The Mesmerizer 5200

At seven o'clock on the dot I arrived at the restaurant of the Hotel Grande. I believe in being prompt, but I do not believe in being early. To be early is to seem excessively eager; to be late is rude to the customer, and as a salesman, both are to be avoided. In my right hand I carried a Mesmerizer 5200.

The

Mesmerizer 5200.

"Table for two," I told the waitress, with a smile. She was a nice looking young lady. Not too nice looking, and I'd have smiled at her if she was a boxer with a cauliflower ear, but I enjoy smiling at a pretty girl more.

"Will this do," she asked, showing me a table at the edge of the seating area, overlooking the lobby. It had a good view, one of the better seats in the house, probably. I might have earned it by smiling.

I shook my head. "How about that one?" I asked. The table I wanted lets one see one's fellow diners, such as they are.

"Oh! Alright," she said.

I put the Mesmerizer 5200 on the table, so that people would get used to seeing it there. It was about the size of a small tower computer. It had some good old-fashioned knobs on the side. A small, nearly invisible camera on one end. Two screens, each the size of a cell phone, on the other end. I was proud of it. On the other side from the knobs, a metal bracelet hung from a hook, attached to the machine by a USB cable. It had a handle on top for easy carrying. In today's mass produced world, individual craftsmanship is a thing of the past. The Mesmerizer 5200 was not only individually made, it was different than each of the earlier models I had made and sold. I remembered the first one, the 3000, fondly.

No one wants to buy the first, people. They'd be worried their brains would get fried. It's like personal checks, if you remember those. If you go into the business of making and selling mind control devices, always start at 300, at least. It's a trade where people are very suspicious of what you have to sell, and you need to do your best to put them at ease.

I looked at my fellow diners. A couple, middle-aged, sat in the corner. Two women, probably not a couple, sat at the table next to them. One of them was kinda cute, in a girl next door way; pretty face, not a great figure. I know, it sounds like I was sizing all the women up, but there were business reasons for that. There was a group of four old people, chattering away, with quite a pile of empty glasses. A man, casually dressed in a blazer, with a face like a movie actor, if not quite a leading man, sat at a table between me and the entrance. The word

lothario

sprang to mind.

"Something to drink, Sir?" asked a waitress a moment later. This was one was kind of cute, too. Busty. A little pudgy.

I smiled.

"A martini," I said. "And a water."

I waited some more. It was possible that Mr. Albert Wainwright would not show up, in which case the evening would be wasted, and Wainwright would wonder, for the rest of his life, what he'd passed up.

Mr. Wainwright was having wife troubles. Apparently, his wife was not providing for him in bed in the manner to which he wished to become accustomed. Apparently, his wife rather strenuously objected to the maid providing for him in that way, too, to the point of having her fired, and telling him that if he fooled around with the next maid she intended to get at least half his money in the divorce. I was glad I was not married to a woman like Mrs. Wainwright.

In fact, if I was as wealthy as Mr. Wainwright, I would consider giving up half my money to be free of Mrs. Wainwright to be a pretty good deal, and if that could be combined with fucking the maid, that would be simply value added.

The water and the martini arrived. I took one sip of the martini, and then sipped the water. I waited some more.

A tall man in a suit and a tie walked in, carrying a satchel, fresh from the office. Or not so fresh, perhaps. Worn. That was Wainwright. He was a well-built, athletic man, a habitue of the best, most expensive gyms. There was, I thought, something wrong with his face. His eyes were just a little off, his nose not quite straight, the bottom of his lip a little too full and the top too thin. Not an ugly man, mind you, but if it were not for his bankbook, he would not be god's gift to women, either. He spotted me, dismissed the waitress who wanted to show him a table with a wave, and headed my way.

He didn't make it. The lothario in the blazer suddenly slid his chair back, blocking his intended path. Wainwright managed to dodge the chair, walking into a table in the process. The lothario then turned, and clipped Wainwright on the back of the head with an elbow, not particularly hard.

"Why don't you look where you're going?" asked the lothario, rather unfairly, I thought.

"Why don't you -" Wainwright clenched his right fist, clutching his satchel with his left.

A waitress scurried over. "I'm sure it was an accident," she said.

