Hypnosis

Author's Note: This story is erotic fantasy written by Cirelo. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission.

Cirelo 2014

Enjoy, and thanks in advance for your feedback!

*****

It was nearly an hour into the show when she arrived. Everyone in the room noticed immediately, Jack included. She was gorgeous, with perfect ivory skin that was exquisitely offset by the midnight black hair that cascaded in gentle curls down her back. She was dressed to impress in a scarlet evening gown that bared her shoulders and had a neckline that made Jack think of phrases like "heaving bosoms". Her hands were covered by matching gloves that went up to her elbows. The outfit probably cost more than Jack paid for a year's rent. Probably a lot more.

It was more than just her looks that attracted the attention of everyone in the room. Granted, she looked like she could be a model, but she also had a presence, a charisma that was almost tangible.

She was accompanied by a man in a suit, but he was a driver or bodyguard, not a boyfriend or husband. Jack could tell from their body language that he worked for her.

He was good at reading body language, on an almost instinctual level. Sometimes he just knew what was going on in a person's mind. It had helped him play for college by selling his art, something he knew was an incredible rarity. It was hard enough to make it in the art business, and making enough to live on and pay college tuition while only painting and promoting his art part time...well, he knew he was very lucky. But it was helped by his intuition. He could tell when someone was interested, and he could tell when someone could afford to buy but needed to be convinced. And he was rather good at convincing.

And now he knew that this woman, with her perfect figure and expensive clothes, needed to be persuaded to buy his painting.

***

It took her almost an hour to make her way around the gallery, almost like she knew he was waiting for her, and she was playing hard to get. She stopped to look at every. Single. Painting. In the whole gallery. She talked to the artists, flirted with other art critics and collectors, and took her time, ignoring him entirely.

In the mean time Jack was busy, of course, chatting with potential buyers, patrons of the gallery. He knew right away which ones were just there to look and which ones might be interesting in another painting of his in the future. None of them were right for the one painting he had here today. It was big, flashy, expensive, not for the average art collector. This one was for her.

Finally, she swayed up to him, her lip quirked in a hint of a smile. She stopped in front of him, just a little closer than most people would, and looked him straight in the eyes. Her eyes were dark, like her hair, eyes that promised dangerous things. Jack did not flinch, did not pull away. He knew she was trying to get the measure of him, and he was definitely not going to back down.

She slowly let her gaze drop away, sliding down his chest, and lower, and then back up to his eyes again. Then, just as the tension was becoming almost to much, she smiled, a quick flash that was gone almost as soon as it arrived, and she deliberately looked past him at his painting.

She was quiet for a moment, still, as she absorbed it. Jack waited, wanting to let her break the silence.

"It's beautiful." Her voice was soft, and rich, like dark honey.

"Thanks." He kept his voice calm, although he felt anything but. This girl, no, this woman, was incredibly sexy. Incredibly, dangerously sexy. And if was going to keep in control of this conversation, make sure that it ended with her buying the painting and him paying his tuition this semester.

"Not exactly daring, stylistically." Ouch. "But it is beautiful."

"I was going for the classical look. Anyone can dump a can of paint on a board and call it 'daring art', but that doesn't make it good."

She glanced at him, smiling a little. Good. "Well said. I tend to agree."

They chatted for another minute or two, about the style of his painting, how he had come up with the idea, the usual chitchat between an artist and an art appreciator. Not terribly interesting, but part of the dance. Something to fill the air, to give her a chance to study the painting.

"So, you like it?" He said, finally. He said it the way he said things when he wanted someone to agree, with just a little extra something. She looked at him sharply, eyes narrowed like she had been startled. That was odd.

She said nothing for a moment, just stared at him. Then "I find that I do like it. How interesting." She stared at him for another moment, as if deep in thought.

"Very well, I'll buy it. But I want you to deliver it yourself. Tomorrow evening, nine o'clock. Michael, give him a card." She turned abruptly away, and started walking for the door. The bodyguard, or valet, or whatever, handed Jack a business card, then followed her out of the gallery.

