"Are you going to hypnotise me now?"

The doctor looked at her for a moment. "No. Not today."

"Oh... OK. I'm sorry. I thought--"

"There's no need to appologise, Anne. I should have explained the therapy more clearly. Let me explain now." The doctor chose his words carefully.

Anne was, without a doubt, the most paranoid and socially phobic case he had ever seen. Most people that came to him didn't really need therapy (he was embarassed to admit it to himself, but it was true). They wanted to lose some weight, quit smoking, be more confident, whatever. Everyday stuff. They only needed a doctor for it because they thought they did. Of course, the doc still took their money. He had to make a living, and he did help them. But they didn't really need him.

Anne was something different. By her own admission, it had taken her years to work up the nerve just to call, and he believed it. She was terrified-- not just scared or uncomfortable, but terrified-- of social interaction. She had literally almost no social relationships, except with family. At one point, she had not left the house for nearly a year on end. She was 25 years old.

The only reason she was able to talk to the doctor, she said, was because she was paying him to listen. It wasn't a social call. Which made sense, and was, after all, one of the reasons doctors avoided social relationships with their patients.

For the entire hour-long interview she had fidgeted, squirmed, shook, chewed her lip, and looked at everything in the room but the doctor himself. Eye contact was another issue. Even though it wasn't a social call, she still found it difficult or impossible to make that connection with another person.

Anne wasn't a one-hour session, she was a full time job. She wasn't one line in a medical journal, she was a thesis paper.

"Hypnosis works differently for everyone. Some people are able to be hypnotised right away, some require more than one session. But Anne, to be honest, I'm not sure I could help you in even a few sessions."

At that her face fell, and he could almost see the thoughts racing through her head-- I'm unhelpable, this was stupid, I should just have stayed home, what's wrong with me?-- and he spoke quickly to cut it off.

"Don't misunderstand-- what I mean is, for your therapy to move on to that step, you have to be comfortable enough with your surroundings for it to work. For you to be comfortable in your surroundings, you need to be more comfortable with yourself, and with me as your therapist. So that's where I'd like to start. I'd like to schedule regular appointments, twice a week, and we can go from there. How does that sound?"

"That sounds... good? I'm sorry, I'm just... I thought you, you could... I thought it would be..."

The doctor smiled. "You thought it would be an instant cure?"

She blushed a deep crimson, staring at her shoes.

He laughed. "Don't be embarassed. Everyone thinks that. They see hypnosis on TV shows and think it's a magic fix for anything. In reality, it's not even the best solution for most cases. The same goes for drugs. Which is not to say I'm not going to prescribe anything for you, it's just to say that I'd like to get to know you a bit more before moving on to that step.

"Don't worry. You did the right thing by coming, and I'm glad you did. There is more to life than this, Anne." He'd stolen that last line from an inspirational tape. "It will take a lot of work. I can't promise to cure you of your fears, because there's no such thing. But in time, I think we can get to a point where you're not afraid to... well, live your life."

She nodded silently, wringing her hands.

"So," he stood up and offered his hand, "Tuesday?"

She nodded again and walked out. She hadn't seen him offer his hand-- she'd been staring at the carpet.

The young doctor closed the door behind her (while making her awkward exit, she had neglected to) and turned to his bookshelf. All of these years of practice, and he had never once met someone that genuinely needed help. His eyes wandered to his degree, hung tastefully on the wall behind his desk. This was why he had persued psychiatry in the first place. He had a chance to make a real difference, not help some housewife lose ten pounds, but a real difference in someone's life.

He walked to the bookshelf, selected a few heavy looking books, and brought them to his desk.

It wasn't working. After a month, not one technique had even begun to crack her shell. She was worse than he'd first thought. Hypnosis was out of the question at this point-- in fact, even having a conversation with her was almost impossible. He tried to engage her to speak; she would stutter out a sentence or two, then stare at her lap.

