The Power Of Suggestion
Just a gentle little story about a stage hypnotist, and a sceptical, arrogant women who thinks she's too strong minded to be hypnotised.
I met a rather lovely woman, about medium height, 5'6" or 7" tall, long, dark, straight hair, with very pale skin and deep blue eyes. She was a stunner, with a figure to die for, and long shapely legs with fine-boned trim ankles. In short, everything I looked for in a woman, but she had a certain arrogance about her that I didn't find so attractive. She was intelligent alright, another trait I find attractive, but "mouthy," with it, and sceptical about everything.
'Rubbish, I've never heard of that,' seemed to be one of her stock phrases. I gently pointed out that she'd never heard of me until that evening, and yet here I undoubtedly was, therefore the fact that she hadn't heard of something didn't mean it didn't exist. With a snort of derision, she just blanked that, ignoring me, and moving on to another topic of conversation.
I should also explain that we were not alone, the company was pretty mixed, male and female, about eight or ten of us, some of my old school friends, various wives and girlfriends, and Harriet, the woman in question, who was a friend of Janice, Andy's wife. Andy was my best friend, we'd been friends at school, and although we didn't see each other for long spells these days, each time we met up it was like we'd never been apart.
As the evening wore on the company began to thin out, with various people drifting off home, or on to other things until just Andy, Janice, Harriet and myself were left in the restaurant. The turning point of the night was when Andy asked, if I was still doing my, 'theatrical,' thing, to which I replied that I was. This seemed to pique Harriet's interest, but then, it does with most people.
The vast majority of the population have what they consider to be boring, mundane, nine to five jobs, and anything out of the ordinary, like a musician, actor or such like, really makes you the centre of attention, even if only for a little while. When Harriet asked me to tell her all about it, I explained to her that a few years earlier I'd become an assistant to a stage hypnotist, and had gradually been taught the required skills myself.
He was a thoroughly nice older gentleman who had been a clinical hypnotist, but through some scandal, and he never told me what it was, had given up his practice, and developed an act to take on the stage. This had all happened many years before I met him. I had now taken over his act, and that's what Andy meant by my, 'theatrical thing.'
To explain fully, I had started as his, "stage manager,' and driver, but over the months he'd come to rely on me more and more. We got on really well, and he started to pass on tips, tell me what he was doing, why he did things in certain ways, letting me into the, 'trade,' secrets. I was eager and willing to learn, and by this time, he realised he couldn't go on forever and started to teach me in earnest.
For my part, I took it to the next stage, reading as many books as I could on the subject, and watching instructional film's as well as going to hypnotherapy seminars and so on. I really immersed myself in the subject in my spare time, while still working as his assistant. Gradually he introduced me into the act, giving me little bits and pieces to do, which I did well, if I do say so myself, until I could have done his entire act myself, and more.
One night, after the show, we were relaxing, and having a late night meal in a restaurant, when he announced that he was going to retire. He was of an age, he said, when it was time to come off the road and take it easy, spend some time with his grandchildren and family, and so on. I expressed mild surprise because, to be honest, I knew he loved every minute of what he did, but he just said that he was tired, and it was time to go. I later found out that he had been diagnosed as terminally ill, which of course concentrates the mind on what is really important.
Over this momentous meal, we thrashed out the details. He would hand over everything to me; his act, his bookings for the next year and a bit, contact details, introduce me to his theatrical agents, and I in return would pay him ten per cent of my income for the next two years. I knew he had many thousands of pounds worth of bookings, so to refuse or try to bargain him down never entered my mind. As I said previously, he was a thoroughly nice man, a real gentleman, and so the deal was concluded, and we shook hands on it. That's all there was. No legal papers, no formal contract, it was all done on our mutual word, and a handshake.
His one piece of advice to me was that I should change things to suit myself, and not just carry on with
his
act.
'You're young and good looking,' he said, 'sex it up a bit, and push the barriers as much as you can. Nothing makes people laugh so much as something that should be secret. Make it sexy, make it funny, and you'll never be out of work.' With that in mind, I changed the act over the coming months, and it worked.
Of course I didn't tell her all this, just the bare facts that I had been the 'sorcerer's apprentice,' and was now doing it myself.
'It's all nonsense of course isn't it?' Harriet scoffed. 'You must pay them to get them to do such stupid things.' I patiently tried to explain what it was I did, and that it was absolutely genuine, only to be met by that dismissive snort of derision once again.
