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From: "Mark Wiseman" <wiseguy35@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} BUSMAN'S HOLIDAY (MF md fd hyp rom cons) by Wiseguy [8/9]
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Date: Sat, 01 Sep 2007 11:10:01 -0400
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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)
  FD - Female dominant (a little)
  HYP - Hypnoerotica:  consensual use of hypnosis with sex
  ROM - Romance:  sex motivated by mutual love (or maybe lust)
  CONS - All sex is by consent


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



viii

I emerged from the elevators at the lobby level just before six and came 
face to face with myself. Someone had been very busy, it seemed - the wall 
opposite the elevators held a life size cardboard cutout of me in my 
performance tux. Behind me was a crowd of people slumped into chairs, a 
cleverly made compilation of the volunteers from both shows so far. Above 
our heads floated words:


                JACK TRANCER, Master Hypnotist

                Last Show This Season, TONIGHT


"Isn't that cool?"

A short, stocky man in Bermuda shorts was making his way toward me with an 
excited look on his face. It took me a moment to recognize him. "Marv?"

"Damn straight, old buddy," he confirmed, pumping my hand with the 
enthusiasm of an overzealous salesman. "You didn't think I'd miss your grand 
finale, did you? You should hear some of the things people are saying, Jack. 
They love you!"

I shrugged. "It's nice to be appreciated."

Levy chortled and smacked me on the shoulder. "That's a good one," he said. 
"From what I hear, you're getting lots of appreciation from a couple of very 
hot little groupies." I started to object, but he cut me off. "Don't sweat 
it, Jack; we didn't ask you to sign a contract so there's no 
hands-off-the-guests clause. You just gotta watch your ass, if you know what 
I mean."

I didn't -- not fully, anyway -- so I opted to change subjects. "I take it 
this was your idea?" I said, motioning to the cardboard cutout and the 
pictures.

"You got it. Nothing's too good for the guy who bailed me out." He glanced 
at his watch. "Look, Jack, I need to go do some stuff, but I gotta thank you 
for this. You really saved my ass."

The look on his face was so sincere that it moved me. "You're welcome, Marv. 
It's been a fun week."

He grinned. "Glad to hear it, buddy. Don't leave the island tomorrow without 
talking to me first, okay? Break a leg!"

The lobby was thick with people waiting to get into the dining room. Every 
table in the place was occupied. As I wove my way through the crowd I could 
see house staff hastily arranging chairs along the walls and setting up 
folding tables where they could find room.

Claire and Monica were already in place at our table, but as I drew closer I 
noticed that my seat was also occupied. From a distance all I could make out 
was a pair of beautifully shaped and tanned shoulders and a mass of flowing 
honey-colored hair. What the hell was she doing there?

Monica spotted me first just as I got within earshot. All three women turned 
and waved to me. "Can you believe this crowd?" Claire said, waving her hand 
at the room.

"It's impressive," I allowed. There were only three chairs at the table, so 
I stood in the space between Claire's seat and Monica's. "Good evening," I 
said to Ann. Her answering smile had a smug quality to it that made me just 
a little uneasy.

"We rescued Mistress Ann from the throng in the lobby," Monica explained. 
"Since you two know each other, we thought you wouldn't mind."

At that moment a hostess appeared with a fourth chair for me. I thanked her 
and sat down. "Not a bit," I confirmed. "I didn't realize you all knew each 
other."

"We didn't," Claire offered. "Not until this afternoon at the pool, anyway. 
But we're making up for lost time, aren't we?" The other two women 
concurred, and now all three had that knowing look on their faces.

So be it. I decided to ignore the look and see if the secret would surface 
on its own. The women dominated the conversation throughout dinner but kept 
the topics constrained to innocent things. In the end I had to leave the 
table no wiser than when I'd first sat down. Pushing the mystery to the back 
of my mind, I excused myself and headed for the green room.

One of Redman's techies spotted me as soon as I slipped through the first 
doorway. "Stu needs to talk to you, like, now," he said, pointing down the 
hall toward Redman's office.

That didn't sound good. I found Redman's office just in time to encounter 
Regan, the camera girl, and two other techs I didn't know filing out. She 
acknowledged me with a bashful nod.

"Houston," Redman said wryly as he waved me in, "we have a problem."

I sat down and waited for him to explain.

"The biggest problem with this place," he began, "is that it's got enough 
space in the house to seat 700 people comfortably for a show but usually has 
closer to a thousand people actually staying here on any given night. 
Tonight there's about 1200 people in residence and two thirds of them at 
least are trying to get seats for the show."

"A nice problem to have, in some ways," I noted.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but most times it's a pain in the ass. Tonight I have to 
pull out all the stops. The food service crew is folding back leaves to make 
the tables smaller so they can cram more into the space and lining the walls 
with extra chairs. When they've packed every body they can into the room the 
staff is going to take room service orders for everyone else and send them 
back upstairs. My crew will have to pipe the show into the closed-circuit 
system so those people can watch it on TV."

I was starting to understand. "That changes things a bit."

"Yeah, I thought it might. I know you tend to talk to the stage people 
specifically and the audience specifically, so you'd better know there's 
going to be a third group of people watching and listening as well."

I thought about my hypnotic spiral and induction patter getting piped into 
rooms all over the hotel. The user imagined people staring into the TV, 
relaxing, letting go ... and enjoyed that image a little too much.

"Let's give the spiral a rest tonight," I suggested. "I'll do a different 
kind of induction."

Redman looked surprised. "Okay. What do you need?"

"Nothing. Just make sure there's enough walking room for people to get to 
and from the stage steps safely."

"Done."

Rudi was waiting for me in the green room with my lavaliere and hand mic. As 
usual, I lifted my shirt while she taped the wire to my skin. Partway 
through that process I heard the door open, followed by a lilting female 
voice. "I knew security in this place was tough, but nobody said anything 
about a strip search!"

The speaker was a young brunette with sparkling blue eyes and a slightly 
goofy expression. She wore a red sequined gown that clung tightly enough to 
her curves that I doubted she could hide anything under it. The overall look 
was classy, though. "It's a new policy," I deadpanned. "All performers are 
now wired with these remote electro shock systems. If you make an off-color 
joke, the stage manager presses a button and you get 5000 volts of immediate 
feedback."

She looked crestfallen. "There goes my whole act, then. I guess I'll just 
stand on stage having convulsions for fifteen minutes."

"In that dress," I retorted with a wink, "you'd still get great reviews."

"Well aren't you sweet?" she replied, her face expressing innocent pleasure. 
"I mean, in a lecherous sort of way."

I was starting to like this lady. "You humble me with your extravagant 
praise," I said with a mock bow. Then I offered my hand. "I'm Jack 
Torrance."

She took my hand a little doubtfully. "Janey Matullo. I'm opening for you. 
You're not going to break down my door with a hatchet later, are you?"

"Wasn't planning on it. But it's early yet; the ghosts don't usually start 
speaking to me until after the show."

"That's all right, then." Before she could get out another line, Rudi handed 
her a cordless mic and pointed to the clock. "I have to go," Janey said. 
"But it was really nice bantering with you, Jack."

"Same here," I replied with a wink. "See you on stage."

I listened to most of Janey Matullo's act from the left wing. She was very 
good. Her voice had an innocent, sing-song quality to it that almost, but 
not quite, masked the humor in her words. People would hear her, then 
realize that what she'd said was not quite normal, and burst out laughing.

