Charlotte
“I was a stage hypnotist.”
He had no idea why we said it. It wasn’t true. It was always a fantasy, sure, but nothing more than that. He actually would never want to actually be a stage hypnotist at all, unless he could somehow guarantee that he only had female volunteers, and that seemed nigh impossible. But his class here in front of him was all women, because it was specifically a required math course for freshman Elementary Education majors at the university at which he was a grad student in the math department, and he was lucky that the only two men in that program that year were in the other TA’s class instead. He thought that that was a possible reason why he allowed the fantasy to escape before catching it, because hypnotizing this entire class and making them his to use however he saw fit was something he thought about often at home.
Now that it was out, he was relieved that “stage hypnotist” was banal enough to hopefully not give anything away as to his real thoughts and feelings on hypnotizing women. He was certain that a quick blush came over him as he said it, yet looking around his class, he didn’t think any of them noticed. Well, maybe one had. While everyone else in the class looked surprised and amazed that the man standing in front of them had had that as a job, there was one woman at one of the back tables who had a different look: determination, possibly; he couldn’t tell. Just the fact that it was different made her momentarily stand out. He was as terrible with names as he was great with faces, and it took him a while to remember her name as being Charlotte.
But she certainly couldn’t tell what was truly in his heart. But her look, maybe a little skepticism and maybe a little penetrating, was enough to send him into a mini-panic. He had been so careful throughout his entire life to never tell anyone what anything to do with a hypnotized woman made him feel, not even his two ex-girlfriends, who had been the only women thus far who had allowed him to try hypnosis on them, finding success only with the second. It was the penultimate class before the final, and there hadn’t been much to do beyond state what was going to be on the final, so he saw no harm in indulging the class with answering questions about himself, as, for reasons he could never determine, this iteration of the class, unlike the previous two of it he had taught, always tried to derail the hour by asking him about his life. The questions started out as mundane—Where did he go for undergrad? What was his favorite beer? What sports teams did he root for?—but it was a different girl at Charlotte’s table who had asked the fateful one: “What job did you have during undergrad?”
After the expected follow-up questions that he had to make up answers for (“What was it like?” “Did you really?” “What did you make people do?”), lest he reveal to the class that he lied for seemingly no reason, the questions again moved to more anodyne topics, and he relaxed as he then expected his slip up to pass from the class’s collective memory.
He checked the clock on the wall and saw that it was 3:02, and had accidentally kept the class a little late.
“OK, sorry, everyone; just noticed that it’s a couple minutes after 3,” he said. “Quickly, before you go: don’t forget our last class is on Tuesday at 2, where we’ll review for the final, and the final itself is Wednesday at 11 in the morning. I have office hours on Tuesday evening from 7 to 8:30 in this room. Don’t worry, all the doors will be unlocked. Have a great weekend! OK, get out of here!”
Everyone packed up her things in no time at all, and they all left in groups of three or four, talking about whatever it is nineteen-year-old freshmen women talk about. He wasn’t entirely sure, but, even though Charlotte left with her normal group of friends, he thought he noticed a slight, almost imperceptible, hesitation on her part to pack up and leave. Whether that moment’s pause was real or not, it, along with the different look in her eyes earlier, was enough for him to start to piece together a new, more intimate fantasy in the handful of minutes before he was to meet up with some friends to work together on their own problem sets for their own classes. Something along the lines of actually being a stage hypnotist, putting on a show where Charlotte was one of his volunteers, whispering in her ear at one point that she’ll want to go to his apartment that night after the show, and then… Unoriginal, yes, he thought, but he could work out the details later, back home, alone, where there could be nothing else to intrude on his thoughts.
And why not use Charlotte as his fantastical subject? Sure, there were others in the class who had prettier faces, others who had bigger breasts, others who were curvier. There was only one feature that he could immediately think of that was the best in the class. Her smile, like his, was technically imperfect. It was lopsided: bigger on the left side than the right. Even though he hated his own smile, which he did regardless of the fact that several of his female friends had told him how cute and charming it was and that everyone thought it so, he thought hers was wonderful. It often seems that the feature one hates the most about one’s self is the exact feature most loved in another. But as he thought about the class more, the more he realized that taken all together, she was in fact more attractive than those with the prettier faces, and the bigger breasts, and the curvier bodies: an embodiment of gestalt in woman form.
