An Ounce of Prevention

(c) Copyright 1999 by Wiseguy



"...three.  Eyes open, wide awake, feeling great."

Mrs. Green opened her eyes slowly, taking a few 
moments to reorient herself.  "Is that it?" she asked 
uncertainly.

Dr. Russell Johnson, PhD and Certified Clinical 
Hypnotherapist, smiled reassuringly at his patient.  
"That's it," he affirmed.

"You mean just doing that will cure my tension 
headaches?"

"Better than that, Mrs. Green," he explained.  
"Whenever you feel yourself getting tense, you can use 
what you've learned here to relax yourself.  Make a 
habit of relaxing and you'll find that not only do you 
not get those headaches, but you'll feel better in a 
number of other ways too.  An ounce of prevention is 
worth a pound of cure."

"That's so true, Doctor," she agreed. 

Yes, Russ thought to himself as he watched his last 
patient of the day depart, the key is almost always 
prevention.  As a therapist, he spent much of his time 
helping patients get to the root causes of their 
problems; prevention was a favorite theme of his, both 
in practice and in his own life.

Calmly, unhurriedly, the doctor completed his ritual 
for closing the office at the end of the week.  He 
locked the file cabinets, his receptionist's desk, and 
his own desk, ensuring that all files and the 
appointment book were properly put away.  He checked 
the windows one more time, set the thermostat for the 
weekend and locked the door on his way out.

His drive home took the usual fifteen minutes.  Once 
again he congratulated himself on choosing his office 
location well; while he enjoyed an easy, traffic-free 
trip the opposing lanes were jammed with frustrated, 
trapped commuters gritting their teeth through another 
grueling Friday rush hour.  Another benefit of 
planning and prevention, he thought pleasantly.


A delightful aroma greeted the doctor as he walked 
through the door of his suburban home.  Setting his 
briefcase down in the foyer, he made his way to the 
kitchen.

Brenda Johnson looked up when her husband entered the 
kitchen.  "Hi, dear," she said busily, her hands 
continuing to mix together the ingredients of a meat 
loaf.  

Russ hugged his wife from behind and kissed her cheek 
while she worked.  Then and only then did he allow 
himself to look around at their kitchen.

The kitchen was Brenda's domain, and it was clear that 
she had been indulging in her passion for cooking.  
Russ saw a large pile of mixing bowls, utensils, pots 
and pans -- the place resembled the kitchen of a small 
restaurant at dinner hour.  "Cooking for the week 
again?" he asked.

"Sort of," she replied.  Brenda, a middle school art 
teacher, loved to cook but seldom had time for it 
during the week.  Her solution was to prepare a number 
of meals at once and freeze them so that they could be 
pulled out and reheated on those evenings when time 
was short.  "I've got a turkey breast cooling, a 
lasagna and some garlic bread in the oven, and I 
should be able to get two meat loaves from this 
batch."

"What are we having tonight?"

"I was planning on the lasagna," she answered.  "Lynn 
has a dance tonight, remember?  We need to eat soon so 
she can be there at seven."

"Anything I can do?"

"Would you run some warm water in the sink for a 
minute?  My hands are freezing!"

Russ lifted the lever on the kitchen faucet, swiveling 
it to the left until the flowing water was very warm 
to the touch.  "All set."

Shooting him a grateful look, Brenda removed hands 
from the cold meat and let the water flow over them, 
warming them.  "Mmmmmmm, that's much better."

"Anything else?"

Brenda knew better than to ask Russ for help in the 
kitchen.  It was a matter of style: Russ was a 
perfectly good cook, but his methodical nature 
demanded a recipe, exact measurements, and correct 
ingredients.  Brenda's approach was more artistic -- 
lots of improvisation, substitutions, and measurements 
by eyeball rather than cup or spoon.  Trying to 
collaborate in the kitchen just didn't work for them.  
"See if Lynn is done with her homework, and maybe get 
her to set the table?" 

Russ kissed his wife again.  "Done deal," he said, and 
set off in search of their daughter.

He poked his head into the family room and the faint, 
tinny sound of hard rock leaking out of a pair of 
headphones led him to the couch.  There he found his 
teenage daughter oblivious to the outside world, 
recumbent on the couch but somehow balancing a heavy 
algebra text, a spiral notebook and a TI-83 calculator 
in her lap.  Her left hand danced over the calculator 
keypad while her right tapped a pencil against her 
notebook in time to the music.

Russ stood back and just admired his daughter for a 
few moments.  Lynn was in many ways the perfect 
combination of himself and Brenda:  she had a sharp, 
curious mind with a strong creative streak and, as she 
was demonstrating here, a gift for concentration.  She 
also had an athletic physique and an outgoing manner 
that Russ knew had to be inspiring all sorts of sexual 
fantasies among her male peers.

Russ waited for the pause between tracks then cleared 
his throat loudly.  Lynn picked up the sound and 
noticed him; her left hand immediately went to the 
Pause button on her disk player.  "Hey, Dad!"

"We're eating soon," he told her.  "Think you could 
help set the table?"

"Can it wait ten minutes?" she asked.  "I'm almost 
done with this."

Russ nodded.  "Go for it," he told her.

"Thanks!"  She hit the Pause button again and was back 
to work even before the music started.  Russ marveled 
again at her powers of concentration and left her to 
her studies.


Before long they were all sitting down to dinner.  
Russ toyed a little with the first bite of his lasagna 
before tasting it, examining it, trying to guess what 
would be different about it this time.  Seeing that 
Brenda was watching him, he ended the game by putting 
the bite in his mouth.

"Is it okay?" she asked, a little anxiously.  

"It's fine," he answered.  "Delicious, in fact." 

