The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When Opportunity Knocks

Paul has been studying Hypnosis and inductions for years. He’s never had the courage to actually put the knowledge into use, but when opportunity knocks, he takes a chance. And his life changes forever.

I’ve read that a writer puts himself into the stories he writes. If that’s so, this is me. It’s a personal fantasy of mine, but I doubt it will ever happen.

But you just never know for sure… do you?

This is a work of pseudo-fiction. Nothing seriously explicit this time around; in the future I’ll cover all the bases. This is my first full piece of erotic fiction. I welcome all comments, good or bad, nice or mean. I’d really like to know what you think about it.

* * *

He sat in the food court at MacArthur Mall in downtown Norfolk, the people passing by as he ate his grilled turkey club sandwich from Steak Escape. It was as close to getting away from it all as he could be, this being his hometown turf.

Norfolk doesn’t offer much that interests him. He’s not into drinking, he’s not into drugs. He doesn’t do the bar scene; the closest he comes to clubs is going to Hooters at Waterside.

No, it’s not just for the gorgeous knockouts that work there, running around in those oh-so-tight t-shirts and bright orange short shorts. The food is actually pretty good, most of the time.

He’s reading again, as usual. When he’s not wearing his iPod mini losing himself in music, he’s reading.

He tells himself every minute of every day he’s sick of being alone. Tired of not having the love he so desperately desires, craves even.

It goes back a long way.

* * *

In high school there were several girls that attracted him, some more than others of course. One that stood out in his mind, even now so many years later, was Mandy.

Mandy was his Goddess at sixteen years old. He had never wanted anything so much in his life, let alone a woman.

She had ‘the body’, the one that ignited fires in his dreams; dreams he didn’t even remember but she was there, nonetheless.

He had tried to speak with her on several occasions, none of them ever amounting to much of anything. She was beautiful, and he just stiffened up anytime he was around her – and no, not that kind of stiff.

This was that “oh god why can’t I just say what I want to say without sounding like a newborn baby drooling all over myself” stiffness that guys experience when they’re in the presence of a Goddess.

She was his Goddess, even if she didn’t know it.

If he could only talk to her, really talk to her perhaps he could make her understand he only wants to make her happy, in any way possible.

But of course, he’s sixteen years old. He’s not the smartest kid at school; he’s just doing enough to get by.

He has no future plans other than to go home that day and play some more games on his Commodore 64.

His Dad passed away the previous year, an aneurism claiming him in his sleep.

Two days prior, his Dad had passed out while using the toilet, a medical condition Paul decided to learn more about after the death. Research had been done for this particular malady and it seemed to occur primarily in elderly men – his Dad was 65 at the time of his passing.

”Something to look forward to, I suppose…” Paul mused to himself.

He spent more time in books than anything else. Having used computers since his early years, he didn’t socialize much. Not that he didn’t want to, mind you, he just chose the solitary life instead of the humiliation he normally felt around his “peers”.

He had a few friends, none of them really being the friend he thought himself to be. When asked, he was there, always helpful, always considerate; trying to do whatever was required.

Giving freely and only asking the same in return. Too bad he never found the friend he desired so much.

Over the years, his interest in hypnosis increased. He read more and more about it whenever he could, always hoping to find that one thing that just made it all fall into place.

He practiced self-hypnosis almost daily, never being sure it was done correctly or not. He had nothing to judge his experiences with, no friends to share the relaxation and peace he felt when he closed himself down and went inside, deep inside, but the beginning of his hypnotic self-discovery was almost the end of it.

His first experience left him very disappointed.

He purchased a “self-hypnosis tape” from a local bookstore and listened to it when he got it back home.

His studies had told him to expect to feel relaxed (but what does that feel like), his mind would clear and thoughts of the day would simply slip away (but what does that feel like), and he would probably slip into a deep natural sleep before the tape was done.

Overly analytical, as always, he just couldn’t relax enough to let go and let whatever was going to happen happen.

Is this right, should I feel this? Why can I still hear everything, even the soap opera playing on TV downstairs… the dog outside… the car traffic… it’s almost as if my hearing has increased in sensitivity… isn’t it supposed to fade away? Why am I breathing so quickly

Even today he has trouble letting go the way he truly desires. He wants to disconnect, as though someone had thrown a switch; here one second, gone the next. He desires a trigger, “switch off”, so he can lose himself, if even for a brief period of time.

He didn’t experience any of those things; he considered the experience a complete and dismal failure.

Good thing he’s persistent, or he would have given up completely, but he’s not like that. He won’t give in, he won’t give up. Not this time, it’s too important to him.

So he listened to the tape again the next day. And again the next, and again the next, and again the next and again and again.

After a week or so, he realized something was happening. He couldn’t put his finger on it, of course, but he felt… relaxed. Peaceful. Calm.

During the course of each day, whenever he felt stress, discomfort or general displeasure at his surroundings, he would simply close his eyes, take a very deep breath in, hold it for a few blissful moments, and then release it even more slowly through his mouth.

The whole time he was telling himself “relax… just relax… let it go… relax…”

His first time doing this, it felt so good; he was completely unprepared for what happened.

His shoulders dropped, almost of their own accord. His head started to lull forward, chin inching closer and closer to his chest. His breathing slowed so fast, becoming so deep.

Almost there… almost there, just a bit further now.


And then he felt it: the loss of all the stress. He thought he was thinking, but no… it wasn’t that…

It was just, gone. Just like that. All of it, wiped away with a breath.

Tears welled up in his sleepy relaxed eyes. The stinging of his tears just amplified the feeling of peace.

“HEY SLEEPYHEAD, WAKE UP!!!” the voice tearing through his mind, ripping him back to reality.

“Wha—what?!?!” he snapped back.

His friend Tommy was just sitting there, jaw agape, a look of concern on his face.

“Where the hell were you man, looked like you passed out there on me? Are you ok?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, just resting my eyes,” Paul whispered under his breath.

“Thought I was gonna have to call for some medical attention. Maybe you should go visit the nurse.”

“Nah, I’m fine, really. I feel… great, actually.” God that felt sooooo good… did I really do it?

“Ok, whatever you say man. So, you gonna come over today and check out that new game I copied?”

“Not today, got some things to do at home, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I have things to think about now…

And with that, Paul headed home. Study hall was sixth period, one of the few places during his school day where he could actually focus enough on himself to have tried that experiment with the breath.

On the way home, his mind was racing a thousand miles an hour:

I think I finally got it, I think I finally reached self-hypnosis, but… it’s not what I expected.

It never is, really. Anyone who’s ever been hypnotized usually describes the experience the exact same way:

“It’s not what I expected. I could hear everything, very clearly. Almost more clearly when I was hypnotized – and I was, wasn’t I?”

They never believed they were hypnotized; that was a given. Every hypnotist has heard that story a million times over. It’s right up there with the “Keep your eyes on the pocket watch/pendulum/crystal” thing.

Hypnosis had garnered a stereotypical image after so many years of movies and television making it something it’s not. It’s just a highly focused state of mind, the conscious dulled to a point where the façade of daily masks we all wear is brushed aside, allowing the real self to appear.

It was an endlessly fascinating subject to Paul, and after that day’s successful self-induction, he vowed to learn as much as he could.

But that was a long, long time ago, and life doesn’t always turn out the way we expect it to.

* * *

Fast forward twenty years or so…

Paul is now thirty-seven years old. He works for an onsite computer repair company. The job is going fine until one day a customer calls in and brings his world crashing down on him once more. He’s now unemployed, living at home caring for his Mom.

