New Neighbor
By isadorable
Chapter 1
What Allison wanted was a long, hot shower.
Moving to a new apartment is never easy, and for Allison Cain, it had been even harder than she expected. It didn’t help that she had just broken her engagement to Chad, her live-in boyfriend since college. She didn’t regret the decision, but she still missed him. It didn’t help that the two friends who had promised to pitch in on moving day had let her down—one had a bad cold and the other ditched her for an invitation to spend the weekend at a beach house. And it certainly didn’t help when moving day dawned hot and sticky, with the temperature hovering in the 90s by mid-morning.
By the time she’d loaded all her boxes into the rental van, driven across town, moved all her worldly possessions from the parking lot to the lobby, then brought them up in the elevator and down the hall into her new flat, Allison was tired, sore, and feeling more than a little sorry for herself. Her exciting new independent life was off to a pretty miserable start.
One consolation, she kept telling herself, was her new neighborhood. After she told Chad she couldn’t marry him, she had resolved to make a clean break and move to a livelier part of town. Miraculously, she had found a vacant unit in a rapidly gentrifying area, an old factory that had been converted into a dozen loft apartments. There were refurbished co-ops and condos, lots of art galleries, and plenty of trendy new restaurants and clubs. She hoped her new surroundings would keep her from getting lonely and help her make new friends. Plus, her new space was closer to the law office where she worked, right on a handy bus line. Once she got settled, she’d start exploring.
By 5:30, the last box was inside and she’d figured out how to turn on the AC. She didn’t have a lot of furniture, but a new mattress had been delivered and that would suffice until she could get out and buy the other things she needed. She put sheets, pillows and a lightweight comforter on the bed and that was enough for one day. It was time for a shower, a microwaved pizza, and a lite beer, and then she could start unpacking her clothes and try to get a good night’s sleep.
She drew the blinds and peeled off her “moving uniform”—running shorts, loose t-shirt, sports bra, and gym shoes—and pulled a bath towel from the box marked “linens.” She walked to the bathroom, and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Standing up straight she inspected her body, concluding with some satisfaction she still looked pretty good. Allison was twenty-four, a former Division III tennis player, and still a trim 5-5, with firm, B-cup breasts, nice hips, and slim, well-muscled legs, along with a cute, girl-next-door face. She’d never thought of herself as especially sexy, but she’d never been self-conscious about her looks either. Gazing into the mirror, she saw no reason to complain.
And now for the shower. She found the box where she’d packed her bathroom stuff, pried open the lid, and took out a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. She turned to the bathtub, bent over, and spun the tap.
Nothing. Not a drop.
Instead, all she heard was a distant groan of air in the pipes. She tried the bathroom sink—same result. The water was on in the kitchen, but there was none where she needed it.
Allison wanted to cry. It had been a long, disheartening day, and now she seemed condemned to sit in a nearly empty apartment with no way to wash off the sweat and stink. She supposed she could give herself some sort of sponge bath at the kitchen sink, but that was hardly the relaxing, sybaritic reward she had been looking forward to all day.
Wait, she thought. It hardly seemed like the ideal way to meet her new neighbors, but maybe someone on her floor would be willing to let her take a quick shower. The real estate agent had said that women owned the other two units on her floor, so she wouldn’t have to worry about taking a shower in some strange guy’s apartment. If they seemed weird or reluctant, she’d just say forget it, and come hom and make the best of it.
Allison pulled her shorts and shirt back on, grabbed her keys, and headed for the door. She entered the hall, locked her door, and walked down to the next unit. She knocked once, then twice, and heard nothing. After two minutes it was clear her nearest neighbor wasn’t home.
The other unit was at the other end of the hall, toward the front of the building. She knew the front units were larger, and as she approached she could hear music playing softly from the other side of the door, along with a faint but inviting aroma. She took a deep breath, raised her arm, and knocked.
For a moment she heard nothing, and then came the sound of approaching footsteps. They reached the door, the deadbolt clicked, and the door swung open.