Brenda sighed and relaxed a little.  "Good.  I thought 
I had more ricotta cheese in the house, but when I 
went to get it out there was only a little bit, so I 
threw in some extra mozzarella and a little Monterey."

"It's great," he reassured her.  As usual, Brenda's 
instincts had been right -- the lasagna was certainly 
different in texture and flavor, but it was also very 
good.  

The dinner conversation followed its usual pattern, 
with Brenda and Lynn recounting the high points of 
their days.  Russ listened carefully, offering a few 
observations.  When the women paused, he brought up 
the subject of the dance.

"It's nothing fancy," Lynn explained.  "Just a social.  
Student Government is providing a DJ and 
refreshments."

"How about chaperones?" Russ asked.

"Mr. Richter is in charge of that, so you can bet 
he'll have everyone covered.  At the last one he had 
extra adults with flashlights on patrol outside."

Russ remembered.  "And as I recall, it wasn't a wasted 
effort."

Lynn gave her father a classic "Oh, Dad!" look.  "All 
they found was a few couples necking," she protested.  
"It's not as if anyone was getting laid in the parking 
lot."  Grinning mischievously, she added, "There are 
lots of better places to do it than that, anyhow."

Russ and Brenda both recognized the ploy and let it 
go.  "Who is it you're going with again?" Brenda 
asked.

"Jason Parker."

"He's the older one, isn't he?"

"Seventeen," Lynn answered, rolling her eyes.  "He's 
only one year ahead of me."

"At your age, those years are like dog years," Russ 
warned.  "Besides, if I remember right he's almost 
eighteen, and you're barely sixteen and a half.  
That's a big difference.  Guys his age can get ... 
aggressive."

"Relax, will you?  If he gets too friendly, I can 
handle it."  Lynn's voice projected confidence; the 
truth was she was hoping that Jason would get a little 
too friendly for her father's liking.

"I know you can," her father answered.  "But remember, 
stay out in public.  An ounce—"

"—of prevention, I know," she finished.  "I'll be 
fine."  

His fatherly duty done, at least for the time being, 
Russ let the matter drop.  He knew he could trust his 
daughter to stay out of trouble.  Lynn had learned to 
accept the questions as his way of showing concern, 
and had learned not to let them bother her too much.  

After dinner Lynn went upstairs to her room to get 
changed for the dance.  Stripping down to her 
underwear, she stood before her dressing mirror and 
took a long, appraising look at herself.

She looked pretty damned good, she decided.  Regular 
aerobics classes with her mother had helped keep her 
lean in the middle while her bust and hips had filled 
out into the classic hourglass shape.  "Are you sure 
you know what you're doing?" she asked her reflection.

Not really, she had to admit.  All of her previous 
dates had been boys her own age.  Most of them were so 
intimidated by her looks that they barely made eye 
contact.  Jason would be different, she knew.  Not 
only was he older, he also had a reputation for being 
well versed in the ways of sex.  Lynn wasn't looking 
for a lover just yet, but her hormones insisted that 
she at least start exploring the possibilities.  She 
assumed that sometime that evening Jason would be 
looking to do some exploring of his own.

She weighed her clothing choices carefully, trying to 
strike a balance that would invite a little friendly 
fondling without promising more.  She changed into a 
front closure bra, but went with modest hip hugger 
briefs instead of her preferred Rio-style panties.  
The dress code for the dance was casual, but Lynn 
decided a pair of panty hose might help to make the 
point.  From her closet she pulled out her favorite 
knit jumper, a simple dress in light blue with cap 
sleeves, a slight plunge in the neck, closed in the 
front with buttons all the way down.  It would stretch 
very nicely over her bust, clinging just enough to 
show off her shape without looking too tight.  She had 
just finished buttoning the dress when she heard a 
knock on her bedroom door.

"It's Dad," her father's voice announced.  "Do you 
have a minute?"

Quickly checking her buttons -- they were a bit tight, 
but not gapping too much -- she opened the door for 
Russ.  "What's up?" she asked, all innocence, as he 
came in and shut the door behind him.

"Those top buttons are looking a little stressed," he 
remarked, indicating her jumper.  "It might be time to 
retire that dress."

"It'll be okay for tonight," she said, pulling down on 
the fabric a little.  "What did you need?"

Russ smiled.  "Just a few more marching orders before 
you go."

As he finished his sentence, Lynn's face blanked.  Her 
eyes glazed over and then closed, and her shoulders 
slumped.  

"Very good, Princess," he said softly as her head sunk 
down to her chest.  "Just relax and listen to me for a 
few minutes.  There are some very important 
instructions you need to hear and remember.  Are you 
ready?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Excellent."  From behind his back Russ produced a 
homemade CD.  He put the CD into Lynn's stereo, which 
was on her dresser, and pressed the Play button.  In a 
few moments he heard his own voice begin speaking 
softly, soothingly.  He left the room as quietly as 
possible, gently closing the door behind him.


The doorbell rang as Russ came down the stairs.  "I'll 
get it," he called loudly enough to be heard over the 
clashing of pots and pans in the kitchen.  

At the door was a young man, tall and gangly-looking, 
in black jeans and a Marilyn Manson T-shirt.  His eyes 
look up at Russ while his head remained cast slightly 
askew.  "Hey ... is Lynn ready?" he said.

"You must be Jason," Russ replied, and waited for the 
boy to nod.  "Lynn isn't quite ready yet.  Why don't 
you come wait in the study?"

The boy's head bobbed up and down once, then he strode 
through the door on the balls of his feet, looking 
around appraisingly.  Russ closed the door and led the 
boy to his study, a small, quiet room off the foyer.  
Jason's head scanned the room quickly and he plopped 
himself down into the doctor's favorite chair.  
"Coke?" Russ offered.

For the first time since entering the house, Jason 
spoke.  "No thanks."

