you enjoying my show so far?"

"Very much, *Senor.*"

"Thank you," I said. "My show is always enjoyable when I have enough people 
with strong, creative minds on stage helping me. You seem to have a very 
creative mind, Anita, and I know that you'd like nothing more than to become 
part of my show, would you not?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Good. Anita, in a moment I'd like you to help me by very carefully going up 
on stage and sitting down in one of the empty chairs. As soon as you sit 
down in the chair, you're going to let your eyes close down and your body 
relax completely, letting your mind sink a hundred times deeper into 
hypnosis. Do that now, please."

She stood up slowly and made her way to the stage, taking an empty seat 
downstage right. I asked the tech crew to give me a little more house light, 
and took a look around for more likely prospects. My eyes sought out Claire 
and Monica. I could just see them, sitting with their heads down, obviously 
well out of it. But they were so far from the stage, with so many obstacles 
to get around, that it would be too hard to bring them up. Next time, maybe.

From my left, a female voice squeaked, "Over here!" I followed the voice and 
spotted two excellent-looking candidates at a table by themselves: a cute 
brunette in a leather mini and tube top, and a slim dark-haired guy in jeans 
and a polo shirt. I thanked my informant and sent them to the stage as well. 
That gave me eleven on stage, which would be enough to work with.

First things first. "People in the audience, I am about to count up to 
three. As I count to three, you'll feel yourselves coming out of hypnosis. 
By the time I reach three you will be completely awake, eyes open, no longer 
hypnotized. You'll find that you can easily remember your name and the 
answer to any other question you may be asked. In fact, you'll find that all 
of the suggestions I've given tonight thus far are completely cancelled for 
you. You'll also find that you feel happier, calmer, more energetic than 
you've felt in a long time. When you are ready to go to sleep tonight, 
you'll find that you can easily close your eyes, feel your whole body slow 
down, and sleep deeply and easily for as long as you're supposed to, then 
wake feeling refreshed and ready for a new day." I counted them up and 
watched as the ones I could see lifted their heads and looked around, 
smiling and stretching. I couldn't see them, but I knew Claire and Monica 
would be doing the same.

I made my own way back to the stage, the spotlight following me. "People on 
the stage, when I count to three you will sit up and open your eyes, feeling 
energetic and happy and wanting to talk, but remaining deeply hypnotized and 
obeying my every suggestion. You will also wake up with a new identity; 
instead of the person you were when you came up on stage you will be a 
well-known fairy tale character, taking part in a Jerry Springer show where 
we explore what it's really like to have lived a fairy tale. You will see me 
as Jerry, hosting the show. People think everyone lives happily ever after 
when these stories are over, but you've been there and you know that's not 
the case. In fact, being a fairy tale character sucks for a variety of 
reasons that you'll be very eager to tell the audience about. Every time 
someone else gives a reason their life is tough, you'll think of an even 
better reason why you had it worse than they did."

I walked over to Anita de los Santos and touched her on the shoulder. "For 
the person whose shoulder I am touching now, you will realize that you are 
none other than the old woman who lived in a shoe. Your life is hell because 
you have more children than anyone could possibly count, and not one of them 
calls you on Mother's Day. They're all grown up now, but they don't do a 
damn thing to help you out and they keep asking you to babysit for them 
while they go out on the town."

Brad came next. "When you open your eyes, you will be the huntsman from Snow 
White. You're pissed off because you saved that ungrateful bitch from 
certain death, only to have her run off and leave you for some no-name 
prince. And those dwarves were no picnic to deal with, either."

I continued in this vein, giving each of my subjects a character. Jim and 
Jennifer became two of the Three Little Pigs, bitter because their smarter 
brother won't let them live in his brick house. Nicole and Brenda became the 
wicked stepsisters of Cinderella, with all the emotional baggage that comes 
with it. David I christened Rumpelstiltskin, and Sophie became the Princess 
from "Princess and the Pea." To my newest recruits, whose real names were 
Amy and Will, I gave the identities of Hansel and Gretel. And Laurel, who 
was looking like the crown jewel of the lot, took on the persona of Little 
Red Riding Hood.

The stage lights came up as I counted to three. "Thank you all for coming, 
ladies and gentlemen," I said to the audience. "Today's theme is, 'Happily 
Ever After'. As you can see, we have some very famous people up here with us 
who are all living happily ever after, and --"

"Bullshit, Jerry!"

I turned around to see Laurel glaring at me. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Laurel leaned into the mic. "I said bullshit, Jerry. Everybody thinks we 
have this wonderful, happily-ever-after thing going on, but it's all a lie. 
My life sucks."

I feigned surprise. "But you escaped from the wolf, didn't you?"

"Sure," she said, "and don't think it wasn't fun seeing the woodsman put an 
arrow through that sadistic bastard, either. But did you ever wonder what 
happened when I got home? My folks went ape-shit! They grounded me for three 
months, and they made me wear a damned beeper any time I left the house."

