THESPIAN ENDEAVOURS
“I’m a lesbian,” Ness informed me solemnly. I returned her stare without so much as a muscle twitch.
“Oh,” I replied. It seemed the best comeback.
It worked, too; Ness looked very affronted. I suppose she’d expected at least surprise, perhaps she’d hoped for some more concerned reaction; I don’t think she’s interested in me but it’s generally nice to know people are interested in you.
As I was; but I’d heard her telling Sally earlier—she appeared to have decided overnight, since the evening before I knew for a fact she’d been fucking my best mate. He’d told me so, and he’s never been able to lie.
I pondered the safety of asking if she was, in fact and in light of the evidence, bi, and decided against it—hardly my place to drop Duffy in it; as a gentleman he shouldn’t have told me in the first place, but I wasn’t going to let out that he had. Plus I’d never interfere with someone else’s relationship—that’s just not right.
I then considered asking her if it was just the Duffly one’s performance the previous night; but again, it dropped him in it, and I might just get a straight answer, which I could well do without.
All things considered, finding out Ness was on our team—there was a discussion on this subject some time ago, and we decided a much better team metaphor than gay/straight was fancies women/fancies men—was a bit of a downer. She wasn’t the most spectacular looker in the world—her front teeth were a little crooked, and her chin jutted a little. Therefore, when we did the panto each year she got cast as the wicked witch. She had a bitchy streak to her too, sometimes, so she pulled it off.
I realise now I should probably do a bit of scene-setting. In medias res is all very well for raising the readers’ interest by means of giving rise to questions, but some degree of background is required.
We all went to the same university, but were from different years in the course. What linked us was, in our respective Fresher’s Fairs, we’d all signed up for Theatre Group, and were of sufficient quality to get parts in most productions. It was Sheridan this time around; School For Scandal, and we were reaching the dress rehearsal stage. Which, as anyone who’s looked at the BBC dramatisations in recent years can tell you, means only one thing.
Babes in period costume.
Yum.
And, since I was already going with Kerry—standing tall in costume on the other side of the room, warming the cockles of my heart and other places—the looking wasn’t dented by revelations of sexuality, true or—as I, to be honest, suspected—false.
I would have laid money on it, actually; she’d been making eyes at Mike earlier, as she always did, but nothing serious; else I would have had to tell the Duff. But everyone’s allowed a little flirtation, right?
Anyway, you get the gist.
There was a noticeable pause in the conversation before I said “There’s not much you can say to that, really,” and Ness—Vanessa—grinned. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said, and turned and walked off. I headed for Kerry, partly to warn her of Vanessa’s abrupt decision and partly because she looked damn hot, and I figured I was at least owed a kiss, even if nothing else could be done.
“Ness has decided she’s a lesbian,” I said. Kerry’s mouth opened into a perfect o of astonishment.
“No!— Really?”
I shrugged. “Really or not, she’s decided to announce it.” An idea occurred to me, and I tried not to grin. ”Plan 9 From Outer Space is the greatest movie ever made.”
What? Well, it’s common knowledge that a trigger to induce a hypnotic trance should be something unlikely to be overheard accidentally. They’re like voicedial on mobile phones that way; I used to have the Duffster entered on my phone as ‘Wanker’ but I kept accidentally dialling him when I was sitting in a bar.
Kerry’s eyes slipped shut, but apart from that and a sudden increase in stillness the casual observer would have noticed no difference. I leaned close in.
“When Vanessa tells you she’s a lesbian, act surprised and concerned, and tell her that you’re sorry, but your heart is already given elsewhere. Then look longingly across the room at Sally.” I paused for a moment, then, “Wake up and kiss me.”
I could really have just suggested that to Kerry—it was the sort of joke she went in for anyway, when they occurred to her—but she was always a better actor when I’d helped to put her into character. Her eyes opened, her arms came up around me, and our lips, then our tongues, met. Priceless breasts in an expensive costume pressed against me, and I really felt the benefits.
After we broke, she looked at me with a sparkle in her eye and smiled. “Good one,” she said, and walked off; and I reflected that I should probably have asked her to forget what I’d required of her. Nevertheless, I turned and watched, amused. Rhona stepped up next to me and joined me in leaning against the wall, watching.
