Friday morning rolled in cool and overcast. Hanson had been right--it looked as if we were in for some rain.

I took my time dressing and had a good breakfast. The Anderson presentation wasn't until 10:00, and there was no reason for me to get to the office much earlier than that. The mechanism for Scott's downfall was firmly in place; nothing was left for me to do but show up at the meeting. Funny, but I wasn't looking forward to the morning's events with the glee I had originally felt. It was just a job that had to be done, something to be gotten over with. For a moment I even considered relenting and abandoning the plan. But I quickly came to my senses. This was no time to go soft and squishy. I had worked too hard to get to this point--there was no turning back. Blondie's fate was sealed.

At 9:45 I arrived to an office buzzing with talk of Hanson's transformation. In sharp contrast to all the previous times he had had to present for the firm, today he was finally in the groove--cool, calm, confident, totally in control. He was even joking with the secretaries. I heard Cheng say to Bernice, "Whatever he's taken, I want some of that too!" I poked my head into the big corner office--which would soon be mine--and wished Scott well.

"Hey, buddy, good luck! Break a leg!"

"Thanks, Jerry. It's gonna be great! I really feel on top of my game!"

The huge conference table was already ringed with suits; I took a seat halfway down the left side and surveyed the packed room. The Old Boy Network was alive and well in our industry; in this bastion of male privilege, not a woman was in sight. The clients, three well-dressed men of varying age and authority, were seated in front with Mackenzie; Scott, as the main presenter, was up there too. Unlike every other exec in the room, he had on a light-colored suit--a very pale gray summer-weight worsted that was inappropriate for this occasion. Knowing Mackenzie as I did, I was certain he was ticked off at Scott's choice of apparel, but I also knew he wouldn't risk upsetting his protege before a big talk by saying anything about it.

Another unusual aspect of Scott's wardrobe this morning was known only to him and me--he wasn't wearing any underwear.

After the introductions and pleasantries, a smiling Scott rose to begin his presentation. Before he started to speak, however, he took off his suitcoat and folded it over the back of his chair. Apparently he was going to present in his shirtsleeves--another odd choice, to say the least, for the circumstances. I saw several of our guys wince, including Mackenzie.

But all was forgiven when Hanson began to talk. What a change from the past! The guy was dynamite! Confident, knowledgeable, astoundingly charismatic, he soon had his audience in the palm of his hand. Slides glittered, charts and graphs flew, the audio and video popped in on cue--Scott choreographed it all perfectly, dominating the razzle-dazzle rather than allowing it to dominate him. I noted the looks of astonishment and delight on the faces of our people.

Ten minutes into the presentation I started to play with my red-and-gold silk tie. Just kind of absent-mindedly--feeling it, rubbing it, stroking it. No one noticed.

No one, that is, except Scott.

For the first time, he faltered. Recovered. Faltered again. He seemed to be losing his train of thought.

I continued to play with my tie.

Something was happening, something very disturbing. No doubt about it, Scott was getting a hard-on! He couldn't hide it. His pants were bulging, tenting. The head of his dick was clearly outlined as it strained against the thin, light-colored fabric of his trousers. As every man in the room watched, Scott's developing erection pushed his pants way out in front of him.

What the hell could be turning him on? The clients glanced at each other uncomfortably. Our guys exchanged mystified looks. No one said anything.

I continued to play with my tie.

Scott did his best to regain his composure, but it wasn't working. As he stuttered and fumbled, his crotch bulged out more and more. The old man finally called out, "Hanson, are you OK? What's wrong?"

But by now Scott was in another place. He had apparently forgotten about his presentation. His eyes were half closed, and his hips had begun to gyrate in rhythmic, copulatory movements. His face was a crazy mix of ecstasy and horror.

I continued to play with my tie.

A moan began, long and low at first, then rising in pitch and volume. It came from Scott. I knew for a fact that he hadn't cum in at least a week. His balls were full and he was badly in need of relief. At last he was going to get it.

Abbott yelled out, "Scott, what the hell are you doing? Stop it, for godsake!!"

But it was too late. Hips thrusting violently, he came with a series of shouts. "OH!! OH!! OH!! OH!! OH!!" A large dark stain appeared at his crotch and began radiating outwards.

Foster jumped up and quickly ushered him out of the room. Mackenzie turned to the stunned clients and said only, "He's been under a lot of stress lately." Then, as I knew he would, he turned to me.

"Corsaro, why don't you take over."

"Sure, Bob. I'm not as familiar with this as Scott, but I'll do my best."

Not familiar my ass! I had been secretly rehearsing all week. This time I exceeded even my own Olympian standards, far surpassing what Scott had been able to do before his breakdown. It took all my skill, but I was eventually able to get everyone's minds off the bizarre events of the morning and onto the matter at hand. The highly charged atmosphere in the room and the taut emotional state of the audience worked synergistically with the energy I generated to make my persuasive powers all the more potent. It was a masterly performance. At its end, I read the faces of the Anderson men and knew that we had won the account.

Scott locked himself in his office for over an hour. When he emerged he was wearing clean pants--it was almost as if he had known on some level what would happen and had brought along an extra pair for his escape! He headed directly for the door without looking at anyone. When he was gone, there were sad shakes of heads and mutterings of "Damnedest thing I ever saw in my life!" But reference to him quickly ceased. No one mentioned his name the entire afternoon.

I arrived at the Hanson household at precisely eight o'clock the next evening, dressed very Saturday-Night-at-the-Princeton-Club: buttery cashmere sports jacket in a subtle gray-brown houndstooth, coffee-colored slacks, brown tasseled loafers, tan Sea Island cotton shirt, muted paisley pocket square . . . and a rich Sulka tie of gold oval medallions on a deep red ground. In my left hand I carried a dozen perfect long-stemmed yellow roses, and in my right a considerably greater extravagance--a bottle of Chateau Haut-Brion '66 that I had been reserving for the appropriate occasion. Cindy greeted me at the door.

"Right on the dot! Jerry, it's so good to see you! C'mon in."

I caught my breath; Cindy looked outrageously gorgeous. A beige silk blouse clung to her bosom, revealing the curves of her phenomenal melons in a way I had never before seen. It was all I could do not to grab her then and there, cup her luscious tits with my big hot hand, and stroke them through the sensuous material. Her dark green skirt was fashionably short, revealing something I had guessed but hadn't been able to verify until now--that she had a great set of legs on her as well. Her auburn hair was pulled into a sophisticated chignon which someone managed to make her chest appear even bigger. Clearly she was trying to look good for me. My dick immediately began to say thanks.