"There's a yellow light flashing at me from back there," she said, pointing 
to the light booth at the rear of the house. "That means I'm almost out of 
time. Either that, or something very large is about to turn left."

She let the laughter subside, then continued. "If you can read English, you 
already know that the main act tonight is that hypnotist fellow. Hypnotists 
are very interesting people. I dated a hypnotist once. At least, I think I 
only dated him once. There are a lot of nights after that I don't remember 
too well." She paused for the audience to quiet down again. "I met Jack 
backstage before the show tonight, so I can tell you truthfully that he's a 
very nice guy. He introduced himself, and we shook hands, and then I gave 
him my wallet, my hotel key, and my unlisted home phone number."

Janey stood stock still while the audience cheered and laughed. On the 
backstage monitor I could see that she was staring into the crowd. She let 
them fall silent and stared for another beat or two, her face showing total 
confusion. "Why was that funny?"

That sent them off again with an even louder roar. Janey broke into a sweet 
smile and giggled a little herself. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome 
Jack Trancer!"

The applause drowned out Rudi's transition music. I broke into a trot to 
catch Janey before she retreated so I'd have a chance to applaud her myself. 
She took her bow then waved at the crowd as she left the stage.

I could tell this bunch was ready to have fun, so I shortened my opening to 
just a few quick jokes and launched into my usual caveats about 
volunteering. "Having said all that," I concluded, "by show of hands, how 
many think they would like to be part of the show tonight?"

Hands shot up all over the room from a good two thirds of the audience. 
"Wow," I told them, "that's amazing. I'm humbled that so many of you want to 
participate tonight. As you can see behind me, though, I only have about 
eighteen chairs. So rather than have a mad dash for the few chairs I have to 
offer, let's have everyone try a little exercise first. I'd like to ask 
everyone right now, whether you intend to come up here tonight or not, to 
participate in this. Yes, even you skeptics. If we all do it together, then 
nobody looks more foolish than anybody else." I let them chuckle and shift 
for a moment.

"Now I'd like everyone to please put both of your hands straight out in 
front of you like this." I extended my arms to show them. "Turn your left 
hand so that the palm faces up and your right hand so the palm faces down. 
Now everyone close your eyes and take a nice, deep, slow breath. Breathe in 
all the way. That's it. Hold it. And now breathe out, easily and slowly, and 
feel how your body relaxes a little as you do. That's great.

"Now I want you to imagine that with your left hand you are holding the 
handle of an empty bucket. Feel the texture of the handle in your hand. 
Notice the size of the bucket, the weight of the empty bucket, maybe what 
the bucket is made of. And as you focus your attention completely on that 
bucket, imagine that I dump into the bucket a big handful of lead fishing 
weights, enough weights to cover the bottom of the bucket and make it 
suddenly feel heavier in your hand. Now I drop another big handful of lead 
weights into your bucket, making it heavier.

"And as you feel the weight increasing in the bucket, I'd like you to turn 
your attention to your right hand. Imagine that I'm placing a loop of string 
around your right hand, and that the string is tied to a big, bright, round, 
helium balloon. This balloon is huge; at least a foot or two in diameter, 
and it's in your favorite color. The helium in the balloon makes it tug at 
your hand because it wants to float up and fly away. Feel it pulling and 
lifting, the string firmly looped around your hand, holding it."

The house lights came up a little bit to let me see more clearly. All over 
the dining area I had people showing at least a little bit of sag in their 
left hands and rise in their right. A good number of them were responding 
well, with a couple of inches of change. Over the next minute or so I added 
more balloons to the right side and more weights to the left, encouraging 
them to feel the weight, feel the pulling and tugging and lifting, imagine 
it fully. As I talked to them, I saw arms rising into the air and sinking 
down to the floor. Soon I had somewhere approaching a hundred people with 
their arms pointing almost straight up and down -- including, I was amused 
to note, all three of the women at my table.

"All right, everyone, now I'd like you to open your eyes and see how 
powerful your minds really are." There was a pause as people looked around 
at each other, then a slowly building wave of applause. Still a good number 
of hands remained in the air. "If your hands feel like they're still holding 
the bucket and balloons, it's okay to just let go. The bucket will fall away 
and the balloon string will slide right off your hand right now." All hands 
went down and there was another round of applause.

"That was a very well-known test of hypnotic ability," I explained. "Notice 
that I said 'ability,' not 'susceptibility.' Going into hypnosis is a skill 
that you have, something that your mind can do, not something that I do to 
you. If you're willing and open to the experience, we can have a lot of fun 
together exploring what your mind can do. If you're not, you can still have 
fun watching those who do come up and that's perfectly fine, too.

"I noticed that at the end of that exercise a lot of you had your arms like 
this." I put one arm straight up and the other straight down to demonstrate. 
"You are the people that truly make this show work, and you are the kind of 
people I need up here. So now I'm going to ask those of you who responded 
well to the first test, those whose arms were separated by at least a foot," 
again I demonstrated, "to try a second exercise.

"This one you can do with your eyes open. I'd like you to extend your arms 
in front of you again like this, with your palms facing each other about a 
foot apart. Watch your hands closely. Focus on the sensations you're feeling 
in your palms right now. Imagine that right now, you can feel a sort of 
suction forming in the space between your palms. Feel that suction pulling 
at your palms, pulling your hands together. Imagine that suction drawing 
your hands together, getting stronger and stronger, pulling, stronger and 
stronger, your hands getting closer and closer together. As your hands get 
closer together the suction gets stronger and stronger. Stronger and 
stronger, closer and closer, until suddenly the pulling is so powerful that 
your hands just come together right now."

About half of my good-responder group were now sitting in the audience with 
their hands clasped together, many of them looking very surprised. "And now 
imagine that the powerful suction locks your hands together. Locks them 
together so tightly that it is impossible to pull them apart. No matter how 
hard you try to pull your hands apart they stay locked together, stuck 
together. The harder you try to pull them apart the more they are locked 
together. Try now to pull them apart and feel them lock together even more 
tightly." All over the room I saw shoulders and elbows twitching as people 
tried unsuccessfully to separate their hands. "Stop trying now. Stop trying 
and let your hands stay locked together."

I had plenty of excellent prospects to work with. "Now," I announced, "I'm 
going to need two guys with good reflexes and strong arms. Preferably from 
near the front so you can get up here quickly. Do I have any volunteers?" A 
bunch of hands went up, some singly and some clasped in pairs. I selected 
two guys whose hands were clasped together and asked them to join me on 
stage. After separating their hands, I learned that their names were Gary 
and Steve.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Gary and Steve are going to help me select 
volunteers. Right now, if your hands are still locked together; if you're 
okay with participating in nudity and adult content; if you're sober and 
have a good sense of humor; if you have an open mind and want to be part of 
the show tonight, then please make your way carefully and safely to the 
stairs on this side of the stage."

While the line formed, I muted the lavaliere and gave Gary and Steve their 
instructions. "For this to work best, I want people whose hands are really 
solidly locked together. Go ahead and test them; take their forearms gently 
and try to pull their hands apart. If they budge a little and then resist, 
or if they separate, thank the person for coming up and tell them to go back 
to their seat. If their arms don't move, bring them up to me. I'll do an 
instant induction and drop them into a deep trance. You might have to catch 
them, so be ready. Once you have them, guide them to a chair and make sure 
they're seated safely, then go back to the line and test the next person. 
Try to alternate men and women as much as possible. Got it?" Both men nodded 
their assent.