The weekend did not pass as weekends normally do for him. Yes, he still did homework and enjoyed time with friends, but he couldn’t stay focused on anything non-Charlotte for more than an hour or so. The seed of the fantasy grew and grew until it became nearly all he could focus on; as such, it would be more accurate to say he tried to do homework and tried to enjoy time with friends. He spent far too much time pleasuring himself than actually doing anything productive. By Sunday night, he was a little raw.
Class on Tuesday approached in the same way all events both terrible and wonderful approach: with time seeming to move far too quickly, and also to barely move at all. He told himself that morning that during class he would never linger on Charlotte, unless her saying something necessitated it. For as much as he worried and yearned in equal measure leading up to the class, nothing happened. Charlotte was there, of course, but only raised her hand a few times, so his interactions with her were minimal, and even those passed as they had every single time before today. Anyone paying attention, no matter how closely, would not guess that there were any impure thoughts in his mind about her. Class ended with the reminder of final office hours that night and wishes of good luck on tomorrow’s final for those he wouldn’t see later, and everyone left.
He took a breath and relaxed. Today now felt like a bit of a letdown. He knew that this was ridiculous to think and tried to talk himself out of it. Why should anything have happened? Everything he thought about over the weekend was just a fantasy; there would be no reason for her to do anything at all. The chances of her having the complementary fetish to his were next to nothing; those of her actually saying or doing something were even more minute. Lastly, he was certain that she wouldn’t even find him attractive in the first place. (He was actually incorrect here. Like his smile, he could never believe his female friends’ appraisal of him, which was that he was very cute but could maybe stand to lose five pounds or so. In fact, several of the women from the class thought him at least moderately attractive and looked forward to class because of it, but, again, even if they had said as much to him, he wouldn’t have believed it.) He walked a couple blocks over to his office, pulled out his notes, and started to work on his own studies.
After several hours, he decided to close everything up and grab some dinner before starting his office hours for the class’s final exam review. He checked his wallet and had only a disappointing seven dollars in cash inside. That made his dinner decision quite simple: the pizza-by-the-slice place a handful of blocks north of the class’s building. As he walked over, his new obsession again overtook all of his thoughts. Would he want her to be there tonight? What would happen if she was the only one to show up? Could he handle himself? Would he become flustered, be unable to control himself, and try to reach out and touch her? What would that even accomplish, besides making her think her five-years-older math TA was a creep and subsequently report him?
No; none of that would happen. He could control himself. Besides, there was no way she would be the only person to show up. That class was more a collection of groups of women than a collection of individual women. Charlotte would not show up alone. Though his thoughts stayed on her as he walked, he felt better. This was just an obsession. She was at least over eighteen, so he wasn’t channeling Humbert Humbert here. The summer break was only a few days away. She would go home to wherever she grew up, and he would be staying on campus. When the next school year started, he would be teaching the same math class as now, and she would never cross paths with him again. Get through the next couple of hours, he told himself, and all will work itself out. Use her to fantasize, and enjoy that while it lasts.
He made his way to the pizza joint, opened the door, and was disappointed in the length of the line. He shouldn’t have been; the place was delicious, two blocks from the main quad, and was very inexpensive. In other words, it was perfect for a college. The line double-backed upon itself to just inside the entrance, and he joined. A few moments passed, and the line slowly progressed, and he felt something odd at the back of his mind. He lifted his head to the part of the line moving towards him and immediately knew what that odd feeling was. Charlotte was there, in line, talking to her friends. He saw her as Levin saw Kitty at the skating rink: like the sun, even without looking.
It was now only a matter of time before she and her friends were even with him in the opposite direction. He decided his best course of action would be to take out his phone, pretend to be engrossed in some article he was reading, and hope they would just pass him by. Charlotte and her group approached, and he thought he would get away with it.
“Getting ready for office hours?” a female voice asked him. It wasn’t Charlotte; he could tell that. Looking up, he saw that it was the woman who had asked that fateful question last week, that question which began him down this path of thinking of nothing but doing dirty things to one of his students. He glanced around the group, gave a quick smile, and could tell without looking directly at her that Charlotte smiled back. The same blush that hit his face prior when he lied about past employment returned and vanished just as quickly.
“Hi. Good evening,” he stupidly responded (why give two salutations?). “Yeah, just needed something quick before I head over to the room. Didn’t make it back home to make something proper. Are you all planning on coming?”
“Maybe? But probably not.” It was Charlotte who spoke this time. “We’re going over to Sophie’s after this to study together. We’ll probably come by if we have any questions, but, yeah, none of this is that hard, you know? But I hope some do, otherwise it’ll be a long time by yourself in that creepy basement room they put our class in.”