Russ eased himself into another chair next to Jason.  
"How did you come to meet Lynn, Jason?"

The boy looked puzzled.  "School," he said, in a way 
that clearly implied "Duh!" as well.

Russ decided to ignore the tone.  "You're a senior, 
aren't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Any plans for after high school?"

"I'm in a metal band," the boy replied.  "We'll do 
some gigs, see where it goes."

"Interesting," Russ said in a decidedly disinterested 
tone as his hand unobtrusively palmed a small plastic 
control off the end table between the chairs.  He 
pressed a button on the control and above Jason's head 
a small electric motor began to work.  Russ cleared 
his throat to cover the startup noise and continued 
speaking.  "Before Lynn comes down, Jason, I think we 
should go over the house rules on these engagements."

"No problem."  A sparkle, a small movement from above 
caught the boy's eye.  He looked up and noticed a 
small glass ball about the size of a golf ball hanging 
from the ceiling.

"You're right," Russ agreed, slowing down his tempo 
just a little bit.  "If you stay within the rules, 
there will be no problem at all.  Are we clear on 
that?"

"Sure," Jason said, his eyes looking more intently at 
the ball.  It was moving, twirling slowly, causing 
reflections of the room lights to dance off its 
surface like a tiny disco ball.  

"No alcohol," Russ continued, watching the boy's eyes 
fix on the ball.  "No unsafe driving.  No going off 
alone."  He let his voice drop further, slow down 
more, until he was speaking in a very quiet, soothing, 
almost sing-sing tone.  

"Okay."

"I want Lynn home by eleven o'clock, Jason.  No 
later."

"Sure thing."  The ball was fascinating; so pretty, so 
shiny.  As Jason watched, it seemed to get closer.  He 
imagined he could see a thousand reflections of his 
own face in its surface.  He felt his body relaxing, 
his mind focusing on the image of the ball.

"I see you've noticed my concentration ball," Russ 
noted softly.  "I keep it up there to help me think.  
Looking into its shiny surface is so relaxing, isn't 
it?"

"Yeah..."

"I find that if I watch the ball very closely, and 
concentrate, my whole body begins to relax.  The more 
I watch, the more I relax, and the more clearly I can 
see the ball.  Just watch the ball, watch and breathe 
deeply, slowly..."

Jason took a deep breath, and as he let it out he felt 
his body sinking into the easy chair.  He found that 
he could rest his head against the back of the chair 
and still just keep the ball in sight.  It felt good 
to watch the ball, to relax.  He was dimly aware of 
Doctor Johnson speaking to him.

"After you've been watching the ball for a while, 
Jason, it's only natural that your eyes become tired.  
Eyes do get tired, after all, especially when they are 
so busy staring at a beautiful object.  The more you 
look the more your eyes relax and you'll find that 
they want to close.  They become strained, watery."  
Seeing Jason blink, he added, "They may even blink 
from time to time.  That's perfectly okay, tired eyes 
like yours need to blink, to close.  Each time they 
blink, though, they tend to want to stay closed.  Each 
time, it becomes harder and harder to open your eyes 
again.  Soon your eyes will close and then simply stay 
closed."

As Russ watched, the boy blinked again and again, each 
time longer than the time before.  Within a few 
minutes, as Russ continued droning on about the 
heaviness, the tiredness, he saw Jason's eyes close 
and stay closed.

"Very good, Jason," he continued.  "Your eyes are so 
tired now, let them stay closed.  Let them rest.  You 
can still see the ball in your mind's eye.  Imagine it 
now dangling before you, spinning and twisting, each 
movement sending shining a spark of light down to your 
body.  Each spark as it touches relaxes that part of 
you even more.  And as you watch the sparkles of light 
fly off the ball to touch and relax you, you'll see 
that the ball is slowing down, down, slowing down more 
and more the more you relax.  Soon you will be so 
relaxed, so completely at ease, that the ball will 
stop moving completely.  You will then be as relaxed, 
as content, as you have ever been.  Until then, Jason, 
just watch the ball as it spins and reflects, relaxing 
you more and more deeply, until everything comes to a 
slow, easy stop.  When the ball stop, Jason, I want 
you to lift your right index finger to let me know."

Russ watched in silence as Jason drifted further into 
hypnotic trance.  The boy's own mind was providing all 
the guidance he needed now.  Jason appeared to be a 
very good subject and would soon be in a highly 
receptive state of mind.  While Jason sank deeper and 
deeper into trance, Russ quietly got up and closed the 
study door.  He wasn't sure if Brenda would approve of 
this, and he knew Lynn certainly wouldn't.  Checking 
his watch, he ran a quick estimate of how much time he 
had to work with -- probably not more than a few 
minutes.  

Jason's index finger lifted, signaling that he was at 
his maximum trance depth.  Russ stopped the ball 
overhead and put the control back down on the table 
before turning his attention back to the boy.

"Very good, Jason," Russ continued.  "You are now 
deeply, deliciously relaxed.  It feels good to be so 
very relaxed, so very calm."

Glancing back at the door, Russ proceeded.  "Jason, it 
is very important that you behave yourself at this 
dance.  You must not do anything that will harm Lynn 
or yourself, do you understand?  Above all, I want you 
both to be safe.  If Lynn tells you to stop doing 
something, you must stop.  If she tells you no, she 
means no and you should not try to change her mind.  
You may be frustrated or angry if that happens, but no 
matter what you must make sure that Lynn remains safe 
and unharmed.  Will you be sure to bring her home on 
time, safe and unharmed?"

"Yes, sir," came the sleepy reply.

"Thank you, Jason.  I know that you will do everything 
you can to repay my trust.  When I count to three, you 
will return to your normal waking state, feeling 
refreshed and alert.  Your conscious mind will 
remember only that we went over the rules and that you 
agreed to have Lynn home by eleven.  Do you 
understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good.  One ... two ... three."