Allison started, and her eyes went wide. Her new neighbor was stunning. She looked to be in her late 30s: tall, raven-haired, with a slim and strong dancer’s body, and she seemed aglow with health and energy. Her lips were ripe and full, and her face looked vaguely foreign, with a hint of Arab or Spanish ancestry, maybe gypsy. She was wearing flat sandals, a short slim skirt, and a sleeveless leotard that clung tightly to well-shaped, medium-sized breasts. Gold earrings dangled from each ear, and her long, slender fingers gleamed with dark lavender nail polish and two intricate gold rings.
And then there were her eyes. Deep-set and almost black, they focused intently on Allison, drinking her in. . . . for just a moment.
And then she smiled, a flash of bright white teeth.
“Yes?” she said, “Can I help you?” Her voice was deep and melodic, with just a tiny trace of an accent.
Allison suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy, even tongue-tied. She wasn’t attracted to other women, but even she could feel the aura of sensuality that her new neighbor exuded. It was in her glance, the glow of her skin, and the way she held herself. She wasn’t putting on a performance, but there was still an unmistakable combination of strength, suffused with a subtle hint of carnality. Somehow, her presence conveyed the message that if you were lucky, time spent in her company might contain unexpected delights. Allison couldn’t have put words to the sensation, but she felt it. She thought of herself as reasonably attractive, some might even say cute, but this woman was in a completely different league.
Allison cleared her throat, and the words came tumbling out.
“Oh, hi. . . I’m so sorry to bother you, but I just moved into 3C—at the end of the hall—and I guess the supervisor forget to turn the water on in my bathroom. I really hate to ask, but I was wondering if you could possibly let me borrow your shower—it won’t take me ten minutes. I’ve been moving stuff all day and I just want to rinse off and put on some fresh clothes. But please. . . if this is any inconvenience, just say so and I’ll go away.”
She stopped and then extended her hand. “Oh. . . and my name’s Allison. Allison Cain.”
Her neighbor smiled again, but instead of shaking the outstretched hand, she moved closer, reached out and took both Allison’s hands into hers and held them gently. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Allison. My name is Dania. And you may certainly borrow my shower. . . it’s no problem at all. I live alone and I was just getting my dinner ready, so it won’t be the slightest inconvenience.”
“Oh, that’s great. . . thank you so much!” replied Allison, greatly relieved. “Let me just run back to my apartment and get a towel.” For some reason, she didn’t think it odd that the woman had taken her hands in such a direct and welcoming way.
Dania let go and replied: “There’s no need for that, my dear. I’ve got towels and soap and anything else you might need. Come on in.”
She pulled the door open and Allison obeyed. The apartment was much larger than her own unit: she could see was a large open living area beyond the foyer, with a sofa and chairs on one side and beautiful wood dining table at the opposite end. A long kitchen area filled one wall, with a cooking island and counter with several tall stools. The space was filled with ornate rugs and artwork: paintings, small sculptures, and vases of cut flowers. A large pot simmered gently on the stove and the rich aroma of meat and spices filled the air.
“Wow, this place is really gorgeous,” said Allison, glancing around. “You’ve done a great job of decorating.”
“Thank you,” said Dania. “I was one of the first tenants when the building got converted—and being surrounded by beauty is very important to me. Come this way: the shower is down the hall.”
She led Allison across the living room and around a corner to a long hallway. As they passed the first door, Allison glanced in and saw what was clearly an artist’s studio, with two easels, a raft of canvases and an array of paints, brushes, and other paraphernalia. Then they passed a guest room and small powder room, and then Dania led her into what was clearly her bedroom. It was painted a rich violet, with deep gold curtains and a dark Moroccan carpet. There were tall standing mirrors in two corners, a large mahogany chest, and at least a dozen large unlit candles scattered in various locations around the room. On the far wall was a king-sized platform bed with a black silk coverlet and an array of crimson pillows. And as she followed Dania toward the bathroom, Allison couldn’t help noticing the four large eye-bolts protruding from each corner of the bedframe.