'Nobody could hypnotise me,' she declared, adamant that only weak minded fools would be gullible enough to believe all that shit. She was beginning to really irritate me by this time, so I challenged her to submit to a little experiment right here in the restaurant. If I succeeded in hypnotising her here at our table, she would pay the drinks bill, but if I couldn't hypnotise her, then I would pay the entire meal for the four of us. She smiled and reached across the table to shake my hand.
'It's a deal,' she declared, and so we started, with me trying to put her, 'under,' and her giggling, but to tell the truth, once she began to take it seriously, she was relatively easy to hypnotise. I then took her through some techniques to induce a deeper hypnosis, right there in front of Andy and Janice who had no clue what I was doing anyway, making her even more susceptible to my suggestions. To prove to Andy and Janice that I had succeeded, I got her to believe she was Janice's pet dog, and when Janice reached across the table to pet her, she licked Janice's hand like the good little doggy that she thought she was. While Janice and Andy were laughing hysterically at this, and not paying too much attention, I implanted the suggestion that when I said, 'sleep,' she would sleep no matter where she was, and then I woke her up.
Andy and Janice were still laughing when she woke up, totally unaware of what had just happened, and she looked from one to the other.
'What's so funny you two?' she asked looking puzzled.
'They're just laughing at me for trying to hypnotise you, and failing so miserably,' I explained, jumping in quickly before they told her what happened, which of course set them off, laughing even more. I caught the waiters attention and when he came over, I asked him for the bill. Andy protested, but I winked at him, to keep the joke going, and not let her know what had just happened.
'No, no Andy,' I said, sounding suitably chastened, 'I lost the bet, thanks to Harriet being so strong minded, so I'll pay the bill. It's a pleasure to treat old friends when I can anyway.'
When she saw me pay the bill, it reinforced her conceit that I had been unable to hypnotise her.
'See,' she said as we were getting up to leave, 'I told you it wouldn't work on me.' We all agreed that she was far too clever for me. Outside the restaurant, Andy and Janice, opted for home, and I asked Harriet if she would care to accompany me to a nearby pub for a, 'nightcap,' one last drink before we headed to our respective homes, and she agreed as I knew she would. She was still highly suggestible.
I ordered, some drinks, white wine for her, and a soft drink for myself, and we found a nice, secluded table tucked away in a corner. We sat looking across the table at each other, and as she gave me a glorious smile, I just said, 'sleep,' and snapped my fingers. She went under immediately - the post hypnotic suggestion working to perfection. She was still sitting upright, the only outward sign, was that her head had slumped forward a little bit, but to all intents and purposes, she was perfectly fine to outside observers.
Again, I took her deeper and deeper, reinforcing my hold over her and implanting some new suggestions for her to consider, and then I took her out of it.
'When I count backwards from three to one, you will waken up feeling wonderful. 3-2-1, and waken.' She lifted her head, blinked, then carried on smiling at me as she had been doing before I put her under.
'How on earth do you make a living at being a stage hypnotist, when you're so obviously rubbish at it?' was her opening gambit. I smiled, although irritated, my only consolation being that in a minute or two she would find out just how good I really was.
'Oh, I get along just fine. In fact, I'm one of the best and highest paid hypnotists in this country,' I answered, expecting that snort of derision, which was duly forthcoming.
'Hardly, I can't believe that' she said mockingly. 'Okay, I know I'm particularly strong-willed, which is why you couldn't hypnotise me, but there must be others like me. Don't they bugger up your stage act?' Again I just smiled, tolerating her delusions, knowing what I knew.
'Well, they could, but it's never happened so far,' I replied, giving her another clue, which she was too arrogant to heed. Just then I took a slow sip of my drink, and she shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment, and even adjusting her position in her chair. She looked at me again, puzzlement in her eyes, and then I took another sip. This time she gasped out loud, her eyes closing again.
'Are you alright Harriet?' I asked, seemingly concerned. She looked at me, and smiled a faint little smile.
'Y...yes, I'm okay, I'm fine,' she said, her voice very quiet. She was trying to work out what was happening to her, but just couldn't figure it out, and her cheeks were showing a fine blush of excitement. Time for a, 'frank,' declaration of interest I thought. If I like a woman, I don't see any point in beating about the bush; I just tell her, and leave it up to her to decide what she wants to do about it. It saves a lot of time.