At times he had to work very hard to not become frustrated-- and even harder to keep her from becoming frustrated with herself. After their 8th appointment, he knew that only a radical therapy could help her. And time was running out.

She lived with her parents, and her mother had become convinced that she needed to be institutionalized. 25 was too old to still be at home, afraid to leave the house. Her mother didn't sound like a cruel woman, from Anne's descriptions; she just sounded like a parent at the end of thier rope. She thought that an institution was the only answer, if this therapy didn't work. And she'd begun to make preperations.

He didn't know how much time he had left, but he wasn't going to let that happen. Most of the institutions he knew of didn't do a damn thing to help people. They locked them up, ran them through rote "therapies", pumped them full of drugs, and when that didn't work, well, they just kept them for another month... and another, and another. The doctors themselves became hopeless, and eventually each new patient was just a medical history. He'd seen it happen, to good doctors and good patients both.

No. That wasn't going to happen. He felt genuine affection for Anne. He was going to help this fragile girl even if it was the only meaningful thing he ever accomplished in his career.

After that 8th appointment, he spent the rest of the day researching experimental drug therapies.

9th appointment. After a half hour, he paused and regarded her. Her light blonde hair was parted in the middle and tucked behind one ear. Pale freckles were barely visible across the bridge of her thin nose and cheeks. And of course, she was staring at her lap.

"Anne, I'd like to try something different next week."

She looked up and caught his eye for barely a moment, then returned to staring at her hands.

"Ok."

"It would be a much longer appointment than normal-- four hours, minimum. But I think that it may help you. I've put a lot of thought into your case, and it's not something I'd normally do, but in your case, I think it's a good option. Would you like to hear more?"

"Oh... ok."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic, please," he said disarmingly. She smiled (and bowed her head to hide it, as usual), blushing a deep crimson.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Not at all," he laughed. "Just trying to get a smile out of you is all. Ok, well, basically, I'd like to try to hypnotise you, but it will be a little different than normal hypnosis."

"I thought... you said that wouldn't work?"

"I don't think normal hypnosis would. But what I'd like to try is a bit different. I'd like to do it with the aid of a mild hypnotic drug."

At the word drug Anne seemed to shrink. He continued quickly.

"It's one of the more common hypnotics, used in many hospitals and institutions (when such things are used, anyway). It's perfectly safe. All it will do is relax you and make your mind a little more open to suggestion. It's used to help break through psychosis in some patients, to allow a doctor to administer other therapies that the patient's mind normally wouldn't allow, or can't allow."

Anne paused. "Psychosis?"

"Yes."

"So I'm... a psycho?" She seemed about to cry, and the doctor's heart nearly broke right there.

"No! No no no. Psycho is a term used by the entertainment industry by people who don't know what they're talking about, Anne. It doesn't mean anything, and has nothing to do with the term psychosis. When I use it, I use it to mean a certain mental state that the mind is having trouble getting out of on its own." He kicked himself for using the word.

"Oh."

"So, would you like to give it a shot?"

"If you think it would... work. Ok."

"I think it has a chance to help, and if it doesn't, well, we've lost nothing."

She looked as is a loud noise might break her.

"Now, in a little while you may start to feel sleepy, or disoriented, maybe woozy. All of that is natural. Don't let it alarm you. Whatever you feel, as long as it's positive, try to just go with it."

She nodded. She'd taken the rather largish pill without balking, setting her jaw with resolve, even, which had the effect of looking cute rather than steely. Then she sat, hands balled into fists at her sides. The doctor resisted the urge to smile.

The session began as it normally did: the doctor gently probing her with questions, Anne stuttering out brief responses.

After a half hour, she abruptly giggled, then covered her mouth with her hand as if she'd startled herself. The doctor smiled.

"Is something funny?"

"No... I'm sorry." She burst out giggling again. "Your voice just sounded funny."