Oh my, she thought, I guess my new neighbor has….um. . . interesting tastes.
Dania motioned her into the large, well-lit bathroom. Painted a cool, neutral gray, it contained the usual sink and toilet and an enormous claw-foot tub with shower. The mosaic tile floor was covered by a thick tufted bathmat, and a collection of bottles and soaps lined the shelves over the tub. Allison slipped into the room and Dania turned to her and spoke in a calm but inviting voice.
“You said you just wanted to take a quick shower, and that’s perfectly fine if you’re in a hurry. But if I’d just spent all day moving, I’d want to soak in a warm bath for as long as I could. Doesn’t that sound better? And please don’t worry: it’s no trouble for me. I’ve still got lots to do in the kitchen.”
Allison nodded. A long soak in a tub sounded delicious. She said “Thank you so much. That does sound wonderful. You’re absolutely sure I’m not imposing?”
Again the smile, and a gentle hand stroking her shoulder.
“Of course not! You deserve to be spoiled after your hard day. Here: let me get the water started; the faucets can be tricky.”
She turned and leaned over the tub to turn on the water….and Allison found herself staring at Dania’s long legs, narrow waist, and inviting rear. She is really gorgeous, thought Allison, I’ll bet she doesn’t have any trouble getting guys to come over and play in that kinky bedroom of hers.
Dania finished adjusting the water and turned back to her.
“I have one more suggestion, my dear, and then I’ll leave you alone. I have this wonderful bath oil that I use when I want to feel really special. I make it myself, from a formula that my grandmother gave me when I turned eighteen. I don’t really know how it works, but it does make one’s skin feel delicious and the aroma is very pleasant too. Would it be all right with you if I added some to the bath?”
How could she resist an offer like that? A bit overwhelmed, Allison just smiled and said “Um….I guess so. It sounds, um.. . . lovely.”
Dania selected one of the glass vials from the shelf by the bath, removed the stopper, and poured a thin stream of oil into the warm water rising in the tub. The fragrance immediately filled the room, a rich, pleasant smell of musk and spice and other aromas Allison couldn’t place. Dania replaced the vial, put the bottle back, and turned to the door.
“And now I will leave you to your bath. Take your time; there is no hurry. There are spare towels in that cupboard”—she pointed—“and soap and shampoo for your shower after you soak….. If you need anything, just call.”
“Thank you again,” said Allison. “This is so kind of you.”
“It is my pleasure,” replied Dania, gazing warmly at Allison. “Enjoy yourself.”
She turned and left, closing the door behind her, and Allison heard her footsteps trail away down the hall.
The tub was nearly full, and Allison turned off the taps, slipped off her shorts and shirt, stepped over the edge of the tub, and then eased herself down into the water. It felt wonderful. She could feel the grime and sweat washing off her body, and the warmth of the water was deeply soothing on her tired muscles. She lay back against the tub, closed her eyes, and let her thoughts wander….
After a few minutes in the tub she began to notice something different. It was subtle, but her skin suddenly seemed more sensitive. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant; indeed, quite the opposite. The water somehow felt wetter….and the gentle currents that washed over her whenever she shifted position felt like a gentle caress. Even more strangely, although the water was warm and she was lying almost motionless, her nipples had hardened and were sending delicious little tingles to other regions. She reached up and let her fingers trail slowly across them, and was rewarded with a delightful shiver. . . She let out a soft moan, and without thinking let a hand trail down between her legs. This is weird, she thought, I almost never do this sort of thing. It was true: masturbation had never seemed to bring her enough pleasure to be worth the effort. But the feeling she was having now was very pleasant indeed.
When she heard steps approaching down the hall, Allison quickly moved her hands back to her sides. There was a gentle knock, the door opened, and Dania entered with a tall glass of white wine and some clothing draped over her arm.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but I thought you might enjoy a glass of wine while you had your bath. And I brought you a robe to wear when you are done, so you don’t have to put the same sweaty clothes back on.”