Yes, yes, he’s a Momma’s boy, sue him. It’s who he is. She’s seventy-seven years old, and she fell several months prior, striking her head on pavement and changing her forever. It hurts him to say it, but his Mom died when she hit the ground.

What’s left is merely a lifeless shell, going about her daily routine, mumbling as she tries so desperately to communicate, but not able to thanks to the damage she incurred in the fall.

During the past twenty years, he feels like he’s been in a coma. The whole world has passed him by. He’s not doing what he wants, but therein lays the problem: He doesn’t know what he wants.

In all his forays into hypnosis he’s never been able to reach that part of himself that could answer the question:

What do you want, Paul? Seriously, all bullshit and kidding aside, can you answer this question?


He recently found a website filled with stories of hypnosis laced with an erotic side, even crossing that line, that oh-so-fine line, into mind control. He’s shocked; he’s stunned; he’s… he’s… erect.

Wow. Who would have thought other people shared his fetish for hypnosis and erotica mixed together.

Not only that, but… submissiveness, losing control, surrendering to someone else—and a whole new chapter in his life began that day.

He begins reading some of the stories. Amazing stuff he finds there. Some of it is well-crafted like fine poetry, some of it… well… some of it needs work—lots of work.

But he’s hooked.

He starts glancing over the descriptions of some of them, finding some more enticing than others. He has a deep seated fetish of total domination and mind control, as most people do, but they just can’t bring themselves to admit it openly.

He’s more interested in using hypnosis to improve a relationship, bringing the participants closer together. Consensual hypnosis, that’s what squeaks his sneaker. Two consenting adults having fun with hypnosis – exactly as it should be used.

He finds a page of reader picks and browses through what other people consider their favorites. He sees a name come up more than once: artie.

He backs up a page or two, and goes looking for stuff from this guy artie. He finds a lot of stories, starts reading them.

He gets lost in artie’s world for two days straight, carefully digesting every fathom, every detail of the characters, the stories.

Something awakens inside of him. He decides to write to artie telling him how his stories, especially “Contest Weekend,” touched him. As a former Ham Radio operator, seeing the small details of that aspect of the story really hits home for Paul.

Amazingly, artie responds to the email. Wow, he thinks, he’s a real person – and he responded.

He gets another massive boost, lifting him that much higher.

He continues browsing, then realizes he should see what artie likes, what his Reader’s Picks are. Scrolling down the list, he sees the name Wiseguy, with quite a few stories written. So he picks one at random.

“In The Moment” was the first he reads.

Before it’s over, he’s got tears in his eyes because he realizes this is how he thinks. These are the kinds of fantasies he keeps buried inside himself, fearing that other people couldn’t, or more accurately wouldn’t, understand.

He decides to drop Wiseguy a note about how the story touched him.

Amazingly, Wiseguy responds.

Holy cow, he thinks, these people actually understand. They feel the same way. These people are friends, maybe not in person, but friends just the same.

He joins another site, a forum created by one of the oldest writers on the Electronic Mind Control Stories Archive, more commonly known by its acronym EMCSA.

JR Parz runs the MC Forum site where many of the contributors to the EMCSA hang out to discuss (what else) stories, hypnosis, anything they care to share.

He gets the itch to write something. So he writes. And he writes. More and more words come to him, so fast he can’t get them down on paper quickly enough.

Lucky for him he can type about 90 wpm, but even that’s not fast enough in reality.

One thing he’s always hated is the fact that his brain is so powerful, capable of doing so much, and yet his input and output systems are so slow. The five senses just can’t provide the stimulus fast enough to the brain to keep him sated.

After seeing The Matrix so many times, he wants nothing more than to just jack-in to the machine; in effect, becoming the machine.

The thoughts coming faster, and faster. He can’t keep up, getting lost in the ideas. But one idea stands out from the crowd.

It came to him when he was watching an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was a great idea, so he began working on it. He’s never written anything before, not like this.

When he first contacted artie, he not only complimented artie on his stories, but asked if there were any suggestions artie thought might help a burgeoning writer with. artie suggested locating a copy of “The Elements of Style” by William Strunk, Jr.

A quick search of Google located a nicely formatted PDF version of that age old document; he printed it out for future reference. Computers are great things, he thought, but sometimes good old hardcopy just can’t be beat.

He starts writing the concepts, and then realizes that’s just not how his brain works. The words come to him, his fingers move, the story takes shape. Some of it is crystal clear, some of it requires a bit more work to word it into a usable form on the page.

More and more comes to him, he’s just typing away like mad. Taking breaks on occasion, returning to the keyboard when the Muse strikes.

He’s having the time of his life.

He gets a ton of writing done in that first week, 8 chapters or so coming together for the story. This won’t be anything short, that’s for certain.

He compares it to one of artie’s ‘sagas’, like his favorite, “Growing Up With Beth,” a simply magnificent story in every meaning of that word.

It would have been nice to have an Aunt like Beth… or any female friends for that matter. Inside, he cries again.

He submits the sample to artie, Wiseguy and several other people for proofreading and review. Now its just sit back and wait for the critiques to come in.

So it’s off to MacArthur Mall, to see the sights, the people, check out a movie. He decided to see “Ella Enchanted” today, learning about the movie from a posting on the MC Forum several weeks prior.

It’s a great movie, affecting him once again. He’s noticed something lately, something deep inside.

He’s more open to things than he has been in the past. Again, he feels like he’s waking up from a long sleep, more like a coma. He cries during emotional parts of movies or TV shows, far more so than ever did before, and, amazingly, he’s completely cool with it.

After the movie, as he’s sitting there chowing down on that grilled turkey club (they make great sandwiches here, he says to himself), he notices a woman coming his way. Not directly at him, of course, but in his general direction.

She’s about the right height, he thinks. She’s about the right … oh God, its Mandy.

It became so clear to him in that briefest span of time, in between one thought and the next.

It’s her, she’s here… it’s really her… oh Lord have mercy on me, what do I…

And before he even knew it, he was on his feet.

He’s never been the fashionable type; never spent a fortune on his clothes, always getting stuff he just feels comfortable in. That’s another aspect of him that’s changing: His appearance to others is becoming more important to him daily.

He’s 6′6″ tall, he weighs close to 375 lbs. – but you’d never guess his weight by looking at him. He doesn’t look fat, like John Candy-fat. He’s just a big guy; a big lovable teddy bear, if you will.

He’s grown his goatee again, several weeks after shaving it off. He got used to having it, felt it made him look better, but recently shaved it off thinking women would find the clean shaven look more approachable; so much for that idea.

He doesn’t consider himself sexy, at least not yet, but… well, that’s the funny part. He doesn’t know what to think of his appearance. His family, four sisters and a brother, would just offer him compliments off-the-cuff, not really caring one way of the other.

He and his siblings had never been close, not like other families he’s witnessed in action. No touchy-feely stuff ever took place, no hugging, no talking, not much of anything. Once his parent’s divorce became final many years ago, the “family meal” just wasn’t the same anymore.

Having four sisters would seem to have been a great way to learn about girls: Kissing, touching, talking, and cuddling – and not in a sexual way. He wanted to be held, to be loved, to share things, but it just never happened.

He kept his feelings bottled up inside for so long. It affected his relationships – no, scratch that, he’s never had a relationship with a woman, so he couldn’t say for sure how it affected them. Guess it just negated them completely in his mind so he never pursued a relationship, with anyone.

Except Mandy.