Gary brought me my first volunteer, a pretty brunette in a low-cut black 
sheath dress. "Look right here," I ordered, pointing to my eyes. My right 
hand lifted her clasped hands high while my left took a ready position near 
her elbow. "Let your eyes become heavy, droopy, drowsy. Heavier and 
heavier." She began to blink heavily and lose focus. "When I count to three 
your hands will separate and drop to your sides. One, two, three -- sleep!" 
At three I pulled her sharply forward and down with my right hand. She 
tipped forward and went limp as I caught her.

"That's great," I said, "Relaxing completely. Able to stand straight and 
tall, straight and tall, while your mind goes deeper and deeper." I stood 
her up and she managed to stay that way. "Now in a moment you're going to 
feel my assistant Gary take your right arm. When he touches your arm I want 
you to open your eyes and let Gary lead you to a chair. Once you sit in the 
chair your eyes can close and you can go a thousand times deeper." I 
gestured to Gary. He came forward and shepherded the woman to a seat.

Steve brought up the next prospect, a bookish-looking guy in a Hawaiian 
shirt. I repeated the process on him and sent him with Steve. Things went 
smoothly as we filled the seats, until Gary brought up volunteer number 
fifteen. I froze for a second when I came face to face with Monica.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

Her eyes captured mine. "I'm sure. Go ahead."

There really wasn't time to discuss it. Putting my nerves aside, I dropped 
Monica the same way as the others and finished the rest of the inductions.

"For all of the people on stage now," I said after dismissing the rest of 
the line. "I'm going to talk to the audience for a few minutes. As I do 
that, I want you to just let yourselves relax even more. Let your minds 
drift and let any thoughts that wander into your mind just slip right out 
again, easily and naturally. Each breath you take relaxes you more and sends 
you deeper into hypnosis. When you hear the audience applaud you will know 
they are applauding for you, and that knowledge will send you even deeper.

"Now for all of you in the audience who still have your hands stuck 
together, in a moment I'm going to count to three. When I reach the count of 
three your hands will separate all by themselves and become completely 
normal again. You can then give a round of applause for our volunteers on 
stage, and for Gary and Steve for helping to get them there. One, two, 
three."

The beginning of the show is still something of a blur. It felt as if a 
couple of years went by while I stood there, half listening to the crowd 
applauding my volunteers, half wondering what the hell Monica had in her 
mind. The user was going nuts with the possibilities, knowing what a star 
Monica could be. Then the teacher came forward, wanting to second- and 
third-guess every idea that came up. The crowd went silent and, ready or 
not, I had to get moving.

As I took my subjects through the preliminaries, which were aimed at 
fractionating them into deeper trance state as much as assessing their 
abilities, I felt the teacher and the user coming to an accord. Monica 
wanted to challenge us, did she? Fine - we could handle it.

"And now," I said, "I want you all to imagine that you are not on stage or 
in the audience anymore, but rather that you are on the beach. Really 
imagine that, make it as real in your mind as possible. Feel the ocean 
breeze against your skin. Hear the surf in the distance. Notice the warmth 
that seeps into your body from the sun and sand and let that warmth relax 
you even more.

"And now, as you enjoy the rays of the sun, you can open your eyes and 
really see the beach and the ocean stretching out before you. The sun is 
strong and you realize that you need to apply some more sunblock to avoid 
getting a sunburn. Notice now that there's a bottle of sunblock in one of 
your hands and go ahead and apply that to your body."

Visual hallucinations are difficult for a lot of people. Normally I'd never 
try something that advanced so early in the show, but I already knew that 
these people were among the most responsive in the entire audience because 
they had been tested before they ever came on stage. The spotlights helped 
to reinforce the idea of a strong sun, which also added some believability 
to the illusion. Sure enough, all but a couple of them discovered imaginary 
bottles of lotion and began to smear it on themselves. "That's right," I 
continued, "make sure you apply it everywhere, even where you don't think 
the sun can reach right now. Cover your arms, your legs, your chest and 
stomach ... everywhere. If your bathing suit is in the way you can just 
reach inside it or let the lotion soak in through it."

So far, so good. While the bulk of the group sat there "applying lotion" to 
themselves, I quietly dismissed the few who hadn't taken the suggestion. 
With a stage full of good, creative minds I could afford to be extra picky.

"Very good, everyone. But now that you have your fronts well oiled, you 
realize that there's no protection on your backs. It's very hard to apply 
lotion to your own back, of course, so we'll use a little teamwork. When I 
count to three you can all stand up and begin applying sunblock to the back 
of the person to your right. If there's nobody on your right that's okay, 
you can just enjoy it for now and we'll deal with that later. One, two, 
three."

My volunteers stood and, right on cue, began rubbing imaginary lotion into 
each other's backs. The sound of scuffling chairs and hushed giggles told me 
I had a few people in the audience participating in the illusion as well. 
"Be thorough," I told them. "Make sure you get the sunblock everywhere. 
Really work it in to that person's skin so they won't get an uncomfortable 
burn. You'll have to touch them in places that maybe you might not normally, 
and you may feel someone touching you in places where you might not 
ordinarily permit it, but this is for your own benefit; relax and let it 
happen."

Hawaiian shirt guy was really getting into it. His hands roamed all over the 
brunette's shoulders and spine, working their way inevitably downward. 
Monica was doing the same to him, though a little more slowly. When the guy 
behind her, an older guy in a business suit, grabbed a handful of her bottom 
she paused a moment but kept on going.

"Great," I continued. "It feels so good to have someone caressing your body, 
rubbing that lotion into the places you can't easily reach. And as you relax 
more and really start to enjoy that feeling, you realize that there's 
something funny about this lotion. There's something in this lotion that 
makes your skin tingle in a very pleasant, sensuous way. In fact, as you 
notice that tingling feeling it spreads even through the front of your body. 
You find yourself becoming aroused by something in the lotion, something 
that's soaking into your skin even now and making you so aroused, so 
pleasantly aroused. You can't help but feel more and more turned on with 
each passing moment. Even if you don't have someone rubbing lotion onto you 
right now the lotion on your hands and on your front is soaking in through 
your skin and getting your incredibly aroused."

My volunteers' hands slowed down. Instead of just applying lotion they were 
now caressing each other. A lot of them began breathing more heavily and a 
heard a few little sighs and purrs of arousal. Monica leaned backward into 
the busy hands of her businessman even as her hands cupped the cheeks of 
Hawaiian shirt guy and squeezed.

Since I had two people stage left who weren't getting the full treatment, I 
had everyone stop and then resume applying "lotion" to the person on the 
opposite side. Hawaiian shirt guy was in heaven, of course, with his hands 
on Monica and the brunette's hands on him. On the other end a blonde in a 
yellow tank and white shorts accepted the hands of a Japanese guy on her 
back and yet continued to apply 'lotion' to her own front.

I waited until the panting and purring got loud enough for the audience to 
hear easily, then continued. "And now you can stop applying the sunblock to 
the other person and sit down again in your seat. You can still feel the 
lotion arousing you, but as you sit down you also notice another strange 
effect: the skin underneath your swimsuit, where you put the lotion but the 
sun doesn't reach it, is becoming itchy. That's right, itchy and 
uncomfortable, getting more and more uncomfortable by the second. The skin 
that's exposed to the sun feels great, but any skin under clothing just 
feels as if something sticky and rough is rubbing up against it in a most 
uncomfortable way."