Jason's eyes popped open.  "You got it, I understand.  
We won't be late."

"I know I can trust you, Jason." 

It wasn't long before he heard Lynn on the stairs.  He 
opened the study door in time to meet her at the 
bottom.  She had complemented the dress with some 
simple jewelry and a light touch of makeup.  Her face 
was glowing as she looked past her father into the 
study.  "Ready," she announced.

Brenda emerged from the kitchen to help deliver a few 
final, friendly admonitions about being safe and 
careful, then they both watched as Jason jumped into 
his car and popped the door open for Lynn.  Russ was 
pleased to note that both fastened their seat belts 
before the engine started.

"You are such a sneak," Brenda teased as they watched 
the car pull away. "Do you hypnotize all of her 
dates?"

"Excuse me?" Russ said, startled.

Brenda smiled broadly.  "I saw that boy's face when he 
came out of the study.  He looked like he'd just been 
roused from a nap.  What did you do, Russell?"

Caught red-handed, Russ confessed to hypnotizing the 
boy and explained what suggestions he'd used.  "It's a 
little unethical maybe," he added, "but did you get a 
look at that kid?  Who wouldn't take advantage of an 
opportunity like that?"

"You've got me there," she growled, nibbling on his 
ear.  "Speaking of opportunities ..."

"Yes?"

Brenda put her arms around her husband from behind, 
squeezed, and let her right hand rest over the front 
of his pants.  "We've got the house to ourselves 
tonight," she whispered seductively into his ear.  "I 
intend to take full advantage."



The dance was well attended.  Jason and Lynn parked 
near the back of the student lot and made their way to 
the side entrance.  As they approached the ticket-
taker a tall, muscular man in his fifties spotted 
them.  He had a four-cell Maglite in his right hand 
and a mobile phone clipped to his belt.  "Miss 
Johnson, Mr. Parker," he acknowledged, nodding 
formally at the students.

"Evening, Mr. Richter," they replied together, then 
walked past and into the building.

The dance was being held in the all-purpose room, an 
expansive room near the side entrance that served as 
cafeteria during the day and as a meeting room, 
secondary gymnasium, theater or dance hall as needed 
otherwise.  That night the room was decorated in paper 
streamers.  On one side of the small stage the DJ had 
set up his equipment and was busy taking requests from 
the students.  Two long folding tables on the other 
side of the stage held platters of cookies and sweets 
and a pair of large plastic punch bowls.  About half 
of the crowd looked to actually be dancing; the rest 
were simply standing around in small groups talking 
and socializing.

Jason and Lynn started toward the middle of the dance 
floor, but were intercepted by another boy in jeans 
and a Nine Inch Nails T-shirt.  "Yo, Jason!" the boy 
hailed.

"Hey, Steve," Jason answered coolly.  "What's the 
deal?"

"I'm chairman of the underground refreshments 
committee," his friend answered proudly.  "You two up 
for some liquid refreshment?"

Jason nodded, looking over at Lynn.  She had a good 
idea what Steve's idea of liquid refreshment would 
include -- probably something 80 proof.  Why not, she 
decided.  "Sounds good to me."

Steve led them up onto the stage and between the two 
refreshment tables, then past the backstage curtain 
and around a corner to a prop storage area out of 
sight of the main stage.  Pulling aside a swath of 
extra black fabric, he revealed a 2-gallon insulated 
jug with a spout on the bottom front.  A sleeve of 
plastic cups stood next to it.  "This is good shit," 
he explained as he dispensed three cups of what looked 
to be fruit punch.  "I mixed it myself.  Three parts 
Hawaiian Punch, one part Smirnoff's."  He handed half-
full cups to Jason and to Lynn.  Holding his own 
aloft, he added, "Salud, dudes."

Lynn's hand trembled a little as she raised the cup to 
her lips.  She'd had a little wine on occasion, 
usually at home and with parental consent; this would 
be her first taste of hard liquor.  Holding her 
breath, she tipped the cup and took a sip.

Almost immediately her senses were assaulted by the 
strong, bitter taste of the vodka in the punch.  It 
burned and stung at the same time; before Lynn could 
force herself to swallow, her lips opened and the 
punch sprayed out from her lips.  "Ack!" she 
exclaimed.  "That's absolutely vile!  How can you guys 
drink this?"

Laughing, Jason took a swig from his own cup.  "It's a 
little strong," he said, "but not that bad."  Both 
boys looked at Lynn as they took another taste.

Feeling like her maturity was in question, Lynn tried 
another small sip.  Once again she found herself 
spitting it out almost immediately, this time back 
into the cup.  "It's bad enough," she replied.  "You 
guys can have it.  I think I need some mouthwash."

It took three cups of the Student Government provided 
punch to wash the bitter taste out of Lynn's mouth.  
By that time Jason and Steve had enjoyed a good laugh 
at her expense, but she was a little surprised at how 
quickly the razzing stopped.  Then, as she noticed 
Jason's eyes wandering over her buttons, she decided 
it was not so surprising.



Russ sat quietly on one end of the living room sofa, a 
new John Sandford novel lying unopened in his lap.  He 
had sat down with every intention of reading the book, 
but his mind kept worrying about Lynn.  

This was a new feeling for Russ.  Up until that night, 
all of Lynn's dates had seemed safe enough.  Jason was 
different.  His look, his manner, and above all his 
age spelled TROUBLE in the eyes of a father still 
young enough to remember what 18-year-old boys are 
like.  As soon as he'd heard that Lynn had accepted a 
date from a boy that age, Russ had known that some 
preventive measures would be needed.  He just hoped 
they would be enough.

"She'll be all right, you know."  