So now he finds himself on his feet, walking towards the girl of his high school crush, not even realizing why. He’s dressed in his best pants, sport coat, etc. Not too shabby if I do say so myself, he thinks.

He walks with a purpose, sure of foot, confidence growing more with every step.

He approached her as she stopped in line at Sbarro.

“Mandy…” he whispered, just loud enough to scare himself stupid.

She turned, looking directly into his eyes. For a moment there, he swore she looked as if she recognized him—but only for a moment.

“Excuse me, but do I know you?” she asked.

“Well, it’s been a long time, and we never did get to have that conversation at lunch I always wanted to have, but here goes. My name is Paul; we went to high school together and… tell her, a voice coming deep from within him… I had the biggest damned crush on you the whole time we were there.”

Oh God, I’m so screwed… she’s gonna think I’m some psycho stalker now… best to just walk awa—

The look appeared on her face, a smile forming, that million watt smile. Paul was going weak in the knees fast. Recognition… yeah, that’s it, that’s how to describe that look.

“Oh wow, Paul! How are you?” and before he knew it she was hugging him, tightly. He had to stoop a bit to get a grasp on her, but once he did… he never ever wanted to let go.

She felt so good in his arms; he had fully straightened his back now, not noticing her feet were a good eight inches from the floor. He slowly, ever so gently lowered her back to Earth, down from the clouds where he now floated.

She flashed that smile he remembered so vividly, the one burned into his memories for so many years.

He felt like crying right at that moment, but she was already taking charge:

“So what brings you here, shopping today? You look great… all salt-and-pepper hair, even your goatee…” her hand brushing against his face, her fingers caressing his goatee.

Oh my… here we go again as he felt that stiffness coming back, the fear of speaking to her, of telling her the things he wanted so… desperately to say, even after all these years.

She sensed it, seeing it on his face, and she acted on it.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” and smiled once again. She was so beautiful, even more beautiful than he had remembered.

Come on you pussy… Opportunity is knocking… KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK… can’t you hear it? Can’t you feel it? Use it, make it your motivation, and SPEAK… open the door, Paul… let her in

“Mandy, may I buy you lunch?” he blurted out so fast it must have sounded very strange to her.

“Well, I was going to a movie here in a bit, just thought I’d get some real food since that theater crap is not only bad for ya, it’s too damned expensive. Yes, I’d like that.”

Inside he was on Cloud Nine. Hell, he had just bought property there.

“So, let’s get you some grub so we can sit down finally, I’d love to hear about what’s been going on with you over the years.”

He surprised himself with that outburst, not a shred of hesitation in his voice. It just came out of him, exactly as he was thinking it. He was finally being himself, and right in front of the woman of his dreams.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, she noticed.

She finally made a decision on a huge slice of pepperoni and cheese, a medium Diet Coke and some cinnamon bun thingy with icing. He paid for it, gladly, and walked back to where he was sitting.

They sat facing one another, and the conversation started.

“So, whatcha been up to there, Paulie… you seem, I don’t know, more confident than the last time we spoke.”

Sparkles, she had nothing but sparkles in her eyes. She was just too distracting to think.

Her casual attitude with him, and her tone of voice, just stirred up something deep inside of him he had never felt before.

Oh, did I mention he had an erection? Sorry, thought that was important enough not to forget it, oh well.

No shit. I was a bundle of nerves wound up like a spring just waiting to explode back in high school.

<Cue the cheesy flashback music and video fadeout… its fantasy, so just imagine it happening>
* * *

The last time they were this close was in a similar situation. Loud, noisy, people all over the place – no, take that back, it wasn’t people; it was High School at lunchtime.

A world unto itself, where only the cool people mattered, the ugly people survived and the in-betweens just looked for table scraps.

He hated remembering high school, he really did. He never had a good memory about being there, unless of course he was thinking about her. That just sort of made things better, every time.

He stared into her eyes, her beautiful sky blue eyes, but he couldn’t hold her attention for more than a second at a time.

Why can’t I do this? Why am I so nervous here, in the presence of the one I want, what the hell is wrong with me?

The butterflies in his stomach almost created the need to vomit sometimes; this was one of those times.

He sat at the same lunch room table she did, about six feet away. On occasion she would glance in his direction; if he could just catch her eye, just once… maybe something would happen.

Oh God, please, let her look at me, just once… let her see me, the real me, not this mask, not the scared horny overweight geek I am on the outside… just once let her see me…

He would say something hoping to sway her attention; say anything, hoping she would respond, look his way, anything. Any reaction at all would send him to the Moon, but she never did acknowledge him.

He remembered Valentine’s Day was a few days away. He wanted to give her something, something that would make her think of him whenever she looked at it, even if just in passing.

He received a nice chrome plated arrowhead necklace from an Aunt on the previous Christmas. He didn’t wear jewelry except for a watch, but he kept it anyway. He dug into his chest-of-drawers and located it.


He tried to write a card to go along with it, something from the heart, but the words failed him as they always did.

At the time, his Mom was renting out a second house they owned to some sailors stationed at NOB (Naval Operations Base) Norfolk. This whole area he’s from is Navy related in some manner or another.

On Valentine’s Day itself, Paul found himself in that rear house, talking to some of the “more worldly and wise” sailors. They asked him if he liked girls; he blushed like a tomato over that one.

They prodded further, asking more specific questions about girls at school. One sailor asked, “So, who is she?” and Paul just opened up like a floodgate.

Tears, tears and more tears came out. One of them was already sitting beside him holding him, the other sat in front of him trying to look Paul in the eye.

“Oh come on, stop crying you pussy.” They always did have a way with words.

“Paul, if you want her that much, just tell her. That’s the secret with women, ya know: Be honest. Don’t fake it, don’t try some lame pickup lines, just be honest with yourself first, then open your mouth and speak from the heart. It gets them every time.”

I looked him square in the eye and said, “Yeah right, if it were only that easy.”

Tim looked right at Paul, dead on and totally serious: “What’s her name?”


“So, tell me, about this Mandy, where’s she living?”

“Over on the next street.” I replied.

That much was honest: Mandy lived one street away; I could be on her front porch in five minutes or less.

“So, here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna go back to your room, give us thirty minutes or so, then come back out here. When you do, we’ll give you a surprise. And bring that gift you wanted to give her; we’ll get you set up just fine.”

I left, still feeling like crumpling into a ball and crying myself into a coma, but it just wasn’t happening.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity, and then returned to the old house out back, carrying my little gift wrapped to the best of my ability.

They asked me what her address was; I didn’t remember the exact numeric address, but I did remember hers was the fourth house down on the right.

Tim grabbed my gift and said, “Wait here, don’t leave until I come back.”

I sat there, trying to relax. Even my self-hypnosis wasn’t helping; those deep breaths weren’t calming me down the least bit.

About ten minutes later, Tim returned, a huge stupid grin on his face.

“Ok, now that that’s done, go back to your room. You have a phone in your room, right?”

“Yeah, it’s for my computer,” I mumbled as best I could

“Well, stay off the phone, you understand? Just go back to your room, relax on the bed, and try not to fall asleep ok? But stay off the phone, that’s the most important thing. Tell your Mom you’re expecting a very important call, and just stay off the phone.”

His stating “stay off the phone” so much almost became a trigger to me, forcing me to – you guessed it – stay off the phone.

So I return to my room, lie down on my bed, heart beating a mile a minute, thinking about what the hell he had just do—

The phone was ringing. I couldn’t even hear it, but the phone was ringing. It took a well timed scream from my Mom to snap me out of the trance I had allowed myself to slip into.


