Summary:
Shy divorcee discovers true sexuality with college ex-student.
Note 1:
This is the 5
th
different version of the story. It started with a much more complex plot and was originally written as a third person story. Yet, as it unfolded, I knew it was no longer going to be my typical submissive older woman and dominant younger woman story (sorry if that is what you were expecting).
Now, it has evolved into a unique love story. Thus it is being entered in the
Valentine's Day 2016 Contest Story
. So do please vote if you enjoy.
Note 2:
Thanks to Robert, goamz86, and Wayne for editing this story.
Coming Out Through Hypnosis
They say bad things happen in threes and oddly my three bad things each were a mixture of good and bad. Yet, for me, each of these events caused a great deal of stress and yet led to the crazy end result of me finding my true self. The first two happened over a year ago, but the third was over a year in the making.
One:
My only daughter, Michelle, graduated high school and started college three states over. My daughter and I had an amazing relationship and I realized I hadn't just lost my daughter, but my best friend. Empty Nest syndrome hit me extremely hard.
Two:
My husband left me. This sounds bad at first, but truthfully we had stayed together long past our love expiration date for Michelle. But even though we both agreed it was best, it hurt when he found someone so quickly, while I couldn't even fathom how to start going back into the dating world. I got pregnant with Michelle at twenty-one and married a few weeks before her birth, big-bellied and all, to avoid the bastard stigma. Suddenly, our modest home seemed huge and empty. At thirty-nine, I was completely, utterly alone. I should point out a couple single teachers at work had asked me out, but they knew my ex and it just seemed weird. My friends suggested online dating, and I was thinking about it, but that was as far as it had gone.
Three:
Suddenly alone and not needed as a wife or a mother, I did what many people do, I buried myself in my work. I decided to go for my masters with the hopes of one day being a school councillor or maybe a psychological therapist. After almost a year of having no social life as I researched my paper, I was done. The dean loved my paper and requested I present my findings at a conference in February. I was thrilled by the recognition and equally mortified at the thought of speaking in public to a group of academia. Although I was a teacher and comfortable speaking in front of a group of teens, I was an extreme introvert when in a social setting. If I had a choice between going for drinks with my co-workers or going home to read a book it was a no-brainer: I would go home and read a book. Social settings exhausted me and I avoided them at all costs. It also explained why I had yet to have a single date since my husband and I called it quits. Just the thought of starting over exhausted me. So, I accepted now at nearly forty, I would die a cat lady without cats (although I did have five fish).
That brings me to the real beginning of my story. After accepting the chance to speak (what was I to say? I am scared of public speaking), I realized I had to confront my fears. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and I figured the odds of survival were 50-50.
I pondered my options:
1. Just suck it up and do the speech. (Highly unlikely I wouldn't go into hypothermic shock)
2. Just don't show up that evening. (A brilliant solution to a complex problem, yet had dire career consequences)
3. Run away and start over. (Again a great short-term solution, yet I love my house)
4. See a therapist. (A potential solution, yet the idea of sharing my life and insecurities with a stranger was as nerve-wracking to me as public speaking was)
Suddenly, the light bulb went on above me like in those cool old Looney Tune cartoons. Tara may be my solution.
Tara was the best student I'd ever had. She finished with a 99 percent in my English class (the highest mark I had ever given), she was editor of the school newspaper and was Valedictorian (not because she was the most popular, that was our head cheerleader Amber, but because it was based strictly on the highest average). She also was one of the quietest students in high school, yet was a different person when speaking in public. After her brilliant Valedictorian address, I asked her how she shifted personalities so smoothly; she told me a mixture of meditation and hypnosis. I assumed she was kidding, but would soon learn she wasn't.
Her shyness was also enhanced by her very conservative dress, as if the fifties were coming back or had never left. She wore long dresses and her hair was always in a ponytail. She wore no make-up, her glasses were as nerdy as they come and she seldom broke a smile. Although in the same class as my daughter, they were in completely different social orbits. My daughter was way more like her father: outgoing, popular and kind of pretentious, while in many ways Tara was a younger version of myself and I hoped she could share with me how she overcame her fear of public speaking. Yet, when I called her for help, ten months after she had graduated, I barely recognized her.
She graduated at seventeen and at eighteen had already started her second year as a psychology major. I called her up and asked if we could meet for coffee in early December. Although surprised to hear from a former teacher, she agreed and we arranged a meeting at a coffee shop on the weekend.
When she arrived, I didn't recognize her. Her hair was not in a ponytail and it was platinum blonde, with a couple of red streaks. She was wearing a t-shirt that barely held in her firm breasts and she was wearing a black leather skirt, just above the knee, with black pantyhose and four inch pumps. I was staring at her when she said, "It is great to see you Mrs. Hamilton."
I tried to hide my shock at her complete transformation from geek to chic. It was something I had always fantasized about doing when I was a teenage outcast myself.
I stood up and she pulled me in for a long-time-no-see hug. Once done, we sat down and chatted.
After half an hour of catch-up, where I learned she had really come out of her shell through a mixture of hypnosis and meditation, I explained my upcoming predicament and anxiety, although it was still six months away. Once finished, I took a risk and asked, "Is it possible for you to introduce me to whoever helped you?"
She smiled a warm smile and said, "I could do better than that."
"What?" I asked curiously.
"I could work with you." she offered.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I am on the accelerated track and one of the projects I am working on is a research paper that focuses on hypnosis and self-esteem. If you are willing to be my subject, I will do it for free. And of course, your real name will not have to be used in the paper," she explained, giddy with excitement.
The 'free' idea appealed to me as an underpaid teacher, but the thought that someone I knew and trusted and who was like me would be helping me was equally appealing. After only a moment's consideration, I agreed with a smile, "When do we start?"
Her eyes twinkled as she excitedly asked, giddy like the young girl she was, "Really? This is awesome. We can start whenever you want, Mrs. Hamilton."
I corrected, although I hadn't the first time she said it, "It's Miss Bentley."
"What?" she asked surprised.
I shrugged, "The divorce isn't completed yet, but the name change is."
"I'm sorry," she said, taking my hand in hers.
A strange warmth filled me that I couldn't explain. I smiled, "Oh don't be. I still love him as a person, but we fell out of love with each other."
Tara surprised me again when she asked completely out of the blue, "How long since you have had sex?"
I gasped at the question but answered with a joke, feeling comfortable talking to her as a friend and not an ex-student, "I may be a virgin again."
She laughed and asked, going deeper into her interrogation, "How long since you pulled your own trigger?"
"Oh, I don't do that," I answered, realizing instantly how prudish I sounded.
"Oh my God," she gasped before adding, "We will have to change that."
I blushed beet red at the quick shift in our conversation and changed the conversation topic. "Well, if we are going to have a doctor-patient relationship you should call me by my first name, Katherine."
"I don't think I can do that," she said, her thumb doing tiny, gentle circles on the back of my hand in a relaxing way.
"I insist."
"Ok," she agreed.
