Hypnosis and the Happy Hippy

Mentioned in the two-part series, The Hen Do, Zeb was a friend with some special skills. This story and others to follow explain his part in our heroine's enlightenment.

"In the Beginning" by Grahame Edge is a poem on The Moody Blues 1969 album, Threshold of a Dream.

"Astronomy Domine" and "Careful With That Axe, Eugene" are songs on Pink Floyd's 1969 Ummagumma album.

Hergest Ridge is a studio album by Mike Oldfield, released in 1974.

As usual, characters depicted are entirely fictional. Although Sandra, Jay and Zeb may, or may not, bear some tentative resemblance to some real-life humans, this may or may not be purely coincidental.

***

"You don't half fancy him," Jay blurted out when Zeb had gone to the bar.

"No, I don't," I protested.

"Course you do," he insisted.

"What makes you say that?"

"You've been fluttering your eyelids at him all night."

"Bollocks!"

"And hanging on his every word."

"No way!"

"Holding his gaze. Leaning into him when he talks," he observed.

"Oh, come on..."

"I don't mind," Jay interrupted.

"You say that but..."

"No! Really. He's hardly a threat. Why would you buy Asti when you've got Champagne at home?"

"A bit cruel," I argued, "maybe a Chardonnay."

"He wishes! Anyway, if I can put up with Big Dave fawning all over you, I can cope with a bit of eyelash-fluttering."

"He does not fawn all over me," I objected.

"Ah! So you admit to the eyelash-fluttering?"

I opened my mouth to reply but caught sight of Zeb returning with three pints. "I'll get you later," I said.

Zeb was a Christ-like character, in looks anyway. Unkempt brown hair and a wild beard camouflaged what I imagined was a handsome face. He was the son of a spiritual healer whom we'd met at the local Spiritualist Church a few months prior. Jay and I were spiritual people, but the dogma and restrictions of organised religions did not sit well with us and began seeking alternatives. We had dabbled in some of the eastern philosophies of Buddhism, Hinduism, Sufism and the likes. Spiritualism was a little too "Christian" for my liking, but it did somewhat break out of Christianity's rigidness. Of course, "real" Christians believed it to be the work of Satan, which was a bonus in my eyes. Besides, the meditations were fantastic.

We had no idea why Zeb was called Zeb; we'd never asked him and he hadn't volunteered the information. I seem to remember his mother calling him Michael at one point, but that may have been my imagination.

"There you go, Pussycat," said Zeb as he placed the drink in front of me. He'd called me that since the day we'd met for some reason, Jay never seemed to object. "There you go, man," he said to Jay.

"Keep as cool as you can," Jay contributed, "Face piles of trials with smiles."

Zeb joined the recital, "It riles them to believe that you perceive the web they weave."

I helped them complete the rhyme. "And keep on thinking free!" We all giggled and clinked our glasses.

It felt like the whole pub had turned to see what the cacophony was about.

"Gotta love the Moodies!" Zeb said, as if speaking to everyone in the pub. Of course, he referred to The Moody Blues, whose poem, 'In the beginning' we had just butchered. Everyone went back to their chatting.

"Lovely to see you again, my friend," Jay offered.

"Let's not carry it on, eh," I stopped him. He pulled a sad face.

"Hey, you know what your mum said in there," Jay spoke to Zeb, "it was pretty spot on." He was referring to Zeb's mother's message during the open circle.

"Yeah?" Zeb queried.

"Yeah, she said things took a turn for the better a couple of months ago. Well, I got my licence back.

"Wow! Cool man. How'd you wrangle that?"

"I appealed, and it got heard in the crown court. Even the prosecution brief was helping me out. Judge prompted me to mention that none of the offences constituted a danger to others."

"Cool."

"He said he couldn't understand how a magistrate could impose a three-year ban for such minor offences, even though there were a lot of them. Fucking boss, he was."

"So, you got the ban lifted?"

"He reduced it to three months, crafty bastard. That meant the driving ban was up a few days later, so I couldn't claim compensation."

"At least you got it back. Getting another car?"

"No, we're not," I chipped in. "We can't afford it."

"What she said," said Jay, sarcastically, and stood up to go to the gents, Zeb watching him disappear through the door.

"You have no idea how gorgeous you are, have you?" Zeb complimented once the toilet door had closed.

"Piss off."

"Really, you are. And he hasn't a clue how lucky he is."

"I'm the lucky one. Have you seen him?"

"He's not my type."

"Believe me. He could have his pick of anyone."

"Yet, he's with you," Zeb took hold of my hand. "Why do you think that is?"

