From sinner@nym.alias.net Sun Mar 16 12:51:21 1997
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Date: 16 Mar 1997 17:51:21 -0000
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From: The Sinner <sinner@nym.alias.net>
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Subject: REPOST: Candace's Education (Ch. 1/7?)  (m/f drugs)
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DISCLAIMER:

        The attached story ("Candace's Education"), or fragment
thereof, is entirely fictional.  The characters, places and events
depicted in this story are not intended to represent or resemble any
real persons, places, or events.  Any such resemblance is purely
coincidental.
        This story is a work of fantasy.  The depiction of any act in
this story, including, but not limited to, non-consensual sexual
activity, use of drugs and other mind-altering substances on an
unknowing human being, and degradation, humiliation or enslavement of
a human being should not be construed to imply that the author
condones the performance of said act, either on the author's part or
on the part of anyone else.
        Furthermore, it is the author's opinion that the methods and
techniques that the narrator of this story is depicted to be using
would not, in reality, be effective in achieving the goals toward
which he is depicted to be using them.
        IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE, OR ANY OF THE ACTIONS
LISTED IN THE SECOND PARAGRAPH, ABOVE, OFFEND YOU, DO NOT READ THIS
STORY.

END OF DISCLAIMER

	This story deals with a man who illicitly comes into
possession of a drug that puts its subjects into a deeply suggestible
state.  He decides to use the drug on his girlfriend, an exceedingly
independent woman, and... well, you'll have to read the story.  This
story contains consensual sex, non-consensual sex, the use of drugs to
alter a human personality, degradation, humiliation, and enslavement.
However, not every one of the above-listed nasty things appears in
each chapter.  

	I am the author of one previously published story, "Suzanne's
New Career," which runs in a similar vein to this one, and can be
found on Simon Bar Sinister's excellent web site of mind-control
stories at http://www.galaxy.net/~simon/.

	Comments and constructive criticism are welcomed, and should
either be posted to alt.sex.stories.d, or mailed to the author at
sinner@nym.alias.net.  Flames will be ignored.

	The first chapter, presented here, is pretty low-key.  It
contains a lot of what I call "plot development," and no actual sex.
Sorry, but these things are sometimes necessary.  I promise _plenty_
of sex in later chapters.



                        Candace's Education

One
===

	Rick Logan seethed as he fidgeted on the couch.  He was fed up
with waiting.  Every time he went out with Candace, she would pull
this little game with him.  She would greet him at the door with a
bright smile, and usher him into her living room.  Then she would take
on an apologetic expression and explain that she hadn't had time to
get ready yet, and ask if he would mind waiting a few minutes.
	Rick always assented.  At first, he'd done this because he was
a very patient person, and it didn't matter to him if they were a few
minutes late.  But after being kept waiting for half an hour for each
of their first five dates, he'd begun to get irritated.
	So on the sixth date, he'd deliberately shown up fifteen
minutes late, in order to give her some extra time to prepare.  He'd
figured it was the easiest possible solution to the problem.  There
was no point in haranguing Candace about her tardiness when he could
just as easily adjust his own schedule.
	Unfortunately, the plan had backfired.  When he'd arrived late
at her apartment, she'd met him at the door with an angry glare.
She'd chastised him for being late, complaining that she'd been ready
right on time, that he was a jerk for being late, and that she'd
appreciate it if he would try to be a bit more timely in the future.
	He should've argued with her, and had it out right then and
there.  He should've pointed out that _she_ was the one who'd kept him
waiting for the first five dates, and that he'd only been trying to
solve the problem in a manner that would involve the least
inconvenience for both of them.
	But he hadn't.  He'd been afraid that starting an argument
might damage or destroy their budding relationship.  He remembered
seeing a calculating glint in her eye, as though she'd been testing
him, to see whether he'd rebel or not.  And he hadn't.  He'd meekly
agreed that it was his fault, and that he'd try to be on time more
often.
	And that, Rick reflected, was his problem.  He was never good
at confrontations.  In any dispute, he would always take the easy way
out.  That was probably why he'd been stuck in the same dead-end job
for six years, working in the mailroom of a large medical-supply
company.  No promotion, no pay raise.  Nothing.  And that pretty much
summed up his life.