The yellow tank was the first thing to come off. She wore no bra, which drew 
appreciative applause from the audience. When some of the others saw her 
lose the top and become obviously more comfortable they began to follow 
suit. The Japanese guy stood up long enough to drop his pants and reveal 
plain white boxers; Hawaiian shirt guy opened the shirt up and let it fall 
to the elbows but was reluctant to let it go. Monica, in a white sundress, 
resisted the urge to strip but did hike up the bottom of her dress to reveal 
plenty of leg and pulled at the top part to expose more of her chest to the 
air, though not necessarily to view.

It was too early in the show to have people getting completely naked, so I 
cut things off quickly. "And now a sudden light rain comes down and washes 
the itching away, leaving your skin feeling so cool and clean and fresh and 
comfortable. Let yourselves enjoy that feeling as you sit down safely in 
your seats and sleep."

I gave those who had taken off clothing an opportunity to retrieve it and 
put it back on. That disappointed some onlookers, especially when the blond 
on the end retrieved her tank top, but it kept the user and the teacher in 
balance.

With everyone seated and back in trance, it was time to start getting to 
know my volunteers a little bit. Hawaiian shirt guy turned out to be a 
copier salesman named Jim. The brunette he'd been feeling up earlier was a 
writer named Yvonne. The businessman next to Monica was Barry, a real estate 
agent, and next to him was his wife and partner/broker Lacey.

At stage left, I learned that my uninhibited blond was named Traci and she 
had come up with her sister-in-law Jordan. The Japanese man was Yoshiro, a 
grad student. Another interesting find was Hector, a local who worked as a 
bartender at the resort. His fiancee Bianca was with him on stage and looked 
quite fetching in a red halter and tight black pants.

It was right about then that I realized I still had too many people on 
stage. I'd already forgotten some of their names, and coming up with enough 
ideas to give everyone fair time in the spotlight was going to be a 
challenge. As I rifled through the index card file in my mind, my eye fell 
on Yvonne and I had a flash of inspiration.

I had Yvonne stand up and quickly grabbed a spare chair I'd spotted just 
offstage. I set it down further up stage so that she could sit apart from 
the rest of the group and turned it to face upstage center. "In a few 
moments I'm going to count to three," I told my volunteers. "When I reach 
three, I'd like you all to open your eyes and watch the stage in front of 
you. You'll remain deeply hypnotized and waiting for me to give you more 
suggestions.

"Yvonne, when you open your eyes you'll see a computer sitting on a desk in 
front of you and your favorite word processing software ready to go. You've 
been hired by the resort to write the pilot script for a new soap opera to 
be broadcast on the resort's premium adult TV channel. These other people on 
stage are the cast of the show and they are waiting for you to finish the 
script. To save time the producers have decided to have them rehearse the 
script as you write. So when I tell you to begin, you'll start writing and 
you'll speak the words aloud as you type them on the computer. This is just 
a first draft, so you don't have to worry about editing right now; we'll do 
that later. As you read the script the actors will follow your directions 
and act out the story for you. Sometimes I'll put my hand on your shoulder 
like this and say, 'Pause.' When I do that you can hold your thought until I 
touch you again, then continue exactly where you left off.

"Everyone else on stage, you are the actors in this show. From time to time 
I will ask you to come forward and take on a role, and if I do you'll follow 
my directions. Just let your mind relax and let your creativity come forward 
as you play the role Yvonne assigns you and follow Yvonne's suggestions.

"One more thing, for Yvonne and everyone else. This is a soap opera for an 
adult channel, so naturally it's going to be a lot racier than you'd 
normally see on television. The sexier you make the show the more likely it 
is to get picked up by a cable network, and that means long-term contracts 
for all of you.

"We'll start the show with Hector and Bianca on a dinner date. This is the 
night that Hector plans to propose to Bianca and he wants it to be special. 
One ... two ... three."

Yvonne looked straight ahead as if into a computer screen. Her hands rose to 
keyboard level and began typing. "The scene: a fancy, romantic restaurant. 
Hector and Bianca are seated in a cozy corner booth by a nondescript host."

"Pause," I said while touching Yvonne on the shoulder. Knowing that the 
volunteers' chairs were secured for safety reasons I was going to have 
Hector and Bianca do the scene standing. But Redman's techies were on the 
job - by the time I had my volunteers on their feet a pair of chairs had 
appeared in the perfect spot and the stage hands vanished back into the 
wings. So I took the role of the host and escorted Hector and Bianca to 
their seats.

"Bianca," Yvonne continued on cue, "is worried because this restaurant is 
clearly very expensive."

"This place seems expensive," Bianca echoed. "Are we celebrating something?"

Without missing a beat, Hector responded. "Yes, we are. Tonight is the third 
anniversary of the night we met."

"What neither of them realizes," Yvonne said and typed, "is that they are 
not alone. Bianca's jealous ex-boyfriend, Julio, has gotten a job behind the 
bar and is watching their every move. His plan for revenge is about to 
unfold."

I grabbed Yoshiro and assigned him the role of Julio. "She thinks she can 
dump me and get away with it," he sneered from the side of the stage. "I'll 
fix her. I'll show everyone what a slut she is."

Yvonne typed some more. "Very carefully, Julio distracts the couple's waiter 
long enough to pour a tiny bit of clear liquid into the drink he knows is 
Bianca's favorite. Nobody sees him do it and the waiter delivers their 
drinks without any idea that Bianca's has been spiked."

I played the waiter myself and mimed serving drinks.

"Bianca is nervous," Yvonne continued, "so she takes a long sip of her 
drink. She makes a little bit of a face because the taste is just a bit off, 
but she's too distracted to pay any real attention." It was great seeing 
Bianca play that out as Yvonne said it. "Hector is nervous as well. So 
nervous that his hands are beginning to sweat. He excuses himself to go to 
the restroom and get himself composed for the big moment."

Again, using pre-tested volunteers paid off. Without my having to prompt him 
Hector got up and walked a few paces away and upstage. He made hand-washing 
motions at an imaginary sink and inspected himself using the mirror his mind 
provided.

"Meanwhile," said Yvonne, "Bianca starts to feel the effects of the Spanish 
Fly that Julio slipped into her drink. She becomes flushed and aroused; with 
every passing moment she gets more and more hot as the drug takes over her 
system. Julio sees Bianca breathing heavily and knows that this is his 
chance to take advantage."

Yoshiro took his cue and approached Bianca's chair. "You look hot, Bianca," 
he said.

She certainly did. Bianca's cheeks had an extra glow and she was squirming 
in her seat. "Julio! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you," Yoshiro said without skipping a beat. "You want me, 
Bianca. I can tell you want me. Your body is on fire right now with desire 
for me, isn't it?"

Bianca paused just for a moment, and Yvonne prompted her. "Bianca feels 
confused," she said. "Her body is aching for a man - any man - and Julio is 
certainly that. But her heart belongs to Hector. She struggles to resist the 
urges of her body, but the drug is too powerful."

"I don't ... love you," Bianca said to Yoshiro. "Not anymore."

"But you want me," he countered. "Your lips yearn to kiss me. Your breasts 
are begging for my touch. Don't deny it, I can see how badly you want me to 
take you into the cloakroom and make you scream with pleasure. You can't 
resist."

"I don't ... I can't ... "

"Bianca stammers," Yvonne narrated, "but when Julio takes her hand her body 
gives in completely. She lets him lead her to the cloak room, the drug 
making her more and more eager to have Julio with every step."

Yoshiro suited the deed to the word. He held out his hand and Bianca, with 
an air of reluctance took it. He led her to a spot near where he had started 
out. "Now, my little slut, you will give yourself to me."