“Ha, yeah, it’s been in that room every time I’ve taught this class. No idea why it’s there, but it is definitely creepy. Um, anyway, have fun studying tonight, and I’ll see you tomorrow at the exam.” Relief washed over him. Charlotte would not be there tonight. Without that distraction, office hours would be simple, and he could prepare himself for tomorrow, when he would see her for the last time, and let his life and thoughts return to normal. After another ten minutes or so, he got his slices of pizza (two slices of barbecue chicken and bacon) and walked back to campus to go to the classroom. By the time he got there, he had only about five minutes to eat before office hours were scheduled to start, and did so, content with the knowledge of the apparently rapidly approaching end of his hypnotic obsession with Charlotte.
No one came to office hours until a little after a quarter past 7, and by half past, there were nine members of the class present, none of whom were Charlotte. The discussion was surprisingly lively, and he didn’t end up doing much at all. He answered a few questions here and there, and had not-so-subtly hinted that a topic they were spiraling on maybe wasn’t going to be on the exam tomorrow, but the time was mostly the classmates helping and teaching each other. That actually made him happy, seeing as these young women were, if they stayed in the program, going to become teachers.
By the scheduled ending time of 8:30, the review session had already been idle talk for fifteen minutes, so he sent the women home, locked up the room and the couple exterior doors to the building (which he was supposed to do at 8, oh well), and stepped outside, oriented himself towards his apartment, and took a couple steps towards home, already with another hypnotic scenario involving Charlotte playing in his mind like a movie. He chastised himself a bit for this. Part of him wanted to stop her starring in his fantasies to help his obsession wane faster, but the fantasies with her were some of the best he’d ever come up with. He knew he needed to move past her. Maybe he’ll start tomorrow.
“Oh! You did leave through this door. I was afraid I had missed you.”
Charlotte’s voice pierced through his fantasy, stopping it as easily as one pressing pause on a remote. She had said, “I was afraid I had missed you,” not, “We were afraid we had missed you.” She was alone. Alone with him. Shouldn’t she be over at Sophie’s? Terror and exhilaration crashed through him. He took a breath, did his best to hide any emotion on his face beyond what he thought would be appropriate for a TA to have while looking at one of his students, and turned to face her.
“Hi, Charlotte.” He gave a quick smile, careful to shield what he was just thinking about from his face. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight after the pizza place. The review session is over now, but I can answer a couple quick questions for you if you like.”
As he spoke, she shone. He quickly looked her up and down. In her ice-blue eyes were all the excitement brimming inside her; in her wonderful, crooked smile, the antithesis of his, happiness in multitudes. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tail, contrasting beautifully with the paleness of her eyes. Her top was tight and showed off her chest, while her shorts exposed as much of her lithe legs as was decent to show. And, he noticed she had changed these from when he saw her earlier in the day, on her feet were a cheap pair of flip flops, showing him a pair of little feet that he thought would make Pushkin sing their praises in verse. He did in fact very much like women’s feet; he absolutely loved the second half of the spring semester, as it meant all the women started to wear sandals again. He didn’t have much to say, which he was thankful for, as he lost the ability to form coherent sentences the more he looked at her.
“Yeah, there is a question I’d like to ask you,” she said, almost a little nervously, as a child would before her first confession at church.
“Be my guest. I was just heading home, so I have nowhere to be.”
He was expecting some dumb, math-related question. Quick review of the different multiplication methods they had gone over and why they worked, maybe, or what sort of word problems would be on the test. He certainly was not expecting what she actually asked. Hoped, yes. And dreamed and yearned and wanted and fantasized about, but never thought any of it would ever come to be. He had played this scenario and others similar in his head endless times since Charlotte intruded on his world last Thursday and had played through endless different responses. Yet somehow, when she asked, he was dumbfounded.
“Do you still hypnotize people?”
What to answer? How to answer? The truth, a simple “No,” since he only hypnotized his most recent ex-girlfriend and hadn’t tried to with anyone since her, would put him back to where he was ten minutes ago: Charlotte out of his life after the final tomorrow, soon enough out of his thoughts, and his obsession with her allowed to wane. But another lie, a small, simple, white lie, those three letters that made the easiest word in the world to say: “Yes.” That was all he needed to say and maybe, just maybe, his fantasies could begin to become real. There was a risk of course. What if she wanted him to do a show at the end-of-the-school-year event of a club that she was in? There would inevitably be men there, and he had no desire for that. Was it worth the risk? Oh, but what if a miracle occurs? What if she wanted to be hypnotized, and wanted him to be the one to introduce her? Even more, what if she actually wanted to be hypnotized because it was as pleasurable to her and as it would be for him? Could fate ever be so kind to someone as to allow him, with his niche fetish, to be approached by a woman who had the same fetish, but from the other side of the watch, to coyly speak, and have her ask him to indulge the both of them? He had to do it. He had to take the chance. Maybe if it was any other woman in his class, he’d have told the truth and they’d have parted, but this was Charlotte, the woman who had occupied all of his thoughts for multiple days and led him to some of the most pleasurable solo sessions that he could recall. And so he lied and said, “Yes.”