"These roses, Jerry! They're so beautiful. But my gosh, you must have spent a fortune! And wine too. You really didn't have to do that."

"Well, I guess I wanted to make a good impression my first time here," I winked. Cindy flushed very slightly, just enough for me to notice. I don't miss much.

"Hey, Jerry!" Scott was hard on her heels, grinning from ear to ear. He looked relaxed and comfortable, showing no signs of what he had been through the day before, genuinely happy to see me. "Man, you look great! Didn't know you were gonna dress up, though--I would have worn something a little fancier."

He was wearing blue Dockers and a white polo shirt--perfectly acceptable for an evening at home, but nowhere in a league with Cindy and me.

"You look fine, Scott."

We sat in the living room sipping cheap Chablis--I was at least grateful that Scott's religious proclivities didn't extend to the banning of alcohol--and munching on crudites and dip. The conversation was relaxed and cheerful, but every so often a cloud would pass over Cindy's face and she would shoot me a glance that told me something was amiss. Scott eventually got up to go to the john. As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to me and the words came pouring out in a torrent.

"Jerry, I'm really glad you came over tonight. You don't know how much it means to Scott. He's been so looking forward to your visit. It's about the only thing that's kept him going. He's had a very hard week, working crazy hours. But since yesterday he's been a zombie. Something awful must have happened, but he won't say a thing about it. I'm really worried, Jerry, and I don't know who to turn to. I've never seen him like this before. I'm so happy he's back to himself tonight. At least he seems to be. And I know it's because you're here. He looks up to you so much. And I want you to know he's told me he considers you his closest friend. But please, Jerry, please tell me what happened yesterday."

I took her hand gently, flashing her an appropriate expression from my extensive repertoire--Sensitive and Concerned #4, I think it was.

"I'm glad I'm here too, Cindy. As for yesterday . . . yeah, Scott had a pretty bad day. He's been under a lot of stress lately." And I stopped, making it clear I wasn't going to say more about Friday's events. Before Cindy could respond, Scott re-emerged from the bathroom.

Dinner was great. Scott had been right--Cindy could cook up a mean pot roast. The Haut-Brion went perfectly with it, although neither of my hosts had any idea of what they were drinking. I politely declined seconds on the entree, even though part of me wanted to chow down bigtime on all that delicious protein. I hadn't come here to eat, and logy was the last thing I wanted to feel tonight.

After the main course, Scott helped Cindy clear. Then the three of us returned to the living room to take a breather before coffee and dessert--which I knew would never be served.

"Jerry, it's really great to see you outside the office," Scott began. "I was telling Cindy all day how much I was looking forward to tonight. I'm just so happy you wanted to spend the evening with us!" He was being totally genuine; the delight on his face couldn't be faked. "But y'know, when Cindy asked me about you--y'know, what you spend your time on, what your interests are--I didn't know what to tell her. I realized I didn't know much about you at all--just the stuff you do at work!"

Good boy, Scott, I thought. You're doing fine.

"My interests?" I leaned forward towards the two of them sitting across from me on the sofa. "Well, you know I put in a lot of hours for the firm, so I don't have all that much time for outside activities. Sure wish I had more."

Scott commiserated, "Boy, do I know what you mean!"

"I guess you're aware I try to get to the gym whenever I can fit it in--gotta keep fighting the battle of the bulge, right?" I smiled.

Scott responded enthusiastically, "Oh yeah, everybody can see you're in great shape, Jerry! People really talk about it!" His pride in having me as a friend was infectious. Cindy smiled too and colored again, although she said nothing.

"Well, thanks! Glad my efforts are paying off. Anyway, let's see . . . what else can I tell you." A five-second pause. "Oh yeah. This is something you may not be aware of, but I'm very interested in hypnosis."

Cindy looked slightly taken aback by this disclosure; associating Jerry Corsaro with the nonsense known as hypnosis was totally incongruous to her. Scott, on the other hand, reacted dramatically. His eyes widened with wonder and delight.

"You're kidding! I never knew that!"

"Yep. It's been a strong interest of mine almost all my life."

"Wow! That's wild! I mean, I've always been interested in hypnotism too, but I never got to see it done except in the movies!"

Cindy looked puzzled. "I never knew you had any interest in hypnosis, Scott."

"Oh sure! Guess I never mentioned it. So Jerry, you mean you're a hypnotist yourself? You can really put people into a trance?"

"Yes to both questions, Scott. Actually, if you'll excuse me blowing my own horn, I'm pretty accomplished at it."

"That's amazing!"

"What is it that interests you so much about hypnosis, Jerry?" Cindy cut in, jumping the gun on what I knew was going to be Scott's next question.

"Well, Cindy, there are a lot of things about it that interest me. I love to be able to help people overcome their problems--you know, things like stress management, weight reduction, smoking. I love being able to give people power over themselves, power they never knew they had. But most of all," and I slowed down very slightly here for emphasis, "most of all I love the fact that people are completely themselves when they're hypnotized. They can't put up a front, they can't pretend to be what they're not. All the covering comes off. A person's true nature comes out under hypnosis. For someone like myself who loves people, it's almost like seeing into someone's soul! Hope that doesn't sound too crazy."

"No, not crazy. Actually, it sounds kind of scary." Cindy smiled a nervous little half-smile.

"Scary?" Scott protested energetically. "What's scary about it? Unless you have something to hide, seems to me there's nothing to be scared of!"

"Scott, everybody has something to hide, don't you think?"

"No, Cindy, I do not!" Scott's petulant tone was strikingly childish. Then, turning to me, he regained his brightness. "Listen, Jerry, I've always wanted to feel what it was like to be hypnotized! Would you be willing to try it on me?"

"Well, I dunno. I mean . . ."

"Aw, c'mon! Please? You wouldn't mind, would you, Cindy? It'll give you a chance to see what the 'real me' is like!"

Cindy was between a rock and a hard place. Given Scott's recent emotional state, she didn't want anyone experimenting with his psyche right now. At the same time she didn't want to reveal to hubby the depth of her concern about him. She smiled again and said quietly and without conviction, "I guess I don't mind."