Jack stared at the card. It was glossy black, with an address written in elegant white script on it.

Well, that had not gone exactly as he had expected, Jack mused, but at least it was a sale. But why did she want him to deliver it himself? He would do it, of course. There was no reason not to, other than the simple oddness of the request. But poor college students could hardly be choosers, so to speak. And besides, maybe he would get a commission or something.

***

"So, how'd it go tonight?"

Jack paused in wrapping his painting in brown paper, and looked up smiling. Sarah had such a cheerful voice, he couldn't help it. "Great. I sold it."

"Excellent! Congrats." She held out her fist, and he touched her knuckles with his. "Honestly I wasn't sure you were going to. It's a little pricey."

"Oh ye of little faith. I just had to find the right person."

"Well, I'm happy for you. And I bet Michelle is thrilled." Michelle was the owner of the gallery, and Sarah's boss.

"Yeah, she was pretty happy. I guess she didn't think it would sell either."

"Well, she took kind of a chance on you. That painting doesn't exactly fit in with our usual stuff. Or our usual customers. You should buy her a bottle of wine or something to say thanks."

"Heh, it's not her I owe a bottle of wine. She never would have let me in here without your recommendation. So thanks!"

"No problem. What are friends for?" She leaned against the wall, watching as he finished wrapping the paper around the painting. She was short, a bit over five feet, with bright green eyes, a few freckles, and red hair the color people who dye their hair red are going for. She was wearing a short black cocktail dress, but she had taken off her high heels. She always dressed up for gallery special events, but after three hours her feet must have been hurting.

Jack stepped back from the painting, and looked at Sarah. "So, what are you up to after this? Want to get some coffee? Or maybe that wine you said I owe you?"

Sarah smiled, and Jack's heart beat a little faster. But then... "No, I can't, sorry. I'm meeting up with Chris later."

Chris. Her boyfriend. Of course. "Hey, no worries. I guess I'll see you on Monday then."

She frowned. "Ugh, don't remind me. We have a quiz."

"Whatever, you're brilliant, you'll be fine."

"Heh, yeah right." She pushed herself off the wall. "Well, I guess I had better go. 'Night Jack"

"Goodnight."

***

It was just a little before nine the next evening, and Jack stood on the street in front of one of the most expensive high-rises in the city. It had taken him nearly twenty minutes to find a parking spot, and five minutes to walk from there. He was glad he had left a little early when he realized the address on the card was downtown.

The building was making Jack feel a little intimidated, which he assumed was what whoever had designed the thing was going for. The building was big, and the entrance was imposing and fancy enough that it seemed to demand a similar level of visible status from anyone who wanted to come inside. Standing in front of it in his not-name-brand jeans and a dress shirt that was in fashion several years ago, and awkwardly holding a painting as tall as he was... well, no matter. He might as well get it over with.

Steeling his nerves, he walked through the front door. It was opened for him by a doorman wearing white gloves. He avoided the concierge, who gave him a strange look but otherwise ignored him, and headed to the elevator. The address on the card did not have an apartment number, just the address and "Penthouse".

He hit the button for penthouse.

The button lit up red, but for a moment nothing happened. Jack was about to try punching it again when there was a click, the light changed to green, and the elevator started to move. Huh.

It was a fast elevator, so Jack had hardly any time to think before it stopped with a soft "ding". The door slid open onto a small, but beautifully decorated foyer. It was obviously a private lobby. Wow.

Standing in the lobby, looking impatient, were two drop-dead gorgeous girls. Teenagers, really, maybe eighteen or nineteen, although Jack was not great at guessing ages. They were both blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauties, and clearly identical twins. They were even wearing matching dresses, although one was red and the other blue. They were both holding their high-heels in the hands, and staring at him.

"Mmm," murmured the one on the left.

"Mmm indeed," murmured the one on the right.

"He's exactly what she said he would be."

"He sure is."

"Well," the one on the left said a little louder, to Jack. "You had better get on inside, pretty boy. She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

They pushed past Jack, and he stepped out of the elevator to let them in. "Sometimes she does," said the second girl.