Russ started at the unexpected sound of his wife's 
voice and looked up to see her approaching.  She had 
showered and changed into a silky gold robe.  As she 
sat down beside him and snuggled in, he found his eyes 
wandering over the robe looking for clues as to what 
she might be wearing underneath it.  Judging by the 
smooth feel of her side against his arm, not much.

"Lynn's a smart, headstrong girl," Brenda repeated, 
"she'll be all right."

"I hope so.  She's been ... different lately.  The way 
she carries herself.  The way she dresses."

"She's noticed that she has a very nice body, and 
isn't ashamed of it.  That's healthy, Russ, you know 
that."

"Until somebody like Jason comes along and thinks 
she's coming on to him."

"What do you want her to do, darling, dress like a nun 
and carry her books against her chest until she's 
twenty-one?"

"Of course not," he answered.  "But I don't want her 
jumping into bed with people at sixteen either.  
Especially not people like Jason."

"What's wrong with him, besides that he's dating your 
daughter?"

"Didn't you see him?  He dresses like a slob, he 
doesn't look people in the eye, and he's got no plans 
and no ambitions.  And he kept staring at Lynn's chest 
when she came downstairs."

"So we know he's not a scholar and he's not gay," 
Brenda quipped.   

Russ shot her a dirty look.

"Okay," she continued, "I agree, Jason isn't the kind 
of boy we would like to see Lynn dating.  But it's too 
late to debate that now; she's out there with him 
already.  All we can do is trust that she knows what 
she is doing.  I think she'll reach the same 
conclusion we did."

"Before or after he gets her clothes off?"

"Didn't you take care of that possibility in the 
study?"  Brenda's eyes were sharp and mildly accusing.  

"I didn't get time," he said.  "I told him that above 
all she must come home safe and that no means no, but 
I didn't have time to go through everything.  Besides, 
he'd probably have resisted an outright order against 
sex."

"Don't underestimate yourself," she replied, an extra 
gleam coming into her eye.  "You can be very charming 
and persuasive when you want to be."  Reaching into 
the pocket of her robe, she pulled out a velvet bag.  
"In fact, I was hoping you'd use some of that charm on 
me this evening."

Russ took the bag, grinning.  Brenda was already 
beginning to flush with anticipation; they were going 
to have some serious fun this evening, he could tell.  
"Any requests?" 

"Give me the works," she answered lustily.



Lynn was having second thoughts about the date too.  
Jason wasn't much of a dancer; his idea of dancing was 
to wait for a slow song then press her body against 
his and feel her ass while she tried to avoid him 
stepping on her feet.  Otherwise he stood around and 
chatted with Steve.  Both boys took frequent hungry 
looks at her chest, prompting Lynn to wonder if they 
had been bottle fed as babies.

When Jason finally asked if she would like to go 
somewhere more private, Lynn actually considered 
turning him down.  She had found nothing particularly 
arousing about being stared at and groped on the dance 
floor and was almost ready to call the evening a loss.  
Curiosity won the toss, though, and she agreed to go 
with Jason.

She followed him out the opposite side of the room 
from the entrance, through an emergency exit that had 
been appropriated by the crowd as a smoking area.  
Watching the chaperones carefully to make sure they 
were not spotted, they quietly crept around the corner 
out of site.  They walked along the perimeter of the 
building to the back door, where Steve was waiting to 
open it from the inside.  Once they were back in the 
building Steve slunk away.

The hallway was dark and quiet; all the activity was 
supposed to be at the dance.  Lynn followed Jason 
through a side corridor, wondering if he intended to 
make out in an alcove somewhere.  He finally stopped 
at a darkened doorway on the edge of the English 
department -- the faculty lounge.  The door was locked, 
as it should be after hours.

"Watch this," he said, pulling his driver's license 
out of his wallet.  He pushed on the door gently; Lynn 
saw it move back about an eighth of an inch.  Jason 
jammed his license into the gap between the door and 
the frame right next to the handle and the door 
opened, swinging inward silently.  They slipped inside 
and closed it behind them.



"Ready?" Russ asked, his fingers reaching into the 
velvet bag.

Brenda nodded, licking her lips in anticipation.  She 
lay back against the arm of the couch, supported by 
pillows.  Her hands were folded in her lap, her legs 
straight.  

Russ was now sitting on an ottoman he had pulled up 
next to her.  Seeing her nod, he pulled a shiny gold 
pocket watch out of the bag and held it aloft.  His 
wife's eyes locked onto it instantly, opening a little 
wider as the watch danced and swung before them.  

The watch was special to both of them.  Brenda had 
given it to Russ on the day he received his 
hypnotherapy license; with its shiny gold surface and 
long chain, the watch could have come straight from 
any number of old movies.  Russ appreciated the humor, 
and while he had never used the watch with a patient 
it had become Brenda's favorite prop for private 
sessions with her husband.  

Russ sat in silence, his fingers gently rolling the 
chain to keep the watch spinning, watching as his 
wife's eyes glazed over and her face went slack.  
Words were not necessary; Brenda had succumbed to the 
gleaming beauty of the watch so many times that her 
mind was fully conditioned to respond to it.  Within a 
few minutes Russ was pleased to see her eyes grow 
heavy and close, her shoulders slump, and her feet 
rotate outward -- all signs of deep physical 
relaxation.  Only then did he begin to speak, 
encouraging Brenda to sink deeper into herself, deeper 
into hypnosis.  He watched her eyelids begin to 
flutter as her eyes darted about underneath them; 
reaching out, he touched her hand and felt the 
coldness that he knew was normal for her, a sign that 
Brenda had entered the somnambulistic state.  She 
could hear and speak and move about in response to his 
suggestions without waking up.  