Nicole broke in. "Ha! At least you had a starring role. We got five minutes 
at the beginning of the story, and then stood around like extras at the end 
while that bitch Cinderella took all the glory."

Brenda nodded emphatically. "When was the last time you saw a kid dressed as 
one of us for Halloween, eh?"

Laurel had an answer. "So? At least nobody tried to *eat* your ass! I had a 
homicidal wolf chasing me around the house!"

Soon I had everyone chiming in. Brad moaned about being left for a no-name 
pretty boy with a fancy title; Anita complained bitterly about her lot in 
life, and tried to convince Laurel that if she'd visited her Grandma sooner 
she'd still be alive today. Sophie kept shifting in her chair, unable to get 
comfortable, and bristled when Jim and Jennifer kept referring to her as 
Miss Fancy Pants. Hansel and Gretel got into a major sibling tiff over who 
was really responsible for their ordeal in the first place. David, as 
Rumplestiltskin, sat back and cackled at the whole thing, then launched into 
an impassioned speech about how nobody appreciates a good villain anymore. 
And through it all, the audience cheered and clapped and laughed themselves 
silly. I let it go until it appeared a fistfight was about to break out 
between Rumplestiltskin and the woodsman, then commanded them all to sleep 
and waved the lights down.

I had a great group; now it was time to see how far they'd let me take them. 
"As you sit, drifting deeper and deeper into hypnosis, your fairy tale past 
fades away from your mind for the time being and you are simply you. In a 
few minutes I'm going to count up from three again, and when I do you will 
open your eyes, becoming alert and animated, but still deeply hypnotized. 
You will then realize that you are all neighbors from the same trailer park 
in Mississippi, and that a few nights ago something truly frightening and 
remarkable happened: an alien spaceship landed in the middle of your trailer 
park. The aliens came out of the ship and crashed a party you were all 
having, abducted some of you and used you for all kinds of sexual 
experiments. When they'd had their way with all of you, they got back in 
their ship and flew away, leaving no traces of their visit other than the 
affects on all of you. You will recognize me as a network news anchorman 
here to get your side of the story, because the government is trying to 
cover it all up and claim it never happened. We're on live TV, but you won't 
let that bother you because you know that they can bleep out anything they 
need to and cover you with those blue dots if they need to. As you listen to 
each other tell about the events of that night, you'll always remember more 
things that fit into the general story that comes out, and what you remember 
will get more and more outrageous as the interview progresses."

Once again, I picked a few of my best victims for special instructions. 
Touching Laurel, I told her that the aliens had made a physical change to 
her body that she desperately needed to show me to prove they had been 
there. Brad, I decided, would have an extremely foul mouth -- so foul that 
every sentence he spoke would contain at least one word that can't be said 
on television. "However," I added, "the aliens noticed this and planted a 
V-chip in your head. Whenever you start to say a cuss word, the V-chip kicks 
in and shuts off your voice until the cuss word is over, then turns it back 
on automatically. That really pisses you off and makes you want to cuss all 
the more."

And for Anita, I had a special suggestion. "The aliens implanted a special 
chip in your brain as well," I told her. "Every time you hear one of the 
other people on stage describe something that the aliens did to them, the 
chip in your head will react by giving you a strong sexual stimulus. Each 
time the chip reacts, you will become more and more *arrecho* until you 
can't help but start touching yourself and having orgasms in response to 
it."

Then, to put the icing on the cake, I touched David. "You are a 
representative of the United States government. Your job is to listen to 
everything these people claim happened and then provide a perfectly 
reasonable, rational explanation for it that has nothing to do with aliens. 
No matter how bizarre the stories, you will always be able to remain calm 
and come up with an explanation that sounds normal to you because you know 
for a fact that there never were any aliens and these people are just making 
it all up in a transparent attempt to get money from the tabloids."

Having set the table, it was time to wake the diners. I faced the audience 
for the opening. "Ladies and gentlemen in our studio audience and all across 
America, the people you see before you have a truly horrific story to tell. 
Rather than engage in a long preamble, let's just have them tell it. Who 
will go first?"

Jennifer put her hand up quickly, so I started with her. "We was outside 
havin' a barbecue," she began. The audience laughed immediately; Jennifer 
had taken the Mississippi part to heart, and was speaking in a thick 
Southern drawl. "When all of a sudden like, there was these lights in the 
sky."

Jim leaned over in front of Jennifer with a goofy grin on his face. "Hi, 
Maw!"

She swatted him. "Shut up and wait your turn! As I was sayin', there was 
these lights. I didn't know what they was at first. Jim Bob and me just 
looked at 'em and wondered, y'know? We ain't never seen nothin' like that 
before. And they kept gettin' closer, and dancin' around and all, and me and 
Jim Bob was just confused by it all, we didn't know what it was."

"A space ship!" Brad shouted from behind her. "It was a m---f--- space ship! 
Get to the f--- point, you stupid b---!"

