Darla had tried everything to quit smoking. Gum. Meditation. Acupuncture. Therapy. Nothing ever worked, not even for a day. The one thing she hadn't tried was hypnosis. She was skeptical it would work on her. She considered going to a professional, but how would she know if they were a quack? After weeks of agonizing, and chain smoking from the stress of trying to quit smoking, it came to her. She could go see a stage hypnotist, to see if they could actually do it, then she could approach them to see if they could help.
Luckily, Las Vegas was the place to find any sort of entertainment available. She found herself with three choices. Two were men, one was a woman. For some reason, her heterosexual self felt weird about being put under by another woman. That left two. One was "The Great Hypnotico," the other just used the name Alan Miller. The first one sounded far too goofy, so she went with the second. A phone call later, she had reservations for a Saturday matinee.
The opening act was a really crappy comedian. It was made worse by Darla not wanting to drink. She wanted to be sober to be hypnotized, if it did happen.
When Alan Miller was introduced, and stepped out of the curtain wearing a classic black Zoot Suit, Darla was surprised how handsome he was. A guy like him could be a model, not doing penny ante hypnotism shows. He gave an introduction then, as Darla had expected, he asked for a volunteer from the audience. She kept silent. Alan selected a mousy, withdrawn, young woman and led her to the stage. Darla was impressed he hadn't simply picked the girl with the biggest tits in the room. Darla could see that woman, and she had volunteered. She was busy pouting now.
Alan didn't use a watch or anything special like that. Just his voice and the occasional hand gesture. He began his induction, using a slow relaxation technique and multiple countdowns. His patience paid off, as the girl drifted away, right in front of the audience. Next, he led her through a typical series of tricks. He did the classic, cluck like a chicken. He had her forget her own name. The piece de resistance was him having this shy young girl give him a surprising erotic dance, that almost turned into a lap dance. Darla was amazed she would act like that in public. Maybe, this guy really knew what he was doing.
After almost an hour, Alan finally returned her to consciousness. The crowd gave the woman a huge ovation as she nervously returned to his seat. Alan bid the crowd good night, and the show was over. The crowd began to file out, but Darla hesitated. Would she go see him? Could she even get to him? She was lost in thought when she heard the usher.
"May I help you, miss?"
She made up her mind.
"Would there be any way I could see Mr. Miller?"
"Of course, Mr. Miller loves to hear from fans. He's with someone else right now. Would you mind waiting? I can take you to our green room."
"That sounds great."
The phrase "green room" sounds great, until you learn it's an oversized closet, crammed with chairs, there's garbage everywhere, plus the food has been picked over to the point there's only honeydew left. Darla felt nervous. She kept thinking about chickening out. She also craved a cigarette. That, ironically, was what kept her there.
Almost ten minutes later, the usher returned and asked her to follow. When they reached a door with a paper star taped to it, the usher knocked. The door opened, but it wasn't Alan who answered it. It was the big breasted woman who hadn't been invited onstage.
She turned back, waved and said "Thanks, Alan."
Darla heard his reply, "It was my pleasure."
The woman bounced away, literally bounced, in more ways than one. Darla wondered how anyone with tits that big could go without a bra. She needed one herself, but not that badly.
"Come in," Alan called.
The dressing room was a step up from the green room, but hardly the Ritz.
"Hello," said Alan with a smile. He had removed his jacket. Darla took one look at his swimmer's build, not overly muscular, but as cut as a Greek statue.
"Hi," she said, nervously, "I'm Darla, Darla-"
"He cut her off, "First names will do. Now, how can I help you?"
"I want to quit smoking," she blurted out, happy to just get it off her chest.
