A Lil Hypnotherapy

"God damn it, Jason, this isn't the restaurant!"

Jenna slammed her purse down on the dashboard. She recognized the street and the building they were in front of. It wasn't the posh restaurant he had promised to take her to. Instead, it was the office of Jason's psychiatrist. Jason had been trying to get her to join him in a joint marital counseling session here for the past two weeks, while Jenna had steadfastly refused.

Earlier in the evening, the two had a marital spat -- yet another in a long string of fights and arguments. Jenna was still fuming from that earlier fight, but now that plans for a romantic dinner and perhaps an evening of dancing seemed completely ruined, she was furious. Her nostrils flared and her eyes spat venom. She glared at her newlywed husband from the passenger seat.

Jason was rather angry himself. In fact, anger, frustration, and resentment had been his baseline mood ever since their wedding night 3 months past. What had they been fighting about earlier? Oh yes, Jenna's choice in evening wear. Jason looked over at his wife.

Jenna Thomas was a stunningly attractive woman: 5' 1", with a curvy, hourglass figure: 32-22-32. Tonight, all those bodacious curves were squeezed into a sexy, one-piece contour dress. Like the name implied, the dress hugged every contour of Jenna's body. To call it tight fitting would be an understatement. Jenna was constantly tugging the tight-fitting skirt down over her thighs. Otherwise, it had a tendency to hike up her legs, nearly to her crotch, whenever she moved.

The dress had a blue-grey color pattern which both accented and amplified her incredibly sexy figure. A large, square neckline barely contained the round tops of her double D breasts. Black, high-heel pumps adorned her feet. A pair of dangling, big hoop earrings, and sparkling, wide wrist bracelets rounded out the ensemble. With her long, wavy black hair, her emerald green eyes, and her dazzling, white smile, Jenna oozed sexuality.

And that's exactly what they had been fighting about: Jason would love to see this dress on any girl -- any girl EXCEPT his wife. It was a slutty, fuck-me-fast and fuck-me-hard outfit, not an image he wanted other men to have of his new bride. And it was typical if the outfits Jenna wore all the time, as of late. They had been having this same fight, or one very similar to it, on and off for the past three months. The pair were constantly fighting about what Jenna wore to work or out with the girls -- Jason said she was "flaunting" herself.

A year ago, Jason had fallen in love with this raving beauty. Aside from her dazzling, good looks, Jason found her to be exceptionally smart and funny. He liked to think Jenna felt the same way about him, because she had accepted his wedding proposal without hesitation. Prior to the proposal, the couple had dated for nine months. During that time, Jenna turned heads everywhere they went. Jason's friends convinced him that he couldn't let this one get away, and so he had proposed.

For her part, Jenna found Jason to be sweet, caring, and kind. He wasn't the typical "bad boy" she had dated throughout college. When he proposed, Jenna was easily prepared to spend the rest of her life with him.

Everything was wonderful, right up until the night of their wedding. The wedding itself was fine -- everything Jenna dreamed it would be -- but afterwards, at the reception, Jason had a bit too much to drink. While Jenna was having the time of her life on the dance floor, Jason sat sullenly at the head of the wedding table. Over time, he began exaggerating Jenna's every move as a flirtatious gesture. He became increasingly jealous and moody.

Did Jenna just smile when Danny, his best man, eyed her body lustfully up and down? And then had she immediately grabbed his hand and dragged him to the dance floor? And throughout the evening, was that his entire party of groomsmen passing her around, dance after dance?

Several times, Jenna and her bridesmaids tried to get Jason out on the dance floor, too, but other than their first slow dance together, he refused.

"I don't dance," he told his new bride, "You go have fun."

But he hadn't meant for Jenna to have THIS much fun. Was that Danny's hand on her hip, pulling her in close? Jenna was dancing with her back to Danny, but Jason's angle, it looked like Jenna was grinding her ass against his crotch in time with the beat. And that look on her face as she gazed over her shoulder at his best man ... she was clearly sending signals that she liked what she felt back there.

After the evening reception, it required Jenna and Danny to drag -- practically carry -- the groom to the waiting limo. Two bottles of champagne and countless mixed drinks had taken their toll, however, and Jason was beyond being able to fulfill his husband duties in the honeymoon suite that night.