Allison relaxed. “Oh, that’s very kind of you. You should run a spa!”
Dania flashed her remarkable smile again. “Just so. You are enjoying the bath?”
“Yes. . . it’s. . . it feels. . .um. . . very nice.” Allison wasn’t quite sure how to describe the sense of arousal she was feeling.
Dania gave a knowing smile. “Yes, my grandmother’s formula is very. . . effective.”
She turned to leave, but paused at the door and turned back. Allison watched as her gaze trailed slowly up the length of her naked body, stretched out in the tub.
“By the way,” she said, “You look quite adorable in there.”
And then she was gone.
Well, this isn’t quite what I expected, thought Allison. Was Dania flirting with her? It was flattering to get a compliment like that—especially from such a gorgeous creature—but was there more to it? Allison had never liked being hit on, but somehow the possibility didn’t bother her as much as she would have expected. Not that she was going to do anything about it, of course, but it was rather exciting to think Dania might be interested in her.
Inevitably, the water turned colder, and Allison decided that she had better not overstay her welcome. She pulled the plug, let the water drain, and stood up slowly. Her skin felt marvelous and slick from the bath oil, and her body still felt tingly and acutely sensitive, but in a rather nice way. She turned on the shower and rinsed off, feeling like a new person.
When her shower was over, Allison quickly dried herself with a fluffy bath towel and slipped into the robe that Dania had left. It was deep purple, and made of fine silk that clung to her body and did little to disguise what lay beneath. As she tightened the sash she noticed her nipples were still hard and visible underneath the nearly sheer fabric, and the sensation of the silk against her skin heightened a gentle sense of arousal even more. Well, this is awkward, she thought, but decided she could slip quickly back to her own apartment and find something comfortable to wear for the rest of the evening. She hung the towel on the rack, took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked back toward the kitchen.
She walked in and found Dania adding herbs and vegetables into the large stockpot that stood simmering on the stove. There were two places set at the table, with a single candle lit beside them. A bottle of red wine stood open on the counter.
Allison spoke: “That was wonderful…. just what I needed. Once I get settled, I hope you’ll let me repay the favor.”
Dania turned, smiled, and walked over to her. She took Allison’s hands again, looked at her, a slight smile playing on her lips, and said “You can repay me right now, by staying for dinner. I have plenty to eat; I’d rather not eat alone, and I’ll bet you didn’t have time to do any shopping anyway. And we’ll have a chance to get acquainted.”
Allison hesitated. The offer was certainly tempting; whatever was simmering in the pot smelled delicious, she realized she was famished, and a frozen pizza wasn’t much competition compared to a home-cooked meal. A little voice whispered that this might be more than just an innocent invitation to dinner, but a louder and more convincing voice made her want to stay and find out if it was. As she looked at Dania, she realized that she wanted to know more about her too, and figure out some of the odd feelings she was having.
And so she smiled and replied: “All right. How can I say no?”
Dania laughed. “Wonderful. That is the sort of attitude a young woman like you should have when you get an invitation: don’t say no.”
She took the bottle of wine and filled their glasses. “Please sit; I’ll bring our dinner.”
Allison went and sat down, and took a long sip of the wine. Dania took a loaf of bread from the oven, tore off several hunks, and filled two bowls with the stew from the pot. “This is goulash,” she said, “Another specialty of my grandmother’s. Meat and onions and garlic and tomatoes and many, many spices. It’s probably not the best thing for a hot day, but it is one of my favorites.”
She brought the plates over, placed them on the table, and sat opposite Allison. She raised her glass in salute and said “To new neighbors, and new adventures.” Allison smiled, their glasses touched, and they both drank.
“And now,” said Dania, once again fixing her with her dark, penetrating eyes. “Tell me everything. Who is Allison, and why is she living here?”