That was when she walked in, striding past the empty greeter desk and heading directly toward the potential confrontation. People turned to look at her, as well they might. She was a natural blonde, her hair flowing down in waves, with a 36-24-36 figure. Her blue dress showed a bit of cleavage in front, not enough to look cheap, but enough to draw attention, and she knew how to walk, too, hips swaying. There was an exotic touch to her, because despite the Nordic hair, she had tanned skin, and a little slant to her eyes that hinted of something Asian.

She gave Wainwright a smile, and then sat down at the lothario's table.

The lothario grinned at her. "Be right back," he said, and then headed to the bathroom, ignoring Wainwright.

Wainwright stared for a moment, and then headed toward me.

"Did you see that guy?" Wainwright asked me, as he sat down. He took the far seat, the one with a view of the blonde woman with the east Asian eyes.

"Yeah," I agreed. "But don't let him bother you Mr. Wainwright. There's guys like that everywhere, and we have more important things to do."

Wainwright nodded. "This is it?" he asked, looking at the box skeptically.

"This is it," I said, beaming with pride.

"I'm an idiot for even thinking this could work."

"Or a genius." I sipped my martini.

"Tom Collins," Wainwright said, in response to an interruption from a waitress.

I waited for Wainwright to begin the conversation again, not wanting to look too eager.

"So," Wainwright said in hushed voice. "That's the device."

"Yep," I said.

"That little box can... make a woman do whatever you want?"

"Well, if she knows

what

you want. I mean, you have to communicate. But yes. You might have problems if you try to make a hooker out of a church matron, and you'd have to pick someone pretty vicious to begin with if you wanted them to murder anyone. But most girls, and most things, yes."

"One would think it wouldn't take too much of a nudge to get my wife to put out a little more often. I mean, she's my wife, she can hardly have a moral objection to looking after my needs now and then.

"One would think," I agreed. The customer is always right.

"But why limit one to a wife, huh?" Wainwright said.

"I think it's important not to limit ourselves. If I limited myself, I'd never have become an inventor. And then we would both be worse off."

"You married?" Wainwright asked.

"Yeah."

"Does your wife take good care of you?"

I grinned. "Of course she does. After all, I've tried every model of the Mesmerizer out on her, first."

Wainwright laughed. "Ah. Good point."

The waitress brought Wainwright his drink. We drank in silence for a bit. I let him think about it. Now and then, Wainwright glanced over to where the man who had elbowed him sat with the woman in the blue dress.

"You know, I don't really believe in this thing," Wainwright said.

I shrugged. "If you believed, are you ready to pay for it?"

"If. That's a big if."

"You'd like a demonstration."

"Yeah."

I pointed to the busty waitress. "How about her?"

"I'm not stupid," Wainwright said. "You've got that girl primed - you're probably paying her - and she'll do what we ask. Voila, mind control. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Neither was I," I tell him. "Show me that you have the diamonds, and then, you pick the girl."

"Anyone?"

"Sure."

He opened the satchel and took out a velvet bag. He opened it enough that I could see inside, but he didn't let go of it. He started to pull it back.

"Lots of things glitter that are not gold," I said. "Or diamonds. Let me look at one."

He hesitated, but then nodded. He pulled a rock from the bag and handed it to me.

I shook my head. "I told you I wasn't born yesterday either. You pick the girl. I pick the diamond."

He sighed and nodded. He showed me the bag. I reached in, picked out a sparkler at random. Then I pulled a loupe out of my pocket and gave it a good going over. "Okay," I said. "You're on the up and up. Although you're getting a bargain."

"If it works."

I put the diamond back in the bag.

"It works alright. You pick the girl. How about that college kid, off to your left?"

Wainwright made a show of looking around. Then he gestured at the blonde sitting with the lothario who'd elbowed him.

"The old biddy?" I asked. The old people were now totally blotto.

"No," he said, annoyed now. "The one in the blue dress."

"The blonde?" I asked.

"Yeah, the blonde."

"You know," I said, "I think she might be a little out of your league."

Wainwright scowled. "If this thing does what you say, it wouldn't matter, would it?"

"Well." I paused. "It should work. Alright, I'll get the machine moving. And show you how to use it at the same time. You need to get the girl on the screen here." I pointed at the top screen and flipped a switch. It showed the view out the camera at the front, and I moved the box until it was pointing at the girl. "Just tap on the screen when she's in good view," I said.

He tapped.