	Candace Cunningham turned her head and looked at the clock
next to the bed, her soft brown hair twisting across the pillow as she
did so.  Twenty-five minutes.  She decided that she'd kept Rick
waiting long enough.  With a grunt of exertion, she lifted herself off
the bed.
	She looked at herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair.
She kept it simple, brushing it straight down her back.  It was
important to keep it neat and simple, so that Rick didn't get an
inflated notion of how important he was to her.  Men were nice enough
as diversions, but they were hardly one of the necessities of life.
	Candace pondered her relationship with Rick as she looked
through her wardrobe for something to wear.  It was so much trouble to
find clothes for a woman that weren't degrading.  After all, the vast
majority of clothes were designed by men who could only view a woman
as a sex object.  Shoes that sacrificed stability and comfort for the
sake of putting a curve in the back of the leg, skirts that were
designed to bring about thoughts of sex in men, blouses that
practically put breasts on display... it was disgraceful.
	She settled on a pair of brown slacks, a flowery button-down
shirt and a pair of brown loafers.  Stylish, yet comfortable.  She was
ready for the evening.  She didn't own any makeup or jewelry; these,
too, were male inventions designed with the debasement of woman in
mind.

	Rick stood as Candace entered the living room, sighing in
wonder as he did every time he saw her face.  She was quite beautiful.
Wide brown eyes gazed out under thick eyebrows.  High cheekbones
framed an aqualine nose, and a wide mouth smiled beneath it.  A thick
mane of chestnut brown hair fell down her back, framing her face.
	Though the slacks and shirt hid it, Rick knew her body to be
quite attractive.  Years of vegetarian eating had given her a thin,
though not quite willowy figure.  Her breasts were small but quite
pert, and her legs and ass thin, but shapely.
	For the hundredth time, Rick looked at her, thinking that if
only she would put some effort into it, she could be dynamite.  All
she'd need was the right clothes, a little makeup, and some jewelry
and she could be sexy as all hell.  But he knew what she thought on
these subjects, and didn't want to get an earful, so he let it lie.
	"You look fabulous."
	"Thanks," she replied.  "Let's go."
	Rick treated her to a nice dinner at a charming Italian
restaurant.  They talked about the usual things; the weather,
politics, movies, her job.  Candace was an editor for Woman's Work, a
prominent and rather militant feminist magazine.  Rick had read a few
issues of the magazine at her urging, and was rather distuurbed by its
contents.  Rickfully supported most of the ideals of the women's
movement, but he thought Woman's Work was far too radical.  He hadn't
said as much to Candace, though.  Not yet.
	Although the content of their conversation was not unusual,
Rick detected a certain weariness in Candace's manner.  But their
dinner ended without incident, and Rick drove her home as usual.

	It was with a sense of relief that Candace closed the door
behind her after Rick dropped her off.  Thank god that was over!
	When she'd first started going out with Rick, they'd had a
good time.  She'd been amused by his quick mind and ready wit.  And he
was pretty handsome, too.  Candace had had high hopes at the beginning
that Rick would turn out to be different from other men.  But as the
weeks and months wore on, it'd become obvious that that wasn't the
case.
	He'd begun to pay increasing amounts of attention to her body.
She'd caught a number of sidelong glances at her breasts and ass.  It
was so frustrating!  Try to have a decent, equal-status relationship
with a man, and you always wound up being viewed as a sex object.
	She had to admit to herself, though, that she enjoyed the
attention.  It was fun to play with mens' minds, get them aroused and
watch them boil in frustration.  Served them right, for all they'd
done to keep her gender in the dirt.
	And it had been fun to do it to Rick, once she'd discovered
that he was just an ordinary mind-in-the-pants sleazeball like all the
rest.  She'd occasionally arrange things so that her breast would
press againt his arm, or her hand would innocently brush his crotch.
Sometimes she could see him getting hard through his pants.  She
enjoyed the control she had over him.
	But ultimately, it was getting stale, and even dangerous.
Rick was starting to get bolder.  Several times he'd tried to kiss
her, and she'd had to make up some clever ruse on the spot to avoid
it.  She knew what men were capable of - rape, or worse - and she
didn't want to risk provoking the rapist in Rick.
	So it was time to get someone new.  Tomorrow, she decided,
she'd dump him.  They already had dinner plans, and she could break it
to him gently.  Tomorrow.