“There’s not that much to tell,” replied Allison with a smile. “I’m 24, and I’m a paralegal in a law firm downtown. I plan to go to law school in a couple of years. I went to the State University on a tennis scholarship, and my boyfriend and I lived together after we graduated. We were supposed to be married next September, but I broke it off about three weeks ago. That’s why I’m here: I needed a new place to live and I wanted to start over in a different neighborhood.”
“Ah. . . that is a sad story,” said Dania. “If you don’t mind telling me, why did you decide not to marry him? Did he cheat on you? Did you fight a lot? Was he a bore? A bad lover?”
Allison paused. This was still hard to talk about; she’d never been able to explain it properly, even to her parents or to Chad himself. She sipped some wine, and then said “He wasn’t the problem; he wasn’t any of those things. It was me. We’d been dating for four years and we’d lived together the past two. Chad is a great guy, and I know he loved me. He didn’t cheat on me and we mostly got along fine. But. . . well. . . I mean . . . it just wasn’t what I wanted.”
Dania looked at her quizzically. “But there must be more to your story. So far he sounds like a very desirable husband.”
Allison was silent for a moment. “He will be, but for someone else. I kept telling myself that finding a person you get along with isn’t easy. But I didn’t desire him, at least not the way I wanted to. Even when we first got together, it was more like having a really close friend than a true passion. I loved him, but I wasn’t in love. When we were apart I missed him—but not as much as I thought I should—and when we were together things didn’t feel any different for me than when he was away. My friends all talk about how they feel about their boyfriends—for them it just seems way more intense. They feel pretty passionate about them, but I didn’t.”
Dania reached out and briefly touched Allison’s hand. “My dear, I don’t mean to pry, but when I asked if he was a bad lover—was that the problem?”
Allison shook her head, and suddenly her eyes were moist. “No, I don’t think so. He wasn’t selfish or clumsy in bed, if that’s what you mean. He was gentle, and he tried lots of things that he thought I would enjoy. I think we just didn’t have any physical chemistry. I liked sleeping in the same bed, and waking up together, and being close, but to be honest, it wouldn’t have bothered me if we never had sex. I didn’t dislike it, but I never looked forward to it, or missed it when it didn’t happen.”
Allison ate a couple more bites of her dinner, then reached out and took another swallow of wine. Eyes lowered, she said in soft voice:
“And if you really want to know: I don’t think I ever had a real orgasm with Chad. Or anyone else. It’s just not something my body does.”
Dania gazed at her quietly, a sympathetic look on her face. She took a sip of her wine, and then said to her gently: “Well, my dear, we only just met, so feel free to ignore anything I say. But I think you did the right thing. I cannot imagine going through life without passion—and that includes physical pleasure. Perhaps one day I’ll tell you about my own adventures, though some of them might shock you. But I can tell you this: don’t come to any firm conclusions about what your body can or cannot do. If my experience is any guide—and I assure you I have a lot of experience—you never know who or what might unlock feelings that are deep inside you and eager to come out.”
Allison felt embarrassed, and she knew she was blushing. Why was she suddenly confessing such intimate details to someone she had known for less than an hour? She had been too shy to discuss her apparent frigidity with anyone except Chad, yet now she had blurted it all out to a total stranger. Even worse, it was someone who lived right down the hall in her new building! And yet despite her discomfiture, she was all too aware that her body was experiencing some unfamiliar but far from unpleasant sensations of its own. It had begun in the bath, but Dania’s presence seemed to be reinforcing it. Her fragrance, her eyes, and her long, ripe body were conjuring up strange images in Allison’s imagination.
Allison was on unfamiliar ground, but this new territory was undeniably appealing.
She decided to change the subject. She took another sip of wine, forced a laugh, and said, “So that’s my sad story. Thank you for listening; I’m sure things will eventually work out for me. Now it’s your turn: what’s your story? I’m guessing you’re an artist, but I’ll bet there’s more to it than that.”