Coming back pretty quick to consciousness I sat up like a robot, reached over, grabbed the phone and spoke.

“He-hello?” I had nothing but total hesitation in my voice. Scared shitless would have been an apt description at the time, and it still is.

“Paul? Hi, it’s Mandy…”

I had never fainted before in my entire life, I swear. But if what I was feeling at that moment was what it was like to faint, well then, I decided I’d like to faint a bit more often.

Her voice pushed me right over the edge, my erection just sprang into my pants, uncontrollably stiff, painfully stiff. I tried to adjust myself as quickly as I could, but for some reason I just kept thinking that I was missing something… just on the edge of my consciousness, something was missi—

“Paul, are you there?”

Oh Christ, I forgot she’s on the phone…

“Hi, Mandy, Happy Valentine’s Day to you and your family. How’d you get my number?”

“That guy Tim… he’s a real cutup. He gave me the note and your gift. They’re both… beautiful. Tim left your number written on the envelope and told me I should call you if I felt like it. So I’m calling.”

Note, what note? I didn’t write any… oh no, Tim, what have you gotten me into… I’m so screwed… but, I am talking to her… and she called ME… Thanks, Tim, I owe you, big time…

“So, I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to come over and… talk.”

Blahahabalhgurgghgleleleblahblahgurgleblumblegurhgle… I couldn’t think, not one single serious well formed conscious thought came to my mind, I just sat there on my bed, with an erection I’d never experienced before, talking… talking… who was I talking to? Oh crap, I’m doing it again…

“I’m sorry Mandy; I’m just a bit, distracted right now. Can I call you back here in a minute or so? My Mom asked me to do something for her, she’s downstairs cooking.”

If I can do anything well, it’s lying to others about how I was feeling. Of that much I’m 100% confident.

“Sure,” she said, “but I wanted to know if you could … you know, come over for a bit… I’d like to talk to you.”

I couldn’t stop wondering what the hell they had written in that letter to her; years later I would find out, that’s part of this story. But as I was wondering about that letter, I failed to notice something about myself.

I came.

Just from her words, I came so hard, so fast, my whole body wracked with tension and pleasure at the same time. I was inexperienced with women, never having been with one, never having been on a date, never having kissed one (again, not even my sisters were of any use in that department). But once more, I’m only sixteen years old.

I knew what an orgasm was; I had discovered masturbation some time earlier in my life, but nothing could possibly prepare me for what was happening.

I couldn’t speak for maybe ten solid seconds. Looking back on it now, I’m sure I had that prototypical look on my face: Features slack, mouth open in the familiar “O” shape, eyes rolled back, nothing but pleasure.

As the feeling began to fade, my conscious mind returning to the foreground, I heard her voice again:

“Paul, are you there, are you ok?”

“Yeahhh… yeah, yes… I’m fine, thanks… I have to go now, but… I’ll be there, just wait for me.”

“Ok, I’m home for the afternoon, you can have dinner with us, I’m sure my Mom won’t mind.”

Oh Christ, she just asked me to dinner.. Oh no, not again…

I fought the urge to let it go the second time, speaking to her:

“That would be awesome, thanks for the offer, I’ll check with my Mom to see if that’s cool. See ya soon.”

I was sure my Mom wouldn’t mind; hell, if I had actually told her I was about to go over to a GIRL’S HOUSE because she asked me to have dinner with her and her parents, she probably would have passed out from the sheer pleasure herself.

I hung up the phone, feeling like a new man. Or a sixteen year old boy, depending on your point of view.

I took off my clothes, realizing I had to jump in the shower immediately. Needless to say, that shower was a revelation in more ways than one. It was the first time I had ever masturbated there, and from the experience of the water hitting me, my hands on myself, soapy, slippery… it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

I changed clothes into fresh ones, ran downstairs, kissed my Mom, told her I was invited to a friend’s house for dinner and took off before she could even ask why.

I ran the entire way to her house, stopping about fifty feet from the steps. I looked at the house, having imagined myself standing here many times before in my dreams.

I had imagined myself going up the steps, knocking, having Mandy answer the door in the most awesome one piece bathing suit I had ever seen before, getting an erection that I had absolutely no control over, hearing her mouth the words: “Looks like both of you are happy to see me.”

I imagined us making love in her swimming pool, in her shower, on her bed, on the living room floor, on the stairs. Everywhere we could get ourselves together was an opportunity to discover something new.

Then I found myself knocking at her door.

Mandy, opportunity is knocking on your door. Will you open it and take a chance?

The door opened and I met Mandy’s Dad for the first time. Auto mechanic, a handshake as solid as the jaws-of-life that EMTs and Firemen use to rescue people from crushed automobiles. My hand actually hurt afterwards, but I gave him the best return handshake I could muster.

“Mandy’s upstairs, she’ll be down shortly. So you’re Paul, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“She’s my only girl, ya know. Mandy and her brother are twins, bet you didn’t know that?”

I cocked an eyebrow over that one.

“No sir that I wasn’t aware of.” Here I was trying to sound more adult in my choice of words, not feeling at all comfortable doing it.

Mandy’s brother was on the football team, always having the best looking girls in the school around him at any time.

Just the kind of guy I’d come to hate in my school life.

Some guys were born with “it” – I always wondered what “it” was and where could I buy an injection, but such is life.

Brad Pitt has “it”. George Clooney has “it”. Tom Cruise has “it”. I don’t, so I live with that, then and now.

He continued on, talking about his job, his family, etc. He loved his family; that was evident in everything he said.

He also looked me square in the eye at one moment and said

“Son, I don’t know what you wrote to my little girl, but when she read that letter, sitting on the couch, she cried. I couldn’t figure it out myself. I asked her if something was wrong, and she just said ‘No, Daddy, everything is perfect, and I have to make a phone call.’ Lord she went running off upstairs so fast, I just didn’t know what to think. I haven’t seen her that… happy… in many a year. Whatever you said, thanks, and welcome to our home.”

Years later, I understood the word to describe him was “congruent.” In those moments we were talking he was everything his words said he was: a kind loving husband, father and provider.

And here I was, a pimple faced overweight geek practically asking for his daughter’s hand in matrimony.

No, no, that’s not what I wanted. I just wanted her, nothing more. All I wanted was one night, the two of us, together.

It was my fondest wish and my greatest fantasy all rolled into one.

And then she came downstairs. I was about to come myself, in some respects.

She was wearing those jeans again – those jeans that hypnotized me the first time I ever saw that… ass.

A cutoff t-shirt that showed her flat smooth taut stomach from just underneath her belly button to about two inches below the lower cleft of her breasts.

Blahahabalhgurgghgleleleblahblahgurgleblumblegurhgle… it was happening again. I wonder if her Dad just saw that bulge in my pants, and he’s standing now… oh crap, I can’t stand up… no, I can’t… oh shit

So I stood. It was now or never, I told myself. Amazingly, for some strange reason, that erection vanished almost as fast as it appeared; I never knew why.

She smiled that smile again, and all was peaceful in my world.

She asked me to step out on the porch with her, which I did, following behind… that ass.

I hate to sound like I was submissive or anything – maybe that’s where my sub personality first appeared – but I would have moved Heaven and Earth just to get on my knees behind her and service her silly.

I couldn’t help myself then, just like I can’t help myself now describing it.

Honesty is the best policy, or so I’ve been told.

We got out on the porch and once there, she turned to look at me. She smiled.

