9 comments/ 93956 views/ 14 favorites The Hypnotist’s Assistants By: frogintexas (C) Copyright 2007 by frog, all rights reserved, except those as follows. Permission is granted to download, archive, and repost provided that the contents are not altered, including the disclaimers, copyrights and limitations on use and provided that no fee is charged for access. This story is erotic fiction intended for adult entertainment. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse the behavior described in this story. All persons and events in this story are completely fictitious and ANY similarity to persons living or dead or to actual events is purely coincidental. Note to the reader: I suppose every writer of erotic fiction creates a mind-control story sooner or later, so here is my contribution to that very large body of work. This story requires the reader to suspend reality for a moment and believe in the fantastic superpower of hypnosis to create illusions, misperceptions, mental blocks, and uninhibited actions. Readers should not write and inform me that this is not how hypnosis really works. Fiction, by definition, is not reality. So, please just go with the premise and simply enjoy the juicy story. Yours, frog. Chapter 1 Ken Smith unconsciously rearranged the carefully sharpened pencils in the gray tray in his desk drawer as he eyed all three clocks in his office. Each read precisely 4:45 p.m. A consummate creature of habit, Ken did everything according to established routine. A long career in the military had convinced him that a methodical life was the best life. Now, as Director of Security for a large corporation, his orderly style of living served Ken well. Those whom he supervised knew that they could set their watches according to his meticulous weekly schedule. Today was Friday and 4:45 p.m. meant that it was time for him to inspect the Corporation's main video security station in the building's basement and double check personnel schedules for the coming weekend. By 5:30 p.m. he would be back in his office with ample time to clear his already spotless desk and meet his wife, Beth, for dinner. At 6:00 p.m. Beth would arrive at his office. By 6:15 the couple would be on their way to Chez Fred's Restaurant, as was their practice every Friday evening. Moments later, Ken stepped out of the elevator, straightened his tie, slid his identification card through a nondescript slot, typed his security code on the key pad, and entered the nerve center for corporate security, his pride and joy, the video room. A slight smile crept across his face as he witnessed his technicians dutifully attending to a huge wall filled with flickering televisions, each monitoring a room or hallway somewhere in the massive office building. "Hey, boss," greeted a young uniformed man on duty. "Welcome to another quiet Friday." "That's the way we like 'em, Bobby," Ken answered. "Nice and quiet." Bobby glanced at the institutional black and white clock on the far wall that stood in stark contrast to all the multi-colored screens. Seven minutes until Five O'clock, Bobby noted, on the dot…always…the amazing Mr. Smith…runs like clockwork. Ken's eyes proudly scanned the array of displays. He had designed the system from the ground up and it was at technology's cutting edge. Just then a beeping alarm sounded indicating an entry into their CEO's plush office, one of the areas of tightest security in the building. Images from the three cameras in that office suite automatically appeared on the large main screens. The visitor was none other than Carmen Schafer, the CEO's lovely wife. "Hellooooo, Mrs. Schafer! You and your tits are looking good tonight," muttered Bobby as he viewed the intensely sexy Carmen Schafer in living HDTV. "Mmm, Mmm. Maybe some day when I am chief exec of a big-mother company like this one, I'll get me a wife like that." Chuckles and snide comments to the contrary broke out among the other technicians. "Alright, alright, so maybe I won't…you have to admit that she is some kind of fine looking woman!" Bobby continued. "I'll bet if you look in the dictionary under 'trophy wife,' there's a picture of her there…big old titties and all." Decorum forbad Ken Smith to respond, but privately he heartily agreed with Bobby. Carmen Schafer looked and moved like a runway model…long, lean, gorgeous, self-assured…and she was completely aware of both her beauty and her power. Ken's cock twitched every time he saw her. Today she wore a fashionable little black dress, tight and short, with a neckline that plunged just enough to reveal the upper curvature of her tanned full breasts. The perfunctory string of pearls dangling to just the right spot in her cleavage completed her outfit. Obviously, the Schafers were going out somewhere fancy tonight. All eyes in the video room watched as Carmen sauntered into her husband's office, met him in front of his desk, kissed him hungrily, and immediately began to fondle his crotch. Marlin Schafer pulled away instantly and pointed a finger toward the video surveillance camera. Normally Mr. Schafer was a serious and determined man who did not smile often. Now he was grinning from ear to ear. God, I wish my wife would do that, thought Ken. If Beth would grab my cock just once without my asking, I would be a happy man. "I'll bet she can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch," mused Bobby quietly. The image of Carmen Schafer on her knees hungrily servicing her husband's rigid tool rushed into Ken's fertile imagination. His fantasies always were extraordinarily vivid, so vivid that he had to be careful about when he concentrated on such things. For an instant though, he allowed his mind to slip into his little fantasy world. He could almost smell the sex as Carmen devoured a long, purple veined cock in his imagination. Bobby's continuing commentary jolted Ken back to attention. "It's her lips…those thick, puffy lips…check 'em out…Mmm, Mmm…yes, siree, just like the ones on Angelina Jolie!" whistled Bobby. He had taken manual control of one of the cameras and had zoomed in on Carmen's face. What I wouldn't give to have Carmen Schafer run those full red lips up and down and all around on my dick, dreamed Ken. His cock obviously agreed. It began to strain against his trousers. After being rebuffed by her husband, Carmen shot a dagger-filled look at the camera and pouted. Then a sinister smile crept across her face. Suddenly, she turned her back to the offending camera, bent slightly at the waist, and, in a gesture of obvious defiance, flipped up the tail of her dress. Eyes all around the video room widened as Carmen's gloriously round ass barely covered with shiny tiny black bikini panties flashed into view. Her husband's smile disappeared at once and, although no sound accompanied the visual images, his message of disapproval was very clear. Still pouting, Carmen flounced out of the room with husband Marlin, briefcase in hand, chasing after her. At the last possible instant, she flashed a big smile back directly at the camera and winked. Cheers broke out in Ken's normally staid security room and a couple of technicians even gave each other big