Relief flashed in her eyes, and he realized only now how nervous she actually was, and couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it. His obsession had clearly clouded what he saw, as it did Ahab not seeing the danger he was putting the Pequod in. But he felt certain he was not going to be in danger now. She brought her hands together in front of her stomach, wringing them, and started to shift her weight from foot to foot. He could do nothing but watch her build up her courage to ask her next question.
After maybe ten seconds, but felt like ten hours, he heard her voice falteringly ask him, “Would you hypnotize me? Please? I haven’t tried it before and I’ve always wanted to be hypnotized.” Her “Please?” had sent him rousing from the clear and obvious pleading in her voice when she said it. It felt wrong having this conversation here.
“Let’s walk, Charlotte. Which direction do you live?” She pointed in the same direction his apartment was. That meant that she lived in the stereotypically “quiet” dorm. Not that it was actually home to quiet, non-partying students, on the whole, but it was where those students tended to live. But that really only meant that about eighty-five percent of them were out every weekend, instead of the ninety-five everywhere else. “Great, that’s my way, too. I’ll walk you home, and we can talk. Sound good?” She nodded, eagerly, but meekly. They walked a few minutes in silence, only her flip flops slapping against her heels with each step making a sound. A couple times he glanced over to her, and their eyes met, and they both quickly blushed and averted their eyes again.
After half a block, he was able to push down his nervousness enough to be able to ask about the topic at hand. “Um, so, Charlotte. Why do you want to be hypnotized?” His palms were sweating. He forced himself to stay looking at her this time. Her cheeks flushed as before, but this time he noticed that it extended down her face and into her neck and chest, while her eyes showed a hunger and desire he hadn’t seen in anyone before then. Obviously, he told himself, this was it. He was standing on the precipice and he could fall two ways depending on how she felt. The first way, the much more likely way, was that she just wanted to experience hypnosis out of curiosity, and nothing more. But the second way, that glorious, beautiful, unlikely second way, where she’d be as turned on by him hypnotizing her as he would be. In the moment between him asking and her answering, he said a quick prayer to every deity and universal construct he could think of, begging for the second way.
“Well,” she spoke softly, carefully, and hesitated slightly. When she started speaking again, her speed and enthusiasm increased with each word. “I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like, to just be that calm and relaxed and empty and made to do whatever I’m…” She stopped for a heartbeat. He knew she accidentally said a few words too many. “Made to do whatever I’m…” she had said. He knew she was going to finish with “told”; he just knew it. For him, those were the greatest five words he had ever heard a woman say. They did not form a complete phrase, but it made no difference to him in this moment. She quickly recovered and finished, “It just seems so nice that I want to try it.”
He pretended that he hadn’t noticed her slip up. But fireworks were going off in his mind, for God or Fate or the Universe or Whoever had granted him this. It appeared to have gone the second way.
“And you want me to be the one to hypnotize you?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Why me?”
“Well, I’ve gotten to know you a bit over this semester, and I trust you.”
“Fair enough. I mean, I’m certainly rusty. Haven’t done any hypnosis since I was an undergrad.” An understatement, followed by another lie. But he didn’t mind this time.
“That’s OK! I’m willing to try for as long as it takes! I am staying here for the summer, and if you’re not, we’re both here in the fall, right? And, please don’t be mad, I wasn’t wholly honest before. I’ve watched a couple videos on YouTube that are supposed to hypnotize you, and I guess they worked? I remember hitting play on them and then I don’t remember anything until they’re over.” This woman was perfect.
“Oh. Wow. No, I’m not mad at all; why would I be? Just sounds like you haven’t been hypnotized in person, then.” He was trying desperately to not let his excitement, and arousal, show. He wasn’t particularly good with the opposite sex, but his instincts were telling him to play it cool. “So it sounds like you’d actually be a really fantastic subject.” Her eyes looked like he had just given her the best compliment she could ever receive. “Have you ever tried to find someone to hypnotize you in person before?”