"OK then, let's see what happens," I said. "Scott, why don't you and I change seats. You take the arm chair--the back'll support your head. I want you nice and comfortable so you can relax as fully as possible."

I sat next to Cindy on the sofa and started a perfunctory relaxation induction that wouldn't have hypnotized a fly. I didn't want Cindy going into a contact trance--I wanted her fully awake and observant, at least for the time being. But Scotty-boy began showing his stuff immediately. In a matter of seconds, it seemed, his eyelids were locked and his arm was floating in the air.

"This is incredible, Cindy," I marveled. "Scott's probably the best subject I've ever had! I never guessed he'd be so responsive to hypnosis!"

Cindy looked uncomfortable. She clearly didn't enjoy seeing her husband in this strange condition and didn't want to believe his trance was real. She whispered to me, "How can you be sure he's actually hypnotized? Maybe he's just cooperating because he wants it to work. Maybe he's just playing along."

"No, Cindy," I said firmly, "he's not just playing along."

I proceeded with a sampling of the standard demonstrations: Scott couldn't open his eyes, he couldn't lower his arm, he couldn't get out of his seat, he couldn't pick up my silk pocket square. I even dredged up the old stage-hypnosis staple, turning Scott into a stiff plank and suspending him between two chairs. (This actually took some doing--you normally have a strong assistant to help you handle your rigid subject. I refrained from the final step--climbing up onto his unsupported midsection and standing there in triumph--although I have to admit I was sorely tempted.) But I could tell that Cindy still had her doubts.

"OK, Cindy, here's the clincher. Go get me a large sewing needle, some alcohol, and a couple of cotton swabs. Sterilize the needle by holding it in a flame on the stove for a few seconds until it glows red."

"Jerry, I don't like this. I'd really rather . . ."

I cut her off decisively. "Cindy, what I'm going to do is 100% safe, I assure you. Trust me."

She looked at Scott and then back at me. Her husband was in some strange dissociated state, and the man who had put him into it was insisting forcefully that she do his bidding. She felt overpowered. Reluctantly, she went out and returned with everything I had requested.

I told Scott that his right hand was totally numb, that he had no sensation in it whatsoever. I even had him open his eyes and watch. I swabbed the back of his hand with alcohol, pinched a big fold of skin, and quickly jabbed the needle through, leaving his hand fully impaled. Cindy gasped. For a moment I was afraid she might faint, but she held on. Scott, of course, didn't react in any way. I asked him what he felt, and he said he felt nothing. I explained to him that there would be no blood at all when I removed the needle, and there wasn't.

After I restored Scott's hand to normal, I had him close his eyes again and go deeper asleep. Then I turned to Cindy. "Convinced?" I asked with a smile.

She was defeated. "I've gotta hand it to you, Jerry. It's really amazing."

"The power of hypnosis is an amazing thing, Cindy."

"Anyway, you can wake him up now. Time for dessert! Think you might manage some homemade apple pie?" She was obviously relieved the demonstration was over.

In fact it was just beginning.

"Yum! Sounds great!"

I turned back to Scott.

"Scott, as I count from one to five, your eyes will open and you'll be fully awake, feeling fine."

"No," said Scott from his trance. His voice quavered as he shook his head. "No."

Cindy looked startled. I did my best to look the same.

"What do you mean, Scott?"

"I don't wanna wake up."

Cindy turned to me, terrified. "Jerry!"

"It's OK, Cindy," I reassured her, remaining calm. "This happens every so often. I know what to do." Again I turned to Scott.

"That's fine, Scott. It's perfectly OK. You don't have to wake up until you want to. It's OK. But just do one thing for me. Tell me why you want to stay in hypnosis. Can you do that for me?"

Unbidden, Scott's eyes slowly opened, revealing dilated pupils and considerable redness. He looked dazed. Anyone could tell he was still hypnotized. When he spoke, it was halting and labored and pained.

"Because . . . because . . . I wanna tell you . . . that . . . I wanna tell you . . . Oh! . . . I wanna tell you . . . that . . . I love you. I wanna tell you that I love you!"

Now his speech became fluent and passionate.

"I love you, Jerry! I always have. From the first time I saw you. I love you so much! I need you so much! I wanna hold you. I wanna kiss you. I wanna do things for you. You turn me on so bad! Please, Jerry! Please!"

Scott stood up of his own volition. Cindy's attention was riveted on him; she never noticed me playing with my tie. But she certainly did notice Scott's bulging crotch. No one could have missed it. She looked utterly devastated.

Scott approached the sofa and knelt down in front of me, putting his hand on my thigh.

"Please, Jerry! I need you so bad! I need your dick so bad! Please take it out! Please! I wanna suck it. I wanna take it down my throat. It'll feel so good to you, I swear. I wanna make you feel good, Jerry. Please, Jerry. I love you so much." His hand had traveled to my crotch and he was trying to unzip me.

Mouth half open, Cindy was paralyzed. I ignored her and kept my attention on Scott.

"Thank you for telling me, Scott. And it's OK to have those feelings. Perfectly OK. We'll talk about your feelings in just a little bit. But right now there's something very important for you to do. Something I want you to do that's very important. Here, let me help you back to your chair."

When Scott was back in the arm chair, I had him close his eyes and go deeper into hypnosis. Then I started his hands spinning slowly around each other. I explained that he had a vital mission to accomplish, one on which the entire economic future of the United States depended. He was to keep an exact count of the number of revolutions his hands made and report the total back to me when I asked for it. He would count aloud but very quietly, almost in a whisper. Since it was very important that he be totally absorbed in what he was doing so as not to lose count, he would be completely oblivious to anything happening around him, concentrating solely on his counting. Nothing would distract him. He would only stop counting and report his total when he felt me touch his forehead. I trusted him to do a perfect job for me--and for his country.

Eyes closed, Scott began his task in earnest. As his hands revolved, the numbers started coming in time to the motion, almost inaudibly, about one a second: "One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . ." Scott was doing his beloved's bidding and saving his country at the same time; he was happier than a pig in shit.

Now I could finally turn my attention to his beautiful wife.

"He'll be OK, Cindy. It'll just take a little time, that's all. If I force him to wake up too soon, it could do a lot of damage. I'm gonna let him stay as he is for a while. When I wake him up later, he won't remember a thing that happened, I guarantee it."

Tears were standing in Cindy's eyes, making them sparkle. She was trembling very slightly.