I feigned confusion. "Is there something wrong with your voice, sir?"

Brad leaned into the microphone. "Of course there's something wrong with my 
m---f--- voice, you a---hole. Those g---d--- c---sucking aliens put a 
m---f--- chip in my head!"

"They did what?"

Brad sighed heavily. "They knocked me out with some kind of m---f--- stun 
ray, they cut a big f--- hole in my head, and they put a m---f--- chip in my 
g---d--- brain. They're f--- controlling my f--- language!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Anita squirming in her chair.

"Um, excuse me?" David was gesturing for the microphone.

"Ah," I said, "our representative from the government. Did you have 
something to say in response, sir?"

David nodded. "This man is clearly delusional. The odd quirk in his speech 
is most likely a hysterical reaction to being punished for swearing as a 
child. Assuming, of course, that he isn't faking it altogether."

Brad growled. "Why you c---s--- son of a b---!"

"Then what about this?" Laurel butted in, her voice also bending into a 
pleasing Southern drawl. She pulled down the left shoulder strap of her tank 
top to reveal her breast, and then it finally hit me why she had seemed 
familiar: the newly-exposed breast was adorned with an ornate dragon tattoo. 
Its tail snaked down the breast, circled the areole, and ended at the 
nipple, which was pierced by a curved gold needle with an arrowhead on each 
end. "Is this a hysterical reaction? The aliens put this mark on me to show 
that I'm good breeding stock. They paralyzed me with that ray of theirs, 
took me up to their ship, and they poked and prodded my naked body with all 
kinds of weird machines and needles. Then they put this mark on me and put 
me back, but I know what they're planning to do -- they told me so."

"*Dios mio!*" Anita was panting heavily, her hands wandering over her own 
body.

David looked casually at the offered breast. "Really? It looks to me as 
though you simply got drunk and went to a tattoo parlor."

"We was experimented on, too." My newest recruits, Amy and Will, were 
leaning toward me. Amy nodded, holding Will's hand as he spoke. "We was 
doin' the deed, if you know what I mean." Amy blushed and looked downward at 
the admission, while Will simply grinned and continued. "I guess them aliens 
was fascinated by it -- they ain't never seen two people bonin' before, I 
suppose. These lights came on all bright and stuff, and I could tell we was 
bein' watched. Amy Jo here said to stop, and I did, but then this red ray 
hit us and Amy Jo started moanin' and twitchin' and my little general got to 
throbbin', and all of a sudden I was hornier than a ten-peckered owl. I 
started puttin' the stones to Amy Jo like we was makin' one of them porno 
movies. And then all of a sudden it felt like I was pullin' out, but I 
wasn't -- I was bein' picked up by somethin' and floating in the air. Amy Jo 
was lookin' up at me all strange and said don't stop now, and I told her I 
couldn't help it, and she started cummin' like nobody's business."

From my left, I heard Anita groaning. "Did you say something, Miss?" I held 
out the microphone to her.

"*Yo no lo puedo ayudar,*" she heaved. "*Estoy por acabar!*"

"Yeah," Will agreed, "that's what she sounded like, 'cept Amy Jo don't speak 
no Spanish. And then I felt this tube thing slide over my pecker, and some 
kind of little electric shock like, and my eyes rolled back up my head and I 
started spurtin' like a goddanged fire hose."

He was interrupted by Anita, who was crying out incoherently in Spanish. 
Both hands were inside the waistband of her skirt and working furiously as 
she babbled and moaned.

I let her go until the audience's reaction began to quiet along with her own 
gasps. Then I held the mic out to David. "What do you make of all this?"

He scowled. "That woman is clearly a nymphomaniac," he diagnosed, then 
paused while the audience collectively screamed with laughter. "As for the 
rest of them, I'll be conducting a careful search of the trailers after this 
interview is finished. I'm sure a few drug-sniffing dogs will turn up the 
real cause of all this in no time flat."

Half my volunteers had a ready response for that, but I know a good ending 
line when I hear one. I waved the lights down and sent them all back to 
sleep.

While the audience showed their appreciation loudly and generously, I 
pondered the minor dilemma I had just crafted for myself: how the hell do 
you top something like that? You don't, I decided -- you accept the gift, 
let it be the climax of the show, and go for a nice, gradual transition to 
the ending. Instead of concluding with another elaborate scenario, I opted 
for the stage hypnotist's equivalent of a fugue: a number of loosely-related 
ideas intertwined and played against each other.

First I had everyone let go of their Mississippi trailer-park personas and 
the alien scenario, and become their normal selves again. I touched each of 
my stars in turn and removed the specific suggestions I'd given them. After 
giving them a little time to drift deeper, I set up for the finale. "People 
on stage, in a few moments I am going to count to three again. When I do 
your eyes will open and you'll sit up in your chair feeling refreshed, 
energetic, friendly and talkative, but still deeply hypnotized and obeying 
my every suggestion. You will be in every respect your normal self, sitting 
around with your new friends, waiting for the next part of the show to 
begin. The only unusual thing, and this will not strike you as unusual at 
all, is that you will be firmly and completely stuck to your seat. You can 
move around as much as you need to remain comfortable, but you won't be able 
to get out of your seat no matter how much you may want to.