Dania nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I’m a painter. I was a professional dancer until I was thirty-five, but that is a young woman’s career and I decided to quit before I could no longer perform as well as I wished. I had always painted too, and have been trying to build a following with dealers and collectors. It is slow going unless you get very lucky, but I have had several exhibits at local galleries and a few of my pieces have sold for good prices. It is not enough to support me yet, so I do a few other things as well.”
“Like what?” asked Allison.
“I teach modern dance at the Senior Center. I run yoga classes at several corporate headquarters—you know, a workout for employees during their lunch hour. Sometimes I get paid to choreograph local musical productions. And I do hypnosis.”
“Hypnosis?” asked Allison. “Really? Like with a watch and chanting and putting people in a trance?”
Dania gave Allison a patient look. “It’s not what you probably think. Most people have silly ideas about hypnosis, based mostly on bad movies and books. I have heard there’s even a whole genre of erotic literature on the Internet about hypnosis and mind control and all sorts of weird fetishes, but that’s not what real hypnosis is about.”
Allison leaned forward, now fully engaged. “I saw a hypnotist give a show back at my high school, and it was really amazing. He got our principal to cluck like a chicken, and got some kids to talk with foreign accents and do lots of other funny things. It was really fascinating.”
Dania nodded. “Yes, a good hypnotist can do those little stunts rather easily. I am a very good hypnotist—I have a certain natural talent and I received very good training. But there are limits to what even the best hypnotist can do. No matter how deep the trance or how strong the conditioning, a hypnotist can’t get someone to do something the subject believes is wrong, or that is completely contrary to who they are. I couldn’t hypnotize a normal person to kill a child, or hurt a puppy, for example, or even get someone who absolutely hated some sort of food to act as if they loved it.”
Allison frowned. “Well, then what can you do with hypnosis?”
Dania smiled. “You would be surprised, I think, by how much a good hypnotist can do. Most of my clients are people who know what they want, but something is getting in the way and preventing them from reaching it. Something is interfering with their becoming the person they truly wish to be. Through hypnosis, I can remove the barriers and strengthen their resolve. Some of my patients want to quit smoking, lose weight, or lower their blood pressure, or they want to be more patient with their kids, or be more assertive at work. Or they’re suffering from writer’s block, or they can’t finish a big project at work. They are serious about their goals, but something is blocking them. Putting them in a trance is a way to strengthen the natural impulses that they already feel, and to remove the barriers that are preventing them from realizing them. But I can’t turn somebody into something that they are not. No hypnotist can do that.”
Hmmmmm, thought Allison, feeling even more intrigued than ever. The idea of hypnosis had always intrigued her and Dania’s gentle voice felt like a caress. She pressed her legs together gently and tried to maintain a perfectly even expression, though she suspected she wasn’t hiding it completely.
“There’s another thing,” Dania added. “Everyone’s different. Some people simply can’t be hypnotized, because they are so afraid of giving up control to another person. Even a talented hypnotist would be unable to trance them without using powerful drugs, and the conditioning wouldn’t last once the drugs wore off. But other people are extremely susceptible to hypnotic suggestion, because they don’t mind giving someone else control, if only temporarily. And a few people actually crave the sensation of going under. For them, being entranced is intensely pleasurable all by itself, which makes it easy for a hypnotist to lead them in the directions that the subject already wants to go.”
Allison nodded. It all made sense, she thought. But why was this conversation making her pulse quicken, and making it hard to breathe normally?
“And you. . .” she said, in slightly husky voice, “Do you enjoy doing it? I mean, do you enjoy hypnotizing people? Or is it just something you do to pay the bills?”
