FZ - CARMEL

Does any of this sound familiar to you out there? This is an Internet story, and I was dancing before Internet got to be such a big thing. Since we conscripted our "volunteers" from those who were mostly in their twenties or thirties, there may be some of you actually reading my words now! I choose to believe it at any rate...

Especially YOU. I've decided I'm writing this story for YOU.

I'm a plumpish lady now, as it happens. This is not to say that my abilities depended on giant inflatible tits and a 26-inch waist! I wager that if Rutger, or Stefan, or Louis, or Louis "the Second," or Andy or any of my others, picked up their phones tonight and heard me say "I am Shabari," their reactions would surprise them!

You could have been a special deep one, you and perhaps twenty or thirty others. You (Rebecca?) could very well have blanked out everything by now, or contented yourselves with very exciting dreams early in the morning (eh, Tomas?). Your Significant Other (I believe we say now) may be the beneficiary of some energetic hobbies in your bedroom... or your cellar, mmm, Hank? You may be experimenting with "open marriage" fifteen years after that passed from the vogue.

Perhaps you have found in yourself a fascination with Mesmerism? (Barbara? Nicholas, Aoki?) Perhaps you would have come along these routes by yourself. Perhaps some of you remember everything by now. Perhaps you are writing stories for the Web, creative stories... stories of erotic trance, Debbie? Stories of mass sexual ecstasy? Are you there, Claudio? Maybe I have already read your stories, Bennett, maybe one has inspired me to set all these events down, and that would be "far out!"

We lost Sofia five years ago, not to disease or old age, but to mishap. Sofia was visiting her homeland, and that ferry boat disaster in the Aegean claimed her. We had been apart for several years before, but she had phoned me regularly, even after my marriage, and move to the North West.

Jerome misses her as well, because she put her devoted servant "at his command" more than once! I'll never forget my first dazed offer of anal intercourse to my husband-to-be, still holding my phone in one hand, pushing my skirt back with the other, and presenting my bouncy butt upward. I begged him, and he speared me.

She's gone, though.

Zephyr, as I said, is now a visual and "performance" artist. She and I went our separate ways, but she remains to this day an avid hypnotist, and in her artistic "circle" are many knowing and unknowing servants!

Her figure is still magnificent. I saw it four years ago, in an expensive renovated building in Queens, New York. She lives and works on the entire top floor. She owns the building. Need I say more? She is actually not so cynical as when she was young and poor. Why, I don't know; it's partly cynicism and partly pudginess that got out from entertaining, and enabled my darling Jerry to pluck me into his arms, with no coercion required!

At any rate, Zephyr knew we were going to be coming east. She invited Jerry and me over (he knows all about me), and since she has a good caterer, we found ourselves pressing her intercom buzzer early on a stifling August evening.

It was "Middle-East" night, with loose white cotton canopies draped over bamboo poles set in tubs of stones. ("Tents," get it?) Piles of those unsalted crackers, tabouleh, grape leaves, kibbee, and a "chef" with a deep fat fryer making fresh felafel. Goat cheeses. Imported grape juice. Potted dwarf lemon trees, with fruit! Jerome wondered aloud about "parking the camel." He's humor-impaired, given mostly to puns, but I love the big lug!

My caftan felt just about right for the bash (when I say "plump," I'm talking twenty-five or thirty pounds here). Jerry's raw linen suit looked great on him too, and Zephyr gave us each much more than the NYC "peck on the neck." (Jerry knows all about her, too!) Her navel was showing, pierced. From the ring atop the bellybutton dangled a tiny mounted opal or some such stone. Trousers hugged her still-trim bottom very tightly. Bracelets. Ankle bracelets! I began predicting things. She smiled and left us to our own devices.

Jerry had never witnessed any of our mesmeric shenanigans first-hand, but was VERY tolerant when I had rhapsodized about our "Dancing Partners." We spent a little time looking at glass sculpture, some stuff that looked like stucco, and VERY kinky little holograms. A jeweler's loupe might have showed me some detail, but I thought I could recite them anyhow! They might have featured Louis II, but the images were too small. (Louis? are you still as well-endowed as ever, Louis? Are you out therrr-r-r-re? What a lovely dick YOU had, Louis, dear! It curved ever so cutely to one side. You could stay hard for hours, with our help, of course!

Jerrys hand rested gently on my hip as I bent down to squint at them. I wriggled back into his groin, and heard a familiar chuckle from off to one side.

