1. The penchant of Daniel McReady
Daniel had always had a thing about tall girls. Even as a lad at school he had lusted after Carry and Joanne, the two tallest girls in his class. They had, of course, not looked twice at him, not in that way. Oh, they had been friendly enough, liked him, worked with him on projects, shared jokes and enjoyed exam success together. But they were hardly likely to want to go out with a five foot three spotty boy with bad hair, not when there were so many tall handsome boys in the school: and even if there hadn't been... probably not anyway.
It was the same at uni. He could have gone out with short girls but he simply did not fancy them. He wanted the tall girls. It was not that he wanted to be dominated by someone bigger than himself: though he might have accepted that. He just liked tall girls, preferably blond but that was not essential, tall with long legs. He was a leg man, more than a tits man.
So Daniel had never had a girl friend and here he was working in an office at twenty-five, a frustrated virgin, still lusting after the tall girls. Actually it was worse than that, lusting after leggy, lanky Simmone who worked in the same unit as he did. She was six foot four and a half in her stockinged feet. He knew the measurement exactly, as it was him who measured her at the last Christmas Party. It had got a bit wild! Yes, wild enough to get the measuring tapes out! It was not, perhaps, the most exciting of firms and the staff's idea of fun could be a little tame.
He'd mentioned Simmone to his flatmate, Chris, who had frankly laughed when he had hinted, when he was rather drunk, that he fancied her. "Your face wouldn't come any higher than her bush," he'd said rather crudely. Daniel actually could not think of anything much more exciting than having his face pressed against Simmone's warm curly hairs, his nose and mouth buried—but he certainly didn't mention that to Chris. That was assuming she didn't shave. He'd love to know that. He'd love to find all sorts of things about her.
Simmone had a rather boyish figure; hips fairly flat and chest to match. But her legs were wonderful and she knew it. Where she found those jeans from Daniel did not know but they flowed tightly over her legs following the contours closely right up and over her small bottom. And the days she wore a skirt, well, that made her legs seem, if anything, longer than when they were in jeans. From her shoes her legs just came on, up and up, until they disappeared into the short skirt she wore. Daniel liked to follow those legs up with his eyes until they disappeared and wonder what lay above and beyond. Her legs seemed to go on forever, like staring up at infinity.
It was a hot summer's day, a day that tends to bring the girls out in summer dresses and pretty frocks. Simmone was no exception. Daniel was almost open-mouthed at her yellow cotton dress. It seemed to him to float around her, the skirt swishing against her long tanned legs as she moved. Higher up, the slight swell of her breasts was visible where the neck swept down to a square cut across her bust. He particularly liked the way the waist was gathered in with a wide ribbon of the same material done up in a big bow to the rear. He wanted to undo the bow. She wore yellow shoes to match and as these had heels they made her even taller. Normally Simmone wore short heels showing she was conscious of her height but today she seemed happy to emphasise it. Daniel loved that—it was difficult for him to keep his eyes off her.
Simmone was talking near his desk to a colleague so he could watch her. Her talk was animated, her body moving in accord. Her legs at first together, moved apart. Daniel stared at her legs; he loved just to look at those knees. Simmone lifted one foot up, her knee bending to a right angle as she stood on one leg before putting it down again. It was something she did when she was talking—probably had done it since she was a little girl—Daniel knew her mannerisms and some of her little habits. His eyes slipped upwards to her thigh between knee and dress, the skin looked so soft and it had such a lovely golden tan. He thought of how soft the skin would be to the touch, he wondered about where the tan stopped and the skin become pale again - did it? He wondered about such things a lot. As he stared he imagined his hand resting on her right knee and then ever so slowly gliding up the inside of her thigh, under the thin yellow cotton dress, running his fingers up the smooth skin until he could feel the other thigh with the back of his hand just before his fingertips touched the slight bulge of her cotton panties—or were they silk? His trousers felt tight under the desk as, in his imagination, his fingertips softly pulled at the material, pulling the elastic so they could slip in to feel soft hairs and then wetness, hot wetness and.... Simmone was looking at him looking at her. He hurriedly turned back to his computer screen feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up his face.
Did Simmone know of his interest, his lust? She had caught him looking at her before, but of course they worked together so there was reason for him to be with her He had not dared ask her out, he feared the rejection—it was better being able to entertain the possibility than know there was no hope. .
He needed her: his need was not deliverable. His frustration at the impossible goal was made worse when their manager reorganised the seating plan so she came to sit opposite him. In one way Daniel was pleased as she was nearer but he had to be so careful not to look up too readily and be caught looking at her without any apparent reason.