"Okay, so for the demonstration, I'm turning this dial all the way up. We want this to work fast - fifteen minutes - and deep. It's safer to turn this dial down all the way low, but then it takes hours. But it'll last longer. For best results with your wife, I'd leave it on overnight, at a low setting, and then enjoy the new woman in the morning. Turn this dial all the way to the right for the most long-lasting effects." I turned that one down. "But we're going in fast and hard, for this one. As the bishop said to the actress."

"Huh?"

"It's an old phrase. The story goes, that the actress - Lily Langtry, I think, was with the bishop of something or other in a garden. The bishop accidentally gets a thorn stuck in his hand. Then, later, at dinner, the actress asks, 'how's your prick?'"

Wainwright chuckled. "Embarrassing."

"And the bishop response, 'throbbing!'"

"Heh. So, kind of like 'and that's what she said.'"

"Yeah. Kinda like that. But it comes with a story. Anyway, it's all set. You remember what I said for your wife?"

"Yeah. Low with this dial, high with this one. Wait overnight."

"Right. It's not too complicated."

"What's this screen do?" He pointed to the one that was blank.

I flipped another switch. I like switches better than buttons, they feel like you're accomplishing something. A screen popped up, showing various waves. "You don't really need to worry about it. It was there for debugging purposes. But basically, when the blue and red waves converge, the subject is ready to be given directions."

"Nice."

"She'll be primed in about fifteen minutes."

"Primed."

"Yeah," I said. "Then you'll put this on." I lifted the bracelet off the side of the machine. "It's a remote unit. She won't obey just anyone. The bracelet will let her identify you as her new master. Right now, the bracelet is syncing up with her brain waves."

"Right," Wainwright said, with skepticism.

"I'd go get a hotel room, if I were you. You're gonna need it in fifteen minutes. You don't have to give me the diamonds until you can see that it works."

Wainwright nodded. "Well, at worst I'll be out the cost of a room, I guess." He got up. "Wait. What if she moves? Will it still work?"

"Oh yeah. The sighting thing is just to let the machine know where to focus. It works on brain waves, after that. It's locked in now."

"Right." Wainwright walked out of the bar, heading toward the front desk. I sipped my water in peace.

I went back to waiting for Wainwright, just like before. I snapped off the screen showing the blonde, because I didn't want anyone to get an idea that I was spying on her. We probably looked creepy enough as it was. I settled back. The waitress came by and asked if I wanted food.

"Not tonight," I said. I grinned at her. "But I appreciate your attentiveness. You're delightful."

"Oh," she said, and blushed.

I flirted with her for a couple of minutes, just to pass the time. I wasn't making a pass, or anything. I asked her some questions about where she was in her life and listened attentively to the answers, even if I don't remember them. Some college or other. Her name was Brenda.

We'd stopped talking when Wainwright returned.

"Okay, she should be just about set, now," I told him. "Give it a minute or two. What's the room? There can't be a wall between her and the machine, when we do the quick and dirty version. After a few sessions with your wife, it won't matter, but for tonight, we need to be close."

His eyes narrowed. "How do I know that it won't matter after a few sessions with my wife?"

"You don't. You're getting a bargain, even if it has to be in the room every single second. Just put it in the bedroom, and she'll do everything you tell her to. And so will the maid, once you turn it on her."

"The new maid is sixty if she's a day. Lorna hired her, of course."

"Well, fire her and get a new maid," I said. "I'm not here to work out all your problems. Get the right girl in the right room, and the Mesmerizer will take care of the rest. What's the room?"

"412. I can't believe this will work."

"Oh, it will work alright," I said. "I can't believe I'm letting you have a machine that will mind control women for just a few sparklers. They probably aren't even worth a million. It'll take me months to make another one, but I need the money for research, so what am I going to do?"

"Control some rich woman?"

"It's a lot better at getting women into my bed than it is in getting them to cough up money, unfortunately," I said. "Sex is a strong motivator. The woman thinks she's getting something, too, with sex. Okay, put on the bracelet, and go for it. I'll follow you two with the machine once you have her headed toward your hotel room."

"What do I say?" Wainwright asked while he put on the bracelet.

"Just tell her to follow you, or something like that."

"Just like that, huh? God, this thing looks stupid."

"Just like that. And it was designed to be functional, I don't have a lot of money to spare prettying things up."