“What was all that about?” she asked, her Scotch accent thick. I glanced sideways at her, and grinned. “Oh, nothing,” I said. “Just a little joke at Ness’ expense—she’s told you her news, right?”
“Aye,” she said. “Should be good,” she continued, watching Kerry. “Only—what was that about Plan 9? Patrick—” she gestured at a tall man done up to the nines, Sheridan style, talking to Steve, off to our left—“is about the only person in the world who would agree with that.”
I wondered inwardly whether Kerry would complain if I explained about the hypnosis sessions we’d shared, and decided, as always, not to chance it. Rhona would probably be amused, but she might tell other people, and hypnosex... to people who know nothing of the true facts about the extent of the power of hypnosis, which, and let’s not kid ourselves here, is most of the population... has edges of S&M, control-freakism, and OTT mind-control movies.
“Private joke,” I explained. “Getting a bit tired, really. Ah...”
“Here we go,” Rhona agreed, watching Ness approach. “What’d you tell her to do, anyway?”
“Watch and learn,” I said. Rhona and I were too far away to catch the words, but we saw the smouldering look Kerry hit Sally with. Rhona dissolved into laughter as a smile twitched at the edge of my mouth; Ness’ jaw dropped. She had a brief but intense conversation with Kerry, during which my girl laughed a lot, before returning to us.
“She’s not really one,” Kerry announced, sliding one arm around me. “Bi maybe, she says. Apparently she had a pretty good night with Duff last night. He wasn’t stoned for once.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“No, seriously,” she said, looking at me sternly. Then the smile was back. “She said I looked hot, though.”
“Well, ye gotta be polite, ain’t ye?” Rhona said, grinning at me. I returned the smile.
“Aye, right enough.” I got jabbed in the belly with an amused finger.
“’Ere, Kerry,” Rhona said, suddenly semi-serious. “What’s this joke, then?”
Kerry looked at her, puzzled. My face fell, but neither of them seemed to notice.
“What joke?”
“This thing Will here said,” she said. ”Plan 9 From Outer Space is the greatest movie ever made.”
Kerry’s eyes drooped shut. This put me in something of a spot; Kerry could probably have resisted to save the embarrassment, but had instead demonstrated her confidence in me to explain the whole thing. I supposed I should feel honoured, but I figured she’d also run through alternative conversations and didn’t fancy explaining how the private joke had started. So it was left to me.
There was a pause as I tried to think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t be useless profanity, before Rhona waved her hand in front of Kerry’s closed eyes.
“Kerry? Kerry, hen, y’okay in there?”
“Yes,” she answered. Her voice was soft, but otherwise the same as normal. I hoped when I explained Rhona would take that as a good sign.
She looked at me. “What’s goin’ on here?”
I took a deep breath, and let it all out again. “She’s under hypnosis,” I said, quietly.
Rhona, thankfully, dropped her own voice to my pitch. “Wha’?”
Hands on hips now; a girl standing up for her friends.
“Look...” I cast about for a way to explain. Begin at the beginning, I decided.
“Two terms ago,” I said, giving up on it. “King Lear. Right?”
“Aye,” Rhona said, giving me a look which said, quite clearly, there had better be an explanation along this path of conversation damn quick, my lad.
“I was reading some Fu Manchu stuff, Kerry was reading Trilby,” I said.
Rhona nodded. “I remember them lying around the green room.”
“I still haven’t figured out what possessed her to start it... anyway, she got interested in hypnotism, what it’d be like to be in a trance, stuff like that.” I paused, remembering. Rhona didn’t appear too happy, so I continued. “She didn’t tell me any of this, though, until one night... well, she waited until I was in a position where I’d agree to more or less anything—”
Rhona laughed.
“Yeah. And then she asked me to hypnotise her, and I agreed, as we’ve already established I was likely to. So over the holidays I did some research...”
“Ye make good on yer promises, then?”
I did my thespian best to look hurt. “Of course! Anyway, when I’d put her under a couple of times, I decided to leave something behind.” Now Rhona was looking decidedly angry. I continued hurriedly. “A post-hypnotic suggestion to orgasm whenever I said a certain word.”
“The word being?”