high-five hand slaps. Brazen, Ken thought, Carmen Schafer defines brazen…and I love it…God, if Beth would only be half as bold...the mind boggles. Ken checked the schedule clip board, signed it with a flourish, turned on his heels, and quickly left the room, all the while hoping that his erection would subside before he met his wife upstairs. Couldn't I just as easily have married a woman like Carmen instead of Beth? Ken wondered. That thought made his cock tingle once again. ***** Promptly at 6:00 p.m., Beth Smith strolled into Ken's office. Ken's erection was gone, but his general horniness was not. He gave his wife a lingering lustful once over from head to toe. Beth was beautiful in her own way—a way very unlike Carmen Schafer. Beth certainly had a look of affluence…stylish gray flannel suit with Laura Ashley blouse, shoulder length hair classically cut, tasteful yet clearly expensive jewelry…the total look of a well-heeled, conservative woman. Ken admired her healthy glow and warm smile. She certainly was not the buxom movie-star type like Carmen, but when she walked into a room she didn't go unnoticed by the men or the women. Best of all, she had maintained her willowy collegiate figure over the years by working out, a daily habit she developed while Ken was in the military. During those early years of their marriage, military housewife boredom set in with Beth quickly and profoundly. As a result, she had become interested first in meditation groups, then exercise, and then religion. She filled her days back then with everything from Garden Clubs to Bible Study to Yoga. She always was amazed that exercising both mind and body could be relaxing and stimulating at the same time. "What?" asked Beth, fearing that an unwanted spot on her dress or something similar had drawn so much of Ken's direct attention to her body. "I was just checking out my sexy wife and her sexy outfit," purred Ken. "Oh, I'm not sexy…not any more at least, you silly man. And, I've had this dress for ages. You have seen it a million times." Beth grinned broadly. "I was thinking about what is under it," sighed Ken. "Oh, don't be gross…we are about to go to dinner, for goodness sake." Beth rolled her eyes in an effort to end both this line of conversation and its implications, but then condescended and gave Ken a quick kiss on the lips. Ken answered by sliding his hand up from her slim waist to one of her smallish, firm breasts. "Ke-yun! Keep those wandering hands to yourself. What if someone walked in here? You have an important image to uphold. Now, let's go to dinner. The folks at Chez Fred's are probably wondering where we are already." "Yes, dear," sighed Ken. Maybe in return for all this attention, risqué touching and sexual hints, Ken mused, she at least will give me a little nookie tonight…maybe. The thought of that sent the pangs of arousal though his cock once again, but reality suddenly reared an ugly head. Unfortunately, he realized, it will be just like always…same old tired routine…well, I guess that's better than no sex at all. Ken's mind began to wander away again to his fantasy world as he observed his and Beth's surreal reflections in the shiny brass elevator door on their way down to the lobby. Soon his mind was filled with a vivid reenactment of their methodical, orderly lovemaking. …kiss a little…feel Beth up some…sexy little titties, she has…maybe kiss one of her nice firm nipples…grab the KY Jelly…rub it on myself…kiss a little more…climb on top…wham bam…get my jollies…Beth runs to the john…cleans herself up…brings me a warm bath cloth…I scrub up…by the time I'm done, she's dressed in PJ's…we kiss, profess our eternal love to each other…in a few seconds we're both go to sleep. Same old, same old! The ding of the elevator shook him from his gripping, yet depressing daydream. Later Ken pulled his black BMW into the flow of traffic outside his building. Chez Fred's was across town, but usually by this time on Fridays the traffic was beginning to thin. The darkening twilight sky gave all the downtown buildings a ghostly glow of similarity. Ken barely noticed the endless stream of now unlit windows hiding whatever secrets were inside. Ken came to the stop light at the turn off to Chez Fred's. Without any hint of alarm, he felt himself slipping into another of his daydreams. Suddenly he realized that Beth was speaking to him in a stern voice. "Ken, what are you doing? You turned the wrong way at the light! Now we're going the wrong direction! Chez Fred's is back that way, remember?" Beth pointed back over her shoulder with a look of grave concern and confusion. Ken looked around frantically. The shadowy buildings all seemed strange and out of place, yet somehow familiar. It was just like one of those frightening realizations a person gets when lost in thought while driving and suddenly recognizing that the last few miles of road is absent from memory. "Damn! How did I manage to do that? Sorry, baby. I guess I wasn't paying attention…been a long week…I spaced out, I guess. No problem, though. I'll get us back on the right track as soon as I find a place to get turned around." "Well, do it quickly. This is not a good part of town to be in…obviously!" Ken agreed. As he searched for a turning point, the neighborhood seemed to grow darker and the buildings shabbier. Only very murky, forbidding alleys branched off the main street. The further they went, the more threatening the surroundings became. "Of all times," moaned Beth in obvious frustration, "as if going this way was not bad enough…now I have to pee in the worst way. We need to get to the restaurant quickly before I pee my pants!" "Jeez, Beth, what a time for that." Beth gave Ken her angry, hurt, and defensive looks all at once. Her tiny bladder had a long history in their marriage. "I can't help it. I can't remember ever having to go this badly before either. God, I can't believe I am saying this, but…if you see a public toilet anywhere, stop…please." "In this part of town! A toilet? I'll be surprised if there is running water here." Now Ken was really flustered. "Can't you just hold it?" "No. Anyway, I have a vague memory of a gas station around here somewhere…" As absurd a notion as that seemed, Ken felt the same way—a sort of weird déjà vu. He was certain that he had never been this way before, yet it seemed somehow familiar. "Look!" shouted Beth. She pointed toward a dilapidated looking service station nestled in the ground floor of a larger building. "Pull over!" Ken wheeled through the intersection and brought their sleek car to a screeching stop. Under a big, dirty sign that read "Clean Rest Rooms" hung a smaller hand-written note on which was scrawled "Out of Order!" "Shit," screamed Beth. Ken knew immediately that Beth now was really upset. She rarely ever uttered a profane word of any kind except in the direst of situations. "Hang on, baby…we'll find someplace else," reassured Ken. Next door to the service station was a vacant lot that obviously had been transformed into a makeshift parking lot. Surprisingly it was filled with cars, except for one spot in the front row. A rough looking attendant wearing a very