"That's not waiting, that's anticipating."

"Oh, right. Well, she's been anticipating this guy all day!" The sisters grinned at each other, and the elevator door closed.

What the hell?

Jack just stood and stared at the closed elevator door for a moment in confusion. What was that all about?

A man cleared his throat behind him, and Jack spun around. The valet from last night was standing there.

"Sorry," Jack said. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Understandable," said the valet. Or was he a butler? "Those two can be somewhat distracting. Which is probably why the lady likes them."

"Distracting. Yeah." Jack shook his head, to clear it. "Well, I brought the painting..."

"Yes, this way please." The valet turned, opened a door, and gestured for Jack to go through.

Jack started to walk, but paused. "Um, what's your name? If you don't mind. I just..."

"Michael. I don't mind." He smiled, and actually looked a little flustered. It struck Jack as a little odd.

"Thanks, Michael. Uh, I guess I'll see you later." Jack hefted the painting, walked through the door, and it closed behind him.

He was standing in a huge living room, the likes of which he had only seen on television. It was decorated in a modern style, mostly grays and blacks and whites. It was gorgeous, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the huge bay windows that covered one whole wall. They looked out over the city, and the view was spectacular.

"So this is what a penthouse apartment looks like," he murmured.

"Well, this is what my penthouse apartment looks like."

Startled, Jack looked towards the voice. It was the woman from the gallery.

She was wearing a black dress this time, instead of the red evening gown. Although, it was short enough that it probably was called a slip or something rather than a dress. It matched her hair, and offset the pearly white of her skin.

She was sitting on one of the leather couches, her legs crossed and her arms stretched out across the back of the couch. The position raised her chest, exposing a large expanse of her full breasts, the low-cut dress only barely covering her nipples.

"Hello, Jack."

"Hi...um, I don't actually know your name."

"Don't you? How disappointing."

And just like that, Jack realized that he did know her name. It was Stephanie. But how did he know? She certainly had not told him. Or at least he couldn't remember her telling him. Right?

"It's...it's Stephanie. But..."

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad you know my name. And thank you for bringing my painting. And you wrapped it up just like I asked."

What?

"I wrap up all my paintings like this."

"Do you really? With a little red bow?"

Jack looked at the paper-wrapped painting, which did in fact have a little red bow on it. He had put it on just before he left his apartment to come here. In fact, he had picked it up at the store when he was grocery shopping that morning. And he was not quite sure why he had. It seemed like a good idea for some reason.

"It...uh, it seemed like it would be nice..."

"Don't let it worry you Jack. I only had you put a bow on it so I could be sure you would listen to me. I wasn't sure...you are a rather special case."

"What do you mean?"

"

Put the painting in the corner there, and come sit by me

. I will explain."

Jack put the painting in the corner that she indicated, walked back to her, and sat on the couch next to her.

Stephanie smiled, and said "Good. Now, this is going to be a little hard for you to accept. I don't usually bother trying to explain it. But like I said, you are a special case."

Stephanie put her hands on his shoulders, leaned in close, and whispered "Jack, I can make you do whatever I want."

Jack jerked back. "What? What are you talking about?" He stood up, agitated. "Look, just because you're rich and stuff, and bought a painting doesn't mean that-"

"Jack,

sit down on the floor

."

"-you can just order me around!" Jack sat down on the floor, his legs crossed in front of him. "I only brought you that painting here because I was being nice! I..." He looked down at his legs, crossed in front of him. "I wanted to sit down."

"Of course you did. Now

stand up

."

Jack stood. "But, I wanted to stand. I didn't do it because you said to!"

"Really? Do you want to sit down again?"

"No."

"

Sit down

"

He sat. "What the hell?" He sat down because he had wanted to sit. Hadn't he? A moment ago he had not, and then she said to sit and suddenly he had wanted to. Whoa.

He looked up at Stephanie. She was watching him intently, but said nothing. "Okay, what did you do?"

She smiled. "Well, that's the trick, isn't it? I'm not really sure, to be honest. I only know that it does work, and I know a little about how it works." She leaned back and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Jack took a moment to enjoy the effect that had on her cleavage, and then focused on what she was saying.