"I'm going to be talking to the audience. When you hear me say the words 
'Ladies and gentlemen,' that will seem to you to be the most rude, foul, 
offensive thing you've ever heard anyone say. You will be so outraged, so 
offended at my words that I know you'll want nothing more than for me to 
deliver an immediate and sincere apology to the audience for insulting them 
so. Each time I say 'Ladies and gentlemen' it will seem even ruder and more 
offensive, but no matter how offended you may be personally, I know that you 
will never try to attack me or harm me in any way." There was a murmur of 
nervous laughter from the audience. I looked back at them and said, "You can 
never be too careful," which got them chortling freely.

That set up the basic structure; now it was time to fill in the various 
melodies for my fugue. I started with something simple for Brenda: "For you 
and you only, when I say 'Ladies and gentlemen,' you will not find that at 
all offensive or rude; in fact, you'll think it's the funniest thing you've 
ever heard in your life. Each time I say 'Ladies and gentlemen,' it will 
seem funnier and funnier to you and you won't be able to keep yourself from 
laughing. If anyone around you seems angry, offended, or upset, you'll find 
that even more hilarious than what I say and you'll laugh at them, too. For 
everyone else, if you see or hear someone on stage laughing at me or at 
anyone else on stage, that's going to piss you off even more. You may argue 
with that person, or tell them anything you want, but you will not try to 
harm them in any way."

I touched David. "You are the official sign language interpreter for the 
show. Whenever anybody other than me speaks, your job is to say exactly the 
same thing in sign language for the benefit of any hearing-impaired audience 
members. If you don't know the official signs for anything that's okay, 
because I know you'll be able to just make up signs as fast as the people 
can talk."

I moved along to Brad. "You read way too much Dr. Seuss as a kid, and when 
you get angry or offended you tend to start talking as if your lines were 
actually written by Dr. Seuss. You'll use lots of rhyming words in long 
strings and occasionally make up nonsensical words for nouns or verbs."

Then I picked on Amy and Will. Remembering that they had been sitting 
together, I decided to use that. "You two are teenage lovers who haven't 
seen each other in three weeks. You won't care what else is going on up 
here, all that matters to you is that you're finally together again and you 
can make out behind the cover of the people sitting in front of you. You'll 
neck and kiss and pet each other as much as you want, bearing in mind that 
you cannot get out of your seats for any reason. You'll continue necking and 
making out like high school kids until I tell you to sleep."

Laurel was next. "As leader of the group, you'll consider it your job to 
make me stop using those nasty, rude words. And you have exactly the means 
to do it: the tattoo on your chest gives you the power to hypnotize anyone 
by having them look closely at the dragon's tail. You'll want to use that 
power on me to make me apologize to the audience for my behavior." There was 
a swell of low-pitched cackling from the audience. I winked at the crowd and 
said, "You like that? Watch this."

Walking over to Anita, I touched her on the shoulder. "You," I told her, 
"were not supposed to be part of the show at all; you're actually a 
Victoria's Secret model, and you're only here because your agent screwed up 
and booked you on the wrong night. You will not be offended by anything I 
might say; in fact, you think this whole hypnosis thing is a crock and your 
only fear is that the audience might either fall asleep from boredom or walk 
out. To keep that from happening, you will strip down to your underwear and 
pose for the men in the audience. You'll keep posing, ignoring everything 
else that happens on stage, until I tell you to sleep again. The more you 
notice the men watching or reacting to you, the more blatantly sexual your 
poses will get, but you will not under any circumstances leave your chair."

And finally, one last instruction -- another ad lib: "For all the other 
women on stage, any time you see me touch my face you will feel a very 
sensual, very pleasurable sensation of pressure on your G-spot. That's going 
to feel incredibly good to you, and you'll continue feeling it for as long 
as I keep touching my face."

I counted three and brought them up. Eleven faces looked over at me 
expectantly. "How are you all doing?" I asked pleasantly. They smiled back 
at me, uttering variations of "Fine."

"That's good. We just have one or two more things to do." I turned to the 
audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, for my next demonstration ..."

A chorus of loud objections rang out behind me. Jim was the loudest. "That's 
wrong, man!"

Nicole nodded emphatically. "You can't say things like that in public."

I played confused. "Things like what?"

Nicole wasn't cutting me any slack. "Like what you just said."

"But all I said was, 'Ladies and gentlemen.'"

More groans. "Oh, you're awful!" Jennifer complained.

Through a gap in the recriminations, a giggle cut through. Everyone looked 
sharply at Brenda, who was snickering into her hand. "What the hell is your 
problem?" Jim demanded.