“No. The closest was a year ago when my high school had a celebration for the seniors one day, and they hired a stage hypnotist. I really wanted to volunteer, but I… just got too nervous, so I didn’t. But I really wanted to. Does that sound lame?”
He was certain she was going to say something else other than that she got too nervous. He decided not to press. “I don’t think so at all. Some people aren’t comfortable being in front of people. Simple as that.” She looked relieved that he appeared to either not notice the change of direction in her last answer or pretended not to. “Well, since we’re both staying here for the summer, when would you like to do, you know, it?”
“Tonight?” she answered, endlessly hopeful. He thought she might answer thus, and hated himself for having to decline. One of them needed to be responsible tonight. He couldn’t risk her failing his class’s final tomorrow, or any other finals she may have that next day. There was also the school’s code of conduct, which explicitly outlawed dating students. While hypnotizing her likely wouldn’t fall under that, he didn’t want to risk it. He would get kicked out of the school, and she would get kicked out of her program. While he didn’t know any of his students particularly well, including Charlotte, he could tell that she genuinely wanted to become a teacher, and he couldn’t let her compromise that dream for one night.
He declined, much to both of their disappointment, and he explained why this had to be so. He wasn’t certain, but thought her eyes began to water. “But I promise, after finals are over on Saturday, we’ll meet up. So let’s agree to meet for dinner on Saturday. Let’s say 7 at that taco place on 5th and White, OK? It’s not far from my place, and we can grab dinner beforehand. We also probably shouldn’t mention this to anyone, just to be safe.” She nodded vigorously. “Let’s exchange phone numbers, too, just in case something happens and one of us can’t make it. I don’t want either of us to think we’re being stood up.” Once they had, because they were only a block from his apartment, he realized that they had already passed her dorm. They should have turned south a few blocks ago. He kicked himself slightly for not paying better attention to where they were. She seemed to notice his self-annoyance.
“So I know we passed my dorm a bit ago, but that’s totally fine, because I didn’t want to go until we had a decision,” she said. He understood that completely, as he felt the same way. “I know you said you’d walk me home, but don’t worry, I’ll be OK for a couple blocks. So, I guess this is goodbye for now. Um, see you tomorrow during the final. And honestly, thank you, just so much. I can’t wait for Saturday.” She took a step towards him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She looked up at him again, looking as happy as he had ever seen a woman, turned, and walked home. The man felt as if he could fly, but couldn’t bring himself to move. He didn’t want to part from her just now, and felt that maybe if he stayed here, she’d come back. He knew she wouldn’t, and only stood there for a minute before he, too, went home to face the longest four days of his life.
As soon as he closed his apartment door and locked it again, he threw his bag down and took stock of all that had transpired today. His body felt more alive than he could ever recall. His mind already started to play all the possibilities out in his head. He could make her do anything he wanted. He could make her strip naked, or lust after him, or even something as lovely as making her cum. This was almost too much for him, and so he took the next ten minutes or so to relieve himself, thinking, of course, of nothing but Charlotte. When he was finished, he sat down, deciding he was going to get no studying for his own exams done. But once he turned on the TV, doubts started to set in. Maybe she hadn’t accidently let slip her true thoughts on hypnosis; maybe she had wholly innocent feelings about it. Could he have read too much into the half-finished sentences? Even worse, what if he couldn’t actually hypnotize her? What would she think if they met over and over and nothing he did worked and he just talked and talked about relaxing and letting go and she never slipped under and he failed to give her what she really wanted? He didn’t know if he could handle the inevitable disappointment and scorn that would arise from that; his obsession with her had turned into pure lust after his talk with her that night. To help get his mind off of her, he decided to try to study for his own exams in hopes that that would keep his mind occupied instead.
He spent his night doing his best to study, but, unsurprisingly, found it difficult to focus on the task at hand. Charlotte kept on appearing. Realizing he wouldn’t get anywhere with Charlotte intruding on all thoughts, he put down his books, unbuttoned his jeans, and let himself get carried away with his desire for a little while longer. When his lust was sated, or at least as sated as it could possibly be for him right now, he went back to his studies for another couple hours. It was now surprisingly simple to focus. Those two hours were easily the most productive he had had since before she burst into his life last week. Afterwards, he set his alarm so he could get a little more work done before his class’s final, got into bed, and quickly fell asleep, one hand inside his underwear’s waistband, the other stretched out to his side, resting where he hoped Charlotte would be in a few days’ time. And, for the first time since Wednesday night, he had Charlotte-less dreams.