dirty tee shirt emblazoned with a large yellow smiley-face motioned them toward the empty space. His own broad smile that in a strange way mirrored his tee shirt was filled with tangled, brown teeth. Ken craned his neck to see the surroundings. Near the parking lot a brightly lit marquee flashed, Klub Kasbah! Neon no longer illuminated the last two letters, but the name nevertheless was clear. An old-fashioned sandwich board sign at the street's edge advertised in bold letters, "Hypnotist appearing nightly! Air Conditioned. Rest Rooms." Everything about the place was scruffy, tattered, and ancient—yet, a large group of well-dressed people seemed to be gathering on the street and inside the lobby. "This place looks pretty strange, but the people are well turned-out…maybe you can go to the bathroom in there." Ken pointed at the sign and wheeled quickly into the last remaining parking place. "Well, ok…the toilets probably will be gross," said Beth, "but there is no way that I can wait any longer. I'll just pee as quickly as possible and then we're off to Chez Fred's. Ok?" Beth and Ken made their way, along with several other patrons, into the antiquated nightclub. The lobby reeked of centuries old beer and very new disinfectant. Its walls were covered with red-flocked wallpaper swathed in vague memories of fleur-de-li and paisley. Well-trodden carpet matching the wallpaper led past a small ticket counter. A grizzled old man who seemed to be from the same vintage as the lobby's decorator manned the ticket booth. Ken pushed his way to the front of the line. "Ah…sir…we're not staying for the show…we just would appreciate the use of your bathrooms, if you don't mind," said Ken. "Suit yourself," the old man coughed through a dark cloud of cigarette smoke. Phlegm seemed to hinder his ever word. "The johns are back there to the left." Beth scurried to the door that would have been marked "Ladies," except the "L" had fallen off long ago leaving only an absence of varnish to form the letter. Ken reasoned that as long as he was here, he might as well use the facilities too. He entered the door marked "Gents" and stepped up to an ancient trough-style urinal along side another man. "Ever seen the show here before?" the man said. "Nope," replied Ken. "I hear it is sensational," replied the man. "A bunch of guys at my office have seen it, said it was the damnedest thing you will ever witness…practically forced me to come, they did." "Really?" "Yeah, my buddy says it is about the hottest show and scarcest ticket in town…hard to believe in such a fucked up neighborhood, huh?" "Yeah. Hot ticket, huh. Why is that?" "Word is that the hypnotist in the show has people doing all sorts of stuff…weird, kinky stuff. They say ordinary people get naked and everything. A guy at work told me that the hypnotist actually got a woman to suck a fellow off right there on stage in front of everyone…and…she didn't remember a thing when she came too. I also heard that some nights there is actual fucking going on…right there on stage." The man gave his dick a few shakes and zipped his pants. "Is that so?" muttered Ken. "That's what I heard…" The man hurried over to an antiquated lavatory and began to wash his hands. Ken stood dumbfounded. His feeling of super horniness had returned. "Regular people naked? Fucking and sucking in public? Not knowing anything afterward? That's very hard to believe," Ken said to the man. "We'll see in a few minutes, won't we? I can't wait. If nothing else, maybe it will make my wife hot-to-go, you know…ready to experiment a little tonight after we get home…heh, heh." The man scurried out the door. Ken quickly followed and stepped up to the now idle old man in the ticket window. "Any seats left?" "Nope," said the old man. A round of profound coughing followed his curt reply. Just then Beth joined Ken at the booth. "Funny…someone we know must have the same wall paper as the bathroom here, but I can't seem to recall who. I know I have seen it somewhere before…" "You like red wallpaper?" said the man. Beth blinked as if something had flown in her eye and then she became very quiet. "Wait a minute," coughed the old man as he shuffled through several envelopes. "Looks like I got two seats left after all. Want 'em." "How much?" The old man lit another cigarette and a great cloud of smoke became suspended around the three of them. "That's 50 buckaroos…each, drinks not included," the voice in the smoke replied. At the sound of the old man's words, Ken felt a peculiar twinge. He looked at Beth and felt his cock beginning to harden. With one hand, she had taken Ken's elbow. Her other hand strolled gently, sexily up and down Ken's back. "A hundred dollars? For a show?" gasped Ken. "Forget it." The Hypnotist’s Assistants "Ok, wait a minute," sputtered the old man. "Have I got a deal for you, Mister. The truth is…the tickets were on hold, the people haven't shown up, the show is about to start…the seats aren't that great anyway…and I'm tired of fucking with this and want to go home. So, what say…I just give 'em to you. My treat. You seem like nice folks and all." Ken was shocked yet pleased. Beth's hand on his back was sending chills through his body. He began to imagine naked people doing naughty things on stage. "Well…ok," he said. "We'll take them." The old man thrust a thick ledger book in front of Ken. "Sign here," he demanded. "By signing, you are agreeing to not hold the club responsible for any dumb stuff you might do while you or anyone else is under hypnosis. You can read all the legal fine-print stuff if you want, but if you do, you'll be late for the start of the show. As far as I know, we have never lost a customer, but our lawyer says we have to do this shit…so sign if you are staying." Ken quickly signed. "Her too…" sighed the old man. He let out another series of bilious coughs. As Beth signed, she asked, "What is this all about?" "Honey," smiled Ken. "How would you like to go see a hypnotist?" "Watch out for the man in plaid pants," called the man. Strange thing to say, thought Ken. Chapter 2 Ken and Beth both squinted as their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the main showroom. A small half-circle stage thrust out into a series of high-backed booths arrayed in concentric half-circles. Each row of booths stair-stepped up so that people seated in them could see over the row in front of them. A steep set of heavily carpeted stairs led down the center aisle to the stage. Art deco designs covered dingy walls and a moth-eaten curtain veiled the stage although it did not quite meet in the center. The room was packed with talkative people, young and old, anxiously awaiting the start of the show. Ken and Beth found their way down to the booth that matched the number on their tickets. It was on the front row center. "Thought he said these were bad seats…" Ken remarked. He paused when he noted that another couple already was seated in their assigned booth. "Here we go…our seats are right…over here," said Beth as her eyes fell on the two remaining empty seats in the booth. "Hello, we're the Smiths. I guess we are sharing." The well-dressed African-American man rose