"I can't help it," Brenda said, giggling between words. "This is all too 
funny."

"You've got a screw loose, babe." The audience burst into laughter at 
David's sign language for "screw loose" -- the classic finger-to-the-temple 
gesture.

Meanwhile, on my left, I caught a flash of yellow as Anita's blouse came 
off. She wore a cream-colored push-up bra underneath. I quick peek to my 
other side showed Amy and Will in a lip lock. His hand was caressing her 
breast through her tube top while hers played along his thigh.

Standing so I could be seen by the group and the audience, I rubbed my chin. 
"I don't know what I could have said that was so wrong," I said, while every 
woman on stage drew in a sharp breath and let out a surprised moan. "As I 
was going to say, ladies and gentlemen ..."

"Hey!" I turned to find Brad shaking his fist at me.

"This language you are using,
Is both foul and most abusing.
You had best acquire some tact
And start cleaning up your act,
Or somebody might react
And an angry fist impact
With your guggle or your zatch
Or your zogget's biddlespatch!"

The audience ate it up, giving a rousing round of applause for Brad's 
improvised poetry.

"Wow," I said, rubbing my forehead (and listening to the women start moaning 
in pleasure). "Since you put it that way, I guess I'd better apologize." I 
put my hand down and faced the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, I ..."

"*Jack*!" Laurel's voice cut sharply through the general din. "Come here. I 
want to show you something." She patted the empty seat to her right.

I came over and sat down. "Now watch closely," she said, pulling down her 
top to reveal the dragon again.

"That's a very nice tattoo," I said innocently.

She smiled. "Thank you. It's a mystical dragon. Look at his tail, Jack." 
With her left hand, she lifted the breast up a little and moved it, causing 
the little stud to wink in the light. "Look very closely at his tail, Jack. 
See how it shines in the light. Let your eyes focus and concentrate on the 
shiny golden tail. Feel it pulling you in, captivating you." A gentle hand 
snaked around my neck and pulled my face in a little closer. *Damn*, I 
thought to myself, *this girl is a natural!* "Feel your eyes becoming 
sleepy, Jack, sleepy and heavy. Give in to the dragon's power, Jack. Go to 
sleep now."

I blinked heavily a few times, then feigned falling into a deep trance, 
falling toward her. She caught me and pushed me back into the chair 
carefully, making sure I was well balanced, and took the microphone from my 
hand. "You will now obey the commands of the dragon, Jack," she told me. I 
heard her voice filling the room over the PA system. "The dragon is angry 
because you have used language that decent people should not have to hear. 
And that's a shame, Jack. You are a talented and funny and exciting man; you 
don't need to resort to vulgarity to entertain people. When I count to three 
you will wake up, and you will immediately apologize to the people in the 
audience for what you said. From now on, whenever you find yourself about to 
say" -- she leaned in and whispered "ladies and gentlemen" in my ear -- 
"your subconscious mind will automatically substitute a socially acceptable 
phrase instead." She paused a moment while the audience laughed. "And, 
Jack," she added, without the microphone. "Tonight, after the show, you will 
come to room 816 and knock on the door. There the dragon will captivate you 
again, and you will be rewarded with great physical pleasure. One ... two 
... three."

I opened my eyes to the laughter of the audience -- I guessed my lavaliere 
had picked up Laurel's final command. Laurel herself was covering up again.

There was a localized round of hooting from stage right. I looked over to 
see Anita posing lasciviously in her seat, now in nothing but a 
cream-colored satin panty. Amy and Will were well into things, too -- her 
tube top had come down to her waist, and Will's hand had the miniskirt 
hiking up to meet it. Amy's hand was inside Will's zipper, and their panting 
was becoming audible.

Laurel looked at me expectantly. I stood up and address the audience. "L-- I 
mean, people in the audience," I began, letting them laugh some more at the 
effects of Laurel's suggestion. "I don't know what to say. I guess, with the 
nature of the place, I figured some of the rules could be broken and that 
you were expecting that sort of thing. Obviously I was wrong, and I feel I 
have to apologize to each and every one of you. I'm very sorry, and I won't 
ever use those words again."

The audience went nuts -- those that weren't busy cheering on Anita or Amy 
and Will, anyway. I turned back to my volunteers and scratched my cheek a 
little, sending the women into another fit of panting and moaning. Laurel 
had an extra self-satisfied sparkle in here eye; she met my gaze and smiled 
in a way that reminded me of the Mona Lisa. I had a pretty good idea what 
she had in mind for me back in her room. *Sorry, Laurel*, I thought to 
myself. *If all goes well, I've got an appointment with my guidance 
counselor tonight.*

"Oh, Jack?"

It was Nicole, beckoning me to come over to her. I sat on her left in an 
empty seat, my body turned to make it visible to most of the volunteers and 
as much of the audience as possible. "Yes?"

"You've got something under your eye," she told me.

The audience cackled, seeing through her ruse immediately and anticipating 
the result. "This eye?" I held a finger just under my right eye, but not 
touching yet.