"Probably 'cause I'm a good shag," I blushed when I realised what I'd said. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Well, you can prove that to me one day."

"In your dreams, pal!"

"Very often, Pussycat. Very often."

"Behave!" I said, pulling my hand away. "He's obviously with me for my personality, not my looks.

"Oh, my poor, insecure Pussycat."

"Meow!" I mocked.

Jay came back and sat down, looking at my red cheeks.

"I was just telling your lovely girl here how she should be more sure of her beauty," Zeb told Jay.

"Too right, she should."

"Okay! Change the subject now," I instructed. We did. We talked about music and how nothing in the charts was worth listening to anymore.

***

It was still warm but breezy as we stepped out of the pub into the fading light of a pleasant August evening. We'd drank enough to generate a warm glow, but not enough to be unsteady. A gentle breeze found its way into my tie-died, ankle-length, wrap-over skirt and caressed my bare pudenda, which was certainly not unpleasant.

I regularly chose commando on summer days like this, but only when Jay was with me and it wasn't too breezy. Rarely talked about in the seventies, there are a lot of health benefits for bare-bottomed women, especially those like me who were prone to yeast infections.

"Fancy coming back to my pad?" Said Zeb. "I've got a few cans and a bit of blow."

We looked at each other. Jay shrugged, I said "Yeah! Why not?"

"Cool man. This way." Taking off up the hill, Zeb assumed that we would follow, which we did.

It was quite a walk to Zeb's "pad" as he called it. So we filled in with idle chatter covering a whole range of hippy-oriented stuff, from mandalas to Hatha yoga, from The Incredible String Band to Pink Floyd.

As I walked, cool fingers of breeze played around my Yoni, opening me up and making the walk even more pleasant. As we crossed a junction, a crosswind caught the flap of my skirt, which blew open, but no one noticed. The notion that someone may have caught a glimpse set the butterflies aflutter in my stomach, while the sensible girl in me was embarrassed at the thought.

Before we'd reached Zeb's, I was so aroused that I was wishing Jay had taken me straight home and we'd shagged each other to sleep.

***

We had never been to Zeb's flat. In the months that we'd known him, and become friends since we'd all hit it off immediately, he'd not invited us back before. It was further than we thought. Twice as far from the pub as our bedsit, Zeb's flat was also in the opposite direction. The walk had taken about twenty minutes.

Zeb lived above a news agent's shop and was, to be polite, Bohemian. His settee was an old double mattress bent into an L-shape against the wall. A grand mandala print in vibrant colours disguised the mattress. His walls were a beautiful shade of deep purple with a paler shade on the paintwork. It reminded me of Jay's old flat before the fire. We weren't together in those days, but had the same circle of friends. Well, more accurately, his girlfriend, Lillian, was my best friend. It would be fair to say that she isn't any longer.

A variety of rugs adorned the black-painted floor boards, adding to the Bohemian ambience. Heating was provided by a fancy looking paraffin fire that invoked a certain nostalgia; Jay had heated his abode with a similar device. Zeb lit a sandalwood joss stick while Jay and I had taken turns in his toilet. As we settled down on the mattress-settee, Zeb brought in a cheese sandwich for us both, which we appreciated. He returned from the kitchen a final time, sporting three cans of lager.

"Cheers, Zeb," Jay said, eagerly accepting the open can.

"Ta, chuck," I said, taking mine and swigging half of it in a matter of seconds.

"What do you want to listen to?" Zeb offered us a choice of music.

"Depends what you've got, man," replied Jay, slipping back into hippy mode.

"Let's see." He knelt down to the stack leaning against the wall and began flicking through. "I've got Pink Floyd, Genesis, Pink Floyd, Mike Oldfield, Pink Floyd, Pink Floyd, Gong, Camel, Pink Floyd."

"Got a few Pink Floyd then," I commented.

"All of them so far. Even a couple of bootlegs."

"Pink Floyd it is, then."

Astronomy Domine began, and Zeb brought an album cover back to the makeshift couch. Sitting down next to me, we created a Sandra sandwich with Jay on the other side. A shiver rippled through me; it was not from the cold. Tingles from the warm breaths of air still played in my lady garden, enhanced by alcohol and the proximity of two men.

From nowhere, Zeb seemed to conjured up a bag of herbal cannabis; homegrown, I suspected. Deft fingers assembled a seven skinner. I was fascinated by his technique. He magicked the seven cigarette papers together somehow, ran his tongue down the edge of a cigarette and zipped a strip from it. After spreading the contents along the papers, he crumbled what seemed like a huge amount of dried leaves down the same length. How he managed to roll the monster, I have no idea. He rolled a tip (or "roach" as we knew it) from a ripped off piece of fag packet and slid it into one end. I was truly impressed.