and extended his hand. "Hello, I'm Jonas Jackson…my wife, Nita." From his vantage point, two steps above the table, Ken could gaze directly down at Nita Jackson's ample cleavage. In contrast to her husband's very dark, almost purple hued skin, Nita was honey brown complexioned, very thin, and quite beautiful. Her high cheekbones intensified her bright smile. Ken's attention quickly refocused, however, on the very short skirt that barely covered Nita's most precious spot. A feeling of disappointment slinked through Ken when he realized that he wouldn't quite have the right angle to inspect what most assuredly would have been a show of Nita's panties if he had a better viewing location. Nita looked up at Ken and demurely smiled. Ken at first thought that his obscene staring had been discovered, but then he determined that either she had not noticed or, if she knew he was looking at her boobs et al, she didn't let on. Ken and Beth settled into their over-stuffed naugahyde seats, ordered and received drinks, and exchanged a few pleasantries with the Jacksons, including the determination that this was the first visit to this club for all of them. After a long pause, Beth felt Nita staring at her and turned to meet her gaze. "I would swear that we have met somewhere before," Nita pondered. "You look very familiar to me." "Perhaps," smiled Beth, "but, I don't think so. Actually, I was thinking the same thing." Suddenly from the stage a loudspeaker crackled to life. A raspy female voice drew everyone's attention. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Klub Kasbah. Tonight, you will see sights that will amaze even the most skeptical among you…control of the mind like you have never seen before…hypnotizing, mesmerizing, tantalizing power over mind and body. So, without further ado, the Klub Kasbah proudly presents the greatest hypnotist on earth…the Amazing Roger!" The curtain creaked open and an aging, distinctly unhandsome man appeared wearing a cape and old tuxedo along with a terrible comb-over hairdo held in place by an abundance of oil. He swept on to the stage and received the audience's rather reserved applause. Ken whispered to Beth, "Roger? The guy's stage name is Roger? I thought hypnotists were named Kreskin or Rasputin or Dr. Demento or something…not Roger. This could be really bad…very very bad…I'm sorry I dragged you in here." Ken rolled his eyes and continued to grouse until Beth shushed him quiet with a finger to her lips. Ken turned his attention back to the stage and at once he noticed the rather shoddy looking performer's penetrating eyes. Strangely, they were eyes like those of a black panther stalking its prey, dark and foreboding. Sinister shadowy circles underneath added to their disconcerting appearance. Ken felt a real sense of fear rise within him when the hypnotist suddenly turned and looked directly into what seemed to be Ken's very soul. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." The man's voice was deep, resonant, and commanding despite the certain disjointedness between the richness of his voice and the cheapness of his appearance. Ken's discomfort increased every time Roger's eyes fell directly on him…and they frequently did so. "Tonight you will witness the most amazing, the most titillating, the most erotic display of the power of hypnosis ever performed. Are you sure you are ready to be amazed?" He paused awaiting a response that didn't come. "I said are you ready to be amazed?" This time the audience responded with reserved affirmation. "Good! The faint-of-heart and members of the Religious Right should leave at once. I hope there aren't any Mormons or Baptists in the crowd, are there?" Laughter and shouts to the negative came from various audience members amid more enthusiastic applause. Ken sat motionless. He was fascinated by the deep, compelling and somewhat monotonous sound of the man's voice. He glanced at Beth and the others in their little booth. Everyone was staring at Roger. The hypnotist seemed to have their complete and undivided attention. "First, allow me to introduce my beautiful and talented assistant, the lovely…Darlene." Roger awkwardly threw out his arm displaying the rather faded red interior of his black cape. From backstage appeared a woman dressed in an obviously very old, red-sequined gown. Most of the sequins had long ago departed. With one quick glance, Ken determined that this woman might be the most unattractive female he had ever seen. Even the stage make-up, which she wore in abundance, did not disguise that she was simply ugly in every way. The coup de gras came when she smiled revealing a jumble of rather dark stained teeth pointing in a variety of directions. The teeth were surrounded by brightly painted red lips. Hair dyed Lucille Ball red and a large mole on the side of her prominent nose completed the woeful picture. "I would like to solicit some volunteers from the audience…," the hypnotist droned. "Ruba-dub-dub!" Ken began to cease attending to particular words, his mind started to wander, as did his eyes around the audience. People apparently from all walks of life filled the club. His attention suddenly was jolted back when the hypnotist moved directly above him on the stage and said, "Yes, and you there in the lovely dress…ok, and your friend as well…yes, you…you with the handsome husband…come on up." Ken was shocked when both Nita and Beth began to make their way to the stage, giggling as they went like two embarrassed schoolgirls. Several other men and women gathered on stage and were directed to a row of folding chairs by Roger's homely assistant. Jonas leaned over to Ken and said, "This might become very good…or very bad…for our wives, I mean. Do you think he can actually hypnotize your wife?" "I don't know," Ken whispered. "Mine will go under in seconds, I'm betting," said Jonas. "She went to a hypnotist to help her stop smoking. He said she was a quick and easy subject…so, I figure, she's under in a heart beat…maybe less." Ken barely heard Jonas. Beth, his beaming wife who was seated ever so modestly in front of the audience, drew his rapt attention. A chill move up Ken's spine as he thought about the preview he had received from the man in the rest room. His mind filled with images of nakedness and sex on stage, yet he could not conceive of his conservative wife doing anything that wild. She won't even consider giving me a blowjob in our own bedroom, Ken reasoned, so surely she won't be susceptible to suggestions like that. Or will she? My god, what if she is…in front of everyone…Jesus…this could be very bad…or very…good! Ken's mind was ablaze with imaginative possibilities as he watched the hypnotist's assistant moving among the assembled group. Nita and Beth giggled together in adjacent seats. While curiosity made Ken anxious to see what would follow, a tinge of real fear lurked deep within him. Disappoint came first, however. Instead of anything approaching risqué, the hypnotist began with the usual stunts of the trade. After a period of droning in his deep monotone to his subjects and occasionally whispering into their ears, several people appeared to fall