Wainwright shrugged. "Well, here goes nothing. If I make a fool of myself I'm likely to give you a punch in the jaw."

"If you make a fool of yourself with the girl all primed by the Mesmerizer, you'll owe yourself a punch in the jaw," I retorted.

Wainwright headed toward the girl. The girl looked up at him as he approached, as if waiting for him to say something. Her eyes looked a little blank, and she suddenly seemed unaware of her table companion. Wainwright said something, and the girl nodded. She took her napkin off her lap, tossed it on top of her food, and pushed her chair back.

Wainwright offered his arm. She took it. Without a glance at her handsome companion, who gawked, she let Wainwright guide her toward the lobby.

I picked up the Mesmerizer, walked over to Brenda, and handed her a ten. I didn't care if Wainwright noticed and thought the waitress and I were friends. Then I hurried to make the same elevator Wainwright and the girl were taking.

"What's your name?" Wainwright asked the girl.

"Stella."

"For tonight, I just want you to answer to 'slut,' Stella. Is that okay with you?"

Stella smiled blankly. "That's fine."

"You can call me Master."

"Yes, Master," Stella said.

The elevator started rising. Wainwright grabbed Stella's breasts. Stella moaned. She ignored me.

"I can't believe," Wainwright said, "that she's just letting me grope her in front of you."

"That's the power of the Mesmerizer," I said. "The early models, she'd probably be breaking control right now, but with this one, we can talk about her and she doesn't care."

Stella's only reaction was to arch her back, pushing her breast into Wainwright's hand.

We got to the fourth floor. Wainwright grabbed Stella's ass and used that to guide her to the room. I followed, carrying the Mesmerizer.

Wainwright had to get his hands off the girl in order to use the key card. Pretending to be gentlemen, we let the lady in first. I closed the door behind us.

"Are you convinced that it works?" I asked.

"In a minute," Wainwright said. The room had one big king-sized bed, a writing table, a big TV on top of a dresser, and a couple of chairs. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Alright, slut. Now start taking your clothes off, nice and slow."

I sat down on one of the chairs, looking forward to the show. I set the machine down on the writing table.

"Yes, Master," Stella said. She reached behind her for the zipper on the dress, and tugged it down, but she didn't take it off right away. Wainwright sat on the king-sized bed and watched Stella, whose eyes stayed focused on him.

Stella's dress found its way to the floor, and Stella stepped out of it. She gave it a little kick. She had a lacy white bra and panties underneath, and a garter belt and nude stockings.

She took off one of her blue pumps, and then put one foot on the bed. She detached one stocking from the garter belt, and slowly rolled it down her leg, while Wainwright watched, mesmerized.

Then she did the same with the other leg. She acted as if I wasn't even in the room, but I was getting quite a show.

Then she stood. She unsnapped the bra, and then held it in front of her. "Like this, Master?" she asked. "This slow?"

"Like that," Wainwright said. "Although, go ahead and speed it up a little."

Stella nodded and tossed the bra to the side. Her breasts were big, round, and surprisingly firm for their size. They looked natural, though. Then she hooked her hands into her panties and pushed them down to the floor.

"The carpet matches the drapes, I see," Wainwright said.

I didn't have a good view of that, so I took his word for it. The sight of her beautifully sculpted ass was enough for me.

Wainwright looked at me. I gave him a thumbs up.

Stella unhooked the garter belt and tossed it on top of the bra.

"Now what would you like me to do, Master?" Stella asked.

Wainwright grinned. "Suck my dick," he said.

"Yes, Master." Stella went to her knees. She unzipped Wainwright's fly, and pushed down his whitey-tighties, freeing a rather average-sized cock that was already at full mast. But if she had opinions or standards, they weren't noticeable, as she immediately slid it between her lips and started bobbing on it.

"Now this girl knows what she's about," Wainwright said.

I had to agree. The girl was sucking cock like a pro, and with enthusiasm. "I take it you're satisfied with our deal?"

"Oh, yeah." Wainwright said. "You know my wife won't give me head except on my birthday? Drives me crazy."

"She

wouldn't

give you head," I corrected. "She'll go down on you five times a day, now." He patted the machine.

"Yeah!" Wainwright yelled. It wasn't clear whether it was in agreement about his wife, or just something Stella managed to coax from with her lips and her tongue.

"I'll get my diamonds now," I said.