"Cindy, you poor thing. I feel awful. You've gotta believe me, I had no idea that anything like this would happen. I didn't have a clue that that's what was really inside Scott. He never came on to me before--never said anything at all. Now I can understand why he's been having so many problems at work. Now it all makes sense. But I never knew before." I lowered my voice. "I guess you didn't either."

She shook her head slowly as the tears finally brimmed over.

"I can't believe it! I just can't believe it! That's not Scott! I know him! He's my husband! That's not Scott!"

"Sometimes, Cindy, we think we know a person, and yet there are things deep down inside that are totally hidden from us."

I took her hands in mine. They were small and warm and moist.

"It's all so sad, Cindy. Sad for Scott, with those desires inside of him that he could never admit, even to himself. But it's sad for you too. Doubly sad."

She was whimpering now. I looked at her steadily as I spoke.

"I know your sadness, Cindy. I saw it in your eyes the first time we met. Now I understand its source."

She looked at me quizzically through her tears.

"I understand women, Cindy. I look into their eyes and I know all about them. And when I looked into your beautiful eyes, I saw a woman whose deepest needs weren't being met. A woman with a great emptiness at her core. A woman who wasn't being appreciated as she deserved to be."

"Jerry, what are you talking about?! I love Scott! He loves me! We're happy together! We . . ."

"Face it, Cindy!" I snapped. "You haven't been getting what you need from Scott! You know it and I know it! All these years he's just been going through the motions. It's a sham! Your marriage is a sham! He can't give you what you need, because you're not what he needs! After what you just saw, you can't deny it!"

The tears had stopped. Mixed with the expected incredulity on Cindy's face was the tiniest hint of doubt, a flicker of suggested recognition. My dick expanded as I noted the effect my machinations were having on her mind.

I lowered my voice again.

"I feel bad for you, Cindy. And I want to help you. Because you deserve so much more. You deserve to be treated like a beautiful, sensuous, alluring woman. Because that's what you are. Do you even know the effect you have on a real man, Cindy--a real, virile, red-blooded man? You need a real man, Cindy, to make you feel like a real woman."

Eyes wide, she pulled away from me decisively and jumped up.

"Jerry, I want you to go. Please wake Scott up and then leave."

I remained seated.

"Sorry, Cindy, I'm not leaving. Not yet. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be right for me--or for you--to squander the opportunity that's before us. We have the chance to make each other very happy tonight. And we shouldn't waste that chance. Oh, you may think you want me to leave, but your unconscious mind has a very different agenda. Your unconscious mind wants me here. It wants me to make you feel like a woman. I saw it in your eyes that first time. Your unconscious mind was begging for my help. And now I can finally come through for you."

"Jerry, you're CRAZY!!!"

Frantic, she ran to Scott and started shaking him violently.

"SCOTT!! SCOTT, HONEY!! WAKE UP!! PLEASE WAKE UP!! I NEED YOU NOW!! PLEASE, HONEY!! WAKE UP!!"

But Scott was on another planet. The smile never left his face and his hands never stopped turning. He didn't even lose count.

" . . . two sixty-seven, two sixty-eight, two sixty-nine, two seventy, . . ."

Cindy gave up trying to awaken her husband. She stood there in defeat and terror, sobbing outright at last, repeating over and over, "This is a nightmare! This is a nightmare!" I gently led her back to the sofa and seated her next to me. She didn't resist.

"It's OK, Cindy. It's OK. Don't worry, baby. You're feeling bad now, but in just a little while you'll be feeling better than you ever have in your whole life."

My dick was extending itself way down my left leg. It was time to move the show along.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, Cindy? Do you know what those tits of yours do to a man like me?"

I took her right hand in my left and moved it to my bulging crotch. My other hand felt up under her skirt.

With a quick intake of breath she rallied. Pulled away, eyes flashing. Hauled off and slapped me across the face, hard. It stung like hell. My cock jumped.

Yes! This was what I was looking for! A challenge to my supremacy! An adversary worthy of the battle! An opponent who would actually put up a fight! Cindy was magnificent.

I grabbed both her wrists and held them down, using just enough pressure to keep her arms motionless; I didn't want to risk hurting her. Fixing Cindy with my gaze, I spoke calmly but firmly.

"Good girl. You've got spirit. I like that. It makes it all the more exciting for me. But listen to me now, Cindy. Pay close attention as I tell you what's going to happen. In just a minute I'm going to hypnotize you. I'm going to put you into a deep, deep trance, just like Scott there. And once you're deeply hypnotized, I'm going to make love to you. Right here, in front of Scott. I'm going to make love to you the way he never could. I'm gonna fuck your brains out. And it'll be the hottest, the sexiest, the most fulfilling experience you've ever had. You'll finally feel like a woman, Cindy. And you'll cum in great waves, over and over."

She was sobbing again.

"YOU'RE SICK, JERRY!! YOU'RE SICK!! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!! NOT AGAINST MY WILL!! I WON'T!!!"

Keeping her immobilized, I smiled gently, almost paternally.

"Let me explain something, Cindy. Listen carefully. Let me explain why you won't be able to resist, why hypnotizing you 'against your will' will be the easiest thing in the world.

"First of all, you're in a highly emotional state right now. An overwrought emotional state. Anyone would be who's been through what you've been through, suffered the shocks you've suffered tonight. But you see, being in such an emotional state makes you extremely vulnerable to hypnotic suggestion. That's the nature of hypnosis: emotion enhances the effect, focuses the energy just like a lens. In such an extreme emotional state, Cindy, every suggestion I give you assumes overwhelming proportions. Grabs you. Holds you. Penetrates your mind like a laser beam. In such a state you have no resistance to hypnosis. None whatsoever.

"And besides, there's no one to help you, Cindy. No one to help you hold on to your free will. Your husband is right over there, just a few feet away--think he can help you? Look at him, babbling like an idiot, incapacitated, lost in his own world. He might as well be a million miles from here. You're alone, Cindy, alone with a powerful man who's going to hypnotize you and fuck you, right under your husband's nose. And there's no one to come to your rescue.

"But most importantly, Cindy, most importantly, your unconscious mind wants to go under. Wants to comply with my every word. Wants to surrender to me completely. Because your unconscious mind is hungering for me. For the feel of my big hand on your breast. For the feel of my big man's body covering you. For the feel of my big stiff dick inside you. Your unconscious mind wants me so bad, Cindy. It's wanted me from the first time you saw me. And now it wants to surrender to me in every way.