Normally, this state was quite deep enough for the 
kind of erotic play that Brenda and Russ both enjoyed; 
tonight, however, he had something special in mind.  
Lowering his tone and slowing his speech even more, 
Russ encouraged his wife to go deeper, to feel herself 
growing detached from her body, distant, focused 
totally on her own thoughts while her body remained 
still and motionless on the couch.  Brenda responded 
well; her breathing and heart rate slowed to extremely 
low levels, and her skin paled a little in response to 
the reduced blood flow.  She had reached the Esdail, 
or coma, state:  her body was so relaxed that only the 
simplest movement was possible, and her mind was so 
open to suggestion that even some involuntary 
functions could now be influenced.  Brenda had been 
this deep several times before, and Russ knew that she 
particularly loved the unrivaled serenity that came 
with this state.

"Brenda," he began, speaking slowly and deliberately.  
"You are now in the deepest hypnotic trance you have 
ever experienced.  I know you can hear and understand 
me, but I also know that your body is too relaxed for 
you to speak.  That's okay, don't try to talk or nod 
or move unless I ask you to.  Just lie back and enjoy 
the experience."  

Brenda heard her husband's words as if from a great 
distance, through a thick fog of total contentment.  
She knew it would be too difficult to respond, and was 
happy that he understood and didn't need her to.  

"Your body feels very distant now," he continued.  
"Distant, dim, almost numb.  But that is changing.  
Even as I speak, your sense of touch is growing more 
and more sensitive.  You feel the smoothness of the 
silk against your body, the texture of the pillows and 
the couch cushions underneath you, the warmth of my 
hand as I touch your cheek.  You are aware of all of 
these sensations, and yet you remain deep in hypnosis, 
focused totally on your thoughts and feelings.  

"Now Brenda, you are starting to feel a special kind 
of energy building within your mind: an erotic energy, 
the buildup of passion and desire and lust.  You can 
feel that energy in the center of your being, growing 
stronger every second.  Concentrate on the erotic 
energy, Brenda, concentrate and feel it grow."

Drifting in her pleasant mental fog, Brenda became 
aware of a growing warmth and light inside her.  It 
was a very sensual, enjoyable feeling.  She hardly 
noticed that Russ was gently repositioning her arms. 

Russ was pleased to see the physical signs that his 
suggestions were having the desired affect.  Some 
color had returned to Brenda's face and her breathing 
had deepened slightly.  As he carefully laid her arms 
down at her sides, he also noted with satisfaction 
that her nipples were already fully erect, pushing up 
against the silk robe.  He slowly opened the robe and 
slipped it off her shoulders; as he had suspected, she 
was naked underneath.

"The erotic energy keeps growing stronger, Brenda," he 
said.  "Stronger with every breath, with every touch.  
Your entire body is now an erogenous zone, so 
sensitive that any touch that you feel, no matter 
where you feel it, sends a wave of sexual pleasure 
through you and adds even more to that growing mass of 
energy."

Still moving very slowly, Russ reached over and placed 
his index finger on Brenda's chest just below the 
breastbone.  A sharp intake of breath from his wife 
told him that the suggestion was working.  As he 
traced a straight line down toward her navel, he could 
see her chest rising and falling faster and heavier as 
she grew more aroused by his touch.  By the time his 
finger was circling her navel he could smell the musky 
scent of her increasing desire.  She gasped as his 
finger reached her mound.

"Very good, Brenda," he told her.  "You can feel that 
energy building, building.  You will need to orgasm 
soon.  In fact, darling, you will find that one orgasm 
is not enough; the energy will continue to build and 
grow even then.  You will orgasm again and again, as 
many times as you wish, as many times as you can.  
Each orgasm will be longer and stronger than the one 
before.  Yet not matter how many times you climax, you 
will remain deeply hypnotized.  Any time you feel 
yourself rising out of your deep hypnotic state you 
will take a deep breath and let yourself sink back 
down to where you are now."

Brenda was only dimly aware of Russ's words.  She 
found it hard to focus with the growing waves of pure 
sensual delight that were flowing through her at his 
touch.  She knew there was no way to control the 
feelings; she was simply letting them carry her along, 
higher and higher into bliss.  When she felt his 
finger slide across her mound and down her leg, she 
knew she would orgasm soon.  His finger had come about 
halfway up the inside of her thigh when she felt the 
rush of the first climax carry her away.

Russ smiled broadly as Brenda panted through her first 
orgasm; he hadn't even touched any of her favorite 
spots yet.  "Like bolts of lightning in a storm," he 
said, "Your orgasms will continue without diminishing 
the energy inside you.  Each one is longer and 
stronger than the one before."  He continued teasing 
her, running his finger up the inside of one thigh and 
down the other, saving the highly sensitive area in 
between for later.  When he reached her mound again, 
he pressed down on it with his palm and sent Brenda 
moaning into another climax.

Brenda savored the second climax.  It surprised her 
how quickly it had come after the first; it surprised 
her even more that instead of feeling spent after her 
second orgasm, the mass of erotic energy within her 
actually seemed to grow as a result.  Then all 
coherent thought was swept away as she felt a hand 
cover her breast, triggering a third powerful orgasm.



This isn't so bad, Lynn was thinking.  She and Jason 
had felt their way through the dark room to a vinyl-
covered sofa and had begun kissing.  She had returned 
the kisses tentatively at first, expecting at any 
moment to feel Jason's fingers on her buttons, but he 
seemed to be in no hurry.  She felt his tongue press 
through her lips and opened them for him, meeting his 
tongue with her own.

After several minutes of deep kissing, Lynn was 
starting to feel warmth in between her legs.  She felt 
a little giddy, and cautioned herself to keep things 
in control.  Jason's hands were still on her back, 
sliding up and down her spine and pressing her against 
him.  Then one hand moved to the side.  She lifted her 
arm a little and the hand slipped into the opening, 
coming to rest firmly against the side of her breast.  
She let out a noise that was part grunt, part chuckle.  