She nodded. "It's just under the eyelid there."

I touched a finger to the area she indicated. "Here?"

Nicole groaned and pressed her legs together. "That's the spot," she sighed.

I pulled my finger away and looked at the tip, as if expecting to see 
something.

"It's still there," she said quickly. "Try some more."

I rubbed the area a little more, as Nicole and the other women who could see 
me squirmed and panted. Amy was far too occupied with Will's pants and 
whatever his hand was doing under her skirt to notice, and Anita was 
ignoring me as ordered while she posed on her chair for a very appreciative 
group of guys. "That's it," Nicole told me. "It doesn't seem to want to come 
off, but keep trying."

"Is it working?"

"Oh, yes," she assured me, "you're doing great. Just ... keep ... it ... up 
..."

I pulled my finger away. "Maybe I should just get a cloth or something."

"No!" she urged. I put my finger back and rubbed some more. "You're getting 
it," she insisted, her words coming in gasps. "Just ... a little ... more 
... yes ... yes! ... YES!!"

I held my finger in place while she writhed and moaned heavily. Laurel was 
doing the same, a few chairs away, as was Jennifer. Brenda just stared at me 
with a look of utter shock on her face.

Finally, Nicole's breathing started to slow. "Is that good?" I asked 
innocently, sending the audience into screams of laughter.

"That's great," she told me, her eyes wide and sincere. I thought people 
might be falling out of their seats in the crowd below.

I got up and faced my stars again. "People on stage, some of you seem a 
little out of breath. This is probably a good time for you to close your 
eyes and sleeeep..." They dropped down again on cue, Amy and Will in mid 
clutch, Anita in mid pose. I took the opportunity to notice that Anita had 
very nice breasts. So did Amy, as far as that went. Laurel's were the nicest 
of the bunch, though. Not to worry -- I was sure Monica's would we lovely as 
well. *Face it, Jack*, I congratulated myself, *you have superb taste.*

"For my volunteers on stage, as you let yourselves drift deeply into 
hypnosis one more time, let all of the suggestions I've given you tonight up 
to this point fall away, completely cancelled, no longer effective at all. 
The words 'ladies and gentlemen' will no longer seem offensive or funny to 
you, and you will no longer react to them as if they were. If you were 
posing, or necking, or thinking of yourself as having special hypnotic 
powers, or being my sign-language interpreter, those things are no longer 
true and you no longer feel any need to act that way.

"In fact, as you remain safely seated, focusing on your breathing, you'll 
find that you can remember everything that happened on this stage clearly 
and in complete detail, and, most importantly, *with an extremely good sense 
of humor*." I paused while the audience chuckled knowingly. "You'll know 
that everything you did on stage tonight was done in the spirit of fun and 
spontaneity, and with no intent to embarrass anybody, and you will remember 
it all fondly and happily as a fun and exciting experience, with *no need 
for any sort of retaliation or legal action at all*." That's a standard joke 
I used to use; that night, it seemed even more appropriate and not entirely 
humorous except to the audience. "Hey," I told the crowd in an aside, "you 
can never be too careful."

Turning back to the volunteers, I continued. "In a few moments I'm going to 
count to three one last time. On the count of three, you will open your eyes 
and sit up straight, totally awake and alert, feeling better than you've 
ever felt before, relaxed, comfortable, and no longer hypnotized. You will 
remember everything clearly and pleasantly, and feel no embarrassment 
whatsoever at anything you may have done or at your current state of 
undress, if that's the case. As my thank-you gift to you, you'll find that 
when you are ready to go to sleep tonight, you will be able to simply close 
your eyes and feel yourself sinking easily, naturally, completely into a 
deep and refreshing sleep. You'll be able to stay asleep until it's time for 
you to wake up, and when you do wake up you'll feel completely alert and 
awake and energized, ready to take on the world. And if you have plans for 
after the show with another person, perhaps plans of an intimate and loving 
nature, you'll find that whatever you do with that other person is more 
enjoyable and more pleasurable than it's ever been before, and can last for 
as long as you want it to." The audience roared. "These people gave their 
all tonight for your entertainment," I told the audience with a wink, "some 
in more ways than one. Don't you think they deserve it?" From the volume of 
their applause, the crowd agreed.

"People on stage, at the count of three, as I said you'll open your eyes and 
be completely awake. The show will be over, and the applause you hear now 
and after you wake up will be all because of your creativity and willingness 
to play tonight. As wonderful as you've been tonight, you deserve a curtain 
call. After I've counted to three, I'm going to call on each of you by name, 
one by one. When I call you name I want you to come to the center stage. 
Men, when you reach center stage you'll strike a muscle pose, like a body 
builder, and then take a bow and make your way safely back to your original 
seat in the audience. Women, when you reach center stage you'll show the 
audience your breasts, then take a bow and return to your original seat in 
the audience." Approaching Anita, I gave her a special instruction. "For the 
person I'm touching now: when I call your name, you'll already be showing 
your breasts. After you take your bow, you will gather up your clothes and 
go to the restroom to put them back on. As you pass each table, you'll pause 
and strike one more pose for the people at the table, and let them know they 
can purchase your outfit at the gift shop in the hotel lobby."