	Rick went to work the next day feeling more depressed than
ever about his relationship with Candace.
	"Yo, Rick!"  Rick looked up in the direction the voice had
come from just in time to see a small package sailing toward him
through the air.  He caught it deftly.  "That needs to go up to
Briggs, pronto!"  The voice belonged to Harvey Sheldon, the mail room
chief.  "It's several hours late, and he's been calling me every
fifteen minutes since six this morning."
	"On my way," Rick responded without enthusiasm, heading for
the elevator.  Damon Briggs, vice-president for marketing, was the
primary reason Rick had been stuck in this dead-end job for so long.
Three times Rick had applied for open positions in marketing, and
three times Briggs had turned him down, despite the fact that he had
clearly been the best-qualified candidate all three times.
	Rick punched the elevator button for the marketing floor,
visualizing Briggs's slack-jowled, bulldog face.  "The problem with
you, Rick," said Briggs's voice, echoing in his head, "is that you
just don't have the drive.  Sure, you look good on paper, but you just
don't have that special something it takes to make it in the corporate
world.  Probably never in your life are you gonna grab the bull by the
balls, Rick.  I really don't think you belong here."  And of course,
he'd just sat there and taken it, as he'd taken so many other things
in his life.  A stronger person, Rick thought, would have stood up to
Briggs, demanded a chance to prove himself.  But he'd just sat there
and listened to Briggs drive him into the ground.
	The elevator pinged as it reached the 25th floor, where the
marketing department was located.  Rick stepped out and strode through
the glass doors into the marketing lobby.
	"Morning, Rick," said Jennifer Cipriani, Briggs's secretary.
Jennifer was a pudgy Mediterranean woman who looked to be about
thirty.  Her face was rather pretty, with strong classical features,
but the fact that she was about thirty pounds overweight kept her from
being attractive, in Rick's view.  Unfortunately, he'd had to brush
off a number of passes she'd made at him.  In spite of this, though,
they'd become friends, and shared between them a certain wry humor
regarding Briggs.
	The standard half-eaten bar of chocolate lay in its wrapper on
her desk.  Jennifer nibbled absentmindedly at it as she scribbled
Briggs's signature on a sheaf of papers.  "What can I do for you?" she
asked, looking up and smiling at Rick.
	"Morning, Jen.  Package for Mr. Briggs."
	"Oooh, he's been waiting for that all morning.  Better take it
in.  He's alone right now."  Jennifer spoke into the intercom.
"Rick's here with that packace, Mr. Briggs."
	"Thanks, Jen," Rick said, walking past her desk to the big oak
doors.  A large gold-finished plate announced the entrance to "The
Office of Damon Briggs, Vice-President of Marketing."  Rick pushed the
doors open and strode in.
	The corpusculent form of Damon Briggs greeted him from behind
the desk.  "Rick!  Good to see you again!" he exclaimed without much
sincerity.  "Let's have it."  A pudgy hand reached for the package.
Rick passed it over to him.  "Thanks, Rick," Briggs said, eagerly
tearing the package open.
	Rick turned and left, waving goodbye to Jennifer as he headed
to the elevator.  He'd almost made it when Briggs's yell of anguish
hit him from behind.
	"No!  Dammit, dammit, dammit!"
	Rick turned just in time to see Briggs storm out of the office,
the opened package in one hand.  "The stupid bastards screwed up
again!  Jennifer, get on the phone to Dexalco and tell them we wanted
tetracamine, not tetracaTHALamine.  Make sure whichever moron you
speak to understands the difference between four syllables and five.
Christ."
	Briggs's jaw worked furiously as he strode over to Rick and
thrust the package into his hands.  "Take this down to pharmaceutical
disposal, Rick, and get rid of it."
	Rick accepted the package and watched as Briggs strode angrily
back to his office.  Jennifer, already dialing the phone, looked
ruefully at him.  "It's a great day already, Rick!" she said.
	"Good luck with Briggs," Rick replied, and headed for the
elevator.  Curiously, he examined the contents of the package.  There
were six small vials of liquid and several sheets of paper.  Rick
glanced over the top sheet as he waited for the elevator.  Beneath the
letterhead of Dexalco Pharmaceuticals was a short description of the
drug.