"I've had the ability since I was a child. From what I can tell, it works a little like post-hypnotic suggestion, but without hypnosis. It's not perfect. I can't control people directly, I just have a very strong influence on desire.

"You're probably wondering why I'm telling you any of this. It actually makes it a little harder to affect you if you know what's going on. It gives you a chance to resist. But you are very special, Jack."

"What do you mean?"

"You're like me. You have the ability, just like I do. Or at least, you have the potential. I felt it when you told me that I should buy your painting. You've probably been using it a little your whole life, without realizing. But I'm going to teach you." She leaned forward, looked him right in the eyes. "Do you want me to teach you?"

"I don't know. How do I know you're not doing it to me right now?"

"I'm not. And I can teach you to notice when it happens. I can teach you how to tell the difference between your own feelings and the feelings that are put there. But look around you." She made a sweeping gesture, indicating the penthouse. "It brought me all of this. It is a gift, Jack. And I want to give it to you. All you have to do is accept it."

She leaned back again. "But you don't have to give me an answer now. I know what you'll say in the end. Anyway, that wasn't the only reason I brought you here." Her lips twisted in a slight smile. "A girl has needs, after all."

"Now," she murmured, batting her eyelashes. "Don't you

want me

?"

Desire crashed over him like a wave, and he heard it then, for the first time. It was a slight difference in the emphasis of those two words, a subtle weight to them that somehow bypassed his conscious mind and went straight to his emotions. As soon as he realized the difference, he knew he could do the same thing, that he had in fact been doing it without realizing it for a long time. It was how he managed to sell his paintings the way he did.

The realization flashed through his mind, along with the knowledge that she was manipulating his emotions. But it was only a vague whisper in the back of his mind as raw animal desire ripped up through his consciousness, a fiery torrent that tossed aside every other thought. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.

He was rock hard instantly, and moving toward her before he even noticed, tearing off his shirt as he went. He could see buttons popping off and hitting the floor, but he didn't care.

"Whoa there, tiger.

Slow down

." He did, staggering a little to keep his balance after moving so fast. "I guess I put a little too much force into that one. Just wanted to make sure you noticed. Now, don't you

want to please me

?"

"Oh, yes," he moaned. He really did. She was gorgeous, the sexiest woman he had ever seen, and he wanted to give her every ounce of pleasure he could.

"Good. Now show me what you can do."

Jack knelt in front of her, first on one knee, then both. She was looking at him with a hungry expression. Not at his face, but at his chest, bared now that his dress shirt was hanging open. He was not extremely muscular, but he was toned. He rarely worked out, but his body didn't seem to care. Jack did not know why it happened that way, but right now he did not care, he was just enjoying the way Stephanie was looking at him.

He reached forward and touched her foot, gently. Her toes were perfectly manicured, painted a light red that matched he lipstick. He slowly slid his hands up her perfectly smooth legs, gently caressing her skin. Up, past her knees, along the outside of her thighs until he reached the bottom hem of her filmy black dress. The way she was sitting on the couch, legs just slightly apart, he could just barely see the dark triangle of her panty-covered pussy.

He slid his hands under the bottom edge of her dress, still on the outside of her thighs. The dress was light and silky, although he was not sure what material exactly. It bunched up a he gently slid his hands higher, exposing more of her creamy skin. She shifted her weight, the bottom of the dress slipped up under and past her ass, and finally he could see her tiny panties. It was a black thong that matched the dress, lacy, and almost see-through.

Jack grinned in anticipation, and slid his hands up to her hips. He slipped his fingers under the string waistband of the thong and pulled, slowly sliding them down. She lifted her hips again, and the panties slid off, exposing her pussy. He continued to pull them off and slide them down her legs and off onto the floor, but his eyes were locked on his prize.

Her pussy was beautiful, shaved smooth and perfectly plump. Her inner lips peaked out from the outer lips just a little, like a tiny pink flower. A single, tiny droplet of clear liquid clung to her inner lips, an indication of her arousal that encouraged him.