Yvonne picked up the narration. "Julio spins Bianca around and begins pawing 
her body roughly. He kisses her and feels her up, then --"

"Pause!" The user was enjoying this, but the teacher needed to make an 
adjustment to the story line. I bent over and whispered a suggestion into 
Yvonne's ear.

She continued: "Then, just as Julio is unfastening Bianca's top, the 
cloakroom door bursts open and Hector appears. He recognizes Julio and 
immediately realizes what has happened."

Hector glared at Yoshiro with impressive menace. "Julio! I thought that was 
you skulking around. What did you put in her drink?"

"Spanish fly," Yoshiro spit back. "She'll fuck every man in this restaurant 
and beg for more, starting with me."

"Hector and Julio fight," Yvonne said. I paused things long enough to remind 
the men that this is a show, and that actors don't actually hit each other. 
They put on a stage fight worthy of a no-budget schlock film until Yvonne 
spoke the conclusion. "Julio is staggered by Hector's blow," she said, "and 
realizes he's beaten. He swears revenge and leaves."

Yoshiro wiped the imaginary blood from his mouth. "You win this time, 
Hector," he sneered, "but don't even think this is over." He stalked off in 
the exact direction Hector had come from, taking the first empty seat he 
came to.

"Bianca's body is still aching for sex," Yvonne continued. "She needs it 
now, and Hector is right there."

"Hector," Bianca panted, "I need you to make love to me right now."

"I want to," he replied. "Let me take you home."

"There's no time for that," she insisted. Bianca's halter was half untied 
already thanks to Yoshiro; she pulled the second tie and flung the whole 
thing aside. Her hands caressed her breasts as she locked eyes with Hector. 
"Take me now, Hector."

"Hector looks at his love," Yvonne narrated, "and realizes how much she 
needs him to do this for her. They kiss and make love on a pile of coats."

I let Hector and Bianca embrace and kiss a few times, and the teacher even 
agreed to let them engage in a little R-rated foreplay. When they laid back 
on an imaginary pile of coats and Hector started to unzip Bianca's pants, 
though, I called an end to the scene and returned my actors to their seats. 
As the stage hands came out and removed the 'restaurant' chairs I picked up 
Bianca's discarded halter and laid it in her lap.

At my prompting, Yvonne started a new scene starring Traci and Jordan.

"Traci is in the locker room at the gym, getting changed for her workout 
..."

Traci took her cue without my prompting. She stood and came forward, opened 
the door to an imaginary locker, and stripped off her tank to appreciative 
applause that got louder a moment later when her white shorts hit the stage 
floor to reveal the tiniest thong I'd ever seen.

"... when, quite unexpectedly, Jordan appears a few lockers down."

Jordan paused just a moment before taking a position a few feet away from 
Traci. She faced the audience, unbuttoned her blouse, and put it in the 
'locker' in front of her. Then the two women's faces turned toward each 
other.

"Traci is incensed," Yvonne continued. "Just yesterday she'd caught Jordan 
in bed with Bob, Traci's husband. She can't believe that Jordan would have 
the nerve to show up here."

"You ignorant whore!" Traci called out to her sister-in-law. "How dare you 
show your tramp face in here after what you did yesterday?"

"Jordan," Yvonne said, "has always despised Traci and feels that Traci is 
the wrong woman for Bob. A cat fight seems inevitable."

Jordan gave the slightest of nods and then glared at Traci. "You know what 
they say - a man doesn't stray if he's happy. Maybe if you'd wave those 
perky little tits at Bob a bit more often he wouldn't feel the need to 
upgrade."

"Your sagging, floppy jugs have been seen by more guys than the last big 
action movie, Jordan. So why is it that none of them seem to stay interested 
after they've plowed your south forty a few times? I'll tell you why - it's 
because they can't stand your gold-digging, what-have-you-done-for-me-lately 
power games. You're not even an upgrade from a blow-up doll." I heard some 
Oohs and Aahs from the audience.

"You mean like the one your husband keeps in his closet," Jordan sneered 
back, "to keep him in blow jobs while he waits for you to deign to let him 
touch you once a month? It wouldn't surprise me if Bob was paying for it on 
the side."

"You would know, Jordan. How much does he pay you?"

Jordan lunged at Traci with her hands out like claws. Again I took the 
precaution of pausing things to remind my actors to fake any punching or 
clawing they might want to do. Traci neatly sidestepped her attacker and 
tried to yank her backward by her bra strap. Jordan's bra, however, had not 
been built for that kind of stress - the front closure popped open and the 
bra ended up in Traci's hand while Jordan's impressive breasts bounced free. 
The user enjoyed the view; the teacher made a mental note to get Jordan a 
gift card for the resort's lingerie shop to replace one expensive-looking 
bra.

Traci and Jordan grappled each other and wound up rolling around on the 
floor. I let them do that for a few moments and then whispered another 
instruction to Yvonne.

"Just as the fight gets ugly," she said, "the other women in the locker room 
rush over to separate the fighting pair." Every woman on stage except Yvonne 
got up and descended on the melee. They separated Jordan from Traci and held 
them by the arms while the fighting women struggled to get free. "Traci and 
Jordan exchange murderous looks, but the fight is over. They grab their 
clothes and leave by separate doors."

Traci picked up her tank and shorts and returned to her seat holding the 
bunched-up clothing against her chest. Jordan took a look at the bra and 
tossed it aside as if into an unseen garbage can, then slipped the blouse 
back on but didn't bother to button it. I gave them each a suggestion to 
cease acting out those roles and sleep.

Once the rest of my volunteers were seated I set up the next scene. "Now we 
cut to Bob talking about his infidelity with his close friend, Monica. Jim 
will play the role of Bob, and Monica will play his friend, who is also a 
marriage counselor."

"Bob," Yvonne began, "has come to the apartment of his friend Monica. They 
are sitting on the sofa having drinks while Bob confesses the details of his 
encounter with Jordan."

The improvisational skills of Redman's crew seemed limitless. Yvonne had 
barely finished the word 'sofa' when one appeared, rolled in on silent 
casters by a fast-moving techie. The word 'drinks' produced a simple coffee 
table and a pair of empty highball glasses almost as quickly. A spotlight 
lit up the sofa as I positioned Monica and Jim on either end.

"I never meant for it to happen," Jim confessed. "The last thing I'd ever 
want to do is to hurt Traci. But she's been away so much lately, between 
work and the gym. I was worried that something was wrong. And then Jordan 
came over, we had a drink, and she really seemed like she wanted to help. I 
talked, and she listened. It felt good to have someone who really wanted to 
listen, you know? Next thing I knew she was leaning in close, and her hand 
was on my leg, and it had been so long since Traci touched me that way that 
my body responded to her. We kissed, and somehow my hand slipped inside her 
shirt. Instead of stopping me she unzipped my fly and put her hand in there 
and after that ... well, it just happened. And Traci walked in on us and saw 
us both naked and Jordan on top of me, but I was so turned on I couldn't 
stop even then. It was like a nightmare."

"Monica listens to Bob's story," Yvonne continued, "and feels herself 
getting increasingly turned on. She's wanted for years to seduce Bob, but 
always figured he would never give in because of his love for Traci. Now, 
though, with Bob feeling so vulnerable and ashamed, this was an opportunity 
Monica couldn't resist."

Monica didn't miss a beat. She scooted up close to Jim, took his hand in 
hers, and caressed it. "It's okay, Bob," she told him. "It's not your fault. 
The body wants what it wants, and sometimes we just have to *relax and let 
go*, Bob, and let the body have what it wants."