		TETRACATHALAMINE: Strong hypnotic drug.
	Dosage of 5 drops standard solution will put a
	125-pound subject into a deeply suggestible mental
	state in approximately thirty minutes.  Standard
	hypnotic techniques may then be used.  Required dosage
	varies with weight.  No known...

	Rick was interrupted by the chime of the arriving elevator.
He stuffed the paper back into the box as a gray-haired executive
walked past him out of the elevator.  He could get into big trouble
for reading mail.
	Rick stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the
third floor, where the company's pharmaceutical disposal unit was
located.  Federal law required the disposal of unused narcotics
according to a complex set of safety guidelines.
	The elevator doors closed and the car descended.  Rick
pondered what he'd read, an idea slowly creeping into his mind.  Could
he... make use of the drug?  He could drug Candace, hypnotize her to
be more friendly toward him, to...
	No, he couldn't do that.  The thought of forcing a woman to
have sex with him was revolting.  Even a hypnotized sexual partner was
still, in reality, an unwilling one.
	Besides, he had to take the drug to the disposal unit.  These
things were tracked carefully, and if the package wasn't handed over
to the disposal technicians, it would eventually be traced to him, and
he'd be in trouble.  The package had to go to disposal.  And that was
that.  But what if...
	Rick looked in the box again.  Six vials of liquid.  What if
there were only five when it got to the dispossal techs?  Would they
notice?  Maybe.  He wasn't sure how thoroughly they checked these
things.  But if they did notice, how likely would they be to track it
down?  Probably not very likely, he guessed.  After all, they dealt
with several thousand bottles and packages every day.  What would one
missing vial count for among all that?
	But could he possibly bring himself to do this sort of thing?
It was immoral to hypnotize people for your own gain.  Wasn't it?
Unbidden, Briggs's face appeared in Rick's mind.  "You're probably
never gonna grab the bull by the balls, Rick."
	Rick snatched one of the vials out of the package and thrust
it into his pocket just as the elevator doors opened.  Nonchalantly,
he strode to the disposal desk, placing the package on the counter.
"Package from Briggs," he informed the technician behind the desk,
fighting to keep the tremor from his voice.
	The tech took it and made a cursory examination of the
contents.  "Thanks.  Here's your receipt."
	Rick took the receipt and hurried to the elevator before his
nervousness could show.  Flush with success, he reached into his
pocket and fingered the vial.
	