"So it's not a question of being hypnotized against your will, Cindy. Because now you see that you have two wills. Your conscious will can try to resist. But your unconscious will wants to comply. Wants to submit. Wants to surrender. And your unconscious will is what rules you, Cindy. You have to follow your unconscious will. You have no choice."

As I moved into the actual induction I gradually lessened the pressure on her hands, so that soon I wasn't holding them down at all. But the mental bonds I was forging held her in place more effectively than any physical restraint.

"So go ahead, Cindy. Try to resist with your conscious will. Try to keep your eyes open as I talk to you. That's it! Try not to close your eyes! I dare you! Try to hold on to your autonomy! Try to fight me! Go ahead! Fight me, Cindy! Fight me as hard as you can!"

Knowing instinctively that she didn't stand a chance yet fiercely determined not to give in, she stared at me with pure hatred, eyes wide open in defiance. My swollen cock felt like a baseball bat inside my pants.

"And now as you battle to keep your eyes open, Cindy, how long do you think you can hold out . . . before they close? Another minute or two? Not even that? How long before your eyelids begin to grow heavy . . . heavy . . . heavy . . . eyelids just as heavy as lead, wanting to close. Burning. Wanting to blink . . . and close.

"Try not to blink, Cindy. Try not to blink. Because when you blink, that's hypnosis coming on . . . Uh-oh, Cindy. Uh-oh. That blink means you're losing control. Your resistance is breaking down. You can't hold on . . . Soon there'll be another blink, and another . . . There! You see? You're blinking more and more now. Your eyelids are growing heavier and heavier. Heavier and heavier . . . More blinks now. Eyelids feeling droopy, drowsy, sleepy. Eyes beginning to close now. You can't keep them open. Heavier . . . and heavier . . . Sleepier . . . and sleepier . . . You can't . . . resist . . . Heavier . . . and heavier . . . can't resist . . . can't resist . . . Eyes closing now, Cindy . . . let them go . . . it's no use . . . eyes closing."

I watched the changes playing across Cindy's face as I kept up the attack. She tried her best to stay afloat, struggled not to sink, did everything she could not to slide down into the depths towards which my words were pulling her. But it was no use. She was no match for me. As the last vestiges of resistance drained from her features and her eyes closed in inevitable surrender, her expression evened out, relaxed, yielded to passivity. All her defiance was gone. At that moment I felt an unexpected tenderness for the beautiful, vulnerable, valiant little creature with the oversized chest who was fast sinking into a trance before me. Then I turned to look at Scott, still spinning and babbling, oblivious to what I was about to do with and to his wife. Once again I experienced that exhilarating rush of power, that supreme high that comes with ultimate control. I had to will myself not to cum then and there.

I deepened Cindy's trance in stages, taking my time, relishing every catalepsy, every dissociation, every amnesia I produced. She responded perfectly at every turn. What I had told her about emotion was of course correct--an overwrought emotional state does indeed magnify the hypnotic response. She was under very deeply now. We were ready to proceed.

I had her stand up in front of me, deep in an eyes-open trance. I remained on the sofa, leaning back like a richly clad Eastern potentate coolly assessing the charms of the nubile young woman before him, a promising candidate for his harem.

"You're in deep, deep hypnosis now, Cindy. So deep . . . that everything I tell you to feel, you will feel, exactly as I tell you. Everything I tell you to experience, you will experience, exactly as I tell you. And everything I tell you that will happen, will happen, exactly as I tell you.

"Now relax deeply, Cindy. Just relax very deeply and look at me. You see me looking at you . . . admiring you . . . and you feel very proud. Very proud that your beauty pleases me so much.

"Because you are beautiful, Cindy. Your face, your hair, your legs--so beautiful. But most of all, Cindy, most of all, your breasts are beautiful. Very, very beautiful. Your breasts are your glory, Cindy. You must always be proud of your big, beautiful breasts. You must always be proud of the effect your big, beautiful breasts have on virile men like me.

"And now as you think about your breasts, Cindy . . . and as you think about me looking at your breasts . . . you're so pleased, so happy that I like them. It makes you so happy and proud to please me, Cindy. To please me with your body. Happy, proud . . . and excited. You're getting more and more excited, Cindy. And you want to show me more and more. More and more of those big, luscious breasts."

As I spoke calmly and evenly to her, her whole demeanor changed. She seemed to stand taller, more upright, with a new air of confidence and pride that complemented the growing smile on her lips. She had unconsciously taken a deep breath and inflated her chest, making her tits thrust out towards me even more.

"And now you're thinking, Cindy, that you might first like to show me how your breasts look inside your blouse without your bra. Without that silly bra. Just bouncing around freely inside that beautiful silk blouse, without your bra. And you're thinking that you'll surprise me, Cindy. You'll turn around to prepare yourself, and then when you're ready, you'll turn back towards me, slowly . . . teasingly . . . to surprise me . . . to show me how you look without your bra."

Without the need for further instruction, she turned away from me and removed her blouse, revealing a lovely back bisected by the rear straps of a white brassiere. I watched as she reached around to unhook herself and free her tits. I thought about getting up to help, but decided instead just to lean back on the sofa with my hands behind my head and enjoy the show. She tossed the bra aside, put her blouse back on, and readjusted herself. Then she turned slowly around to face me again.

For the second time that evening I caught my breath. Fuck she looked hot!

With their new measure of freedom, Cindy's eye-popping breasts were straining against her blouse, jutting out almost twice as much as before--two ripe, round, oversize melons caressed by taut beige silk. Amazingly, her tits were as high and proud without a bra as with one--this babe was a wonder of hydraulics! Now, though, I could begin to see the outline of her nipples through the blouse. As I devoured Cindy's chest with my eyes, my stiff cock did its own straining against silk, pushing against the boxers inside my slacks, bulging out my crotch. I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to jump up and start playing with those tits--to massage them, knead them, feel the pretty little nips get hard and erect under my touch. But I held myself back. Before I actually laid my hands on her, I wanted to see what more I could do to her with my voice alone.