"Well, this looks like a happy family!" Zeph had come up behind us, and I heard her smooch Jerry's cheek playfully. Her hand gave my hip a familiar pat. Then she spoke to me. "I know it's mostly behind you, honey," she said, "but I think there may be three boys tonight. I know of two pretty much for sure, and I'm sure that Kate has another real hunk here." Katja was (I'd been told) a real Nordic dominatrix at heart, but had herself been Zephyr's main "harem" for the last three years, and loved to "act" gentle, or young, or bitchy. Zephyr's voice sounded matter-of-fact, but her black eyes sparkled, and I felt my pulse reacting.

Our practice had nearly always involved just one fella (or woman) at a time, with some sharing occasionally (those were of course the days long before AIDS, when BC pills were popped like candy). Only four or five times in six years did we obtain the EXTREMELY erotic thrill of "subbing out."

Zephyr was better at hypnotizing women (and more interested) than I; she regularly tried to get them to entrance their own boyfriends (all unknowing, of course), and then she or I would "borrow" the guy. I remember that Barbara and Aoki each furnished two subdued males into Zephyr's "Jeans Pool," as she liked to call it. Their reward was to watch, helpless, as Zephyr and I put the lads through some dizzying paces.

Jerry wasn't clued into all this old history yet, but I knew I could let him in on it. I told him that there might be a mini-orgy in the making, and that I was finding an old part of me reawakening with sizzle at the possibility.

He laughed too. "She's got me all to herself, but I think you still get her going, Zephyr!" he answered suavely. "You know my views on it all!" I won't go into them, but Jerome is no prude, and he likes pornography (when I let him pay attention to something besides me!) and he'd certainly heard all about us. "If we're around later..." We left it at that. I'd caught his unstated interest, though, and knew we'd manage to be "around!"

The party kept going, with only a bit more restraint than a fraternity beer-bash. This was also a sort of art show. Many of Zephyr's works were around the walls, and some of her art world buddies had brought their things, too.

So, while the crowd were watching some dippy video by some precious beard waggler, I watched them with a practiced eye. I was looking for Zephyr's "recruiters," and I spotted one for sure, and one more for pretty sure. "Recruiters" were women that had been "enlisted" by one of us (the way I had been by Sofia, I mean), and who had been "programmed" to try to get their boyfriends or husbands, or any other male they knew, involved.

A short, slightly stocky Japanese woman in a wondrously glossy kimono kept her eyes on Zephyr nearly the whole evening, and that was a giveaway to me. Her date (a financial something named James) was ogling all the other women there but I doubt she even noticed. Some date! But James had just that self-absorbed air that made me feel sure that in a short while he would be in outer space.

Ditto for "Colonel Klink," as the middle-aged but very trim Werner was known behind his back. A dabbler in "collectables" and antique frames (!), Werner was now squiring a lissome lassie about on his elbow, explaining everything to her. She LIKES this guy? I wondered, but not aloud.

I couldn't be sure of who the other guy could be yet. Within a half hour, however, I saw that things had already started. At the far end of the room, people were climbing up to Zeph's private quarters. I wanted to let things settle a while, so it wasn't until another half hour had dragged by that I pried Jerry away from a philosophy professor and his wife, and began pulling him eagerly toward the stairs.

Along one end of this big room (part of some old warehouse or sweatshop I guess) was an elevated inner loft that once served as office space. You clambered up a long flight of metal stairs, maybe forty steps in all, and this is where Zephyr had made her main living quarters, a large bedroom, bath and kitchenette at one end. And at the other?

This room served her for her more private entertainments. Her aquaintances thought of it as a "private gallery." It was. As we approached the stairway, we saw the chain with its little sign. "Private quarters. Off limits." In fact, seated at a little card table at the foot of the stairs were two guys!

"Oh, Jerry!" I whispered, "this is rich... check out her bouncers!"

They were playing cards, and almost didn't look up when we got there, but I tried a word or two on them: "We have an appointment on the Island..." which got results. Mutt stood immediately, and removed one end of the chain. Jeff dropped his cards onto the floor, and muttered some sort of apology. At the same time his hungy gaze fastened on my tits like a leopard on a rabbit.

I bent wayyyy dowwnnnn to pick up his cards, and returned them, pulling his gaze up to my face.

"I will think about you on the Island..." I said, giving him the old 10,000 watt stare. He didn't even notice that I'd kept four or five cards. As we started up the stairs, the two sat down, resuming their game. I had to laugh, showing Jerome (who'd missed the byplay while he was looking at Very Erotic Paintings on the wall) the backs of the cards. They were privately printed. Each bore a little spiral in the center. The words "Remember Zephyr" appeared as well.