	When he got back to the mailroom, Rick found himself in the
middle of a crisis.  Three regular mailbags from the Los Angeles
office had run into unexpected delays and had all arrived while Rick
was running the errand for Briggs.  It took the rest of the day for
the mailroom staff to get all the backed-up mail delivered.
Consequently, Rick forgot about the vial.
	He arrived at Candace's aparment promptly at 7:00 that
evening, right on time for their dinner date.  Half an hour later,
they left and went to a vegetarian restaurant that Candace liked.
Rick hated vegetarian food, but it was all she would eat.  This meant
that most of the time, he had to eat it as well.  Occasionally, they
would go to a normal restaurant, where she would get a salad or
something non-meaty.  At those places, he occasionally got a meat
dish, but she made her disapproval evident whenever he did this.
	During their dinner conversation, Rick detected the same
weariness in Candace's manner he'd seen last night.  But it was
stronger tonight.  She seemed to be a bit nervous about something.
After finishing the meal, they ordered after-dinner drinks.  Candace
excused herself to go to the restroom.
	Rick took the opportunity to ponder the situation.  What had
her so worked up?  It was as though she had something really big she
needed to get off her chest.  Something...
	Of course!  She was going to dump him!  She was trying to find
the right moment to tell him.  He felt a surge of anger wash over him.
Dammit, they'd been dating for months, he'd paid for every meal, and
he hadn't gotten so much as a kiss from her.  Why had she strung him
along for so long?  He leaned back, thrusting his hands into his
pockets...
	...and his fingers burshed against the glass vial.  He
started, remembering it for the first time since getting out of the
elevator.  Slowly, carefully, he pulled it out of his pocket and held
it up to the light.  Inside, the clear liquid sloshed around.
	Rick gazed at the vial.  It wasn't right to do this to
someone, but... dammit, she'd been such a bitch.  He could see it now.
She'd strung him along, using him as a source of free food while
keeping him at arms' length emotionally and physically, teasing him
all the while to keep up his interest.  She had manipulated him,
coldly and cynically, and it was only fair to give her a little taste
in return.
	Resolved, Rick unscrewed the top of the bottle, pulling out
the built-in dropper.  He filled the dropper and struggled to recall
the writing on the sheet.  Five drops.  Yes, that was it.  Placing the
dropper over Candace's drink, he squeezed and watched the drops fall.
One... two... three... four... five.  Hurriedly, he screwed the cap
back onto the top of the bottle and shoved it back into his pocket.
	Candace reappeared a moment later and took her seat.  They
talked and drank as they sipped their drinks.  Rick watched Candace
for any sign that the drug was affecting her behavior, and found none.
But the sheet had said thirty minutes, hadn't it?  He thought so, but
it was hard to remember.
	They finished their drinks and began the drive home,
continuing the incessant conversation.  It was as though they were
both talking more excitedly and animatedly, and with more feigned
interest, because they both knew that something bad was coming up,
Rick mused.
	He took no notice when her participation began to drop off.
She stopped offering her own ideas and opinions, and started simply
agreeing to whatever he said.  Gradually, her responses became
monosyllabic.  Suddenly, he realized what had happened.
	"Candace?" he ventured.
	"Mmm.  Yes?"  she responded, staring ahead out the front of
the car.
	"How are you feeling?"
	She thought for a moment.  "Fine, I guess."  Her face remained
forward.
	Take it slowly, Rick told himself.  Make sure it's working.
"Look out the window to your right," he said.
	"Okay."  Her head swiveled ninety degrees to the right, and
remained facing that way.  She made no other move.
	Rick couldn't believe it.  Here was the most independent-
minded woman he'd ever met, accepting his odd suggestions as though
they were perfectly natural.  He racked his brain to recall what he
could of hypnosis.  The important thing seemed to be that the subject
wouldn't respond to all suggestions, just those that seemed
reasonable.  So having her, say, engage in sex with him right here in
the car was probably out of the question.  Take it slowly, he
admonished himself again.  "Candace?"
	"Yes?"  Her voice was muffled; Rick realized she was still
looking out the window.
	"Face forward again."  She did so immediately.  "I want you to
answer the questions I ask honestly and completely."
	"Okay," she agreed.
	"What do you think of me?"
	"I thought you were a nice guy when we first met, but lately
I've come to realize that you're just like all the other men."