Dania’s face lit up for a moment, and then her gaze steadied. “I’ll be honest with you: I love it. I get this wonderful rush as I take someone down into trance—and especially when I can tell that going under is liberating them and will make their lives more fulfilling. It is a bit like I am painting on someone’s inner being: not to change the basic picture, but to give it new and more intense colors and to leave my client happier than they were before. The connection with some clients can be extraordinary: intense, consuming, even exhausting, but also deeply satisfying. In fact, it can even be a bit addicting, which is why one needs a lot of professional training and discipline. Doctors have to learn not to abuse their prescription pad; hypnotists have to learn not to go around inducing people just for kicks.“
Allison sat silently for a moment, feeling torn. She wanted to stay and keep this strange conversation going, and to explore the powerful attraction she was feeling. It didn’t make sense: if she was gay, or even bi, shouldn’t she have suspected it before now? And if she was straight, why did she keep wondering how Dania’s lips would feel on hers, and how her skin would feel if their bodies were entwined? Why was she suddenly fantasizing about doing things she had read about but never contemplated before? This is all wrong, she told herself, but she knew she didn’t really mean it. It feels right.
She should go. It was too much, too fast. She needed to get back to her own apartment, calm down, and try to figure this out. She summoned her dwindling resolve, and stood up, saying:
“This is really fascinating, and I would love to know more about it. But. . . um. . I really should be going. You have been wonderful, and I’m so glad to have met you. But I still have to do a bit more unpacking so that I can be ready for work tomorrow.”
She grabbed the two dinner plates and carried them to the counter by the sink. She came back to the table, picked up her wine glass, and finished the last swallow, before turning to her hostess.
“Dania, seriously, I cannot thank you enough. As soon as I get settled, I hope you’ll let me return the favor. And I’ll bring your robe back tomorrow.”
Dania nodded, a slight, knowing smile on her lips. “Ahh. . . of course. I understand. Thank you for sharing my dinner with me, and for being so open. I am sure we are going to become friends.”
“But before you go,” she continued, “Would you let me show you my latest work? It is for a gallery show next month, and I am nearly finished. I would love to get your reaction to it. It will just take a minute.”
Allison nodded. “Certainly, I’d love to see it. But then I really do need to get home.”
Dania smiled. “Come this way.” She took Allison’s hand and led her back down the hall toward the studio. As they reached the door, she stopped, turned, and reached out a hand to cover Allison’s eyes. She said softly, “close your eyes, I want this to be a surprise.” Allison obeyed, and let Dania lead her into the room, and gently position her in the center. “Wait a moment,” Dania said, and Allison heard her footsteps move across the room. A switch clicked, and though her eyes were closed she could tell that the room lights were on.
Dania returned, and stood directly behind her. She grasped Allison’s shoulders and turned her slightly to the left, saying, “There, that’s perfect. Whenever you are ready, open your eyes.”
Allison took a deep breath, exhaled and obeyed.
What did she see?
On the far wall of the room hung four large oil paintings, hung in the four corners of a large square. They were identical in size—at least 3 feet by 4 feet or more. The colors were muted but the images were vivid, distinct, and conveyed enormous energy. The impact was sharp and immediate, and Allison felt as if warm breeze had suddenly hit her head on.
Each picture portrayed a different woman. One was black and curvy, another was tall and very thin, with pale skin and close-cropped blonde, almost-white hair. The third was Asian and delicate, and the fourth was older, her long thick red hair accented with streaks of grey. Their bodies were partly obscured, but from what could be seen it was clear that each was nude. It was also clear that they were not alone, as parts of another person’s body were visible within each frame. In one, an unseen partner’s hand caressed a hip, in another, a shadowy presence could be seen behind the main figure, arms encircling her waist, in the third, the woman was prone with the shadow of another woman looming across her back, and fourth showed the older red-head lounging with her head tossed back against a sea of colored pillows, as another knelt busily below.
Their faces were all different, but the expressions were in one sense identical. At first glance, each seemed to be in the throes of a deep and powerful torment, but the longer Allison looked, the clearer it became that each was actually enjoying a moment of overwhelming pleasure, at the very brink of release. Each picture was an instant captured in time, in a moment of imminent and intense ecstasy.
As Allison gazed at the pictures, Dania moved closer, her hands on Allison’s shoulders and her breasts pressed gently against Allison’s back. She leaned down, her lips close to Allison’s right ear, and said softly:
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to say,” murmured the younger woman. “They’re amazing. . . I mean, they are so intense. You are very talented.”