One more three count, and they came up easily. Anita seemed more than a 
little surprised to find herself on stage, almost naked. Amy blushed, 
giggled, and pulled her tank top back up. One by one, I called each of my 
volunteers for their curtain call. The men did a beautiful job of muscle 
flexing; the women lifted their tops on cue, even Brenda. Brad, Laurel, and 
Anita got standing ovations from the crowd for their participation.

As the lights came up, I waved goodnight to the crowd and made my way 
backstage again. Rudi was waiting for me.

"Nice job," she said as I stripped off the lavaliere. "Anybody ever sue you 
for anything you made them do?"

"Not yet. But then again, I don't usually take things as far as I did 
tonight. Your entertainment director was pressing me to push the envelope."

Rudi grinned. "I doubt she'll make that mistake again."

My next stop was the dressing room, to wash off my stage makeup. I was 
cleaned up and back in my polo shirt when there was a knock on the door. I 
opened it up and found myself face to face with a once-again-dressed Anita 
de los Santos. Behind her was a nondescript man in a gray suit that I 
recognized from her table at the show.

I wasn't quite sure what to say. She saved me the trouble of going first. 
"*Senor* Torrance," she said coolly, "I'd like you to meet my husband, Diego 
de los Santos."

Oh, shit. I shook the man's hand, smiling at him, while he studied my face. 
"Pleasure to meet you, sir. Your wife has a, er, highly creative mind."

"That she does," he agreed. "And, fortunately for both of us, a most 
attractive body."

I felt the color rising in my cheeks. "Yes, of course. Look, *Senor*, I 
don't know what you may be thinking ..."

They looked at each other, smiled, and broke into evil laughter. I just 
looked at them, puzzled, hoping something would make sense.

"You should see your face, *Senor* Jack," Anita said. "So nervous. But all 
is well. I had a wonderful time, and Diego got to see dozens of men wishing 
they could be with me, and now that we've played our little joke with you, 
we shall go home and see how well your magic works off stage."

I could feel myself starting to breathe again. "I'm glad you're not upset."

She gave me a sly smile. "I've never been known as *una apretada, Senor.*"

"I'd certainly never say so," I said, grateful for her sense of humor. 
"*Buenos noches, Senor y Senora.*"

"Good night, *Senor *Jack."

I headed out the side exit to the dining room, feeling as though I'd dodged 
a nasty bullet. But I composed myself quickly; out there at that back table 
I was expecting to meet up with Monica.

Claire was alone at the table when I got there. She saw me coming, jumped up 
and ran over to hug me. "You were *amazing*!" she said. "I haven't laughed 
this hard in years!"

"Thanks," I said, taking a seat at the table. "Where's Monica?"

"That whole alien thing was incredible ... and the whole thing with the 
apology, and the girl with the tattoo ... and that guy's sign language was 
hilarious. Were those women really having orgasms? It would have been so 
much fun to be part of that."

"I'll try to get you a front row table next time," I promised. "Where's 
Monica?"

Claire stopped and swallowed. "She ... uh ... left."

Something very cold gripped my spine. "Oh? When did she leave?"

She looked at me with sympathy. "Toward the end of the alien thing."

My guts clenched as if struck. In my mind I pictured my old professor, 
grabbing his hat and storming out the door of the old nightclub. I had to 
put my head down because the room was starting to tilt and spin.

A gentle hand laid itself on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jack. Monica can be 
pretty uptight about these things, that's all. I thought you were 
brilliant."

I lifted my head and looked at her. "So did Solly."

"Huh?"

I shook my head. "Never mind." Suddenly I was very tired, and in no mood for 
socializing. "Look, I'm gonna go."

She grabbed my arm a little tighter. "Are you sure? We can still go have 
that drink. You look like you could use one."

"Some other time, maybe. I need to walk around for a bit."

She nodded grimly. "Whatever you need. I'm going to go sit in the bar for a 
while anyway. If you change your mind, you can find me there."




There was a large patio outside the restaurant overlooking the beach. I 
strolled out there for a bit. It was a beautiful night -- warm but not hot, 
with a nice breeze rolling in off the water. A few people waved when they 
saw me, others ignored me. I responded to the wavers with a fake smile and a 
wave back. What would I do, I wondered, if I ran into Brad? Or Nicole? Or 
Laurel?

Laurel.

I remembered her instructions, given while hypnotized and believing she had 
hypnotized me. How many people was she fending off because of that little 
stunt?

It wasn't really my fault, of course -- I hadn't told her to feel any 
particular attraction to me, or to try and seduce me. So on some level, she 
really did want me to come to her room. But she certainly hadn't meant to 
broadcast the fact to the entire audience. I decided I'd better see how she 
was. Just to check on her, I told myself.