	Hmmm.  This was interesting.  "And what are other men like?"
	"They're only interested in sex.  They can only view women as
sex objects.  They'd probably rape any woman they could if they
thought they could get away with it."
	This was really unusual, Rick thought.  He'd known she was
very much into women's liberation, even to the point of being somewhat
bitter toward men in general, but he'd had no idea she harbored such a
misandronistic streak.  "So... you think I would rape you if I thought
I could get away with it?"
	"Well, not necessarily.  But after we'd been together long
enough, I'm sure you'd do it eventually.  That's why I'm planning to
break up with you when you drop me off."
	So his instincts had been on the right track, Rick thought.
"What made you realize that I'm like that?"
	"The way you keep looking at my body.  You look at my breasts,
or my butt, or my legs.  I can tell you're thinking about having sex
with me.  It's quite demeaning."
	"Have you ever had sex with a man?"
	"No.  I could never let a man have that sort of power over
me.  Besides, I can bring myself more pleasure masturbating than any
man could ever give me."
	"Really?"
	"Yes.  Men only care about themselves."
	A thought crossed Rick's mind.  "Have you ever had sex with
another woman?"
	"No."
	Rick paused for a moment, considering what to do.  The first
priority was to preserve the relationship.  If he stopped seeing
Candace, no amount of drug could get what he wanted.  But, he reminded
himself again, it was important to be careful in this, and take things
in slow, natural steps.
	How best to do this? he wondered.  He didn't have the foggiest
clue as to what was the best way to make a suggestion, so he decided
to just try the easy way.  "Candace?"
	"Yes?"
	"You don't really think I'm as bad as other men," Rick said in
what he hoped was a calm voice.  "Sure, I'm still a man, and that
carries some intrinsic meaning, but I'm actually very civilized
compared to most.  Isn't that right?"
	Her face scrunched up in thought.  "Yes, I suppose so.  You're
not nearly as bad as I thought."
	"In fact, maybe you don't need to break off our relationship
just yet.  You could probably date me safely for at least another
month.  Don't you think so?"
	"Yes... yes, that's right.  I don't need to dump you just
yet."  She sat back, pleased at her realization.
	Rick smiled a bit at her choice of words.  It was funny that
she should talk about dumping him when he was clearly the one in
control.  He decided to take one more small step tonight.  "And when I
look at you, like I want to have sex with you, you won't find it
disgusting anymore.  In fact, when you see me looking at your body,
you'll get a little excited by it.  Almost like you were masturbating.
Not really stong, but noticeable... and pleasurable.  Okay?"
	She shrugged.  "Okay."
	Rick decided to hold it there for the evening.  He didn't want
to press his luck.  But he had to clean up after himself.  What was
the mumbo-jumbo that hypnotists did when they were done?  "Candace,
I'm going to start slowly counting down from five.  You're going to
feel your mind get fuzzier and more confused as I do so.  When I reach
one, you will have forgotten everything that's happened since I asked
you how you were feeling a few minutes ago.  Remember that?"
	"Uh-huh."
	"Good.  All you'll be able to remember will be that we had a
nice conversation on the way home.  All right?"
	"Okay."
	"Here we go.  Five... four... three... two... one."  Candace
made no movement, simply staring ahead.  Carefully, Rick tried to
restart the conversation.  "So... have you tried that new Chinese
takeout place?"
	"No."
	Well, Rick thought, even if he'd successfully caused her to
block out the conversation, she'd still be under the influence of the
drug.  He continued to talk as though they were having a perfectly
ordinary conversation.  Gradually, her speech moved from monosyllabic
responses to simple statements of agreement.  Soon she was back into
the swing of things, offering up her own opinions and ideas in
response to Rick's.  He relaxed, confident that she'd forgotten their
earlier conversation.
	Rick dropped her off at her apartment.  She never invited him
in, so there was no point in parking.  "Thanks for dinner, Rick," she
said sweetly.
	"You're welcome," he responded, glancing at her chest.  She
flushed a little at that, and opened her mouth as though about to say
something.  But whatever words had been about to come out froze in her
mouth, and a puzzled look crossed her face.  Rick did his best to look
confused.  "Candace?"
	"Ummm... oh, nothing.  Nothing," she said hurriedly.  "How
about dinner tomorrow?"
	"Sounds good.  Seven o'clock?"
	"Sure.  See you then."  She got out of the car, closed the
door, and hurried up to the building.  Rick smiled, pleased with a job
well done, as he drove off into the night.