asleep, including both Beth and Nita. Able assistant, Darlene, led the ones who were not asleep off the stage and they returned to their seats in the audience. Doesn't work for everyone, I guess, thought Ken. Obviously worked for Beth though! Roger, the hypnotist, began to focus attention on the first man in line by continuing to whisper in his ear. Ken's gaze, however, was drawn to the sight of sleeping Nita who was seated directly in front of the booth in which he and Jonas sat. Her head lolled on her shoulder and, best of all, her legs had become askance. Under the bright stage lights, a shiny triangle of white panties clearly showed between her splayed legs…plus, the more she seemed to relax, the more her legs parted. Fearfully Ken glanced at Jonas to check his reaction. To Ken's surprise, Jonas also was staring directly at his own wife's crotch and openly was "adjusting" his own cock within his pants as he ogled her. Ken's voyeuristic moment was interrupted when the hypnotist said something about a wardrobe change and Darlene helped Nita to her feet and led her off stage. "She'll be back in a moment or two, folks," said Amazing Roger. His toothy smile struck Ken as overtly evil. Ken felt that tinge of fear growing larger within him. After another minute or two, Roger, through whispers, incantations, and suggestions, had those on stage doing a variety of outlandish, but innocent things, such as, believing they were animals or that they were very cold or very hot. Beth obviously had been told that she was sweltering. From his vantage point, Ken could see that she actually was sweating, fanning the front of her dress open and closed, and turning red. Once a skeptic, Ken now believed. This was neither a pre-fixed deal nor a joke. His wife plainly was under the full influence and control of the hypnotist, as were the others. How far will this…how far will he go, Ken wondered. Another chill ran down Ken's spine as he again reflected on the conversation in the bathroom. No worries, Ken thought, if he does something like that to Beth, I'll simply hop up on stage and stop everything…I'll make him wake her up...I'll protect her. With that, Ken felt somewhat reassured. Roger's almost unintelligible words and whispers continued to drone from the loudspeakers. In turn, the bizarreness level of each subject's behavior slowly increased. One older man, who thought he was a gorilla, climbed lithely on his chair and began to pick at invisible fleas. Another man's body became so rigid that Roger was able to prop him up between two chairs, neck on one and ankles on the other. There the man remained as if he was in rigor mortis. Beth by now was so overwhelmed by her perceived heat that she had loosened several buttons of her dress and sat with her legs apart, her skirt loosely yet modestly draped between them. Her bra showed slightly as she fanned herself furiously. She without a doubt was uncomfortable and growing more so by the minute. Ken finally decided that enough was enough. He was about to object when his attention was drawn to another man who had been told that he was at a tawdry peepshow. The hypnotist had convinced the man that he was in a private booth and through a window could see a young female patron on the front row, but she could not see him…and that the woman was a stripper. When Roger announced to the man (and the audience) that the woman had begun to disrobe, the man started to fondle his obviously erect cock through his clothing…to the laughter and delight of the entire audience. The woman, fully clothed and awake, gamely got into the spirit of the moment and rose to dance seductively at her seat. The man immediately responded by fumbling further with his own crotch and then, without warning, he unzipped his trousers and reached inside. Just as the man was about to pull out his cock, Roger intervened and sent the man back into a deep sleep, much to the distress of the audience. Shouts of "no" erupted mostly from females in the crowd. Roger responded with a very fake theatrical look of shock that brought gales of laughter from the audience. Roger now had the entire assembly, including Ken, believing in his powers. The hypnotist's eyes flashed triumphantly as he moved around the small stage. Ken looked back at his poor wife who was still agonizing in imaginary heat. Her legs were fully apart and anyone in the crowd now could see her pantyhose covered crotch. Deep inside Ken wanted to be outraged, stop the show, and rescue his wife's modesty, but instead he found himself getting aroused. It only took a quick glance to reveal that Jonas Jackson also had a massive hard on. "And now, ladies and gents, the part of our little show for which you have been waiting and for which you all paid big bucks. Warning…this part of the show is X-rated, so if you might be offended, you better go now…don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out." Roger acted and spoke as if the "big bucks" and "X-rated" parts were secret information between him and the audience members. "On the other hand, if the X-rated part is entirely why you are here…" A huge, clearly positive roar rose up from the audience bringing a broad and very evil smile to the hypnotist's lips. "Well…alrighty then…Our lovely volunteer from the audience has made the costume change that I promised, so may I now present…the beautiful, the exotic, the fully unaware…Miss Nita!" Ken's eyes popped as Roger's ugly assistant reappeared leading Nita out of the wings. Adorned in a stunning red gown that shimmered in the bright stage lights, Nita seemed to glow with happiness and contentment. She gracefully glided to the front of the stage, Roger whispered something in her ear, and immediately her head slumped forward. Only then did Ken and the rest of the audience begin to realize that Nita's dress was transparent…in fact, very transparent. Ken rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Dark, black nipples showed clearly through the top of Nita's gown and an even darker triangular patch of pubic hair could be seen below. Ken expected Jonas to lunge upon the stage and protect his wife's modesty. Instead Jonas sat motionless across the table from Ken. That's weird, thought Ken. Ken leaned toward Jonas and was dumbfounded by what he saw. Jonas just sat there staring blankly at his almost nude wife. No emotion showed on his face at all. Roger's voice droned on as Ken tried desperately to make sense of Jonas' behavior. Ken reached for his drink. Suddenly, there was a very loud shout and huge commotion in the back of the hall. At the same instant, all the ice in Ken's glass seemed to melt at once. Ken was still observing this curious event when another cry rang out. These words Ken fully understood. "I'm going to kill you, mother-fucker!" The voice belonged to an obviously very angry man. Ken turned to see the origin of the shouting when a deafening blast along with a blinding flash of fire rocked the room. Screams rose up from the audience. Ken felt completely disoriented in the tumult. In trying to get his bearings, Ken looked back at the stage and there, to his utter amazement, stood Nita and his wife, Beth, both totally