"Do you know, I think that's the first time I've ever heard you laugh?" he said. Subtly, he took note of the time.

"Probably." Her face began to flush. For the first time, she resembled a real girl, not a basket case. She beamed.

"For the next fifteen minutes or so, let's just talk about things you like, ok?" The drug could make patients hallucinate or become emotional, and he wanted to make sure she stayed in a positive frame of mind until it took full effect.

"All right. I like... strawberries," she giggled. "I could eat 'em all day. They're so juicy..." She closed her eyes. "Oh my gosh... my mouth is watering!" She blushed.

"Good! What else?"

"I like... taking a long hot bath with a good book. I lock the door so no one can come in, and I stay until my toes get so wrinkled I can't stand it anymore. I wish I could stay there all day. Someone should invent something to keep your toes from getting wrinkled."

She sighed. Her shoulders relaxed from their normal tight scrunch. Her entire body, even, melted out of its normal guarded posture in the space of just a few minutes. The effect was astonishing.

Her hands were no longer balled up or wringing in her lap; instead, they flitted about while she described what she was thinking. Instead of leaning forward with all of her limbs drawn together like something was going to hit her, she leaned back against the couch. She no longer seemed afraid to meet the doctor's eyes, either; she beamed at him to share her excitement as she described everything she loved about life. Her thin summer dress showed her blush spread from her cheeks down her neck, then across her shoulders and down her thin arms.

She was clearly in a highly suggestible state, he observed. Her mind was even giving itself suggestions: her mouth watered when she talked about food; she got goosebumps as she thought of other things. Her pupils were dilated. She was ready, he decided.

He set a metronome on his desk directly across from her and brought his chair over near the couch. She watched him with interest.

"All right, you're doing great so far Anne--"

"Really?" She interrupted him. He laughed.

"Yes, really. Now I'd like you to take a couple deep breaths, breathing in deeply then letting it out slowly. As you do, let your eyes rest on the metronome."

Her eyes locked onto it. There was a small light in the front, which caused the small metal arm to flash every time it passed the center point. She looked comically serious as she stared.

"Continue to take deep breaths, breathing in slowly, then letting the air leave your body on its own before you begin again. Let your eyes rest on the center point, where the flash is. You don't feel the need to stare, your eyes will just rest there naturally."

He waited until the rise and fall of her chest told of natural breathing before continuing:

"Let everything other than the flash and my voice just fade away. It will be like a tunnel, with the flash at the end. You don't even feel the need to look around, you are perfectly comfortable with your eyes resting on the flash. You don't need to focus, it will happen naturally. Just breathe and listen to my voice."

She had not reacted since her eyes had first fallen on the metronome. Incredible, he thought. Just incredible. She followed his every word as if nothing else existed.

He continued her induction for much longer than usual. She stared, her half lidded eyes never moving, for twice as long as a normal induction before he even told her to close her eyes. He brought her deeper, leading her with his voice. For nearly an hour he did nothing but deepen her trance. In all that time the girl had never moved, not even a twitch.

Just amazing, he thought.

"Anne, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Anne, I'd like you to imagine that you're in a room. This is not an ordinary room; this room is special. It is special because you know in your heart that you are completely safe there. Nothing that frightens you, or even makes you uncomfortable, can ever get in. No one will ever judge you for anything you say or do there. You are completely safe there. Are you there, Anne?"

"Yes."

"Can you feel that you are completely safe, and nothing can harm you?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, I want you to imagine that there is a door in the room. In a moment, you will open the door and walk through it. When you do, you will carry with you this feeling of complete safety and confidence.

"On the other side of the door is a room full of people."

At this her peaceful expression changed. She seemed to wince.

"It's all right, Anne. Now, open the door--"

"I don't want to."

"Nothing will harm you. You open the door, and walk into the crowded room--"

"NO!" she screamed, and suddenly the placid girl was flailing, thrashing on the couch, cowering back as far as she could. The doctor was taken aback.