Daniel sat in his flat, a cooling mug of coffee in front of him, the television off, just thinking and trying to reconcile his need with reality. He needed to touch Simmone, he needed to feel Simmone, he needed to... There was the loud rattle of the key in the lock and the door banged back on its hinges. Chris staggered in.
"Wotcha mate, dead in here, i'nit?" He made a fairly straight attempt at the sofa and flopped down next to Chris."
"Huh, couple of mates down at t'pub. Yer should've come."
Daniel would not have wanted to—had he been asked. The pub was all right some evenings but not too often. Drowning his sorrows was not his way. He preferred to face them—or at least sit and brood about Simmone. To be honest it was not just Simmone. He looked at other tall girls. That, though, was his lust and Simmone did enjoy the poll position—a head above the competition.
"It's that bleedin' Simon i'nit? Watcha want is something to knock her down to size—to see yer. A quick thwack behind the knees should do it." He laughed.
It was true. Simmone just did not see him. Just a short nobody at the office. He needed something to 'thwack' her behind the knees.
Chris went for a can from the 'fridge and switched on the TV. By the time 'Star Trek—the Next Generation' was finished Chris was fast asleep. Daniel thought of getting up to switch it off and go to bed but that required movement and he could not be bothered. The next programme started. Daniel was hardly listening but the word 'hypnotism' caught his ear and his attention came back to the television.
It was a very formal highbrow discussion. Not an obvious something to schedule right after 'Star Trek' but 'The Next Generation' seemed a late night filler for any time of night. The debate revolved around the degree to which hypnotism could work, its efficacy, its practical application, the benefit in enabling people to stop smoking, cure fears of flying or the dentist and its wrongful application. It was the latter that particularly caught Daniel's interest.
Could he hypnotise Simmone? He could hardly swing a pocket watch in front of her and ask her to follow it with her eyes. She might, just possibly, spot what he was trying to achieve. No things needed to be a lot more subtle. Not so much a 'thwack' across the back of the knees as the repeated application of a feather to make her crumple. He very much wanted her to crumple.
Daniel left Chris snoring on the sofa, feeling much happier and with a plan in mind.
Plans made at two a.m. in the morning do not look so feasible, well thought out or, sometimes, even remotely sensible in the cold light of a morning. How could Daniel introduce the 'suggestive medium' before providing the commands? The idea of 'commands' excited him though he was not sure he would rather be commanded. He certainly had a recurring fantasy of being Simmone's plaything. Sent to do this, fetch that, bring that but so often naked with his cock available for her ready use. Simmone would reward him or use him in a casual manner. A particular favourite was being used to bring her to climax after her big (tall) lover had failed. He visualized her lying naked on her bed, sweaty and frustrated with her thighs lolling open, semen dripping from her looking reproachfully at her big (tall) lover all spent and useless (soft) as she commanded Daniel to finish her off. Sometimes he would imagine himself simply lying on top of her and sinking into her already well-lubricated vagina, slippery from her failed lover's exertions. Daniel would come fiercely, his cock puddling his stomach. Other times he would be commanded to go down on her as if she relished making him taste her lover's spendings. Daniel knew he was reacting to her ignoring him, developing this into her humiliating him in his mind. He did not want that, he wanted a proper relationship with Simmone or, failing that, he wanted her as his plaything—though, he could admit to himself, he would settle for the humiliation if it meant he saw her naked and could have sex with her.
The local library did not help him. Yes, there were books on hypnosis but nothing on how to approach the subject surreptitiously. Daniel was not greatly surprised. Internet research, though, was more fruitful. Dr. Abe Krugrander's research into intermittent light patterns as a conditioning method caught his eye. He read avidly. The idea that different subjects were susceptible to different frequencies or intervals of light pulses was believable. It was also not surprising that the difference between migraine inducing patterns and hypnotic patterns was not great. Dr Abe did not say that the effect was in any way total control rather it opened the subject to suggestion and the implanting of ideas. This was a pity, as Daniel certainly had had thoughts of instant control. He had fantasised sitting across the desk from a blank-eyed Simmone and carefully saying,
"You will visit me tonight for dinner. First you will take a long hot bath perfumed with sandalwood then you will don your long white coat and yellow shoes—but nothing else. You will drive to my flat and knock on the door. When I ask whether I may take your coat you will accept and not be at all perturbed at being naked with me over dinner. Afterwards you will become excited and do your utmost to seduce me."
Usually the fantasy did not get too far beyond this point—just the image in his mind of those long legs rising to their termination revealed as Simmone unbelted her coat and handed it to him was enough to make Daniel explode in his hand. Getting so far as to sit opposite her and chat whilst her sweet little breasts bobbed about over her salad was rare and actually to reach the point of imagining sex was something that virtually never happened. It was of course all in his imagination. He did not know what her breasts looked like, let alone what nestled between her small hips.