"You see?" I chuckled to Jerry, as I let the cards flutter down towards the guards. "She's automated it! They're playing cards, but unconsciously they're always getting The Message! 'Remember Zephyr!'" And I chuckled again. I was feeling the old reawakening of that part of me that revelled in control. I looked back down at the distant party, and pressed Jerry's hand into my bodice. His strong fingers immediately sensed my erection, and he stopped one step below me as I stepped onto the landing.

I wriggled and cooed a bit as I gave my bosoms into his care. I now like strong stimulus there, and soon my eyes fluttered closed as my nipples were gently wrenched and tugged outwards. My center brought its warm flush to my attention. The Old Days had returned!

"Now, honey... honey?" I said, "you know... oh, God, Jer, that's nice... here, just stroke them... you know I love you... ooo... when we go in, can I play? You know... I can play with you if you want... but I won't if you don't... oh, Jerry... here..."

The landing was very dim, away from the party glare, and I'm sure no one was watching Jerome lift up my robe and slide both his thick forearms behind my ass, slipping one hand between my thighs, as my body responded instantly, trying to turn bow-legged to give his palm greater access.

"This stuff, Jerry... it's really strong," I tried to explain once again, between wiggles. "You're not a toyboy, Jerry, we played around a lot like I told you but anybody could slip in, you know what I'm saying?"

His head rested on my bosom. My center already felt puffy, and liquid was seeping, I was sure. I batted his hand playfully away. He'd had quite a bit of wine already.

"I want to see it happen, babe," he answered me, a little thickly. Pressed against a hip I felt his penis, now a large, semi-solid bulge. "Talk about strong... you know I like you strong... If things happen, let 'em happen, and we'll talk about it after. Lots!"

Then my tongue was burrowing into his dear mouth as I expressed my excitement and pleasure. Smacking his firm butt, I rearranged my clothing. What a man! How lucky I am! He likes a lot of women the way they are, and quite a few sense it, and he could have lots of women. He chose me. Sigh. I knew now that if Something Happened in there, our relationship would stay strong. What can I say? We're both horny as the devil!

I ushered him in. The living side of the loft was completely dark, but not so Zephyr's playroom. There was her "planetarium" corner, a five or six-thousand dollar projector that put the night sky (with comets!) any way you'd want it. She told me that she liked to "camp out" in a sleeping bag on the floor sometimes, to remember what a night sky looked like. Also, it could be set to whirl and spin, and had a "starship voyage" setting that zoomed in or out forever. Need I say more?

Well. There were several people upstairs when we arrived. Over in one corner was Mr. MBA. James was studying some erotic "sculpture" that rotated on small turntables along one wall. I saw that spotlights caused a host of reflections from some metal in the sculptures to swirl along the wall like some dance hall reflector from a sock hop! This was no accident. Zephyr had refined the optic inductions we knew so well to incorporate her art, and her planetarium. Probably her refrigerator light bulb could be used too, I thought to myself with an inner chortle.

The starship had passengers. Werner was plunged into a comfy sofa, without his date. Werner was already lost in a pre-trance reverie, uncommunicative with the couple on the next sofa. He was a natural, and now I knew why he'd been included.

And nearby was Katja, sprawled gracefully out, very informally dressed in TIGHT denim shorts (artfully frayed over the hip pockets) and a black T-shirt that minimized her size 38 or 40s... but maximized the effect of her necklace. Strung with very large dark rough stones in varying semiprecious ores, there were definite glittery bits intermingled.

Had she ever worn it for YOU before? Here you were tonight, after eight or nine years! your arm cradling Katja's short-cropped head, her long neck tilted over to rest in a crook of your arm, as she quietly babbled about how wonderful this machine was, didn't you think? How she could watch it... for hours...

I won't print YOUR name here. It doesn't matter. I don't even know what your job was. I DO remember your face! You might remember going to that Greek place out on Long Island six or seven years ago. You might remember your double-date friends, and you might remember how your eyes followed my wrists and face and shoulders, and how I drew your attention to my gyrating navel. Or you might not.

But I remembered you! Something about your shoulders, something about your upturned face, called to me. I danced for you. You were nearly mine, but you and your friends left too soon. I tell myself you were nearly mine, anyway.

How Katja had latched onto you now, God alone knows... are you in the theater too? Your date long ago had been a platinum blonde too, I think... you have a thing for pale women? I'm sure you enjoyed Katja, an athletic lover, whose strength and appetites were equal to Zephyr's.

There could have been no way for you to suspect, as you slipped into post-coital sleep, your penis still held in her gently-squeezing pussy, that Kate's loins might be yours... but her mind belonged to a woman you hadn't even met yet?A honey-skinned artist in mind-control who could turn Katja's pale flesh sweaty and shivery with the merest glance of her black eyes?