“Thank you, my dear,” said Dania, her breath raising little goose bumps down Allison’s spine. “Each one is in fact a portrait, of real people making love and about to reach climax. I take a photograph at just the right moment, and use it to make the painting.” She smiled. “You’d be surprised how eager some of my friends are to pose for me.
Her lips hovered next to Allison’s ear again. “But that’s not important right now. What I want to know is this: how do they make you feel?”
Allison hesitated. Dania’s scent was heavenly, and her soft voice in Allison’s ear was doing nothing to slow the feelings building inside her. She kept staring at the four portraits, each one expressing the abandon and physical release that had always eluded her. For a moment she stood silently, and then the words came.
“Jealous,” she whispered. “They make me feel jealous.”
Dania stood up straight and turned Allison around. She smiled, stroked Allison’s cheek softly, and said “I could help you with that, you know.”
Allison closed her eyes. What is going on here? she thought. Even a simple touch on her cheek was making her tremble. . . but was it desire, or fear? Or perhaps a bit of both?
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m. . . I’m. . . I mean, I’ve been thinking you might have your own agenda.”
Dania nodded. “Even if I did, that shouldn’t make you nervous. Remember what I said about hypnosis? It cannot make you something you are not, but it can help remove the obstacles and let you become what it is you are or wish to be. And I would enjoy helping you discover new forms of pleasure.”
“I’m sorry,” said Allison. “But. . . I am feeling so strange this evening, and I think it has a lot to do with you.”
“You mean this connection between us?” replied Dania calmly. “This sense of possibility, whose full dimensions neither of us can see just yet? I feel it too.”
She paused and smiled. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to hypnotize you into becoming my obedient lesbian sex slave. Even if I could.”
Allison laughed, but felt a strange twinge inside. It almost felt like disappointment.
And then Dania added playfully, “Or at least not right away.”
And when Allison heard these words, she thought to herself: Would that be so bad?
But all she said was:
“Yes. Please. I want your help. I want you to hypnotize me.”
Dania was silent for a moment, staring intently at Allison’s face. Then she said,
“Are you sure?
Allison nodded nervously. “I think so—yes. Yes. Yes, I do.”
Another pause, longer this time. And then Dania reached out, and gently stroked the side of Allison’s face. “Very well,” she said, “if that is what you want. But not tonight. It’s late. . . you are tired, and I want you to think carefully about what you’re asking me to do. If you’d like to continue and you are free, come back and see me tomorrow after work.”
She took Allison’s hand and led her slowly out of the studio and down the hall. She ducked quickly into the bathroom and collected all of Allison’s discarded clothes into a small canvas bag. Then she led Allison slowly toward the front door. The summer sun had set and Allison suddenly realized how late it was.
When they reached the door, Dania turned and embraced her briefly, planting a quick kiss on Allison’s cheek. Then she handed her the canvas bag, smiled, and said:
“I hope you will come back tomorrow for our first session. It’s up to you—either way, I hope to see you again. You can return my robe to me then. Wear some comfortable clothes, don’t eat too much beforehand, and come with an open mind.”
She opened her door, and Allison wasn’t sure what to say. Her mind was still racing with new possibilities, and some part of her wanted to turn back and return the kiss, more ardently. But she nodded, and simply said “Thank you again. . . I had no idea this would be such an interesting evening. I’ll bring your robe back tomorrow, and um, think some more about your offer.”
Dania nodded. ”Please do—I really think I can help. I will be thinking about you as well. Until then, my dear.”
And with that she closed her apartment door. Allison walked slowly back to her apartment, feeling strangely disoriented. She opened here door, got ready for bed quickly, and slid naked between the sheets. She lay awake for a few minutes, wondering if it had all be some sort of strange dream, and trying to decide whether she really did want to be hypnotized. But she already knew the answer: she would be going back the next night to find out. And then she slept.