“I was taking a nap waiting for you to get here.” Her voice drifting off as she stretched her arms high above her head. She stood up on her tiptoes, and in the process her t-shirt almost rose clean above her nipples. I could easily see the lower half of her magnificent breasts, and… and…

Oh my God she’s not wearing a bra… Hormones are cruel to a young man, sometimes. This was one of those times.

Remember that scene in Basic Instinct? Yes, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about. That scene. The ‘gratuitous beaver shot” that launched not only Sharon Stone’s movie career into the upper atmosphere, but millions of loads of semen too.

Again, remember: honesty.

I froze, and I knew it. My eyes were locked on her stomach, unable to look away. Time just came to a standstill at that moment, as I became absolutely and totally focused on her. I wasn’t even aware of her perfume, her scent until just that moment.

All of this was just too much for me, and I came once more. Thankfully I was wearing thick black corduroy pants at the time – they didn’t offer much in terms of flexibility. My cock was as stiff as it had ever been, but it was held tightly against my inner thigh.

My semen was running down inside my pants leg, clear down to my calf before I registered her saying something.

“Paul, are you ok, you looked a bit spaced out there for a second? What’s wrong?”

Honesty… pishaw. If I were honest right now, totally, I’d open my mouth, tell her how I felt, take her in my arms, kiss her with adoration, lust and passion so strong she’d give herself to me body and soul…

But that never happened.

I straightened up, caught my breath, and promptly chickened out.

“Mandy, I’m sorry, so sorry, but I have to go. Something’s come up and I won’t be able to have dinner with you.”

She looked at me like… I can’t describe that look, even now. Sadness. It had to be sadness. That’s the only word that even comes close to what I felt standing there, in her presence, knowing inside that if I just… if only I could bring myself to…

I found myself walking away, not looking back once. I didn’t go straight home after that; I just walked around our neighborhood for what seemed to be forever before finally returning home.

As I came in the door, my Mom saw me, saw the look in my eyes, saw the dried tears on my cheeks, and just stood there as I walked past her. I went to my room and closed the door.

I cried myself to sleep after several eternally long minutes of sobbing.

When opportunity knocks, open the door and let it in. As Morpheus explains to Neo in The Matrix, “I can only show you the door. You’re the one that has to open it.”

<cue cheesy flashback music and video… Ladies and Gentleman, we’ll be landing shortly back in the future…>
* * *

I decided honesty was the best policy here and now, so I told her what she wanted to know.

“I’ve been traveling for a long time, Mandy, all over the country. I lived in Atlantic City for a while, then Spokane, Washington. Moved back home for a bit; at one point I even saw you and your Mom at the Wal-Mart over at Chesapeake Square. You looked as good then as you did in high school, and I just couldn’t get the nerve up to say hi at the time.”

Real smooth, Romeo… laying it on a bit thick there, doncha think? But she smiled at that remark.

“I then left again, returned to Spokane for a while longer, then back home once more. This place keeps drawing me back. So many unfinished things, I suppose.”

I looked as deeply into her eyes as I possibly could right there, in that moment. I felt nothing but love coming back at me and prodded on.

“Once more I left Virginia, this time on my thirtieth birthday. I spent the whole day alone, not one person I knew called, wrote, emailed, nothing. It’s like here I was, at home, amongst ‘friends’ I thought, and not one of them remembered or cared about my being here. Not my Mom, not my family, no one. I went out to a movie that day, I remember it clearly.”

“The movie was Con Air, starring Nicholas Cage and John Malkovich. During the course of the movie, we hear talk about Las Vegas a bit. Then at the end of the movie, the plane carrying the escaped prisoners actually lands – or crashes, as it were – on the Vegas strip.”

“As I left the theater, I decided to go to Vegas and try my luck. I was on a bus that very night. No, no, not for gambling, but at creating a new life. That was in 1997.”

She was chewing slowly then, her eyes never leaving mine for any length of time I was aware of.

God, where was this person talking back when I needed him so many years ago. Oh how our lives could have turned out differently.

“After living in Vegas for a short time, I found out about a place in Death Valley.”

She almost choked when I said that. “Where? Is that a real place?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s for real. It’s about two hours northwest of Las Vegas. There is a hotel resort there, why I could never figure out, but it’s there. Been there for 77 years now, attracts people from all over the planet for some reason. Hottest place on Earth based on average daily temperatures. I worked there for five years, and then went back to Vegas for a few months and here I am, back home again.”

Ok, ok, enough with the science lesson, focus on her, and ask her something about herself… she IS part of this ya know, conversations aren’t one sided... now shut up and focus on her…

“Enough about me, talk woman, I need details, lots of details.” I smiled at her, she smiled back. Thank you somebody, thank you…

“I’m working now, I have a daughter, and she’s 12. I was divorced about two years ago from a complete loser that abused me and my daughter for a long time. I finally got the courage together to walk away from him and strike out on my – our own, my daughter and I.”

“Good for you girl” I commented. She was stronger than I remembered. Party girl in high school, always at the football games, always at the pep rallies. Many times he had seen her out in the parking lot at school smoking, drinking; all the things that made high school interesting in some respects.

All the things he chose not to do, and by doing so, stunting his growth on the social ladder dramatically.

And you wonder why you’re 37 years old and alone. You already know the answer to that one, it was your choice. A choice you make even to this day. When opportunity knocks, will you open the door?

“You’re doing ok, I take it. That’s wonderful. Got a picture of your girl?”

She reached into her purse, fishing for it, and then pulled out a picture of an angel. She has the same blue eyes, the same blonde hair.

“Damn, Mandy, she looks just like you did, back in high school. Oh man she’s gonna drive the boys insane, you know this, right?” A huge Cheshire grin formed on my face; I couldn’t help it.

“Yep, it’s already started. We get calls at odd times of the day and night, always some young hormonally imbalanced punk trying to score points with Mom. Her name’s Michelle, by the way.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” I said. Oh puhleeeez… where is this material coming from? You’ve been watching too many chick flicks like Fried Green Tomatoes… snap out of it, be a man for Pete’s sake…

“But things are well, yes? Anything I can help you with?”

“No, things are going better than ever, actually. She’s doing very well in school, better than I ever did.”

Mandy was never known to hit the books hard in school. Neither was I, for that matter. I never wanted to be there, ever. Not even her presence could have changed that much about me.

I didn’t fit in. Hell, I still don’t fit in, anywhere. I’ve never found a home for myself, never found someplace where it felt right to be there. Probably why I’ve traveled cross country on Greyhound buses about fourteen times in the past eleven years.

I’m even considering leaving once more now that I’ve lost yet another job, but I really have no place else to go. No friends to speak of, anywhere. Not even here, in my hometown.

But seeing Mandy today, seeing that smile, and knowing she’s doing well. That makes all the pain I’ve suffered over the years wondering what if… a bit more bearable.

“What are you doing now that you’re home? When did you get back?”

“I returned home last September, just before the Hurricane struck. I actually found the job I worked at for the past six months simply because I couldn’t get online to search for a job – the power was out, remember?”

“Oh yeah, my Dad didn’t have juice at his place for what, eight days?”

She cocked her head to one side, the sunlight streaming down her blonde hair, across her cheeks. Man I wish… if I could just…

“As I’m sitting there, bored out of my skull, I picked up the newspaper and found something locally for an onsite computer support company. They drive those PT Cruisers around, going to homes and businesses for computer repairs and training.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen those. What’s the job like?” she asked.