The teacher admired the smoothness with which Monica had embedded the 
suggestion. The user watched with eager excitement as Monica's intentions 
became clear. "I can take the hurt away for you, Bob," she said, her voice 
growing smooth and soft. "All you have to do is trust me and let go."

Monica gestured with two fingers toward her eyes. "Focus on my eyes," she 
directed him. "Let all of your thought and energies concentrate just on my 
eyes. Let your field of vision narrow so that all you see, all you can focus 
on, are my eyes. You don't have to do anything; you don't have to say 
anything; you don't even have to *consciously* listen to my voice. Clear 
your mind and as you stare deeply into my eyes, allow yourself to take a 
long, slow, deep breath ... that's right ... and as you let it out slowly, 
staying so focused on my eyes that you may not even notice just how deeply 
your body is relaxing."

Jim didn't stand a chance. His eyes locked on Monica's and I could see him 
visibly sagging.

"That's right," she continued, "just keep focusing completely on my eyes ... 
so focused now that even if you try to look away, you find that your eyes 
cannot move from mine. Go ahead and prove that you are so focused, your eyes 
can't look away from mine no matter how hard you try."

I was close enough to see the muscles around Jim's eyes twitch with the 
effort of trying, and failing, to look away. Then, to the user's delight, 
Monica's hand went to the buttons on the front of her dress and slowly 
opened them, spreading the fabric apart as she went. "See? No matter how 
much you may want to look away, you can't do it. In fact, you are so focused 
on my eyes right now that you probably haven't even noticed that I've 
unbuttoned my dress. My breasts are out in the open, right in front of you. 
You'd like to look at my breasts, wouldn't you? I know you want to, but 
you're eyes are still locked onto mine. You can try to look down, try to 
look at my breasts, but the more you try the more you find that instead your 
eyes become heavy and sleepy ... droopy and drowsy ... and still completely 
unable to look away from mine. As I count down from five to one, keep trying 
to look at my breasts, but the more you try the sleepier and sleepier you 
become and the more impossible it is for you to look away from my eyes. Five 
... wanting so much to see my body ... four, your eyelids becoming so heavy, 
so hard to keep them open ... three, struggling now just to keep my eyes in 
focus as the heaviness spreads through your whole body ... two, so hard now, 
you're so hard, and you're trying so hard to look at my breasts but your 
eyes just won't do it, and they become so sleepy it's just impossible to 
keep them open any longer as I reach ... one. Your eyes close, and you can 
just relax and let go."


As Jim's eyelids drooped and closed, the user and the teacher asked the same 
question: where in hell did she learn that one?

But my student wasn't finished. She took Jim through a short deepener and 
then revealed to all of us her plan. "I want to help you," she assured him. 
"Allow my voice to penetrate deeply into your inner mind, until it becomes 
natural and automatic for you to follow my suggestions. Follow my 
suggestions exactly and you can be free of the guilt you were feeling a few 
minutes ago."

This sounded interesting.

"The guilt that was bothering you so comes from the memory of having 
betrayed Traci. To eliminate the guilt, we are going to replace that memory 
with a pleasant one ... a happy one ... a memory that you can keep without 
any guilt or shame because it will be right and wonderful for you. When 
you're ready to follow my suggestions completely and be free of the guilt, 
just ask me to free you."

It took maybe three seconds for Jim to respond through barely moving lips. 
"Free me."

Monica took Jim's hand again and caressed it. "I want you to go back in your 
mind to your encounter with Jordan. Be there again, make it as real as 
possible, except for one thing: instead of Jordan, you are now with Traci. 
Keep your eyes closed, and let your every thought and wish and feeling 
confirm to your mind that you are with Traci." She slipped his hand inside 
her open dress. "Let this be Traci's breast that you're feeling, and notice 
how warm and soft it is." With her other hand she pulled down Jim's zipper 
and snaked her hand inside. "Let this be Traci's hand reaching inside your 
pants, making you so hard, so eager to make love to her. Let the lips you 
kiss now be hers, and give yourself to her now."

Still holding his hand against her breast and her own inside his pants, 
Monica closed the distance between their faces and planted a long, 
open-mouthed kiss on her costar. Jim returned it and then some, and his hand 
grew ever bolder in exploring Monica's chest while she stroked his hard-on.

That was enough for me. I put a hand on each of them and commanded, "Sleep!" 
Monica flopped on top of Jim and I held her just long enough to make sure 
she wouldn't roll off, then did the same for Yvonne and called the scene 
over.

The applause while I extricated Monica and took her back to her seat was 
deafening. She slumped down in her chair, dress still gaping open but 
showing only a very generous amount of cleavage from a straight-on viewing 
angle. Yvonne also drew accolades from the crowd as I led her back to her 
chair. Jim, I suspected, was the envy of every straight guy in the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I announced, moving into the next bit, "those of you 
who saw my show last Tuesday may recall that we put on our own version of 
The Dating Game." A healthy round of applause told me that a good percentage 
of the crowd had seen it, or at least heard about it. "Our lucky contestant 
that night was a guy named Warren. In the interest of fairness, I'm thinking 
that tonight we should find a date for one of the young ladies up here on 
stage. Let's see now, who shall it be?"

I had actually intended to pick someone from the back row who hadn't been in 
the last bit, but the audience mistook my musing for an actual question. 
"Traci!" a bunch of them called out. I also heard loud cries for Monica and 
for Jordan. Flashing skin buys instant popularity, it seemed. I figured, why 
not? I brought Traci, Monica and Jordan to the front and took an applause 
poll. It was close but Monica just won out over Traci, with Jordan taking 
third.

"Okay, then, our contestant tonight will be Monica. But rather than go 
through the ritual of asking a lot of questions, I think we should just 
focus on the really important thing: who deserves that dream date with 
Monica?"

I had four guys come forward and line up: Hector and Barry, plus two guys 
from the back row that had sat out the soap opera bit, Eugene and Lou. 
"Gentlemen, you have been chosen to compete for the honor of a dream date 
with Monica. You all saw how she handled Jim earlier, so you know she's a 
hot-blooded woman who knows what she likes in a man. Rather than ask you a 
bunch of questions, then, it's going to be up to you guys to prove who is 
the most worthy of her affection. That's right, gentlemen, this competition 
is going to be decided on one factor only: machismo. Allow yourselves right 
now to become the most macho of all men. You think macho, you walk macho, 
you talk macho. Everything you say will be intended to impress Monica with 
how macho you are, and everything you hear your competitors say will only 
convince you even more that you must prove your superior machismo. You can 
say and do anything that comes to mind to make your case except that you 
cannot touch each other and you cannot leave your place on stage. In the 
end, Monica will choose the most macho man to be hers."

I turned to the audience. "But what does it mean to be macho? I think there 
are three basic qualities that define machismo. First of these is strength. 
Let's find out from our macho men how strong they think they are."

Mic in hand, I walked over to Hector, my first in line. "Hector, tell us 
something that will impress Monica with your strength."

Hector pushed up a shirt sleeve and displayed a very impressive bicep. "See 
this? I am the arm-wrestling champion of the resort." He drew a round of 
applause as he flexed his arm to show off the muscle.

Barry did not have an impressive physique, but the way he looked at Monica 
(who still hadn't buttoned her dress) spoke volumes about his desire. 
"Strong muscles are nothing without endurance," he said. "These arms are not 
made to play games; instead, they are built to sweep you into them, carry 
you to my room, and make love to you until dawn. That is my strength."