naked. A third nude woman knelt in front of a black man…Jonas Jackson…she was holding his rather long purple cock in her hand. Ken could hear Roger shouting over the din. Ken pinched his eyes closed and shook his head in a feeble attempt to clear his mind. At first, the entire scene on stage was completely real, then slowly it seemed to become more and more a dream. Ken rubbed his eyes and slowly reopened them. His mouth fell open. Everything had returned to normal. Ken frantically tried to reorient. He bolted up from his seat and looked all around. The audience appeared jovial; Beth and Nita along with the other subjects were standing on stage receiving applause; Jonas was clapping from the seat beside him, and the Amazing Roger was taking deep bows. Each of the subjects wore a look of happy confusion as they filed from the stage. To Ken, everything appeared to be normal, yet at the same time, something seemed very, very wrong. Ken looked down at his iceless drink glass. As hard as he tried, he could not remember why he was concerned about the ice, but deep inside he knew that ice was related in some way with his anxiety. Something about the ice, he thought as he struggled to make sense of everything. The ice…something is wrong with the ice…very wrong. By this time, Beth and Nita had returned to the booth. Both were giggling just like before. "Hope you liked the show, ladies and gentlemen," said Amazing Roger. He and his assistant continued to smile and bow. "Gosh," said Beth. "I don't remember a thing, except going up on stage. But, I feel great! I didn't do something bad, did I, Ken? Please tell me that I didn't!" Ken started to respond, but Jonas beat him to the punch. "Not at all, but you two certainly acted silly. Well, goodnight…nice to meet ya'll," said Jonas. Jonas and Nita began to make their way out of the booth. Ken still sat rubbing his temples. "Goodnight," responded Beth automatically. Beth whispered in Ken's ear, "Before we go, I have to pee." "Me too," Ken whispered back. As they climbed the stairs up to the back of the hall, Ken felt as if the world had become somehow out of focus, albeit slightly. What is it? What's wrong with this picture? He looked around the room. The rest of the people seemed normal enough. They sat chatting to each other—some looked at them; some did not—and interestingly they remained in their seats and seemed in no hurry to leave even though the show was over. Something is not right, thought Ken. They're not leaving. Why aren't they all leaving? The show is over…not leaving…the ice…the dream…not leaving…the man in the bathroom said naked people were in the show…my wife was in the show…my wife was naked…or maybe not…a gunshot...or a dream about a gunshot…something was wrong with the ice in my glass…then…then I can't remember… The Hypnotist’s Assistants Ken continued to grapple with the inconsistencies as he and Beth followed the Jonas and Nita out into the lobby. There Ken and Beth separated, each going to the appropriate rest room. Beth emerged to find Ken talking again to the old man in the ticket booth. "I know this sounds weird, but…someone we know has the same wall paper as the bathroom here, but I can't seem to recall who. I know I have seen it some where before…," said Beth. "Old wallpaper like this? Not likely," answered Ken as he glanced around the dingy room. "Thanks for the use of your facilities. You are very gracious," Ken said to the old man sitting in the smoky booth. "Anytime," coughed the old man. "Now I'm hungry," whispered Beth. "Chez Fred's will fix that," said Ken. "Watch out for the man in plaid pants," said the old man. As he pulled his BMW out of the parking lot and down the street, Ken felt himself slipping into a very pleasant daydream about Carmen Schafer, his boss' wife. First Carmen was walking on the squalid street, then suddenly on a lovely pink sand beach. Carmen's clothing changed also from the little black dress to tiny swimsuit as she drew closer to Ken. Only a few yards away from him now, Carmen reached behind her back and slowly the top of her swimsuit drifted away like a feather in the wind. Carmen's pendulous breasts, without sagging in the least, seemed to respond to their newly found freedom. They undulated slightly with each step. Perfect, round nipples stood at attention on the tip of each breast. A warm smile broke out on Carmen's flawless face. It was the same wicked smile that she had presented to the security camera…then came the wink...the same mischievous wink. "Ken." It was Carmen's full mouth that shaped the word. "Ken, watch what you are doing." Ken blinked his eyes and Carmen disappeared from sight. "You almost ran a red light back there." "Sorry, Beth, I guess I wasn't paying attention." "You certainly were not," said Beth with a voice of exasperation. "Off in one of your reveries again, I'm guessing. Sometimes I wonder about you. Please don't do that while you are driving. It is dangerous, ok?" "Yes, dear," said Ken. Beth abruptly changed the subject. "You know, I sometimes think that Chez Fred's is really more of a Chinese food place." "Why do you say that, dear?" "Cause I'm always hungry after we eat there," said Beth. "I know what you mean, baby." Funny, thought Ken. I can't seem to remember what I had to eat at Chez Fred's tonight…something is not quite right…hmmm… "We'll make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when we get home," offered Ken. "That sounds good," said Beth. "Strange…but, didn't we do the same thing last week?" "I don't really remember," answered Ken. His comment caused a shudder to course though his body, but try as he would, he could not recall why he felt so ill at ease. What did I have at Chez Fred's? thought Ken. Ice? Something about the ice… Chapter 3 The Amazing Roger sat bow tie askew in his tawdry dressing room. He was tossing down his second Scotch. He looked anything but amazing. Darlene, looking even uglier in half-removed makeup, was ranting furiously. "Why in the fuck do we pay Johnny if he can't control who comes in the door?" she screamed. "Our Mr. Kelly should never have been allowed in…much less allowed in with a fucking gun in his hand. We are lucky to be alive. Jesus H. Christ…just think of it…what if he had shot a customer? Or me? Or you? We would've had fucking police all over…oh my god, the questions. They would have asked all the questions that we don't want to have to answer!" Yes, dear, thought Roger. "We have a great thing going here, Roger…and Johnny fucked up badly…he almost fucked up the entire deal." "I'll deal with Johnny," sighed Roger. "Right now I am much more concerned with what that gunshot might have done to the subjects. It might have brought them back to attention. If they did start attending at the wrong time, then they may have registered a memory. That would really fuck up them…and us…in the worst sort of way. That would make them completely useless to us. Subjects don't last very long as it is and finding new ones, the right ones, is very difficult." Roger's forceful lecture lost some of its punch because of his tired expression. "I can assure you that finding new subjects is a lot better