“’Censored’,” I said. Rhona rolled her eyes at the irony. Kerry moaned quietly, orgasm fighting with a disinclination to draw attention to her. Rhona’s eyes slid sideways. “She still got that in her?”
“Yeah,” I smiled weakly. “I kept it secret from her for one conversation—about the film censors—and then let her remember everything I’d said while she was under. She hasn’t asked me to take it out. Anyway, if I try anything like getting her to orgasm loudly and embarrassingly in public, she can resist. There’s a safety clause. There’s one with any command I give her; if she thinks it’d be embarrassing, she can just not obey.”
Rhona seemed a little less angry at this news.
“Go on.”
“Well, I kept on hypnotising her, at her request; it helped her get into her roles, for example. And she figured out ways to use it during sex, so she could enjoy it even more. And... it gets quicker each time, but all the same it’s easier if you just have a post-hypnotic trigger, so I decided to put one in; a code-phrase that puts her under when she hears it. And... look, you must have seen as many TV programs as I have where someone’s hypnotised accidentally and it cuts in at the most inappropriate moments?”
“Aye,” she conceded.
“So I picked the first phrase I could think of that she wasn’t likely to hear accidentally,” I said, completing the story, more or less.
Rhona nodded, enlightened and, it appeared, willing to at least give me the benefit of the doubt. I was relieved.
She took another look at Kerry. “Hmm... Look, I’ll not tell anyone, since it looks like you wanted to keep it quiet, but maybe we can talk about it after the rehearsal?”
“Kerry?” I asked. She nodded.
“Yeah, cool,” I said. Say, uh... ah, shit, the bars’ll be closed... my place?”
Kerry’s room is generally more of a dump than mine—she spends most of her time in my room, so her tidying skills are applied there more often. This generally irritates me—I know where everything is right up to the point where she moves it—but it’s something I’ve just got to put up with. And in this case it was useful.
Rhona nodded.
“Sure.”
“Cool.”
Back in civvies now; Kerry, it has to be said, looking no less attractive, and Rhona not looking bad either. On entering my room, Kerry threw herself down on my bed, declaring as the door swung shut that if she was going to go under, and she assumed she would, she intended to be as comfortable for the duration as she could be.
“Not that trance isn’t comfortable itself,” she added, “but I live in fear of getting cramp.”
I grinned; Rhona looked a tad uncomfortable.
“I’m guessing,” I said straight off, “that you don’t actually know a vast amount about hypnosis; I know I didn’t. Still don’t know as much as I might.”
“Yeah, that’s probably right actually,” she said. “So tell me.”
“It gets... confusing, if you go by just what you see on TV and in the movies,” Kerry said. “Even by what you read. I mean, I was reading Trilby when I got interested, and that’s close to being complete bollocks... You can’t make someone do something they aren’t willing to do. I mean, you hear all this stuff about people just being able to tell people who are hypnotised what to do and they can’t, like, not... and then you get people who know you can’t do that and they need a hypno-killing or whatever for the story, so they claim you can get around it by, like... Say if lover boy here hypnotised you, they’d say he could get you to have sex with him here and now by making you believe I wasn’t here and he was...whoever, but he couldn’t, because...” She paused, wondering how to put it. “Because it’s just, like, an overlay. If you went along with it, you wouldn’t see me because I wouldn’t be here as far as you were concerned, and you’d see... whoever... where he is, but there’d be a part of you that saw what was really going on, it’d see me and it’d see lover boy, and it’d let you know and you could resist.”
“Which is why it only works if you trust the hypnotist,” I cut in. “If you didn’t trust him, your conscious would be suspicious all the time, watching for what he was going to do, and you’d break the trance pretty damn quick. It’s... it’s not really something you can abuse; it’s just for altering reality for a while, so you see something different.”
“Something more interesting than a room in Halls, something like that,” Kerry said.
“Uh-huh,” Rhona said, nodding and looking thoughtful. “Look... I know you two are an item and everything, and this is going to sound like I’m trying to muscle in on it, but I want you to take it in the spirit it’s meant... Could you try it on me, and, uh...”
“What are you saying?” Kerry looked a bit suspicious, glancing from her to me and then back to her. I thought it was obvious what she was saying and was certain Kerry was equally clear.