"Anne, it's all--"

"NO! NO! I CAN'T, LET ME LEAVE, NO!" She was dissolving into hysterics. The doctor was genuinely frightened. He spoke quickly.

"Anne. ANNE, listen to me, you're back in your safe room. You're in your safe room and the door is closed. You are alone."

At once she sighed, her shoulders sagged, and she relaxed back into the couch.

The doctor took a deep breath. Damnit. It was going to be harder than he thought. It had all been going so well, with her easily slipping into the trance, then a deep trance... he was convinced he'd be able to have a remarkable success in just this one session. Now who's been believing in instant cures, eh?

He took a different approach.

"Anne, how do you feel right now?"

"Safe. In the room."

"Good. Anne, I am going to say two words that you will remember, no matter where you are. The words are 'safe room'. Whenever you hear those words, you will return to your safe room, and your mind will return to this state. Say them for me."

"Safe room."

"Good. Now, I'd like to try something else. You will stay in your safe room the whole time, so there's no need to worry, ok?"

"Ok."

"Now, many people have fantasies in which they are stronger than they are in normal life. Less afraid. Daydreams. Do you ever have daydreams like that, Anne?"

"All the time."

"I thought you might. You know, people who spend a lot of time being afraid tend to have the strongest strength fantasies. I'd like to find one of yours and help you make it more real. Now, let your mind wander. Let it wander through all of the daydreams you have, all the time, but only through the good ones. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Only through the dreams in which you are stronger, more confident, more able, never scared, insecure, or frightened. Let your mind wander until you find your favorite."

She sat for a moment, her face the picture of placidity, her eyes closed, and then she smiled.

"Mm," she said.

"Tell me what you're imagining, Anne."

"I'm walking down the street, and I see a little girl walking in front of a car. Her parents don't notice, but I do. The car is getting close, and I start to run towards her. At the last second, I dive out and save her. Everyone's happy. They don't care that I'm weird, they're just happy that I saved their daughter."

The doctor's heart nearly broke again. The poor girl. Her greatest fantasy, and what was it? To have someone accept her, just for a moment.

"Excellent, Anne. I want you to keep that feeling that you have when you save the girl, and add it to your safe room, ok?"

"Ok."

"Let your mind wander again, through your daydreams, until you find another."

She began to blush silently.

"Do you have it?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," she said dreamily. The blush had the effect of bringing out the freckles on her cheeks and shoulders.

"What is happening?"

"Well, I... there's a.." she trailed off, having trouble putting it into words. It made perfect sense, the doctor realized: she might be trying to describe a feeling to him. There might not even be a word for it.

"Anne, feel free to move around and act out what you're feeling. Anything that helps you express it. You can do nothing wrong, you will never be judged here."

"Well, I..." The girl stood up and smoothed her dress. "There's a... guy..."

She walked over to the bookshelf. "I see him... I want him to talk to me, but he doesn't... so I try to get him to notice me... I walk over by him..." She walked across the room to the other bookshelf, passing behind the doctor.

The doctor took notes feverishly... she is extrordinarily lucid... may be able to reproduce without use of drug...

He didn't see her pick up a heavy glass bookend from the shelf.

"He doesn't notice me, he doesn't look up... so I..." She walked back across the room again, passing behind the doctor again. He continued scribbling out notes.

"So I..."

The doctor finished writing the note and realized she was still behind him just a split second before she slammed the thick, heavy bookend across the back of his head, knocking him out of his chair, face first onto the floor, unconscious.

"So I knock him out and tie him up.. I tie him up so he can't leave... and..."

The thin girl continued acting out the scenario, totally oblivious to the fact that the doctor could no longer hear her.

Pain. Pain, and a headache. The doctor's eyes opened and slowly focused. For a good long moment, he had no idea where he was or what was happening. Then he heard a girl's voice:

"...and then I go to him..."

He was lying on his back. His arms were above his head. Not on a bed. What?