"Yes, Cindy," I began. "That's perfect. Absolutely perfect. You look perfectly beautiful now, Cindy. Very beautiful . . . and very desirable. And that's exactly how're you're feeling right now--very beautiful . . . and very desirable. Look, Cindy! Look here! Look right here at my crotch! Look what you've done to me! You're so incredibly desirable, Cindy--see what you've done to me!"

I shifted a bit on the sofa to let her see my bulging crotch.

"That's right, Cindy. You've given me this big hard-on. You've made me want you, Cindy. I'm this big, powerful stud who can have any woman he wants, and you've made me want you. Made me want to kiss you. Feel you. Fuck you. And that makes you so proud, Cindy. So proud--and so hot.

"Because you want me so much now, Cindy. You want me more than you've ever wanted anything in your life. You want to feel my lips on your lips. My tongue in your mouth. My big hot hand on your tits. My big stiff dick in your pussy.

"Look into my eyes now, Cindy. Just look deep into my eyes. And as you look deep into my eyes . . . and listen to me speaking to you . . . you can feel yourself getting hotter and hotter. You can feel your whole body starting to tingle. As you continue to look into my eyes, your whole body is becoming an erogenous zone. Every square inch of your body is starting to tingle now. Tingling and tingling. Especially your pussy, Cindy. Your pussy is tingling more and more . . . moistening . . . getting hotter and hotter. And your tits, Cindy. You can feel your tits tingling as you imagine me stroking them. You're imagining the feel of my hands on your tits, Cindy. You can almost feel me stroking your tits, caressing your nipples, massaging them gently. And your nipples are tingling like crazy now. Tingling and hardening. As you imagine me massaging them, they're getting big and hard and erect . . . pushing out against your silk blouse . . . feeling so good against the smooth silk . . . so sensitive now . . . so swollen . . . so hard and erect . . . so needy for my touch . . ."

As I coaxed her on and on, I could see Cindy's body respond to my suggestions. Her nipples were now up and erect, pushing out against her blouse, begging for attention. I felt another rush of power. My cock was hard as a rock.

Time to get physical.

I unzipped and freed my grateful dick. I stood up and took off my jacket, first removing the pocket square, folding it carefully, and putting it in my pants pocket. Then I got behind Cindy. I reached around and cupped her silk-covered breasts with both hands, nuzzling her neck at the same time and letting her feel my hard-on pressing against the small of her back. She moaned softly.

Whispering into her ear, I instructed her to close her eyes and surrender to the sensations she was feeling. She gave up the last vestiges of her autonomy: leaned back on me, entrusted her balance to me. Her yielding was so sweet, so complete, I almost came then and there. I played with her tits, felt their weight and heft, felt the hard, sensitive nipples through the blouse, all the time talking to her gently, reinforcing her deep trance. I reached down and felt up under her skirt. Her panties were soaked, as I knew they would be.

Still behind her, I slowly unbuttoned her blouse and helped her out of it. Now she was naked to the waist, and my hands could finally have their fill of her tits, skin to skin. I let my fingers sink into her warm cleavage. I cupped her big melons and kneaded them sensuously. Then I went to her swollen, tender nipples and tweaked them, twirled them, massaged them sweetly, one in each hand, all the time telling Cindy how needy she was, how badly her nipples craved attention. Her moaning, which had continued unabated from the time I had gotten behind her, grew louder, completely drowning out the low murmur of Scott's unrelenting recitation.

"Your nipples are on fire now, Cindy--burning and swollen," I said into her ear. "You need something cool and smooth on them now. Something cool and smooth on your nipples to massage them, caress them, care for them."

I took the silk handkerchief out of my pocket, opened it up, and refolded the dark, shimmering square on the diagonal. Two more folds gave me a precise, eight-layered triangle. Then I reached around and applied the cool slick silk to Cindy's tender nipples, first one and then the other. I massaged them slowly through the folds of the cloth, gently but insistently, never stopping once. Cindy's moaning took on a different, more intense tone.

I turned her around now to face me, embraced her, kissed her long and hard. My tongue explored the inside of her mouth while my right hand reached under her skirt and into her panties. With my index finger I entered her hot, slick pussy, found her swollen clit, and began stroking it. Cindy trembled in my arms. Now I squatted down so that my face was at her nipple level. I took the right nip between my lips and sucked gently. I twirled my tongue around and around the hard little mound, then gave the other one the same treatment, all the while continuing to stroke her clit. Cindy's eyes were closed and her mouth had fallen open. Her moaning was guttural and quite loud now, as if coming from some deep, unacknowledged part of herself that could no longer be denied.

"Oh . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh . . ."

I continued sucking and stroking until the pitch and frequency of Cindy's moans told me she was getting close to orgasm. I stopped and stood up straight once again. My dick was pointing to the ceiling.

"Now feel my dick, Cindy. Take my big hard cock into your hand."

I guided her little hand onto my giant hard-on.

"That's right. That's it. Feel the thickness, Cindy. And the length. It's so much bigger than Scott's, isn't it, Cindy. It's a real man's dick. And feel the hardness. Like hot steel. My giant dick is like hot steel. The dick that's going to give you so much pleasure. The cock you want so bad. So bad! You want it in you, Cindy! You want it more than you've ever wanted anything in your life! You want it so bad you can't stand it! You've gotta have it, Cindy! Gotta have it!

"But you can't have it yet, Cindy. Not yet. First you have to tell me how much you want it. Tell me how much you want my cock, Cindy! Tell me now!"

"I want your cock, Jerry!"

"That's right. Now tell me again, and really make me believe it! And each time you tell me, you get ten times hotter than before!"

"I need your cock, Jerry! So much! Oh! Oh! I need it so bad!!"

"That's right, Cindy. And you're getting so hot now, you're close to cumming! Close to cumming now! TELL ME AGAIN!"

"I WANT YOUR COCK, JERRY! I WANT IT SO BAD!! I NEED YOUR BIG COCK SO BAD!!!"

"NOW BEND DOWN AND KISS MY COCK! KISS MY COCK AND CUM, CINDY! CUM NOW!!!"

As she kissed the head of my aching dick, Cindy suddenly convulsed. Her back arched, her head jerked back, and a long moan emerged of its own accord from her open mouth. I steadied her as she came and came. Her orgasm seemed to go on forever.

When it was finally over, I kissed her and held her in my arms for several minutes. Then I spoke to her again.