Slipping the magnificent joint into his mouth, he lit the knotted end and sparked up another joss stick with the same match.

The unmistakable homegrown smell mingled with the sandalwood incense was intoxicating enough; however, the first toke on that joint sent my mind reeling. I passed it over to Jay who took an enthusiastic draw, then coughed so hard I feared his lungs would pop out. Zeb, however, dragged deep with little effect.

About four inches of joint remained when Zeb asked, "Ever had a blow-back?"

"What?" I don't think it was what jay was thinking.

"Here," he said, kneeling in front of Jay, "put your lips round this and draw."

He put the lit end in his own mouth and the roach in Jay's. As Jay sucked in, Zeb blew out until Jay pulled away, shaking his head.

"Wow!" He said through a throat that could barely speak.

"Your turn." Zeb offered, taking the can from my hand and placing it on the floor.

The joint was now so short that I thought our lips would touch, kissing in effect. I rather think that was Zeb's intention.

Zeb held so much of the burning joint in his mouth that there was barely enough roach to take between my lips. He placed each of his hands on each of my shoulders and leaned in. My eyes darted left to see Jay staring either in awe or jealousy as Zeb's lips sealed mine and I breathed in, tingles shooting down my body. This did nothing to ease my earlier arousal.

I tried to hold, but it was too much; I pulled away, coughing. I sat back and stared at the ornate ceiling rose as Roger Waters whispered from the speakers, "Careful with that axe, Eugene," followed by the longest scream ever.

We all sat staring at the ceiling, taking in the atmosphere until the record needed turning. Zeb turned the vinyl over and the heartbeat timpani began to vibrate the floor.

"You want another can?" Zeb asked.

"Ah, no," I replied.

"That joint was enough for me, ta," Jay slurred a little.

"Hey, ever astrally projected?"

"I haven't," I admitted, "Jay says he has, though."

"Yeah. One day, I was meditating on the floor. I stood up and sat in the chair watching myself until side one of Hergest Ridge finished. Then I went and lay back on my body."

"Wow!" Zeb was impressed. "I've done it a couple of times. Only got as far as the ceiling. Ever gone any further?"

"Nah! Never managed it again."

"Wait there."

Zeb walked out, leaving Jay and me looking puzzled. He returned with two white pills.

"Here. Take one of these, Jay man. It'll take you on a journey."

"Oh. I dunno. I'm wary of pills."

"Ah, no man! This'll make you nice and relaxed and open you mind."

I was never comfortable around pills of any kind. Neither of us had ever taken acid or speed, our kicks coming from alcohol and the occasional joint. We had no reason not to trust him, though, so Jay took the tablet from him and swallowed it with some lager while Zeb changed the disk for Hergest Ridge. It shocked me that he gave in so readily.

"Just lie back, man, and enjoy." Instructed Zeb. "The music will help.

Jay shuffled down, so he was half lying on the floor with his shoulders on the mattress and his head supported on a large cushion.

"How ya feeling, bud?"

Jay sighed. "Spaced out man."

"How about you, Pussycat?"

"I'm mellow. Just mellow." The effects of the dope were taking hold.

Zeb kneeled beside me. His voice softened into a hypnotic tone. "Just relax, man. Breathe deep and slow." He drew out the long vowels and the sibilants. "You too, kid. Lie back."

I copied Jay's position. Kicking off my shoes, I slid down the mattress and had to grab my skirt so it didn't ride up or gape open. Not the most dignified of techniques, but I at least retained my modesty. Zeb knelt and lifted my head to place a pillow underneath. The transition between mattress and floor was slightly uncomfortable initially, and I was reminded of a similar arrangement in Jay's flat. I soon relaxed into it.

"Breathe deep and slow, deep and slow. Allow your eyes to feel heavy and your eyelids to close. In and out. In and out." My god, this was already relaxing and there was something oddly sexy about Zeb's voice.

"Feel the excitement of relaxation on your toes." He paused, and a warm glow enveloped my feet. "Gradually the warmth drifts up to your legs." At this, Zeb's hands stroked my legs through my long skirt, his hand warming the skin.

"Feel that warmth on your knees,"

He stroked my knees.

"Thighs." And thighs.

"Genitals." I tensed, but he just touched my hips at that point.

"Abdomen."