than dealing with the wrong memories. Shit. What a fucking mess. Goddamn Johnny! This is his fault!" shouted Darlene. Roger threw off his tie and cummerbund, and then poured another drink for himself. Darlene continued her tirade while covering her face with green cleansing cream. After a moment, she literally looked as if she had come from another planet. The cream, however, did not slow her acrid speech. "Just be glad that you got them all back under control as quickly as you did," Darlene continued. "And, thank god, you were able to convince the audience that it was all part of the show…that extemporaneous lecture on seeing and not seeing, the 'powers of perception' bullshit was a bit of genius. Did you deal with Mr. Kelly afterward?" "Yeah," said Roger, "he won't be joining us anymore. Too bad, he was a good subject and his wife had great tits." "He was a loose-cannon from the start. And, her ass was too wide for her boobs…in my opinion." Roger chuckled at Darlene's off-handed remark. Quickly, however, reality returned and his smile vanished. "None of that matters," he muttered. "Remembering—subjects remembering—does matter…big time. I will stay fucking worried until we can get the Smiths and the others back in here and deal with what they might remember from tonight." "And you should fire fucking Johnny! Ok?" ***** By all appearances, the following week was like every week in Ken Smith's life—routine, nothing different, nothing out of place. Yet, something troubled Ken profoundly, an itch that he couldn't scratch, something that would not seem to let go even though he could not identify it. It became so troubling and distracting that he actually was late for an appointment on Tuesday! That had never happened in Ken's entire professional life. By Wednesday, Ken's sense of confusion and uneasiness had grown into stifling fear, a debilitating terror of something unknown, something just beyond his mind's reach. He felt constant panic and couldn't concentrate at all on his job or anything else. Wednesday…golf day, thought Ken. The last thing I feel like doing is playing golf. As was the case every Wednesday afternoon, it was time for Ken to go to the golf club. On this day, instead, he sat in his office staring at the ceiling…and tried desperately to get his nerves under control. He didn't want to golf, yet, the thought of canceling also unnerved him because, in Ken's well-ordered life, he always played golf on Wednesday afternoons…at least almost always. Ken's orderly schedule had included two choices on Wednesday afternoons—golf followed by a poker game, if the weather was fair; or just poker if the weather prohibited the golf. This worked great for the Smiths because Beth always attended her Bible study class on Wednesday nights. The more Ken stared at the ceiling, the more his anxiety grew. He was convinced that something was horribly wrong. Finally out of sheer panic, he called Beth. "Hi, honey." Beth's voice was its usual calm. "I didn't expect to hear from you this afternoon. Anything wrong?" "I was about to ask you the same thing." "I'm just leaving for Bible study, dear. No problem here. Just an ordinary Wednesday. Are you ok?" "I just felt funny, don't know why, and I was concerned about you, baby." "What a sweetie, you are. Well, I'm fine. So, go and have fun with the guys…and don't lose too much of our money playing poker. I love you a bunch." "I love you too, baby." Ken put the receiver in its cradle, and then picked it up again. "Hello?" "Larry, this is Ken Smith. Listen, I'm gonna have to miss our golf game today…sorry." "Jeez, Ken. I've never known you to miss. Hope you aren't sick or something." "No, nothing like that…just have some other things to take care of, that's all. Sorry." "Ok, see you next time." Ken went down to the parking garage and, for perhaps the first time in his life, started his car without having any particular destination in mind. ***** Always hungry after Chez Freds. The thought popped unprovoked into Ken's head. Ken looked up and suddenly realized that he was at the turn off to Chez Fred's. Can't remember what I had to eat…always hungry. Something about Chez Fred's is not right. Perhaps that is the place to start. Spontaneously Ken wheeled his car toward Chez Fred's. In a few blocks, the restaurant with its signature wooden sign out front appeared on the left side of the street. Nothing strange, thought Ken. Nothing different…same old Chez Fred's… Ken walked through the familiar front door just as he remembered he had done every Friday night for at least a year. Nothing strange…nothing different. Wait, he thought, that is not quite accurate… The matre'd stand had been moved to the other side of the entrance. "You moved your station, Armand," said Ken. "Sir?" "Your podium…it used to be over there." "Oh, yes, sir…about six months ago. It must have been a while since you last visited us, sir." "What? Armand, it's me, Ken Smith. I come here every Friday night…with Beth…my wife…" "I'm sorry, sir. I guess I didn't recognize you. Table for one?" Ken looked into the man's eyes. "You still don't recognize me, do you?" Ken said quietly. "Ah, you'll have to pardon me sir, but…I am embarrassed to say…no." "Do you have standing reservations on weekends for regular customers?" "Oh, yes, sir! We certainly do. Folks come back to us again and again," replied the matre'd proudly. "Would you check on a standing reservation for Smith? On Fridays?" "Certainly, sir, but I know we have no such reservation. I write all standing reservations in each time we change reservation books. See for yourself." Armand spun the reservation book around and leafed back through several Friday's. There was no Smith on any of them. "A table, sir?" Ken felt as if he had been hit directly in the solar plexus. The smiling matre'd and room began to slowly spin round and round as Ken fought to regain his breath. He turned on his heels, stumbled toward the door, and plunged back out into the late afternoon sun, bumping into walls and bystanders as he ran. Beth! he thought. I have to find Beth. The sleek BMW burned long, black stripes in the street as Ken headed for the Second Baptist Church. Other cars and pedestrians ducked out of his way along the route. The sun was sinking lower in the sky as he swerved into the church parking lot. A large hand-written sign on an easel in the foyer spelled a sense of relief for Ken. It read "Bible Study Group" with an arrow pointing left. Ken burst into the room filled with a large number of people seated in a big circle. Conversation halted when he entered. "I'm looking for Beth Smith," Ken said breathlessly. "I don't think we have a Beth Smith here," said the leader sheepishly. Ken looked frantically around the room. Beth was nowhere to be seen. An older man with a kind face suddenly spoke. "I remember a Beth Smith," he said, eyes twinkling. "She used to come here, but I haven't seen her in…gosh…a long time now…several months." The faces of the curious church people seemed to begin swirling around Ken. "Is something wrong?" the leader ventured. "Yes…ah…no…thank you," stammered Ken as he backed out of the room. Soon Ken was seated in