“It’s tedious, at times. You get tired of hearing ‘I need help with my computer’ or ‘how much do you charge?’ every time you pick up the phone.” She’s smiling again… and I’m so weak…

“What’s it like to drive one of those PT Cruisers? I want one, but right now I could never afford it.”

“Oh, I’m not one of the onsite people; I work at the company headquarters as a Dispatcher. People call in and I get information, quote prices then set up an appointment for a tech to go out on the job. Trust me, with thirty years of building and repairing computers under my belt, I won’t do that anymore. I’ve done my time in the trenches; it’s time for me to live a little.”

And right now I’d love to live a little with you, Milady… from your head to your toes…

“Cool, so you’ve been there six months, huh, any other plans for the future?” That smile, that knee buckling soul draining bright as the sun itself smile.

How much of this can I take in one day?

“Well, that’s the interesting part. They fired me last week.”

She scowled at that one. “What the hell did they do that for?” she asked.

“Well, I put it this way: I had one Customer from Hell that couldn’t be satisfied for any reason. I had three phone calls in three days from that same Customer from Hell. I had a management staff that was unresponsive and unsympathetic to my situation. All that added up to one unemployed male.”

Mandy reached over, taking my hand in hers, stroking it lightly. Oh oh oooooohhh… calm down big boy, she’s just holding your hand. Calm down… calm and relaxed… take a deep but shallow breath, slow… don’t let her see your reaction.

“That sucks, that really sucks. Can you do anything, maybe appeal the decision?” she asked, with a very intense look in her eye.

“I thought about it, but then I decided to take a deep breath <breathing in as soon as I said that>, held it <held it>, then let it go <letting the breath out in a long slow exhale>. If they dismissed me that fast over a customer complaint about a missed appointment, then that wasn’t the company I should have been working for to begin with. Too bad it took me six months to figure it out.”

She was visibly more relaxed now, her face relaying something, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“That’s the spirit. Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke,” she spouted out loud.

What little Mr. Pibb I had in my mouth became quickly lodged into my nasal cavity as I choked back a laugh from her comment.

“Oh Christ, Paul, sorry…” and she started giggling herself silly.

Oh Mandy, I have so many regrets in this life, but right now yours is the most painful… If I could go back to that porch, things would be different, I promise…

“Well, I look at the positive side of things nowadays. Some new prospects for my future have presented themselves to me recently, I’m thinking about going back to school for training in Psychology and Hypnotherapy.”

Her eyes beamed wide on that remark—really wide. So wide I got lost in them as she leaned onto the table closer to me, supporting her chin and head with one arm, the other languishing itself across the table, still holding my hand.

“Another positive to getting fired: It’s Saturday. If was still working there I’d be just that, there working, instead of here, where I’ve found you in my life once again.”

She smiled once again, dreamy, peaceful, and almost… sleepy. That’s it. She looked sleepy at that moment, relaxed.

Why the hell did I choose that word? Because that’s exactly how she looked. Eyes half open, pupils dilated, breathing deep, skin flushed, nostrils flared, biting down on her lower lip, holdin—wait… you missed something.

Her nostrils were flared—visibly flared. Holy cow, she’s aroused. She’s aroused… because of me. Did I do that? Yes, I guess I did… wow.

“Mind if I ask where you’re staying, with friends or do you have… someplace nearby?”

I have to admit a few things right here at this moment. First is: I have no practical experience with women. I’ve never been on a date, never had a really good female friend (I explained this already I think, sorry for being redundant). “Never Been Kissed” would be the way to describe it.

And since I don’t know how I’d respond to a woman of my dreams sitting in front of me in a mall having a conversation about our lives, and having her just ask me back to her place – figuratively speaking, of course – I’m just winging it right now, so bear with me while I imagine it going something like this:

My body temperature must have shot up five degrees at that moment because I swear I felt like I was going to spontaneously combust.

Let’s get this out of the way right now: I’m thirty seven years old, I’m a nice guy, and I’m a virgin.

There, I said it. When this story gets posted, everyone reading it will know I’m a virgin. It’s not a problem for me anymore – well it is, but that’s a given – I can’t change what I am, not yet. I prefer to look at it this way:

Someday my time will come, and when it does, so will I. :)

I’ve never been so turned on in my life at this point. She’s sitting here, staring at me, and I know for the first time in my life, I could end my sorrow in this life, with her in my arms, in a hotel, in twenty minutes.

But what would that really do for both of us? Sure, it’ll release some tension. Years and years and YEARS of tension, I assure you, but in the long run, we’d be right back where we started.

I know that nothing will come of today. I knew this when she came walking back into my life, I knew it when she recognized me, I know it deep in my gut every time she smiles at me.

And it’s killing me more by the second, not just as I experience it by writing it, but inside my mind it’s tearing me apart.

But it’s time to focus on her again and stop being lost in my own self-pity.

Besides, I’m a Gentleman. There aren’t many of us left anymore; we should be classified as a protected species, if you ask my opinion.

“So now I’m back once again, staying with Mom. She injured herself a few months back and needs round the clock care. One of my sisters and me run rotations for the present time, until a better solution presents itself.”

She took a sip of her soda, looking around at the crowd before resting her eyes back on mine, sympathy just gushing out of every pore. I’m not particularly adept at reading women’s signals, but this time, just this once, Mandy was as clear to me as anything had ever been.

We sat there, together; as she listened to me weave a tale of my life, her eyes continued to gaze into mine, something… weird, I suppose. I had never spent this much time in my entire life – seriously – with a beautiful woman (any woman, for that matter) so rapt in my words. It was almost as if… no, it’s not that, don’t even go there… but what if…

And then I noticed something else.

It was around 4:15PM and the sun was getting towards its late point in the sky. MacArthur Mall has some great skylights in it, the sunlight just landing on everything around us.

Her hair, her skin, the table, my arm… my… watch… No fucking way… this can’t be happening…

And then I heard it, I was sure of it, but still.


I shuddered from the sound reverberating around in my consciousness.

I’ve never hypnotized another person in my life, even though it’s something I dream about daily, both awake and asleep.

What was about to happen would just finally push me over the edge, giving me the confidence I had always wanted; the proof I needed to have to know for certain what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

Now to just backtrack for a bit: I’ve been reading the stories at EMCSA, LiteErotica, and lots of other erotic writing sites for two months straight now. I’ve probably learned more varied induction methods in this brief period of time than I have in the entire time I’ve been learning about hypnosis.

Yes, yes, yes, I know that any real professional hypnotists out there will tell me I’m a loon here, but the writing itself isn’t as important in those stories as how the writing can be applied.

Make no mistake; most of the writers putting out erotic hypnosis and mind control stories are professionals, Hypnotherapists, Psychologists, Stage Hypnotists, or some other background with some formal training in hypnotic induction methods.

Several of the people I’m now communicating with have told me they have backgrounds in Hypnotherapy and Psychology, so I know what they’re writing has some experience behind it.

Take a really well written erotic hypnosis story, not something based in straight mind control overtones – again, that’s a fantasy to me, not something I plan to act out anytime soon, but who knows what will happen if I meet the right person – but a simple, well done induction.

To me, a well done induction, coaxing the person into a trance, slowly, deliberately, adapting the induction to the moment by moment state of the subject – that’s not only erotic as hell; it’s art in its highest form.

Ok, back to the show.

I notice Mandy glance over at my watch just as the sunlight hits the bezel just right causing a reflection of light to reflect across her eyes.