“Look, just hear me out... I’m bi, I think I told you...”
I remembered, now it had been mentioned. It didn’t matter hugely to me, so I’d almost forgotten. Oh, she looked good... shortish black hair, angular features, nice figure balanced between curvy and athletic... but I’d just not thought of her that way. You know how it is when you get to be friends with people and then you wouldn’t dream of entering a relationship anymore? Right.
“No,” Kerry interrupted. She was looking at Rhona... certainly not confrontationally, but oddly; evaluating this new information. I looked back to Rhona, who was eyeing her nervously. “We-ell... I thought I did. I’m sorry...” She looked almost upset now. “I just... I just wondered if...”
Her voice trailed off. Kerry and I looked at each other, communicating silently. We came to a decision, and I opened my mouth to communicate it to Rhona, when-
“Which one of us?” Kerry asked quietly, gently.
I looked up at her and readjusted. Apparently Kerry had arrived at a different decision to me... and a perhaps better one. But, since we were both straight, a ridiculously generous one... Bedding Rhona would be a pleasure for me, if one tempered by my relationship with Kerry and how the one would affect the other. For Kerry... Well, the thought struck me that Rhona would probably do her best to bring Kerry to orgasm, too.
Rhona looked at us and said, “I’m not even sure it’s possible.”
“Kerry,” I diagnosed.
Rhona looked at me. “Uh... both,” she said in a small voice. “I... I know it’s asking a lot, but...”
Kerry and I looked at each other. I raised an eyebrow, trying to convey that Kerry was who I wanted but if she agreed, I’d go for it. A tough thing to convey without saying it, and saying it somehow didn’t work.
Luckily, I think she understood. There was the faintest nod, and a hand rested on Rhona’s shoulder. “We’ll do it,” Kerry said. “If I could just have a word with lover boy in private first?” She caught my eye and jerked her head at the door. Accordingly, I followed her out. I have no idea what Rhona thought was going on.
“Are you sure about this?”
Kerry’s criticised me for asking this since, but I’ve never quite understood why, unless she’d always lied to me about being bi and still is—lying, I mean.
“Yes, I’m sure. I—look, it’s all orgasms.”
I knew what she meant. Sort of. “You don’t feel, like, disgusted by the whole thing—?”
Now that, that particular phrasing, I can understand criticism over. I still can’t believe I used it. Kerry rolled her eyes.
“I’m not saying the idea makes me gush, but I’ll do it,” she said. “Rhona’s a friend, and I don’t think she’s had sex in the last couple of months. So I would.”
Witness the pleasures of a generous, open-minded and highly sexed girlfriend; I’ve counted myself lucky for the last year and a half. I’m not saying all are or should be like this, but she fits with me.
“Just one thing,” she said. “D’you reckon she wants to be hypnotised? I mean, what brought this on all of a sudden?”
I stared at her.
“You think?”
She nodded tensely. “Better ask, anyway. Maybe she just wants to see it happen; maybe it was just something about the way we were frank with her. But it should be checked. D’you want me to ask?”
I paused, thought about it. “Can’t help thinking you’d be better.”
I’d thought, through my first two years at University, that such-and such was the weirdest thing I’d found myself doing, the things I’d least expected to do. And the such-and-such kept changing, getting progressively more weird. By now, the first term of my final year, the thing that had struck me as utterly bizarre in the third week of Uni seemed a total commonplace. In comparison to hypnotising two women to sleep with me and each other at once, it certainly was.
“OK,” I said softly. “Now I’d like you to just close your eyes and try to relax for a moment...” Rhona seemed on edge. “Kerry, could you give her a massage? I think she needs to unwind...”
Obligingly, my dear gripped Rhona’s shoulders gently as the Scotswoman lay on my bed and began gently to knead at them, letting those knots of tension slowly dissolve into nothingness, as I continued talking to her, relaxing her, reassuring her, telling her—as was the case—that she was among friends. Lulling her, I suppose is the right word, though it tends to have the wrong connotations these days. We were lulling her into a sense of security, not of false security.
“...doing so well, that’s it, relaxing more and more, sinking deeper and deeper into the warmth around you, deeper and deeper, more and more, Rhona, you’re doing so well...”