his parked car, again with no destination. He pressed his face to the steering wheel in front of him and struck the dash board with his fist. Sweat poured off his forehead. His heart pounded. Breathing was difficult. Nothing made sense. Finally, he started the car and simply drove. A lump in his pocket entered his awareness. It was his cell phone. He dialed his home number while he drove. No answer. After calling again for at least the sixth time, Ken suddenly found himself passing by his own office building. He had no idea how or why he had ended up there. She's not at home, not at church, never been to Chez Fred's…God, where is she? Where am I? Where? Nothing strange, nothing different…everything different…everything strange…something is wrong with the ice in my glass…what glass? Fuck, where's Beth? Ken screeched to a halt at a stoplight. He was back at the all-too-familiar turn off to Chez Fred's, except this time he had driven without realizing it into the right turn lane. A sickening feeling of déjà vu swept over him like a cold, damp breeze and without thinking further he turned right, instead of left! Immediately he sensed that he had made a poor judgment. He was in a very shabby neighborhood. Yet, the tattered neighborhood seemed somehow familiar. How can that be? I would never have a reason to come here. Yet, I think I know where I am going. Without warning, an old garish sign caught his eye. It read "Klub Kasbah." Chapter 4 Fireworks seemed to go off in Ken's head over and over again. The "Klub Kasbah" sign forced little bits and pieces of memories to jumble together in his mind. This has something to do with finding Beth, Ken thought, I know it…all this does, this street, this building is relevant, but I don't know how…or why… Ken's BMW eased past the curb just as a weather-beaten man with brown teeth and wearing a smiley-face tee shirt was placing a "Full" sign across the parking lot entrance. He gave Ken a very strange look. He knows me! That man recognized me! That's it…the reason I feel like I have been here before is…because…because I have been here…at least I think so…. More images flashed in his mind like a television's channel changer gone mad. A laughing man taking a piss…people naked…the wallpaper in the ladies room…Beth has seen it before…why doesn't Jonas mind me seeing his wife's breasts…who the hell is Jonas?…they know me here…I have to be very careful… I have to be unseen…I have to find the answers…most of all, I have to find Beth! The more he thought about these seemingly random ideas, strangely the better Ken felt. Somehow he knew that he was about to have answers about why he felt so confused…more importantly, he was about to have answers about the whereabouts of his precious wife! Ken swerved into a small alley beside the Klub Kasbah and parked behind a smelly garbage container. The entire place reeked of long rotted refuse. A broad window stood open above the dumpster and yellow light flooded out of it. Ken climbed atop the dumpster and peered inside the lighted window. He was looking into the once glamorously gilded men's restroom of Klub Kasbah. Ken stared at the old fashioned urinal and a memory of a laughing man suddenly popped into his mind. Hypnotist gets ordinary people naked…maybe it will get my wife hot-to-go when we get home…he has people sucking and fucking right in front of everyone. Ken awkwardly climbed in the window and made his way to the door. He peeked out into the broad, mostly empty Klub Kasbah lobby. An old man shrouded in cigarette smoke was talking intently to a young man and woman. Using skills long ago entrenched by the military, Ken quietly and unobtrusively sneaked past the old man by moving among a group of noisy strangers. They led him through a set of large padded doors into a familiar room roaring with excited, talkative patrons. Far to one side, Ken spotted an empty seat in one of the back booths and casually headed for it. A fashionable young couple already seated in the booth barely acknowledged his presence upon entering. Ken slouched down in his seat just as a raspy voice, somehow familiar, announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen…welcome to the Klub Kasbah…" Ken slumped in his chair and peeked flabbergasted through his fingers as the Amazing Roger and Darlene's act began to unfold before him. Peculiar, disjointed memories flooded back into his mind with Roger's every gesture and word. Quickly, however, Ken found himself beginning to focus completely on Roger's voice. A familiar chill ran down Ken's spine. At once, he pressed his hands to his ears and moved further down in his seat. A voice deep inside Ken seemed to say, don't listen, don't listen… Ken tried to direct his attention to other things in the room. He struggled to make sense of everything, but the scene on stage coupled with flashes of memory was too much for Ken to comprehend. The most severe shock came when volunteers began to come from the audience to the stage. A set of uncomfortable, awkward, giddy participants found places in the folding chairs arrayed across the stage. They seemed all too familiar to Ken. Roger called one last person up from the front row. Ken's eyes widened when he saw the person's familiar profile. "Oh, my god, no…oh god, no," Ken began to moan aloud. The young couple across the table gave him a strange look. Ken clasped his hand over his mouth when the last "volunteer" turned and took her seat on the stage. Oh my god, it's Beth! Ken felt as if the top of his head was about to blow off. He fought to stave off the nausea welling up within him. Out of nowhere, pangs of jealousy, outrage, and hurt suddenly struck him. The bilious taste in his mouth almost caused him to gag. Bible study, my eye, he thought. A mad urge to run full speed to the stage and sweep Beth away appeared suddenly within him, but then as quickly disappeared only to hide lurking just under the surface in the face of more distrust. What the fuck is she doing here? She told me she was at Bible study? But, no, she obviously is here…has she come here every Wednesday? On the phone, just today…she lied…how could she do this to me? How could she lie to me? Ken rubbed his temples and a new, perhaps better logic started to force its way into his mind. Maybe she doesn't know that she is here…maybe Beth is hypnotized…maybe she has been from the moment, she walked up on stage…maybe even before she ever arrived at this building…my god…that's it…Beth somehow was hypnotized before she ever got here. So maybe…oh my god…maybe I was too! l…I have been here before…the man recognized me…was I with Beth?...I must have been…and…and neither of us knew it. How long has this been going on? They have not seen us in weeks at Chez Fred's…because we haven't been to Chez Fred's! Oh my god…we've been here instead…so, we have been here more than once…so...oh, Jesus…has Beth done this before? Regular people naked, the man said…oh my god! NO! Not Beth! Not my Beth! Frantically Ken looked around the room mentally planning an escape plan and route when Beth, now fully asleep, arose from her chair and was escorted off stage by Darlene, the hypnotist's assistant.