"...and I... unbuckle his belt..." He felt motion around his waist as his belt slid off.

Anne. It was Anne's voice. It all came back to him, and the realization made him try to sit bolt upright, but something stopped him. His hands, he couldn't move his hands. What was happening? He looked up at them.

His hands were tied with the phone cord around the leg of his desk. He pulled. They were tied tightly, the cord wrapped around many times, almost cutting off all circulation. The desk was made of solid oak and weighed at least 500 pounds. It wasn't going anywhere.

His next instinct was to scream, naturally, which his lungs tried to do without even asking his permission first... but no words came out. Something was in his mouth. A gag. Felt like silk, maybe his tie?

She had hit him with something and tied him up. The full realization of what that meant dawned on him. She was living out a fantasy. What is her fantasy was to kidnap and kill someone?

"AMMMM! OOO!" He tried to scream out to her. If he could only say her trigger phrase, he could put her to sleep and stop this--

"..I pull his pants down..." He felt air on his legs as she slid the clothing off.

Of course, it all made sense. She was deathly afraid of talking to boys. She was afraid of saying the wrong thing, she couldn't hold a conversation, even though she was a beautiful girl. So her fantasy was to kidnap one, one that couldn't reject her. It all made sense. She'd gagged him because that was part of her fantasy.

And with help from the drug, he'd put her in such a deep trance that she likely had no idea what reality was at that moment. She wasn't seeing his face, she was seeing the face of whoever she'd been dreaming about.

So stupid, he'd been so stupid. He'd told her to act out a fantasy. Plenty of people have fantasies of domination, he knew that well enough from school... and often it was exactly those who felt powerless in other areas of their life. Of course.

"..and his underwear..."

The police wouldn't see it that way, though. He was going to go to jail, lose his medical licence. He screamed again against the gag.

At least she wouldn't be able to complete the fantasy, because there was no way he'd be able to get aroused in this--

--a rush of sensation came from below the belt, and he looked down. She'd pulled her floral summer dress up above her hips and was straddling him. Her underwear was nowhere to be seen, and he suddenly realized what he was gagged with. Despite himself, he thought, how could a girl that looks like that not be able to find a boyfriend?

And he was hard as a rock. That was impossible. No, it wasn't. Men often get hard-ons while asleep, and he'd just spent a while unconscious courtesy of whatever the girl had hit him with. Hell, it happens so often that the first way they test for impotency is to see if the guy is still getting hard in his sleep. It would go down though, in a few minutes, it would--

"...I crawl onto him, and then..."

She lowered herself to her knees, her pale thighs sliding against his. Her skin was like satin.

"...and then..."

"AMMM!" He twisted his body, trying to turn his hips away from her. She watched, timing the moment when she could catch him in the right position. Her eyes were vacant yet focused, calculating the right moment. Her hair was tucked behind the ear on one side, the rest cascading over her shoulders.

She locked her knees around his hips, hanging on as he bucked.

If you enjoy this you're not just going to jail, you're going to hell.

She twisted her hips in time with his, and then took his member in her hand. There was nowhere for him to go. Goddamn it, she's like a fucking acrobat. She trapped him between her thighs and got the tip in. There was no malice in her eyes, just a dreamy calculation.

"...and thenn.... and thennnnnn... ohmygod..." She slid all the way onto him.

His body, again without asking his permission, instantly got harder within her.

Well then, it looks like you're going to hell old chap.

His fevered bucking only drove her on, and she began panting, kissing at his neck, hanging on like a champion bull rider.

"...andthenohmygodnnnn..."

And then, it occurred to him that there was no getting out of this until she'd completed her fantasy. And what could it matter now? Whether he enjoyed it or not would not likely be a factor in court.

He stopped his futile struggle and started moving in a different way (and told himself that he was doing it to end it, not because he was enjoying it). She mewed. He did have some experience, after all. His thirty years had not been wasted totally on medicine.