Only when you feel truly secure, when you feel safe, can you truly relax. And hypnosis is all about relaxation. And repetition, for some reason, helps marvellously. All in the lulling, I suspect.
“... and deeper and deeper, so deep now, so marvellously deep, so warm, contented... mind and body relaxed, body and mind almost asleep in your den of warmth, and all that you need is to let go, you’ve done so well, so very well, so deep, so relaxed...”
When finally she slipped fully into trance, Rhona emitted a tiny sigh of happiness. Kerry’s hands had long since stopped working at her shoulders, as Kerry, far more used to descending into trance, had slipped down into her own quiet den some time before.
I worked on deepening Rhona’s trance for perhaps fifteen minutes—Kerry didn’t need deepening; she now reached the level we’d found best almost immediately every time—and then I checked the time. Midnight. I realised I should check my email before the people providing the phone lines for the university called it a night, and looked back at the two beauties in trance.
“Kerry, Rhona... I’ve been a fool,” I said, deciding to let them take their own part in the decision. It seemed only fair. “I’ve forgotten to check my email. Would either of you mind if I do, before we go any further?”
I asked Kerry more because... well, I was in a relationship with her, so you do... than because I thought she might have an objection. Experience has taught me that, for Kerry, anything that leaves her in trance for longer is good. It’s like... I have a pagan friend, and whenever she’s been in the magic circle for any reason, she never wants to come out, it feels so good.
“No,” Kerry whispered. After a moment, “No,” came from Rhona as well.
“Thank you both,” I said. “I’ll be quick...” I felt gratified by their generosity, by their trust. I was quick—because already I couldn’t connect—and I turned back to them. “Now, then...”
Rhona got up slowly, almost dreamily, and turned to Kerry, who leaned toward her. They kissed lingeringly, slowly, lovingly, shedding clothes as they went. I became surprised that Kerry could linger like that, though I’d tried to pitch my suggestions to make it as welcome to her as possible. It leant credence to the theory that we’re all just at different points on a sliding scale of bisexuality. When they were naked they turned on me, or rather, Kerry turned on me and we traded tongues briefly as I lost my own clothes, while Rhona’s head moved tranquilly down Kerry’s body to slide her tongue between Kerry’s lips. My hands rested for a moment on either side of Rhona’s firm buttocks, drawing her backside up level with my erect cock. Now standing bent double, she continued to lick at Kerry as Kerry began to caress her breasts. I slid a condom on and entered Rhona’s sex from her rear, beginning to thrust into her.
If I’d thought forgetting to check my email before we started was stupid, I was left with no words to describe the level of stupidity I discovered I’d exhibited the following morning, when Rhona woke up on top of Kerry. Because I’d forgotten to make provisions for her getting back to her place in town (as a second-year, she hadn’t been able to get a place on campus). Therefore, the only clothes she had were her civvies from the night before, which were rumpled, she had no makeup to replace that which had worn off over the previous day, and she had no course notes. On top of which, two of my floormates saw her emerge for a shower. There swiftly ensued a banging on my door which woke me up and woke Kerry up.
Idiotic in a way I hated to admit I could ever be, although the subsequent laurels—after they’d seen I also had Kerry in my room—were almost worth it. I was only just able to persuade them that while, yes, this was an event to garner bragging rights for months to come, I didn’t want it noised about. If one of them had been Paul, who has never been able to hold his drink, I doubt there would have been a student on campus who wouldn’t have known by the end of term. Fortunately Paul still hadn’t dragged himself out of his pit, and so with any luck, news wouldn’t break until about the last week, so by the time we returned it should have been all but forgotten.
“That’s about the best I can do,” I said apologetically. “Stupid of me.”
“It can’t be helped,” Rhona said, looking more cheerful than she had been the previous night when she was trying to explain; I’ve noticed before that spending a while in a trance can often leave you calmer the rest of the time, allow you to deal with bad news more easily. This may be why these days Kerry always seems calm, as she did now. She said that she didn’t care too much, although if word got back to her folks she could develop cash-flow problems. I promised to do what I could.
“Thanks, anyway,” Rhona said. “I needed last night, and I appreciate it was one night only... I’ll see ye both at the rehearsal tonight, aye?”
We nodded.