On the way to their hotel, Jason caught the limo driver giving his bride lecherous looks. Later, Jenna would readily admit she may have been flirting with the driver. When Jason started to clumsily kiss and fondle her, Jenna caught the driver's stare in the rear-view mirror. She raised her eyebrow invitingly as she started to peel the fabric of her strapless wedding dress down over her breast. Jason thought she was freeing her tits for him, so he could lick and nibble at them, but he noticed the driver lowering the angle of the mirror. He looked up and caught Jenna winking and gesturing kissy lips to the driver.

Jenna claimed it was harmless teasing, nothing she hadn't done with other guys in Jason's company before they married. Jason didn't see it that way. His drunken state didn't help and they ended up having a huge fight in the honeymoon suite. Jason stormed out of the room, and spent much of the night at the hotel bar. Jenna cried herself to sleep. That night set the mood for the rest of their honeymoon, and really for the past three months of their marriage.

Now, parked in front of his psychiatrist's office, Jason glared at his bride. He tried to ignore all the flesh she had on display while wearing that slutty dress. There was a quiet fury in Jenna's eyes as she now stared straight ahead, her jaw clenched tightly shut.

"Jenna, I know all the problems in our relationship are mostly because of me, because of my jealousy toward other men. I've been seeing Doctor Aiza for three weeks, because your mom told us -- well, told me -- to get counseling. And it's really been helping. I've made incredible progress in recognizing my issues for what they are."

"Don't mention my lunatic mother!" Jenna shrilled, on the verge of tears. "She dragged me, daddy, and my two sisters to family counseling for two years. It drove us crazy! It was a huge wedge in my family. When daddy couldn't take it anymore, he divorced mom. Mom made my sisters and I go until we were 18. We couldn't wait to move out of her house."

Jenna realized she was shouting, and starting to draw attention from passersby on the street, even with the car windows closed. She took a deep breath, calmed herself and spoke quietly.

"You said you were taking me out for a nice, romantic dinner."

"And I am, I promise," Jason reached out for her hands, which were folded on Jenna's lap. She jerked them free, then twisted her body away. She stared sullenly out the passenger window.

"Dr. Aiza asked to see us both together. He says my further progress is blocked, and this will really help me. It will help us."

"I don't want some crack shrink getting into my head, Jason," Jenna said heatedly.

"Please, Jenna, just this one time. If it doesn't help, I promise, I'll stop seeing him."

Jenna hated the fact that her husband was too weak to solve this problem on his own. Even more, she hated the idea that he was seeing a shrink because her mother had told him to. Jenna had a very strained relationship with her mother ever since her parents divorced.

Why couldn't Jason see that she dressed the way she did to turn HIM on. Of course other guys looked, and she loved the attention! What girl wouldn't? Yet despite all that, she was his girl. He was the man she would go home with that night.

"Please, Jenna, just this one time," Jason repeated.

"Fine," Jenna snatched her purse off the dashboard angrily. She flung the passenger door open, and tried to extricate herself from the car. It was a delicate situation, and Jenna was reminded of just how short the hem of her skirt really was. She had to gingerly swing both legs to the curb, then hold her skirt firmly down with one hand while trying to lift herself out of the car with the other.

Jason was soon out from his side, and rushing around to help her. As he saw Jenna struggling to not expose too much of herself, he scowled. How could she think that wearing a slutty dress like that in a public restaurant was a good idea? Jenna caught his look and that simply darkened her mood further.

Jason finally managed to lift Jenna out of the car, then ushered her quickly to a nearby doorway. The sign at the entrance read, "Dr. Miguel Aiza, PhD, Hypnotherapy".

As Jason pulled the door open, a low wolf whistle came from the nearby street corner. A pair of brawny utility workers were looking Jenna's way, both with broad grins on their faces. Always the flirt, Jenna flashed them both a gorgeous smile.

"Hey, fellas," she said huskily, turning her body toward them, hands on her hims, modeling her dress.

One of the men closed his eyes and put his hand to his heart, tapping it twice. The other man just stared openly, and said, "Wow!"

Jenna giggled, blew them both a kiss, then walked through the open door. Jason growled softly and followed her in.

Dr. Aiza's office was up on the 2nd floor. Jason steered Jenna toward a narrow staircase. As she started to climb the stairs, she realized Jason's face would be at the approximate height of her plump, round bottom. She wondered if he was appreciating the view. Although she was still mad at Jason, she hoped he was. She had bought this dress earlier in the week just for tonight, just to please him. Jenna put a little extra sway in her step.