Jason paused a moment, then his thumb came down across 
the point of her breast.  Lynn felt the sweeping of 
his thumb through bra and dress and found that it sent 
a small shiver down her spine.  Her hips shifted a 
little on their own and that heat in her center began 
to build.  She pulled back her face to moan, but what 
came out sounded more like a snicker.  

Suddenly Lynn felt very light-headed.  She could see 
Jason studying her face, looking for a signal of some 
sort, but she didn't know what to say.  His hand moved 
more squarely onto her breast and squeezed, kneading 
her through the fabric of her dress.  Lynn took a 
sharp breath, looked Jason in the eye, and opened her 
mouth to tell him to go ahead, please continue.

Instead, she giggled.  Jason's eyebrows shot upward in 
surprise, and the resulting look on his face prompted 
Lynn to start giggling more.  

"What's so funny?" Jason demanded.

"Nothing," she assured him, taking a deep breath to 
try and control herself.  "I'm sorry," she added, "I'm 
not real experienced at this."

"Well, watch and learn."  This time Jason took both 
hands and planted them firmly on her breasts, 
squeezing and stroking.  The feeling was quite nice, 
but Lynn felt another burst of giggling rising up from 
within.  She tried her best to choke it off, but 
failed.

Jason opened his mouth to speak, then stopped.  Lynn 
could see him editing, revising his remark as she 
fought to control the giggling fit.  "Am I tickling 
you?" he finally asked.  "Is that it?"

"I don't think so," she answered.  "What you're doing 
feels nice.  It's just ... somehow ... strange.  Let's try 
another approach."

Jason thought about it for a second.  "How about 
this?"  He shifted his body forward, took Lynn by the 
shoulders and pulled her down with him as he lay back.  
She got the idea and shifted herself so that she was 
directly on top of him, her hips above his.  His arms 
went around her again and they started kissing again.  
Soon she felt the hardness of his cock pressing 
against her through his jeans.  One of Jason's hands 
drifted down to her butt and pulled her tighter 
against him; her hips started to gyrate again on their 
own, and the feel of his stiff cock against her crotch 
was very pleasant indeed.  

The dizziness began to take hold of Lynn again just as 
she felt Jason's other hand work its way between them 
and undo the front of his pants.  Taking the hint and 
willing herself silent, she reached in between them 
and slipped her hand into his open fly.  She felt the 
giggling start to rise in her throat and choked it off 
as her fingers found their way into his pants.  He 
shifted a little to make it easier for her, and she 
succeeded in getting her hand around his rigid shaft.

Lynn felt the slickness between her legs as she 
squeezed down on his cock through his cotton briefs.  
She started to imagine having that hardness inside of 
her, and involuntarily her throat opened and a loud 
chortle squeaked out.  She tried to stop, but the 
floodgates were now open; she broke into loud, 
uncontrollable laughter.

"SHHH!" Jason hissed, no longer concealing his 
irritation.  "You're gonna get us busted, bitch!"

The word "bitch" hit Lynn like a bucket of ice water.  
She yanked her hand back from his crotch and gasped.  
"What did you just say?" she challenged.

Jason winced as her hand withdrew.  "Nothing," he 
said, knowing he'd made a tactical mistake.

"It didn't sound like nothing.  It sounded like you 
called me a bitch."  Lynn put her hands down on either 
side and started getting up.

Jason put his hands over her breasts one more time, 
but Lynn drew back.  Frustrated, he pushed hard 
against her with his hands, almost pushing the girl 
off the couch.  "What the hell is wrong with you?" he 
demanded.

"Nothing," she insisted.  "I'm trying, really."

"Trying to piss me off," he replied.  "Either shut up 
and put out, or get the fuck out of my sight.  I don't 
need this shit."

The laughter was totally gone now; in its place Lynn 
felt a growing resentment.  What kind of creep had she 
allowed herself to get involved with?  "I'm starting 
to think this is a bad idea.  Would you take me home 
please, Jason?"

Jason spit and pushed her off the couch the rest of 
the way.  "Take yourself home, you worthless cunt!"

Lynn fought back the urge to slap Jason in the face.  
"You've got no right to speak to me that way just 
because I'm not easy enough for you," she retorted, 
heading for the door.  "If you don't want to drive me 
home, I'm sure I can find someone else to do it."  

Swearing some more, Jason fumbled with his pants as 
the door slammed shut.



Brenda shuddered through another orgasm.  How many was 
this?  She didn't know or care; she was still floating 
on a cloud of bliss, each orgasm taking her higher 
than the previous one yet still leaving her wanting 
more.  She felt Russ's arms underneath her and dimly 
realized she was being carried physically as well as 
emotionally.

Russ held his wife carefully as he carried her naked 
body up the stairs.  He could easily have brought her 
up to a lighter trance and told her to walk upstairs 
herself, but she seemed to be having such a good time 
that he decided to leave her at full depth.  Russ had 
lost count of the orgasms he had induced in her; 
indeed, it was starting to appear as though she was in 
almost continuous orgasm, as one yielded almost 
immediately to the next.  Seeing the ecstasy on his 
wife's face, hearing it in her moans and sighs, had 
Russ almost ready to come as well.  He was tempted to 
simply undress and take Brenda in the living room, but 
he had every reason to suspect Lynn would be home 
early; it would be better to ensure privacy.  Besides, 
he was enjoying himself too much to hurry.