Oh my God… calm and relaxed Paul, you won’t do anything here to be ashamed of, her signals are wide open and broadcasting at full power right now, put up your antenna… that’s right… lock on… and go get her…

“So relaxing, just sitting here, don’t you think, Mandy?” barely moving my wrist, so very slightly, back and forth, watching the reflection cross directly between her eyes, left to right, right to left.

“Mmmm Hmmmm… it’s nice… we should have done this year’s agooo…” her voice trailing off.

I was so damned nervous right now, so scared of losing her again, but then it hit me:

You never lost her, dumbass; you’re the one that walked away, remember? Now she’s here, in your face once again, you’re about to spooge once again; losing control of not only yourself but of her… and that’s what it’s all about isn’t it? Control. There’s no sense trying to hide from it, it’s what you truly want…

My internal dialogue was confusing me even more by the second, but even as that was going on, I noticed a voice, my voice, coming out of my mouth, unbidden, or so it seemed.

Something else I noticed: It wasn’t my normal speaking voice. It was deeper, throatier, and for some reason it was easy to use this voice. Normally when I tried to talk in a more subdued, calmer and more relaxed voice, as deep as I was speaking right now, I couldn’t maintain it for long. But going on about five minutes now, I came to realize: Yes, this is really happening.

“So peaceful, even with all the noise inside the mall, so relaxing, easy to just let your mind drift… you easily hear my voice above any distractions… focusing on the pretty lights and my voice… as the light relaxes you… so wonderful to just sit here, together… talking… relaxing… deeper… going deeper into our conversation… deeper into our lives… more and more relaxed… my voice and the pretty lights… deeper… deeper… you may find yourself breathing deeper and deeper now, so comfortable… the food was wonderful, wasn’t it?”

“Mmmm Hmmmm…”

“So nice, to just sit here, gazing at the light… such pretty lights… so relaxing… you find yourself going deeper into the light, don’t you, Mandy?”


“Feeling so good, so relaxed… deeper and deeper into the light as it takes you deeper… going ever so deep… more and more relaxed… with all the distractions around us trying to pull you away… but the pretty lights… they’re so wonderful to look at… you find yourself simply unable to look away, isn’t that right, Mandy?”


“Good girl… the lights draw you deeper… and deeper still… with every breath you take you find it so much easier to relax, focus on my voice and go even deeper still with every word I speak… so much more relaxed… so much deeper…”

I was rewarded for all my years of study and imaginary practice as my Master Hypnotist took over. Remember, I wanted this, I believed in this, I made it happen. My subconscious was now going to make my dreams a reality.

But even I have limits. I knew, instinctively, that right from the first flash of light in her wonderful blue eyes that I would not press my limits here. I would never force myself on her, I would allow her to experience an incredibly deep state of relaxation, leave her with suggestions that things would go well for her, her life would become everything she wanted it to be, and then I’d wake her suggesting she forget that I had hypnotized her.

She would only remember that she met me in the mall, that we had lunch together, that I told her about myself and my crush on her in high school, that I had moved on and forgiven myself for not making the move I so desperately wanted to make standing there on her porch so long ago, and that would be that.

God I hate being a nice guy sometimes. No, take that back, I hate it all the time.

“Mandy, in a few moments I’m going to count from 10 to 1… with each number I count, when you see the pretty lights you will take in a very deep breath, hold it until the pretty light flashes in your eyes… the pretty lights… then you will blink your eyes as the pretty light flashes, and exhale… do you understand?”


“When I count 10 what will you do, Mandy?”

“I… I will take a deep breath in when I see the pretty lights… hold it until… I see the pretty lights flash… blink and exhale… when I see the pretty lights…”

“Good girl, Mandy… very good girl”

God I’m so lost now, I’ve lost my mind completely, I’m becoming one of those cheesy Stage Hypnotists that are now making money as an Erotic Hypnotist selling his fetish videos online… Oops, wait a second, I’m a member of some of those sites, and I even bought a DVD from one…

“I’m a pervert, I swear,” I said to myself – but smiling the whole time, of course.

Mandy was so relaxed now; she looked just like the girl on the one DVD I purchased. Her eyes were half open; for the first time ever I finally knew exactly what that glazing over looked like firsthand. Her facial features were slack, her mouth forming the squished “O” shape of deep relaxation.

Wow, I can’t believe this is happening… it’s a story for EMCSA just waiting… yeah, I’ll write about this soon… very soon…

“With each number I count, from 10 to 1, you will find yourself becoming much more deeply relaxed, with every number I count, you will go deeper and deeper into relaxation… more peaceful, more focused on my voice, easily focusing on my voice with no other distractions… you are here, with me, we’re together, just talking… old friends getting closer, going deeeeeeper… deeeeeeeper into themselves… do you understand?”


“You hear only my voice now, Mandy… you see only the pretty lights… do you understand?”


There was a part of me that knew, just absolutely knew as certain as I was breathing, that if I had suggested to her she call me “Master” after each confirmation… well, I would have orgasmed myself into a damned coma right there in the mall.

That’s my biggest fetish of my entire life: Having a beautiful woman (here, obviously, the most beautiful girl in my world at the moment), deep in a relaxed hypnotic trance of my induction, calling me “Master” over and over. It’s the stuff dreams are made of… My dreams…

Snap out of it stupid, you’re writing a story here, the people wanna get to the good stuff…

Oh sorry, thinking out loud – or on the keyboard as it were.

“So now we begin… 10…”

I moved my wrist slightly to get that perfect reflection. It took some doing because in the time I had been deepening her trance, the sun had obviously moved in the sky. I needed to move my entire forearm several inches, being careful not to flash her eyes before I was ready. No sense ruining the rhythm now.

As the light reflected in the blue of her eyes, she inhaled deeply, so deeply, held it, waited for the flash, and … there, she blinked, slowly. Upon reopening her eyes, I twitched my wrist once more and … there, she exhaled.

NLP is an amazing science if used properly. It’s like giving someone a Pavlovian response in seconds instead of days and days and days of training.

Using NLP methodology, someone could probably do that old “dog and the bell” experiment in less than one day, with the same exact results.

I was using the flash of the light as an anchor. I tied that anchor to her inhale, tied the inhale to the blinks, and tied the exhales to another flash.

Mandy was an exceptional subject, of course. Or maybe I’m just the hypnotist I want to be. I’ll find out soon enough.

My pacing was being set by her, not me. I realized that with each breath, the continually self-reinforcing suggestions of her going deeper with each breath, with each word she heard; it all added onto itself to become one very powerful induction, if I do say so myself.

She slowed down, body mind and soul. Her breathing slowed, her blinking slowed, and we continued in this process until we got to 4.

“4… as you see the pretty lights, you will find your eyelids growing so tired… so heavy now… so very very tired, Mandy… your eyelids are so heavy that they want to close… but you must keep them open until we reach 1, do you understand?”

“Yessssssss…” A bit more lethargic this time, even longer for her confirmation to come out. I took that as a very good sign.

“When can you close your eyes, Mandy?”

“Whennnn… you count… 1” Her answer came in three breaths, each one providing the clues I was looking for.

“Good girl. 3… <follow the same pattern, down past 2, approaching 1>

“Mandy, very soon I will count 1. When I count 1 you eyes will close, you will become even more deeply relaxed. You will let it all go, any stress, any concerns, any problems or worries. Do you understand?”


“Good girl. When I count 1 your eyes will close, and even though you become so totally and completely relaxed, you will still find it very easy to keep your head in an upright position, just as if you were talking to me across the table, do you understand?”


This suggestion came to me at the last second – I’d hate to have someone nearby seeing her head drop like a stone and cause suspicion. I was still waiting for someone to come up at any second and ask what the hell was wrong with my girlfriend.