Eugene was not impressed. "Strongest thing about this dude is his after 
shave," he sneered. "I'm a personal trainer, Monica. My body is my living. 
Every muscle I have is conditioned for strength and endurance ... and I do 
mean, *every* muscle." The pelvic thrust with which he punctuated that 
statement was clearly unnecessary, but the audience enjoyed it.

"Muscles are easy," Lou said on his turn. "Real strength is about more than 
just what you can lift; it's what you can handle. I face rejection, 
hostility, and indifference every single day in the car business, and every 
day I find the strength to get out there and face it some more. It never 
gets to me because I'm strong enough to believe in myself. And I believe 
that I'm the guy who can rock your world tonight." Not a bad try from a guy 
with an obvious spare tire.

"All right," I continued after the applause died down, "we've established 
that these men are strong. But to be macho, a man must also have poise and 
grace. I can't think of a better way for these men to demonstrate their 
poise and grace than to put on a macho posing exhibition. Gentlemen, on the 
count of three you will all strip off your shirts and put on an exhibition 
of posing that will show off your muscles and grace and form. One, two, 
three."

Redman's techies impressed me again. From the speaker system came the hard 
thrashing sounds of an old heavy metal song:

"*He's pumping iron; everywhere rock haaaaaaard ..." *

My contestants tossed their shirts behind them and began doing their best 
imitations of body builders in competition. Barry struck a fierce post to 
show off his chest and shoulders; Hector did the classic Atlas pose, with 
arms up as if holding up the world. Eugene and Lou got into it as well. 
Every few seconds the guys changed poses, their eyes constantly looking 
towards Monica. She watched them all and gave encouraging looks to each in 
turn.

"And as the music continues," I suggested, "your poses get increasingly 
outrageous and unorthodox." Hector dropped his pants and did buttock 
clenches in Monica's direction through his gold silk boxers. Barry put on a 
unique exhibition of facial poses while his right arm went to his chest in 
the movie gladiator salute. I spied Lou, also sans pants, doing pelvic 
thrusts in time to the music at a woman in the front row and Eugene, 
possibly the best in the group, turning his back to the audience and doing 
the classic 'making out' pose with an imaginary girlfriend. The music wound 
down and the posing ended.

"Well," I said to the audience, "we have certainly seen some unusual 
interpretations of poise tonight." I let them chuckle. "Now, let's see if 
our men have that third vital quality of the truly macho man: passion. 
Monica, on the count of three I want you to come over here and, one at a 
time, kiss each of these men. After each kiss you can tell us how passionate 
and macho that man's kiss was."

On my three count Monica walked up to Hector, looked briefly into his eyes, 
and kissed him. Hector stood still, perhaps aware in his subconscious that 
his fiancee was on stage. Monica broke off shortly. "Too timid," she 
assessed, in a fake accent that reminded me vaguely of Anita de los Santos. 
"He kissed me like I was his sister. This is not macho."

She approached Barry. He lifted his hands to her face and guided her mouth 
to his. This kiss lasted longer and included some head movement. "Very 
nice," Monica said. "But a bit chaste. I didn't feel the desire in his 
touch. Better, but still not macho."

Eugene could barely hold still while she approached him. His arms went 
around Monica immediately and pulled her body into his. One hand went 
immediately down to her bottom and grabbed at her. She pushed back hard and 
almost fell over, but I was on hand to steady her. "No!" she complained. 
"Too much grabbing, too much pressing. It's a kiss, not mouth-to-mouth 
resuscitation. Very not macho."

The crowd's reaction was mixed. I heard a lot of male voices groaning, and a 
lot of female voices cheering. Then they fell silent for Lou's turn. He 
opened his arms and embraced Monica, but gently and without the blatant 
groping that had come from Eugene. "That was the best so far," she told us 
all. "He has confidence. Confidence is *mui macho*."

The audience cheered and I heard a couple of men's voices calling out, "Come 
here, try me!" Monica took her seat and the crowd fell quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, before we ask Monica to make her choice, let's find 
out what you think. By round of applause, who is the most macho?

"Is it Hector?" A healthy chunk of the audience seemed to think so. They 
clapped and shouted their support for him.

"Is it Barry?" Nope - a few isolated cheers came from a side table was all 
he got.

"Is it Eugene?" Lots of men seemed to think so. Overall, though, he didn't 
get as much support as Hector had.

"Or is it Lou?" He also got a lot of support. There's something about a 
pudgy guy willing to put himself out there that gets people on his side. In 
the end, though, the choice was obvious.

"Monica," I announced, "our audience has spoken. They say that the most 
macho of the men on stage is Hector. But the final say is yours: whom will 
you choose to be yours for the night?"

She accepted the mic from my hand. "The audience is mistaken," she said. 
"These men all have macho qualities. So do many of the others who did not 
participate. But there is one man who is so strong, so poised, and so 
passionate that he has every one else dancing to his tune, including me." 
Monica moved close and put an arm around my neck. "You are *el mas macho*, 
Jack. I choose you." And before I could respond she planted a kiss on me 
that short-circuited my brain for a moment.

The cardinal rule of improvisation says that when your fellow actor hands 
you an offer, you take it. So I put my arm around Monica's waist, shifted my 
weight just a little and maneuvered her into a dip. A loud chorus of 
approving whistles and cries accompanied us as we kissed and kissed. Then I 
retrieved the microphone and held it close to our mouths. "Everyone, sleep."

I carried Monica back to her seat and settled her into it. Then, while the 
audience was applauding, I turned aside and got the attention of one of the 
techies. She came out, we had a very fast exchange, and she headed back to 
the wings to relay my plan to Rudi in the booth. During the macho 
competition I'd had an idea.

While my talented people in black made their moves I moved over to Traci and 
put a hand on her shoulder. "This next suggestion is for Traci only. Traci, 
I'd like you to open your eyes now, stand up, and come with me to the front 
of the stage. You can leave on the seat any clothing you're not wearing 
because you won't need it just yet. Come with me now."

Traci's pretty blue eyes opened. She stood up, took my hand, and came 
forward with me as instructed. She was perfect for what I had in mind, and 
not just because she was almost naked.

Two techies came running on stage with a pair of tall wooden barstools. They 
placed them at upstage center, about four feet apart, and retreated to the 
wings. "Close your eyes now, Traci," I told her. I faced her directly toward 
the audience and stood behind her. The handheld mic went into my pocket so 
I'd have both hands free. With a hand on each of Traci's shoulders, I 
continued. "For Traci and only Traci, right now, stand up straight and tall 
for me, please. Straight and tall, arms at your sides, feet together. That's 
right. Traci only, I want you to imagine right now that your body has become 
absolutely stiff and rigid, muscles locked in this position, completely 
rigid and unmovable, as if your whole body were suddenly made of hard 
plastic, like a mannequin. Completely stiff, completely rigid, completely 
unmoving, until I tell you otherwise."

I used my hands to gently rock her back and forth, side to side, to make 
sure she was nice and rigid. "Very good," I told her. "You can stay 
perfectly stiff like that, and I promise to keep you safe. Now, this next 
suggestion is for Eugene only: Eugene, please open your eyes and come join 
me at the front of the stage now."