At the top of the stairs, Jason walked past her in a huff.

'Bastard,' Jenna thought to herself.

Jason walked ahead of her, and down the hall a short distance. He stopped, opened a door, and entered a side office without giving Jenna a second glance. Jenna's heels clattered noisily as she hurried to catch up.

The waiting room was cozy, well lit, and comfortably furnished. It looked more like a private study, rather than the lobby of a doctor's office. Bookshelves adorned every wall; the room also contained a coffee table, several waiting chairs, and a receptionist's desk. There was no computer on the desk, merely a telephone, a notepad and a fancy ballpoint pen. There was also a vase with fresh lilacs in it. Jenna loved lilacs! Their smell permeated the whole room. Jenna felt instantly at ease here.

There was no receptionist, or indeed anyone else in the room save her husband. Jason had already taken a seat in one of the chairs and was thumbing absently through the pages of a magazine. Jenna started to roam about the room, admiring the decor. She passed several urns, each with tall plants in them. On one wall, Jenna took note of Dr. Aiza's diplomas. They were from several distinguished colleges and universities.

On another wall, she paused to admire a painting. It was titled, "Gran Desfile de Carnaval". It was signed "Miguel Aizo". Jenna recognized the name. It was the same one she had seen at the office entrance. Jason's psychiatrist had painted this scene.

Jenna took greater interest in the art piece. It portrayed a crowded square, with cobbled streets and old buildings in the backdrop. Jenna thought it must be an old european city -- Italy, perhaps. No, Spain. There were dozens of people in the square, men and women. Most were dressed in elaborate, colorful costumes. All were dancing and laughing. Some wore decorative face masks, mostly of animals: a pig, a cat, a horse. One man was dressed as a mushroom -- how odd! He was dancing with a woman dressed as a butterfly. The painting really was quite good, very detailed.

Jenna's attention gradually became drawn to one area of the painting, a couple apart from the crowd. They were at the entrance of a narrow alleyway between two buildings. The woman, a dark-haired beauty, was leaning back, her shoulders pressed against the building. Jenna blushed at the sight of her lavish, frilly blue dress, which was now pulled down to her waist. Her ample breasts were thrust upward, her head was tossed back in the throes of passion. The woman had one leg lifted up, curled around the man's hip, pulling him close has he suckled at her bosom.

The man wore a three-piece suit, not a costume. His hands were busy rubbing at the woman's crotch. Jenna found herself leaning closer and closer, trying to make out even more of the painting's details. There was something familiar about the couple, or at least the woman ...

"And you must be Jenna."

Startled, Jenna turned to see a tall, handsome man standing immediately behind her. How long had he been there? Had he seen her gawking at the painting? How could he not have? Was this--

"I am Miguel."

Dr. Miguel Aiza was slightly taller than her husband. He had short, black hair and intensely dark eyes. He was dressed sharply in a three-piece Armani suit, a crisp white shirt and plain, black tie. When Jenna reached out to shake his hand, Dr. Aiza turned her hand slowly, palm down, and then lifted it to his lips.

"How we greet a lovely, young lady in my home country," he said, staring intently into Jenna's eyes. His rich, spanish accent was thick, baritone and rumbling. It stirred something deep inside her.

Jenna tried to turn toward her husband, wanting to see his reaction to this man. She found, however, that she could not take her eyes away from Dr. Aiza's stare. As his lips brushed against the back of her fingers and lingered there, Jenna blushed. She tilted her head and smiled at him, charmed.

"Jason has told me so much about you," he said.

His eyes released her gaze. That's the best way Jenna would describe it to her girlfriend later the next day -- Dr. Aiza's eyes simply let go of her. She could, if she now chose, look over to her husband. Jenna surprised herself by choosing not to. Instead, she watched as Dr. Aiza's gaze wandered. His eyes seemed to take in every facet and feature of her face, her hair, her neck line ... as his eyes dropped to her chest, Jenna inhaled reflexively, causing her bosom to swell. Dr. Aiza raised his eyebrows in open admiration and nodded.

The doctor still held Jenna's hand. He lifted it and moved it to side, opening the rest of Jenna's body to his viewing pleasure. It was such a brazen and bold move, Jenna did not quite know how to react. And she was more surprised that her insanely jealous husband had not yet reacted -- by leaping from his chair and punching Dr. Aiza in the nose! That most certainly would have happened with any other man who behaved so boldly.