Room 816 was easy enough to find. The Do Not Disturb sign was hanging on the 
doorknob. I stood there for a minute, trying to decide what to do.

Suddenly the door flung open in front of me. Even before it opened, I heard 
a familiar voice. "I told you to fuck off, you ... oh." Laurel stood before 
me in a gray satin bathrobe, looking with surprise into my eyes. Her cheeks 
flushed red as she stared at me.

"How are you?"

She answered slowly. "Okay, I suppose." She stepped back silently, holding 
the door open.

I took the tacit invitation and stepped inside, letting the door close 
behind me. Laurel broke eye contact and fiddled with the robe. "I didn't 
think you would come."

"I'm guessing a few others have applied to take my place, haven't they?"

Her eyes rolled. "God, yes. I had to unplug the phone. And this really 
creepy guy showed up at my door and wouldn't go away. When I saw shadows 
under the door just now, I thought it was him trying again."

"I'm sorry," I told her sincerely.

She shrugged. "It's not your fault. Inviting you up here was my idea, not 
your suggestion. I didn't even think about you wearing a body mic until 
after the show, when the phone started ringing."

"I'm still sorry. If you'd like to change rooms, I have some pull with the 
management; I can probably help make that happen."

Laurel shook her head. "Doesn't matter, I'm going home tomorrow anyway."

We looked at each other in silence, the sexual tension almost tangible. Then 
she smiled awkwardly, and we both chuckled. "You didn't come here to sleep 
with me, did you?"

"The thought did cross my mind," I answered honestly. "But it's probably 
better if we don't."

She nodded. "I'm a little weirded out by all the calls and the guy at the 
door; I'm not exactly at my best."

"It's fine. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

She thought a moment before answering. "Is there a way you could put me to 
sleep and keep me from hearing anymore knocks on the door until, say, eight 
in the morning?"

"I can do that," I assured her. "Are you ready to go to sleep now?"

"Pretty much," she said. "I was just going to turn out the lights and take 
this robe off when you came by."

"Then I'll say goodnight." I extended my hand to her as if to shake hands. 
She gave me hers, a slightly confused look on her face. I started pumping 
her hand steadily, watching her eyes, matching each blink with a downward 
press. In just a few seconds she was visibly wilting; in under half a minute 
her eyes closed down and she fell forward. I caught her neatly and supported 
her body while gave her deepening suggestions until she was totally limp in 
my arms.

"Laurel," I said to her, "I'm going to count to three. On three I want you 
to open your eyes and stand on your own. I want you to follow me to the door 
and lock it behind me when I leave, then turn off the lights, take off your 
robe, and go to bed. Once in bed you'll fall easily into a deep, natural 
sleep that will last undisturbed until eight o'clock in the morning. Any 
sounds you hear other than the fire alarm will not disturb you; in fact, 
they'll help you to sleep even more deeply and restfully. At exactly eight 
o'clock in the morning you will wake up feeling completely alert, refreshed, 
and at peace. One, two, three."

I got one last glimpse of the dragon as Laurel's robe opened. Then I slipped 
through the door and waited until I heard the lock turn and the chain slide 
into place. Once the little sliver of light under the bottom edge of the 
door clicked out, I walked away.

My finger hovered in the air in front of the elevator panel. Up or down? My 
mind was still too active to even think of sleep, so I opted for down. I 
wandered the terrace a little more, strolled aimlessly through the lobby, 
and eventually found my way to the bar. *Why not*, I decided. *Nothing like 
drowning a few sorrows*.

I got a Long Beach Iced Tea at the bar and took it to a dark little booth in 
the corner. I hadn't looked for Claire; it didn't even occur to me that she 
might still be there until, with a swish of peach-colored satin, she sat 
down next to me.

"Feeling any better?"

I looked into her face and didn't see anything more than sincere concern. "I 
suppose so," I said. "That's not the first time somebody's walked out on one 
of my shows."

"Don't take it so hard," she said, squeezing my hand in hers. "Monica is a 
little extra sensitive right now. She just got done with an ugly breakup, 
and she thought you were taking advantage of people too much and didn't want 
to see it. I'm sorry, Jack."

"Me, too," I said bitterly. "I wonder how many others are, too."

"She'll get over it," Claire told me. "I think seeing that Spanish lady get 
all worked up, Monica got a little spooked. She was probably afraid she'd 
find herself listening to your voice, close her eyes, and then suddenly 
she'd be up in your room, naked, with an overpowering urge to jump your 
bones."

*Yeah*, I thought, *that would about fit with my stage persona.* I looked at 
Claire, who was trying so hard to be a friend, and smiled weakly. "Wow. You 
aren't afraid I'd do that, are you?"

"Afraid? No," she said, lowering her voice and gazing deeply into my eyes. 
"I want you to."


(continues)

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