"That's good, Cindy. You've cum now like you've never come before. But once is not enough. No, Cindy. Once is not enough. You've cum once, but it's not enough for you. Because you still want my cock. You still need my cock. In fact you want it, you need it, more than ever. In fact you're getting hot again. Hotter and hotter. Even hotter than before.

"It's time to get completely naked, Cindy. Time to be totally nude. Take off the rest of your clothes now so I can see all of your beautiful naked body."

We undressed at the same time. I sometimes like to fuck with my boxers on--I like how I look with my stiff cock sticking straight up out of my silk shorts--but this time I stripped completely. Cindy quickly did the same. When she was totally naked I had her turn slowly around for me so I could drink in her gorgeous body from every angle. Suddenly I was seized with an inspiration. I retrieved my tie--the bold red-and-gold Sulka that had played such a major role in Scott's downfall--and draped it around Cindy's neck, so that the two ends hung down onto her chest, one over each breast. She looked like something out of Playboy--a big-chested Playmate of the Month in a teasing pose with her boyfriend's tie. I could have kicked myself for not bringing a camera.

I took the cushions off the sofa and made a comfortable bed for us on the rug, right in front of Scott. But before we hit the floor, I had Cindy squat down until her tits were at a height where I could fuck them comfortably. I moved the tie out of the way, inserted my dick into her warm cleavage, and pushed her tits together to engulf the entire shaft. Man it felt good! After a few in-and-outs, though, I had to stop--I was getting too close to blowing my load. I took hold of my cock and used the head to massage her nipples one more time, transferring a drop of pre-cum to each one. You can't say I wasn't giving this babe a variety of sensations!

Now we had arrived at the main event. I removed my tie from around Cindy's neck and put it safely aside--I didn't want to risk getting it creased or stained. Then I laid Cindy down on her back, spread her legs, and positioned myself over her. As I did so, I briefly considered waking Scott up to let him witness the proceedings. That could be the icing on the cake--making real the "hey-fella, watch-me-fuck-your-wife" fantasy that every red-blooded male has engaged in at one time or another! But I decided against it; the potential for complication was too great. I contented myself with hearing Scott's mindless drone in the background and enjoying the fact of his presence, even if it was only physical.

I tilted Cindy's head up slightly so she could look directly into my eyes.

"Now listen very carefully, Cindy. I want you to understand your situation completely. I want you to take it all in. You're here on the floor of your living room, totally naked, with a big, powerful man who has complete hypnotic control over you and is about to fuck your brains out, right under the blind eyes of your babbling husband. And you're so hungry for it you could scream. Now look deeply into my eyes and let that all sink in. Let it fill your consciousness. And when you not only understand it with your mind but feel it deep inside your belly, you can let me know by saying, 'I feel it, Jerry.'"

She stared deeply into my eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was getting faster. After 20 or 30 seconds she whispered to me, "I feel it, Jerry."

"Good, Cindy. Now grab my big cock with both your hands. Go ahead, there's plenty of room . . . That's it. Now aim that giant dick right at your pussy . . . That's right. That's good. Now when I give you permission, you're gonna pull me towards you. You're gonna guide that missile right to its goal. You're gonna draw that torpedo right into your cunt.

"But first I want you to think about your pussy. Just think about your cunt and what you're feeling down there. Just concentrate now on the feeling of emptiness. That terrible, sad feeling of emptiness, of hollowness. You need my dick to fill you up, Cindy. To fill that gaping void inside of you. You need my cock fucking your cunt, Cindy. You need it so bad! You crave it the way a junky craves his shit! You need it so bad now, Cindy! More and more! More and more! Your poor pussy is soaked now, Cindy! You can't stand it any longer!! TELL ME NOW, CINDY!! TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED!!"

"I need your cock!"

"LOUDER, CINDY! YELL IT OUT!"

"I NEED YOUR COCK!"

"BEG FOR IT!!!"

"PLEASE, JERRY!!! PLEASE!!! I NEED YOUR COCK SO BAD!!! PLEASE FUCK ME NOW, JERRY!!! PLEASE FUCK ME!!!"

"OK, baby. Relax now. Just relax. I'll fuck you. Go ahead now, pull me right into you."

As she guided me into her hot, slick cunt, another low moan escaped from somewhere deep inside her and her eyes rolled up into her head. I began fucking her slowly, deliberately, pacing myself to last a nice long time. She quickly caught the rhythm and met my thrusts perfectly with her own counter-thrusts. My cock felt like iron inside her tight pussy.

I talked to her as I fucked her.

"I'm fucking you now, Cindy . . . Giving you what you need . . . Fucking you hard and slow . . . Building to a climax . . . A climax you'll never forget . . . And when we both cum, Cindy . . . we'll cum together . . . at exactly the same time . . . I'll tell you when . . . And you feel so good now . . . You're so grateful . . . that I'm fucking you . . . So grateful . . . And you want to tell me . . . how grateful you are . . . You want to let me know . . . how grateful you are . . . for this pleasure . . . You want to say thank you . . . for this pleasure . . . And you can say 'Thank you, Jerry' . . . Each time I thrust into you . . . you can say 'Thank you, Jerry' . . . nice and low . . . 'Thank you, Jerry' . . ."

Her eyes were closed now and she began to murmur "Thank you, Jerry" after each thrust.

"Thank you, Jerry . . . Thank you, Jerry . . ."

I like a woman to show her appreciation, and Cindy's continual heartfelt expressions of thanks were the perfect accompaniment to our screwing. As I plowed into my hypnotized hostess, slowly and rhythmically, talking to her, encouraging her, stimulating her with my voice as well as with my dick, I luxuriated in the delicious feel of her silky female softness against my rock-hard body. I felt like a machine--a well-lubricated oil rig of a fucking machine, with a massive steel piston that could keep on pumping forever, elevating a woman to previously unexperienced heights of passion and pleasure.

Every so often I glanced up at Scott, still murmuring, spinning, and smiling. Perversely I found myself wondering how much additional preparation it would have taken to get him to the point where he would merrily trot off to get his video camera and record the whole damn scene for me. Man, would that be a kick! But I reminded myself with a satisfied smile of my own that what I had managed to achieve was, after all, pretty fine. I brought my attention back to the matter at hand.

I continued to fuck Cindy for perhaps another thirty minutes, keeping her continually on the edge of orgasm without letting her cum until I gave my permission. As I very gradually picked up the pace, Cindy's "Thank you, Jerry"s precisely matched my increasing tempo, giving me aural as well as tactile feedback. Now I was banging into her fast and furious, getting closer and closer myself. Time for the finale.