Katja didn't notice us, either. Gentle, calm and seductive, I can tell you that, murmuring now to you, she was "tuned" into your responses and guiding them always towards deeper relaxation, deeper acceptance. She was feeling wonderful. She was not consciously aware that she was obeying Zephyr.

YOU certainly looked comfortable, your shoes off, your feet up on a hassock, and your head resting on Katja's. My husband checked out the display, and nodded slowly to me.

"Yeah, it's amazing." He whispered, but even so, I drew him away from you, not wishing to distract you. "Carmel. This is like some museum." Then his eye caught the paintings and the sculpture. In an instant my sensitive flesh sensed the catch in his breathing and the pressure of his manhood, now stimulated anew. I pressed a buttock back against him.

Then I sort of pushed him away towards the opposite side of the room. "Everything will happen over there," I said, and he padded off to join Zephyr. She had been conversing with James' date, but I caught her eye. I THINK I trusted her with my husband, but I shook a warning finger in her direction, and saw her laughing response. The girl had rejoined James, torn his attention from the glittery art, and was kissing him with great wantonness.

I turned back to the sofa. I stole round, to see that Werner was already under. I settled softly down next to him, slowly, so as not to distract you. Your eyes had closed, and Katya was not talking to you now. She smiled dreamily over at me... her task was almost complete now.

I leaned close to Werner. His eyes looked nowhere. "What a lovely relaxing evening, Werner," I said very softly. "If you know, please whisper the name of James' date to me."

He didn't even blink. His voice whispered back at me, "Suko."

"Is that Mitsuko ____ ?" a well-known Japanese restauranteuse, I knew of her from the Acropolis days. I felt a bit of jealousy, her flesh had stayed hard, compact and rubbery, the sort I'd like to get all oily and flexible... sigh.

"Mm-hmmm."

"Good. Continue your journey now, Werner..."

"Mmm-hmmm..." he sighed.

After another minute or so we heard laughter from the far end of the room. I swivelled, saw that Zephyr was "entertaining" my husband. Her long hand picked up something from a table. The display, operating on some sort of remote control, dimmed, and our "universe" folded inwards and gently collapsed, leaving the theatrical black drop behind. Werner stirred as he heard the call.

"Come on over!" Jerome was saying, "fashion show time!" God knows what he'd been told, but from the uncharacteristic enthusiasm in his voice I figured Zephyr hadn't told him it would be J.C. Penney bathrobes...

You had risen, moving slowly, hand in hand with your Katy, over with Werner, and I followed you. I watched your butt. Not too much middle-age there either. Damn! I'd better replace my dancing with... Something! I thought.

Trays of crackers and tabouleh were here too, along with goblets. Cheese. Brandy was served. You and Jerome both polished yours off quickly, as did Matsuko. James was querying Zephyr about the near-pornography, and she was assuring him that he would visit her gallery again.

The "Island" was now the "Gallery," I realized.

You were not introduced formally to everyone, but your first name was pronounced as Zephyr asked everyone to find seats "in this area here." I played along, sinking my weight gratefully back. But first, a little private murmur to our hostess.

"Jerry and I are ready for things," I told her, "but we're not ready for EVERYTHING." She returned my pointed look impishly.

"Oolala, cherie!" she twinkled. "But non! It shall be as you command, of course!" I took this as acknowledgment, and sank my weight gratefully off to one side, next to Suko. Jerome saw that I had symbolically let him "out to play," and oofed with pleasure as his own seat took his slumping 75-inch frame with ease.

Lights lowered, and background music faded up. Something New-agey, with slow-moving strings. Easily ignored, but pleasant.

"Now Carmel," began Zephyr, "and Jerome, as the honored guests this evening..." I sensed your head turning to assess me again, and Katja had disappeared somewhere. Mitsuko too glanced over at me. Her eyes looked "inscrutable," but, as they soon turned and re-locked onto Zephyr, I calculated much fun would ensue.

"...this evening, I've found some dramatic jewelry that I will begin importing soon. The party will go on, but I can't wait to get some reactions, and I'm sure that everyone here will enjoy it... perhaps even try some on yourselves, if our models will allow it!"

Your head moved again. Looking for Katja?

"To begin," she said, and reached around for a large wooden case on a rolling cart, "Here are samples. Some are South American, some are from Australia. Different makers. But all of them calculated to let light "flow," as you see I love that effect... umm, you perhaps noticed the star machine, and the turning figures?"