	Candace paused at the door to her building.  Why had she done
that?  She'd planned the whole evening to dump Rick when he dropped
her off.  Why hadn't she done it?  And why the hell had she been
so... excited... by that glance he'd given her breasts?
	Confused, she unlocked the door and hurried up the stairs to
her apartment.  Dammit, it had just been another one of those lustful
sex-crazed male looks at her body.  Those had never had any effect on
her before, other than inspiring disgust at men in general.  Why had
that glance from Rick seemed so... different?
	She entered the apartment and sat down on the couch to think.
Rick seemed... different, somehow.  Less of a creep.  Kinder.  In
fact, why had she been planning to dump him in the first place?  She
thought back to the reasoning she'd used earlier, when she'd made the
decision to dump him.  None of it seemed to make sense anymore.  Well,
at any rate, Rick would probably be worth having around for at
least... oh, at least another month.

	Over the course of the next week and a half, Rick took Candace
out to dinner five times, and often to a movie afterward.  For the
most part, her manner on these dates was unchanged.  But several times
Rick let her catch him looking at her breasts, ass or legs.  Rick
noted with pleasure the flush of excitement that rushed into her face.
She would nervously look away whenever this happened.  He was enjoying
their time together quite a bit more, knowing that his glances got her
excited.
	When he was at work, however, he was a nervous wreck.  He
toiled at his job in dread, constantly worried that some
inventory-checker somewhere would discover the missing vial of drug
and trace it to him.  Every time the P.A. system came on, Rick's heart
leapt into his throat.  The only positive effect of the whole ordeal
was that his nerves drove him to work very hard at his job, earning
quite a bit of admiration from his supervisor.
	On his fifth date with Candace since he'd hypnotized her, Rick
got his second chance.  Again, it was just after the empty dinner
plates had been cleared away and the after-dinner drinks served.
Candace took a few sips of her drink and excused herself to go to the
bathroom.  Rick shot a look at her breasts as she got up, causing her
once again to get flustered and hurry away.
	Smiling, Rick waited until she was out of sight and pulled the
bottle out of his pocket.  Measuring carefully, he dispensed five
drops into her drink, swirling the glass slightly in order to mix the
drug thoroughly.
	Candace returned in a few minutes.  They finished their drinks
and began the drive home.  As before, Candace gradually allowed her
end of the conversation to drop off into simple yes's and no's.  When
Rick was confident that the drug had taken effect, he decided it was
time to begin.
	"How are you feeling, Candace?"
	"Fine."
	"How are your toes feeling?"
	A brief shrug.  "Fine."
	All right, then.  "So how do you feel around me?"
	She sighed.  "Excited.  It really affects me when you look at
my breasts or my legs like you want to have sex with me.  I mean, I
know it's the ordinary male lust, but for some reason, when you do it,
it has this effect on me."
	"So you enjoy it when I look at your body?"
	"Yes, I do."
	"You'd enjoy it even more if I looked at your body more often,
then, wouldn't you?"
	Color was rising in her cheeks.  She smiled happily.  "Oh,
yes, I'd enjoy that very much."
	"Well, there are a couple things you could do to make me look
at you more often."
	"Really?  What?"
	"You could wear some different clothes.  Like a skirt that
would let some of your legs show, or a blouse that was cut low enough
to give a glimpse of your breasts."
	She frowned.  "No, I couldn't wear those things.
They're... degrading.  They'll make me a sex object."
	Oops.  Well, what could he do to control the damage?  "But
there are plenty of long, conservative skirts that don't reveal much.
And blouses that just give a nice view of your upper chest without
showing too much of your breasts.  Plenty of women wear those.  Why
don't you try a couple of outfits like that next time you're at the
store, and buy a few?"
	"Hmmm.  Well, okay.  It _will_ get me more looks from you, I
guess."
	"Also, a little bit of lipstick might help."
	"Mmmm... okay, I'll try that, too."
	"Good girl.  And while we're on the subject, you're going to
continue to get excited whenever I look at your body.  In fact, it's
going to get you even more excited than it has been.  Okay?"
	"Okay," she agreed.
	"So I must be kind of special to you, if I make you feel this
way, huh?"
	"Well, yes, I suppose that's true.  Nobody else makes me feel
like that."
	"Don't you think you should show me how special I am?  I mean,
do something nice to let me know what I mean to you?"
	"Like what?"
	"When I drop you off tonight, you can kiss me.  Nothing fancy,
just a quick peck on the lips.  I'll be surprised by it.  And it'll
let me know how special I am."
	"All right, I'll give you a kiss.  But that's all."
	"Fine.  And when you kiss me, you'll feel a surge of pleasure,
like you do when I look at you, only stronger."
	"Okay."
	Rick paused for a moment, a thought percolating up through his
mind.  He'd accomplished all he really needed to this time, but there
was one other thing he was curious to try.  Just for fun...  "One last
thing, Candace.  The way you've been getting excited by me looking at
you.  You're going to start feeling that way when other men look at
your body.  Not as much as you do for me, but you'll still feel the
excitement.  Got that?"
	"Okay."
	Satisfied with his work, Rick led her through the procedure to
erase the memory of the conversation from her brain.  Gradually, the
drug wore off, and her conversational skills picked up again as they
arrived at her place.