He set his wife down gently on the bed, kissing her 
tenderly as another orgasm came to an end.  "Brenda," 
he said softly, "I am going to count to three.  When I 
reach the count of three you will awaken completely.  
You will remember everything that happened while you 
were hypnotized, and the mass of erotic energy will 
still be with you.  You will be fully awake, but on 
the verge of the largest orgasm you have ever 
experienced.  However, the only way you can release 
the energy and have that orgasm is for you to make me 
come inside you.  The energy will keep growing until 
you do that.  One, two, three."



Lynn sat silent in the passenger seat, staring out the 
window.  Jason was also silent, his stone face fixed 
on the road ahead.  Lynn had been prepared to ask Mr. 
Richter to drive her home, but Jason had found her at 
the last minute and asked her to ride with him, 
muttering something about a promise to her father.  If 
he thought this was going to make up for his behavior 
in the faculty lounge, he was dead wrong.

Stealing sideways glances at the boy, Lynn asked 
herself what she had seen in him to start with.  
Mostly it had been the promise of a little experience, 
an introduction to the sexual side of dating.  She had 
gotten that, Lynn decided, and something more -- a look 
at the ugly side.  From now on, she told herself, she 
would be more selective in her choice of dates.




Brenda's eyes opened slowly.  At first she simply 
stared blankly up; eventually her eyes moved and came 
to focus on her husband's face.  She was close to 
exhaustion, but still in the throes of an almost 
unbearable sexual arousal.  From the way he was 
looking at her, she could tell he was ready for the 
grand finale.

Rising from the bed, she took him quickly in her arms 
and locked her mouth on his in a kiss that bristled 
with erotic tension.  Her hand went directly to the 
clasp of his pants and, with well-practiced skill, 
opened it.  He was already hard, and as her hand slid 
in over the fabric of his briefs, she could feel a 
small sticky spot where he had oozed a little bit of 
semen.  

Russ just stood by and let Brenda do the work, lifting 
his arms enough to let her pull the shirt off of him, 
then kicking his pants and underwear out of the way 
once she jerked them down to the floor.  She started 
to pull him toward the bed, but he resisted.  "I'm not 
ready yet," he protested.

"You look ready to me," Brenda came back, pointing to 
his erection.  

"I'm in no hurry," he replied casually, knowing that 
Brenda was still in a sexual frenzy.

"Tease!" she scolded.  "But I know how to light a fire 
under you."  Brenda dropped to her knees and began 
kissing her husband's extended penis, running her lips 
and tongue along the side of the shaft, causing him to 
groan in response.  "Now I've got you," she said, and 
plunged her mouth over his cock.  She sucked him hard, 
working her tongue up and down the side of his shaft.  
Her fingers reached around from behind and began to 
tickle his balls.

Russ's knees buckled when he felt her touch his balls.  
He was normally good at holding his erection for a 
long time, but after what had already happened that 
evening he realized he would not last much longer.  
"Okay, you win," he conceded.  

Brenda pulled her mouth off him with a loud slurp.  "I 
knew you'd see it my way," she said, taking his hands 
and pulling him back toward the bed.  She sat down on 
the edge of the bed.  Russ put his hands on her 
shoulders playfully and pushed her over onto her back, 
leaving her legs hanging off the bed.  Lifting her 
butt slightly to match his height, he slid himself 
easily into her canal and buried his shaft to the 
root.

They moaned together as each felt the deep 
penetration.  Brenda raised her legs up against Russ's 
chest, giving him more leverage to pound into her.  
They moved together, moaning and grunting with their 
efforts, until Russ was ready to climax.  Sensing his 
imminent release, Brenda clenched her muscles tightly 
around his shaft.  Russ groaned one last time as his 
cock fired.

Brenda felt the first burst of semen released inside 
her and braced herself.  Even as Russ continued 
pumping into her, she felt herself lifted up by a 
tornado of erotic force.  Her back arched and her legs 
clamped together as her entire body tensed and shook 
with the power of her final orgasm.  She heard someone 
screaming as if from another room, only to realize a 
few moments later that it was actually her.  She 
stopped even trying to control her body and lost 
herself completely in the sensations.

Russ watched his wife writhe and squeal from her final 
mind-blowing orgasm then pass out.  He lovingly 
rearranged her on the bed and covered her with a 
blanket, then crept back downstairs to start his book 
and wait for Lynn.

As he suspected, it was still early when he spotted 
Jason's car pulling in front of the house.  He watched 
through the window as the car stopped and Lynn got 
out.  She had barely closed the door when the car 
started moving again.

Russ jumped back into his chair and grabbed his book.  
Hearing Lynn's key in the lock, he quickly opened the 
book to a random page near the middle. 

When Lynn opened the door, he pretended surprise.  
"You're early," he said, making a show of looking at 
his watch.  "Is everything okay?"

"No," she replied flatly.

Russ put down the book and embraced his daughter.  
"I'm sorry, honey," he said sincerely.  "Is there 
anything I can do?"

"No thanks," she said, returning the hug.  "I'll be 
fine."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not tonight.  Maybe some other time.  Right now I 
think I need a hot shower and a good night's sleep."  
Squeezing her father one more time, she wished him 
goodnight and trudged up the stairs.

Russ watched his daughter go, then returned to the 
living room.  Spotting Brenda's silk robe still draped 
over the couch, he picked it up and sniffed it 
delicately, enjoying the lingering scent of his wife's 
passion.

Lynn would be okay, he thought to himself.  Judging by 
the way Jason had dropped her off, he felt sure his 
safety measures had been tested and proved sufficient.  
He felt a little guilty about what he had done; he'd 
have to make it up to the girl somehow, and soon.  He 
wasted no sympathy on Jason, who he figured was 
probably already planning his next seduction.  
Definitely not the type for Lynn.

Russ settled back into his favorite chair and picked 
up his book, congratulating himself on once again 
proving the value of an ounce of prevention.


-wg
11/2/99