"It's almost time, Cindy. Almost time to cum together. Get ready to cum. To convulse. To explode. Like never before."

"Thank you Jerry thank you Jerry thank you Jerry thank you Jerry . . ."

"As I quickly count from five down to one, you get hotter and hotter! You go higher and higher! You zoom to the top! And at one you go over the edge!"

"Thank you Jerry thank you Jerry thank you Jerry thank you Jerry . . ."

"Five!"

"Thank you Jerry thank you Jerry thank you Jerry thank you Jerry . . ."

"Four!!"

"THANK YOU JERRY THANK YOU JERRY THANK YOU JERRY THANK YOU JERRY . . ."

"THREE TWO ONE CUM NOW!!!"

"AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I felt her whole body convulse as I exploded inside her, spurting my semen again and again, emptying my balls into her well-fucked cunt. We were both close to delirious, and I must have blacked out for a few seconds. When I came to, the shouting was over and the two of us were lying there in a sweaty heap, breathing heavily. Still on top of Cindy, I felt myself wilting inside her. After a few quiet minutes I kissed her gently, caressed her beautiful body one last time, and got up. She remained on her back, peaceful and totally fulfilled.

I let her stay that way a few more minutes before having her dress again. When she was fully clothed I reassembled the sofa, sat her on it, and put her to sleep. Then I walked to the bathroom, found a nice clean fluffy towel in the closet, and had myself a steamy hot shower. When I'm feeling particularly good I like to sing in the shower, and I must have gone through four or five Sinatra numbers before I was finished. Man I felt great!

Back in the living room I put my clothes on, all except for my tie. Cindy was sitting at one end of the sofa, chin on chest, fast asleep. Her hair was a little disheveled but otherwise she looked none the worse for wear. Scott, of course, was still spinning and counting. I walked over to him and touched him on the forehead.

"FOUR THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY-NINE!"

"Good boy, Scott. That's great. I'm proud of you. And so is the President."

He beamed.

As I looked at the happy couple, I felt something I wasn't expecting. I had been all set to walk out of there and into the night without looking back, but now it didn't feel quite right. After all, these two had served me well. Been great subjects. Given me everything I wanted. I had my triumph--hell, I could afford to be magnanimous in victory.

I roused Cindy from her slumber and immediately put her back into deep hypnosis. Scott was still deeply hypnotized himself, but I tested him anyway just to make sure. Then I had both of them open their eyes, move closer together, and face each other. I instructed them to gaze deeply into each other's eyes as I stood over them and explained certain important things.

I explained to them that they would remember nothing at all of this evening's events, and that Scott would likewise have no recollection of the previous day's debacle. I explained that far from suffering any ill effects from what they had each been through, they would in fact emerge healthier and happier, both individually and as a couple, than they had ever been before. They had had things buried deep inside their psyches that needed to be acknowledged, gotten out into the open, acted upon. Now that this had been done, now that both their breakthroughs had been achieved, they could put these hidden urges behind them, never to be troubled by them again. No obstacles now stood in the way to their achieving complete and absolute joy together. From this point on, their love would grow day by day until it was an overwhelming reality for both of them. And on the physical side, their coupling would grow more passionate, more perfect each time they made love, until soon they would be able to fulfill each other in a way they had never thought possible. I blabbed on and on, growing more and more eloquent--Father Corsaro giving his valedictory benediction to the newly cleansed supplicants before him. I was magnificent.

At the end, I gave them a few final suggestions, including a special one for Scott. I made him a present of my red-and-gold Sulka--hell, the guy deserved to own one decent necktie!--with the instruction that he wear it at least once every couple of weeks on his new job until it wore out. I left Cindy and Scott gazing rapturously into each other's eyes as I got ready to leave.

But I was feeling a bit peckish, having eaten lightly during dinner. I suddenly remembered the apple pie that Cindy had baked especially for me and hadn't had a chance to serve. What a pity it should go to waste! I decided to honor her efforts by trying it, and made for the kitchen. There it was on the counter-top, all puffed and golden although no longer warm. I found a clean plate, knife, and fork, and cut myself a big slice. Yum! It was delicious. Then I covered the remains of the pie with plastic wrap and washed the plate and utensils I had dirtied. I'm no slob.

Heading out the door, I turned to look at Scott and Cindy one last time. They were still mooning at each other with expressions of unmitigated joy. It was cute as hell. I smiled and closed the door quietly behind me.

Monday morning I got to work early to find Scott's office door wide open and his office bare. Evidently he had been a busy boy on Sunday. The office was clean as a whistle; no trace of him whatsoever was left. His nameplate was gone from the door as well. No one was surprised.

He had left a resignation letter for Mackenzie before he cleared out. I never got to see it, of course, but somehow I had a pretty good idea of what it said--something about apologizing for the short notice but not being happy in the big city and realizing he and Cindy belonged in a smaller town and needing a less stressful job and thanks for all the opportunities blah blah blah. Later that morning the bossman called me in and gave me Scott's position. By the end of the day I had moved into the big corner office and my name was on the door.

Not long ago I got a letter from Scott. He and Cindy are in a suburb of Des Moines where they can be close to her parents. Scott has a good job in his father-in-law's firm where he's advancing rapidly. He thinks back to his time here with mixed emotions, remembering me warmly as his only true friend and confidant. But he feels so happy now and things are going so well, he has to pinch himself to make sure he's not dreaming.

He enclosed a photo too, no doubt the one that's destined for the Hanson-family Christmas cards this year. Scott is looking pretty spiffy in his navy suit and red-and-gold Sulka tie; Cindy is looking radiant beside him. And in Scott's arms is their brand new baby boy, the cutest little fella you've ever seen! At first I thought the kid might be mine, but a quick calculation showed it wasn't possible--the timing was wrong. Besides, you could tell even at this age that the baby was pure Nordic, not a drop of Mediterranean blood in him. No question about it, the kid was Scott's.

One final piece of news in the letter made me grin. The proud parents had had no problem deciding what to name their little boy. In fact, they had both come up with the same name independently as their first choice!

They named the kid Jerry.

As I tossed the letter and photo into the circular file, I smiled to myself with satisfaction. I love doing nice things for people.