He began to move slowly. She gasped. The strength had gone out of her knees and now, she was literally riding him. He carried her light form up and down easily, bending his hips back for a moment, then upwards, noting each gasp. Then again, faster. With the drug, and her trance on top of it, she was feeling ten times the sensation of the a normal person would, and he used that. He felt himself going to go but held on until he could tell she was ready. She was ready all right. He let himself go, and felt her spasm at the same time.

He lay his head back, panting. She clung to him like a kitten being held over water, panting, her petite form rising and falling with each breath. Her voice sounded small:

"...and then... I kiss him..."

She looked down at him with such intense love that, for the third time that day, he thought his heart might break. She took the tie out of his mouth and pulled her panties out, then kissed him, falling onto him breathlessly. Her lips were hot to the touch.

"...and then--"

"Safe room."

She collapsed on top of him, her thin limbs falling limply about him like a sweaty blanket.

"Anne, in a moment you will open your eyes. When you do, you will not question anything that you see. What you will see is someone on the floor beneath you with their hands tied. You will untie their hands, then go back to the safe room. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Do it now."

Her eyes opened and immediately went to his bonds. She reached up and began to untie them, still lying on top of him. He almost laughed. Well after all, you didn't tell her to get up now did you? As soon as they were untied her eyes closed and she collapsed limply on top of him again.

"Anne, in a moment you will open your eyes again. You will stand up and go sit on the couch, then you will go to your safe room again. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do it now."

She did. Her dress slipped back over her hips easily as she stood, and in less than a second she looked as if nothing had happened, aside from the blush that had spread over every visible patch of her normally pale skin. She sat down; her head instantly fell back against the cushions, her eyes closing.

He, on the other hand, had quite a bit of dressing to do, and one $400 tie that was, he supposed, a casualty.

"Anne, how do you feel?" The doctor was presentable again, sans tie, sitting on the chair across from her.

"Mm, good," she smiled.

"Good, I'm glad. Now, Anne, I want you to remember that feeling, and add it to your safe room."

"Mmmk."

"In a moment, I'll begin counting backwards from ten. When I get to one, your eyes will open and you will be fully awake and fully alert. You will still feel the way you do in your safe room--"

"I have to leave?"

Fourth time, heart almost breaking, etc.

"Our time is almost up, but don't worry. Your safe room is always there. What you feel there never goes away, it's just buried temporarily. It is always there, and little by little, we're going to bring that feeling into the rest of your life, Anne. I'm going to help you. And someday, you'll be able to do it all on your own. Do you believe me?"

"I do, but I still don't want to leave."

"You don't have to. Your eyes will simply open." The doctor cleared his throat and went on:

"Anne, while I want you to remember all the good feelings we've captured today, there are some things you will not remember. The fantasies that I asked you to... tell me about. You will not remember them when you are outside of your safe room. If they come to your mind, they will become blurry and indistinct. It's not safe to remember them outside of your safe room."

"Not safe." Her brow furrowed.

He felt awful, using the prospect of fear to supress the girl's memory, but he had to. It was that, or bye bye career and hello jail. That wouldn't help either of them. And in any case, he did know the truth of what happened, and was willing to be his own judge and jury this one time.

"Those two fantasies will simply slide out of your mind if you ever begin to think of them. Even before you think of them. They will slide away and go where they belong, in your safe room. Outside of the room, they are not safe."

"Not safe."

"Ok." He took a deep breath. "Ten, nine..."

When she left the office her eyes had sparkled. It wouldn't last forever, he knew, but he'd given her one day of peace. He finally knew how to help her. That one day of peace would become two, then a week... then one day she wouldn't need him at all anymore. But he would have succeeded. He would have done the one thing he went into psychiatry for: he would have changed someone's life for the better.

At around 8pm, Anne's mother had called him. She'd changed her mind about the institution.

He'd saved a life.