Her guests were nodding. You watched Zephyr, as did we all, as her slender arms lifted one necklace after another, holding them in the cones of light. They varied in colors and reflectivity, some looking like sparkling chains of stars, others more like Katy's neckwear, rough-hewn and darker. A few bracelets and oversized earrings, all with shiny metallic loops and whorls.

Her presentation had begun. My own internal programming kicked in about this time, helped by my reassurance that my marriage would survive. I felt my body slumping a bit more, and gave a large sigh... an audible one, because she worked it into her spiel.

"Comfy? Are we all comfy? This could take a while, because I want to explain some of the mountings that I prefer..."

I allowed myself a contented chuckle, remembering some "mountings" I had observed, and others that I had performed. I hope these chairs are washable, I thought silently, then answering myself: well, of course they are. "Just relax, Carmel," I heard the coaxing voices from the past, "relax... and if you become warm and moist, you'll enjoy it." I was already well along my own path. "Relax and let Zephyr do you."

Was that my mind, or did she just say that? I wondered. Oh, God, it felt good to give in... just give in... Zephyr's in charge now... but I wanted to stay aware too! I shook my head a bit to clear the cobwebs. I caught a glance of tender (?) amusement from the hostess.

"Carmel's always been very easily seduced by jewelry," she said, "and really, many many of us are, men and women alike, some is very luxurious, others just shiny bits of glass and metal, but when selected with care, anyone can afford to sparkle. Here, I will explain my ideas.

"We spend half our waking time in motion, and half in stillness, walking or dancing now, and now seated at desks, or in a car, or reading in bed, or sunk into comfortable chairs, and our decoration should look and feel good whether we're active or very relaxed. That's my idea here, so look at this necklace." She held one of the rougher pieces.

"First, see how we made the stones appear rough, but when it touches the skin you'll find that each stone is smooth, and that's because the light is irregular, it appears only partially as the piece moves and twists. Now look."

Her fingers smoothed over the long loop of beads. They shimmered as her hands turned and smoothed them. Lights reflected into our eyes. Into your eyes too. Did you enjoy the display? I know you were. You wanted to reach for the brandy, but you had to push yourself up out of your comfortable state. You managed it, and poured for Suko as well. You tasted, and replaced your glass. Soon you were attentively watching and listening. I had to turn my head away a little as I watched you from one side.

Zephyr had no vestige of her low-southern, hard-edged mannerisms, those had been left behind; only a lovely tender lilt and slightly rounded phrasing remained, which gave her the ability to capture and hold attention. She had everyone's attention as she moved through her samples.

"...And this one is an eye-catcher as well," she was saying, dangling and swinging, "and watch it swing in the lights, but on the body it is much quieter. Much calmer but it will always capture attention. And so I will put it on for you and you will see." She dropped the thick chain of stones over the deep U-cut in her gown. It draped just into her cleft. Now she began turning slowly this way and that. "Here I am waltzing slowly in some ballroom," she said."

And the reflections travelled up, around and down. Up, around and down.

"Yes, you can see perhaps the smooth motions, and as I stop, they come to rest."

The lights stopped.

"I am resting now, and the lights rest. And now, here is the effect combined with these earrings. Watch, they are different in nature, yet my body brings them together. Brings them into focus. Watch now, try to see where I'm leading. I'm leading you to see light differently. Light is alive."

The bangles swung heavily from her lobes. Now there were three sources as she turned, now two, as one would disappear behind her dark hair. Her turning slowed. The light bounced down to her neck, slithered round and was suddenly recaptured by the next earring.

"Down and around and up," she was humming, as all ears strained to hear, like a teacher bringing order to a noisy lecture hall. "Down... and arounnnd.... and up... Now let's visualize a showroom where the lights caress the jewelry and where the bodies may turn and whirl and let light FLOW..." her voice rose, and sank musically, "...and what we see, others can see.

"Imagine a place where you can sink into a comfortable chair, where time is of no importance, where personnel know how to present the lights. How to show them so customers want to see more. How to display them with jusssst the right floww... imagine if you were a customer, you're already fascinated by the constant ebb and flow of light, how it can project right into the eye, right into the mind's eye. The mind's eye can take you wherever you wish. The customer is free to watch the lights whirl and then subside... as you're watching now, that's plain, that just here, far from all stress and time the lights can dazzle the eye, or soothe. Dazzle..." giving her head a small shake; "...then soothe and relax the eye."

Now Zephyr nearly stopped her movements. The soundproofing up here was good, you could hear the random party sounds, but they seemed miles off. The music lulling and soothing you, made it so easy to fall into a relaxed, accepting state. Gradually, you had again lapsed into a guided reverie, like the one in the planetarium. You were in a pre-trance condition.