"Chest." The warmth of his hands penetrated my T-shirt and rarely-worn bra as he hovered over my breasts. I tensed again, but his hands remained not touching, but close enough to feel the heat from his palms.

"Up to your neck, filling up your cheeks." He caressed my cheeks.

"And finally, your head."

Although I thought that Zeb had possibly crossed a line by stroking parts of my body, it was pretty harmless and even warming in the nether regions. With Jay lying beside me, Zeb was unlikely to make a move on me.

"Now, relax, deeper," he continued, his already soothing voice softening, "and deeper until all your cares have gone." God, that voice was so soothing.

He carried on talking us into this relaxation, but I no longer heard the words. I could just feel his hands hovering very close to the surface of my body then lightly brushed my breasts. Somewhat bold of him, but I was sure he didn't mean to; after all, Jay was lying next to me. I shivered as my nipples reached out to his fingers.

Zeb's hands continued to hover over my body. He lingered over my Mons Pubis and the presence of his palms broadcast a warm tingle through my sex organs. Having reached my feet, he brought his hands back up.

"As you relax more and more, deeper and deeper, you begin to feel sexy," he didn't really need to suggest that, "and find yourself becoming aroused." I thought that he was pushing it a bit.

"A warm tingling begins at your thighs and works its way up, touching your most delicate vulva and working its way inside." Gosh. I'd never been talked into arousal before. Then he lightly cupped my breast and grazed my nipples with what I assumed were his thumbs. I was too relaxed and too aroused to stop him.

Zeb's hands worked back down and stopped at the hem of my T-shirt. "Feel the warm glow deep in your core." He slid his hands inside to caress my bare stomach. My butterflies began to dance once more, and I became a young virgin, trembling with excitement. "Feel that glow radiating through your body." His hands moved up, inside my T-shirt, to my bra. My resolve overcame the relaxation, and I grabbed them both.

"No. Don't." I whispered. "Jay's just there."

"It's okay," he used the same hypnotic tone, "he's asleep and will be for some time, by the look of it. Just relax and enjoy the warm feeling and the pleasure it is giving."

Helpless under his charm, I let go of his hands and succumbed. He continued to talk and I continue to get wet between the thighs. He fondled my breasts through my bra and my whole torso flushed. A heat rose in my cheeks as they reddened, a mix of embarrassment and arousal. I glanced at Jay to make sure and it looked like he had one eye open but, when I focused, they were tight shut.

"Hey!" Fingers snapped above my head. "Focus.

I looked up at Zeb's index finger hovering above, my eyes having to roll back to focus.

"Look at my finger and breathe, deep and slow, deep and slow." His finger swayed with the slow tempo of the music and I relaxed deeper than before. "Each breath relaxes you deeper, deeper, deeper." My eyelids became heavy as his finger undulated close to my nose. "You don't have to close your eyes," he continued, "and it's fine if you do."

I could not hold open my eyes. Zeb's hands touched my face. They held my cheeks as he spoke. "With each breath, inhale the warm breath warmth of arousal through your sex." My fanny was buzzing like never before. I'd never been so aroused, so quickly, without Jay's tongue licking me down there.

Zeb stroked my face; he stroked my neck; he stroked my ears. All the while he spoke his soft, hypnotic words that were unintelligible to my ears but controlling every nerve in my body. Every word resonated, exploring my body as well as any number of loving hands. Zeb's physical hands glided down my neck, to my shoulders and down my chest, pausing to pay welcome attention to my nipples. They slid down to my waist, then under my shirt and up my bare belly. With no hesitation, his hands slid under my bra and, with deft fingers, levered it over my tits. Shivers raced up and down my body as he, ever so gently, stroked my eager flesh, thumbing and rolling my nipples.

His words registered again. "Breathe in deeply and feel that wave of pleasure rise in your vagina and fill the pits of your stomach." Shit! I was nearly coming just from his voice. "Breathe out and feel the warmth of arousal deep within your organs."

One hand left my breast and moved down to the tie on my skirt. Feeling the pull on the bow, I grabbed his hand again, and the other slid down to cover mine, but didn't try to move it.

"Shh," he breathed, "it's okay. Just relax and enjoy."

He continued to pull at the tie, which fell undone, and my hand, no longer under my control, dropped away, leaving him free to pull one flap of my skirt aside. A cool breeze breathed across me as he pulled the other flap aside. An audible gasp travelled through the air as Zeb realised that he was staring down at my crotch, bare but for the closely trimmed pubic hair. I held my legs firmly together as he began to stroke my thighs.

Hergest ridge ended, and I said, "Shouldn't you turn that over?"