When Eugene reached my side I turned Traci to face him and tilted her 
backward until she tipped over. I still had a grip on her shoulders and used 
that to keep her from falling, then shifted my grip to allow me to lift. I 
had Eugene lift her feet and we laid her out across the two barstools, her 
feet on one and her neck and shoulders squarely over the other. There were 
some scattered Ooohs from the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is what we call the Bridge. Notice that despite 
having absolutely nothing to hold her back straight or her arms at her 
sides, Traci is able to maintain this position and, in fact, is quite 
comfortable." I took out the hand mic and held it to her face. "Traci, tell 
our audience how you feel right now."

"Dreamy," she said in a soft, spacey voice.

"How comfortable are you right now?"

"Very comfortable. I feel like I'm floating."

"Thank you, Traci. Let your mind drift deeper as your body remains perfectly 
stiff and rigid."

From up in the booth a green light flashed. Rudi was ready.

"The Bridge," I explained to the audience, "is a very popular demonstration 
because it's just about impossible to fake. Anyone trying to do this in a 
waking state will find it very difficult to achieve this position and it 
would require extensive practice and conditioning to be able to hold it for 
any length of time. But here at Uninhibited, we've discovered another very 
convenient use for this technique. Hector, and only Hector, please open your 
eyes and join me at the front of the stage now."

I placed Hector at Traci's head and Eugene at her feet and had them lift her 
off the barstools to shoulder level. "Hector and Eugene, I want you to feel 
the muscles in your arms and shoulders locking in place, fixed and unmoving, 
absolutely locked in that position so that Traci remains safely suspended in 
your grip. Only when I ask you to change position will your arms and 
shoulders move." The techies cleared away the barstools and I had the 
Hector-Traci-Eugene assembly turn slightly.

"Now, for everyone else on stage except Traci, Hector, and Eugene: it's 
limbo time!"

The sound system came to life and the familiar limbo music filled the room. 
"Everyone still seated on stage, we're going to conclude tonight's show with 
a limbo competition. If you wish to play, you can open your eyes and form a 
line to your right. Traci is the limbo pole; if you can go under her without 
touching the floor with anything but your feet, you can keep going. If you 
touch the floor you can still continue, but you have to remove an item of 
clothing first. If you run out of clothing you're out and have to sit down. 
If any of you are wearing high heels I strongly recommend you simply take 
those off now before you join the line. Anyone who does not wish to play can 
remain seated and sleep, but those who do want to play can begin now."

The line formed stage right. I was pleased to see that only a few people 
opted out, and mildly surprised that Monica was not one of them. We'd get 
her out of that dress yet, it seemed.

The first pass through was easy. With Traci's body at shoulder level and no 
clothes hanging below to interfere, everybody made it under with ease. 
Working first with Hector and then with Eugene, I repositioned Traci to 
chest level and made sure they had a firm grip before locking their muscles 
in place again. This time Jim, the tallest of the gang, failed to make it 
under without putting a hand on the floor. He tossed off the Hawaiian shirt 
and rejoined the line.

The third pass involved another grip change that put Traci at lower chest 
level, and that's when things got interesting. Everyone but Yvonne and 
Bianca slipped up and had to lose a piece of clothing, which kept the 
techies hopping to collect the items and take them out of the way. The 
teacher made a point of telling everyone that they could choose to quit any 
time they wanted, but Monica kicked off her sensible flat shoes and 
continued. The user applauded her bravado.

With Traci at gut level Jim gave up while he still had his shorts and his 
dignity. Barry and Lacey, both down to underwear, kept going. Yvonne lost 
her dress and continued in nothing but a sheer black teddy. Monica almost 
made it, but lost her balance at the last second and landed rump first on 
the floor. She bowed to the cheering crowd, spread the dress open and stood 
up without it. When she returned to her seat instead of the line I could 
almost feel the disappointment from my fellow straight men.

The real star was turning out to be Bianca. She had started topless, having 
finished the soap opera that way, but had yet to lose anything else. She led 
the way in the next pass, which had Traci at hip height, and again managed 
to snake through without faulting. Barry took one look at the height and sat 
down without trying. Lacey was game, but fell and lost her bra. Yvonne and 
Jordan also slipped and became the first ones eliminated by running out of 
clothing.

I had Hector and Eugene kneel and raise Traci back to mid chest level, which 
was now a few inches lower than the last round. Only Lacey and Bianca 
remained. Bianca went first, knees bent sharply, focused intently on keeping 
her weight balanced. She almost made it, but when she ducked her head to 
clear Traci she tipped backward and landed on her bottom. Still, she was 
laughing as she peeled off the tight black pants to reveal a baby blue 
G-string.

Lacey gave it a solid try, but she clearly lacked Bianca's experience. Half 
way under her feet flew out and she flopped on her back. With more grace 
than one might expect in that situation Lacey picked herself up, slipped off 
her panties, and tucked them into my pocket on her way back to her seat. I 
tossed them to a waiting techie and approached Bianca.

"You seem to be the last one standing," I observed, "but I'm not sure I can 
give you the prize when you fell on your last attempt. Do you think you can 
do it if I give you one more try?"

Bianca gently pushed the mic aside. "Watch me."

Damned if she didn't do it, too. She approached slowly and deliberately, 
inching her way underneath Traci's still body. This time she managed the 
head tuck without losing balance and came through triumphant.

The limbo music faded away to the audience's loud cheers. I had Hector and 
Eugene set Traci down on the floor and let them take a bow for their help 
with the stunt. Then I returned to Bianca's side. "And how about a round of 
applause for our limbo champion?"

Bianca leaned into the mic. "What do I win, Jack?"

Oops. I hadn't given any thought to a prize. From out in the crowd, I heard 
a female voice shout, "Give her an orgasm!" It sounded like Claire.

"Would you like that?" I asked Bianca. She nodded. "Okay, then. Bianca, in a 
moment I'm going to have the audience count from one to ten. With each 
number they count, you'll feel yourself becoming increasingly aroused so 
that when they reach ten you have a tremendous, uncontrollable, absolutely 
wonderful orgasm that lasts as long as the audience continues to applaud. 
Audience, count with me: one ... two ... "

Bianca laughed at first, but by the time the audience reached five her hands 
began to roam all over her almost-naked body. Between seven and eight she 
dropped to her knees panting and moaning. At nine she nearly fell over but 
caught herself with her arms, and at ten she collapsed on the floor into a 
writhing, gasping fit of overwhelming pleasure. The audience clapped and 
cheered, fueling Bianca's continued bliss.

While they were doing that I restored Traci to normal mobility. "Ladies and 
gentlemen," I asked, "should we give the same reward to our limbo pole?"

The response was overwhelmingly positive, so I did. Traci's eyes popped open 
at the count of ten and she joined Bianca in writhing around on the stage 
floor. Eventually the applause and the orgasms subsided. I helped both 
exhausted women to their seats and got everyone another round of applause.

To end the show I gave the group my usual suggestions for well-being, 
remembering everything with a good sense of humor, being proud and happy at 
their creativity and willingness to have fun ... basically to make them feel 
good about what they'd done and thank them for their help. Since they were 
all in varying states of undress, I then had them come forward one at a 
time, take a bow, and retire to the wings to dress. The women's clothing was 
in the right wing, the men's in the left. Once everyone was dressed they got 
one last group bow and returned to their seats. The audience cheered and 
clapped for every one of them and then gave me a standing ovation.

Redman left me out there in the spotlight while the audience cheered and I 
thanked them every way I could think of. Finally, after I'd lost count of 
the thank-yous and acknowledged the crew and the audience a dozen times, the 
lights went out and the working part of my holiday was over.


(continues)

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