Jenna finally turned to look at her husband -- only to discover her husband was no longer seated in the chair. Jenna became suddenly anxious, her eyes darting to all corners of the small room. Jason wasn't to be seen. As she turned her attention back to Dr. Aiza, she realized he was actually spinning her in a pirouette. He lifted her hand and twirled her around, all the while, taking his time to admire every curvy inch of her body.

"Where is my husband?" Jenna asked, after Dr. Aiza had spun her fully around. She was suddenly uncomfortable being alone in the proximity of this strange man. She wondered if Jason had set her up. What if this was not a couples counseling session at all? What if Jason had tricked her into seeing his psychiatrist alone! Did her mother set Jason up to do this? It would be just like her, that bitch!

"I'm deeply sorry that my assistant is not here to greet you," Dr. Aiza said in his heavily accented voice. And while his voice was quite soothing to listen to, Jenna was troubled that the doctor had ignored her question completely.

"I gave her the afternoon off," he said, sounding almost regretful. "Perhaps next time."

"Next time what?" Jenna asked.

"Please come into my office," Dr. Aiza said, ignoring her question once again.

Dr. Aiza held Jenna's hand high in the air, as if he were walking her out onto a ballroom dance floor. He navigated her around the coffee table, the waiting chairs, past the receptionist's desk, and toward a nearby doorway, opposite the one she had originally entered. Jenna became increasingly nervous.

Dr. Aiza's private office was furnished similarly to the waiting room. Here, too, was that strong scent of lilac. A tall, grandfather clock stood in one corner of the room. There were several more bookshelves in this office, as well as a huge mahogany desk. The desk had a phone on it, nothing else. Dr. Aiza seemingly did not like computers or modern trappings. There were two comfortable sitting chairs nearby, both facing the desk. There was also a short couch to the side, beneath a curtained window. The couch was more like a love-seat, not the type of couch Jenna thought a psychiatrist would normally have.

'Lie down and tell me about your mother,' Jenna mused nervously, recalling suppressed memories of the couch she laid on as a young teen in another doctor's office, the one her mother took the family to when she was younger.

Jenna was relieved to find her husband already sitting in one of the chairs. Dr. Aiza left her side, and went to sit down behind the desk. Jenna gave her husband an angry look as she sat in the chair next to him.

"Where the hell were you?" she hissed, softly.

When he didn't take notice, she huffed in irritation.

"Jason, why don't you start us off. Why are we all here today?"

Jason looked at his wife, and then blinked, as if seeing her there for the first time. He looked her up and down, then turned back to Dr. Aiza.

"Oh, yes, well, our sex life hasn't been that greatest--"

"Non-existent," Jenna muttered.

Jason paused.

"Non-existent," he agreed. "Ever since we got married, it feels like Jenna is doing anything and everything she can to invite solicitations from other men."

"That's ridiculous," Jenna said, waving a dismissive hand at her husband.

"Jenna, please, let him continue," Dr. Aiza said soothingly. "How long has it been since you last had sex?"

"We haven't.Not since before we were married," Jason gestured at his wife. "She dresses so provocatively. And when she dresses like that, every man DOES take notice of her. It makes me so jealous. So angry. All that anger wells up inside, and when it erupts ... well, when it erupts, I say stupid things and we fight. We fight constantly."

"Jason," Jenna said, reaching out to take his hand. "I dress this way to excite you. Other guys look -- of course they do -- but you are the one I want to be noticed by. Those men downstairs? The ones who whistled at me? I smiled at them, yes. But I followed you. I wanted them to know that I was YOUR girl."

"But you dress like a street--"

"Basta!" Dr. Aiza said sharply, silencing Jason with a single word. Jason immediately let go of Jenna's hand, and sat stiffly upright in the chair, eyes forward.

"Jenna?" Dr. Aiza spoke her name as a question. He lifted himself from the chair and came around to the front side of his desk, sitting on one corner. "Do you know what hypnotherapy is?"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Jenna desperately hoped Jason would come to her rescue, that he would tell Dr. Aiza she wanted no part of this, but he said nothing. The doctor sat on the front of his desk waiting for her answer. Jenna looked from her husband, to Dr. Aiza, and back to her husband.