	Candace looked at Rick as he stopped the car in front of her
building.  He was so... so different. When she was around him, she
felt so... wonderful.  It was impossible to describe.  Suddenly, some
deep part of her subconscious took control of her body.  She leaned
over and put her lips to Rick's.
	An electric thrill shot down her spine at the touch of his
lips.  She pulled away, startled, trying to compose herself.
"Umm... uh... Thanks for dinner, Rick.  We're still on for tomorrow,
right?"  She made a queasy smile in an attempt to hide her nerves.
	"Sure, Candace," he replied, smiling broadly.  "Pick you up at
eight?"
	"Uh... yeah, yeah.  Okay, see ya!"  She hurried out of the
car, closing the door behind her, and trotted up to the steps.  She
heard the car accelerate down the street.
	What was coming over her?  All her life, she'd striven to be
the very model of the independent female, dependent on men for
nothing, least of all emotional well-being, and here she was going all
goo-goo eyed over Rick!  She wasn't so much bothered by the fact that
she'd kissed him as by the reason she'd kissed him.  Why did he have
this power over her?
	Confused, she strode up the stairs to her apartment.

	Rick glanced back at Candace in the rear-view mirror as he
drove off down the street.  Perfect.  She was slowly, but surely,
falling in love with him.  The hypnotic drug had given him the key to
a more balanced, a more equal relationship.  With a few more uses of
the drug, he could guide Candace and himself in a deep, lasting love,
the kind that he'd dreamed of having when he'd first met her.
	But something bothered him.  Was that what he really wanted, a
deep, lasting, "equal" relationship?  Or was he really after something
else?  It wouldn't have occurred to him to question his own motives if
not for that one additional suggestion he'd given to Candace.  She
would get turned on by other men looking at her.  Why had he done
that?
	Rick pondered these questions as he drove on into the night.

===============
To be continued...