How ya gonna explain a bombshell blonde, sitting here with… you… looking like she’s drugged out of her mind? What did you do, slip a Mickey into her drink, some Rohypnol maybe?

It was a bit late in the induction but I felt Mandy would respond to the suggestion just fine. And we’re about to find out.

“Here we go now… 1”

I twitched, she breathed, I twitched, she blinked, her eyes stayed shut, I twitched just for the effect on the inside of her eyelids, and she exhaled.


The look of absolute serenity on her face gave me a feeling of joy I just can not put into words that you would understand. If you’ve ever hypnotized someone before, especially after such a lengthy – and highly improvisational – induction, it’s not just a sense of “power and domination” over another. It’s simply a sense of pride, of accomplishment.

You’ll know what it feels like someday, of that I’m sure, and so will I. But this is my fantasy, so this is how I imagine it to feel.

“Mandy, tell me how you feel.”

“Floating… I’m floating… how… it’s so nice…”

No slurred speech, wonderful. Not lethargic anymore, she’s in her comfort zone, right where I hoped she’d be.

“Mandy, have you ever been hypnotized before?”


“If I told you that right now, you’re deeply hypnotized, very very deeply hypnotized, how would that make you feel?”

“I’m… hypnotized… it’s so… nice… calm… relaxing… am I?”

“Yes, you are.”

“So I must obey your commands, isn’t that right?”

I got an erection so fast my head spun, I kid you not. But quickly regaining my composure, I realized what had happened: She had never been educated in real hypnosis, so her subconscious went with whatever it had to work with: old TV shows, silly movies, stage hypnotists, etc.

“No, Mandy, you don’t obey anyone’s commands except your own. Hypnosis isn’t like that, real hypnosis that is. Why do you think you have to obey my commands, can you explain that to me?”

“Well, that’s what hypnosis is, isn’t it? You’re my Master, aren’t you?”

I felt emotion well up in me the likes of which I had never imagined. Remember how I said I had been feeling more open to myself lately?

Well, good God, it all came crashing down on me right there.

It wasn’t a sexual thing anymore, it really wasn’t.

It was just me; it’s always been just me.

I’ve built this fantasy up in my head so much, reinforced it so often, read so many stories at EMCSA about hypnosis and mind control… it’s pathetic, really.

I should be ashamed of myself right now, even as I’m typing this, lying in bed at 12:32AM, unemployed, 37 years old, living at home with what’s left of my Mom.

But I also have another thing I promised myself: I will never be ashamed of that which gives me pleasure, ever again. My pleasure is what matters most to me. If I can give pleasure to others, then I receive pleasure in return – even if it’s not pleasure given by others, it’s a pleasure I give myself: a reward for helping others.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

As I gazed into the face of the Goddess of my youth, I had to come to terms with what was really happening here. I had hypnotized her, on purpose, when the opportunity presented itself.

I was responsible for what was about to happen, right here and right now. So I decided to make the best of it.

“Mandy, I’m going to ask you some questions, is that ok with you?”

”Yes.” Thank God she didn’t call me Master…

“I am not your Master. You will not address me as Master, for the remainder of the time we’re together today, do you understand?”


“Good girl.” I tried to stop myself from saying that, but it was already out of my mouth. I didn’t think it would hurt, really.

She was her Daddy’s little girl, and I had nothing but respect for her Dad. He impressed the hell out of me that first and only time I met him so many years ago. Perhaps I’ll get that chance again, but I won’t suggest myself into her life.

I won’t cross that line—ever, not even for a Goddess.

“As you go deeper and deeper, more and more relaxed, I’d like to teach you something about hypnosis. Is that ok with you, would you like to learn something about hypnosis today?”


“G—Great. That’s wonderful. And you go deeper… and deeper… more and more relaxed. It’s amazing how relaxed you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes… amazing… peaceful.”

“Excellent. Now Hypnosis is a powerful thing, Mandy. Never to be toyed with <smack myself for saying it> and never to be abused. Hypnosis can help you in many ways. You’d like to be helped in many ways, wouldn’t you, Mandy?”


“Wonderful, that’s just wonderful, Mandy. Relax, take a nice deep breath… and find yourself going even deeper with each moment… with each word I speak you’re just drifting… floating, so peacefully…”

She took in a nice deep breath, letting it go slowly, serenely. She was a sight to behold, I assure you.

“Good girl <dammit… if there was some aspect of your life, anything at all, something that you’d love to improve, can you tell me what that would be? Take your time to consider the question carefully, Mandy… when you’re ready to answer, take another deep breath, and tell me as you exhale.”

She just sat there for a few moments, drifting, and thinking. After a bit of time passed, I saw her chest rise – yes God dammit I’m still attracted to her and yes I still love those breasts – she exhaled into an answer:

“I’d like my relationship with my daughter to improve. I have difficulty making time in my schedule to spend quality time with her, doing things with her, sharing our lives. It’s so… so… tough; I don’t know why life is so hard sometimes.”

It’s not like I haven’t heard this before, everyone wants to do better in their personal relationships, especially with immediate family. I think for a moment to make sure I word the suggestion properly, and then I say:

“Mandy, from this moment on, you will find an ease of mind come to you in times of stress; a clarity that you’d never known yourself to have before. It makes things easier for you, especially in making time to spend with your daughter… doing the things she likes to do, easier for both of you to become closer… when you relax around your daughter, she will sense it and become more relaxed around you… remember, calm and relaxed around your daughter… calm and relaxed around your daughter… I want you to say that for a few moments, just whisper it to yourself, calm and relaxed around my daughter… you may begin… now…”

Mandy took in a slow deep breath (glorious the way she does that, I wish you could have seen it) and began whispering to herself:

“Calm and relaxed around my daughter… calm and relaxed around my daughter… calm and relaxed around my daughter…” over and over. Her lips barely moved when she said it, but Paul could see it happening.

“That’s it, Mandy, and as you repeat the phrase calm and relaxed around my daughter, each time you find yourself drifting deeper and deeper into relaxation…”

As soon as I finished this suggestion, I heard the most audibly pleasing “mmmmmmm…” come from Mandy. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck, and I felt like I was going… into trance.

Wow was all I could say to myself. That was powerful… her sounds are so relaxing… but stay focused, you’re not done yet

I glanced at my watch – no danger of me putting myself under, of course – it was now 5:10PM and I thought it best to wrap this up.

“Mandy, do you have any other immediate concerns in your life; anything Paul might be able to help you with?”

The first thing she said was my name, so seductively it rooted me in place. And I realized my fuckup at using my name.

“Paul… Paul… he wants to help… me?” It was hard to hear it, but it was there.

“Mandy, Paul has always wanted to help you. He asked me to tell you something, something he has never been able to tell you himself. Would you like me to tell you?”

“Oh yes, please… Paul…”

“Paul wants you to know he’s always loved you, Mandy. Ever since the first time he ever laid eyes on you, so many years ago, back in high school. He wanted to get to know you better, he wanted to be your friend, in any way he could. He tried so hard to get you to notice him but you were so easily distracted by the other people, he just couldn’t get you to focus on him, even for a moment in time.”

Tears. She was crying. So deep in her trance her emotions became thoughts, her thoughts became actions in the real world. And she was crying… for Paul. For me. My Goddess was shedding tears for me.

“I’m so sorry, Paul… I should have paid attention to him… I never realized he could be so sweet, so tender, so gentle… until I got the letter on Valentine’s Day and his gift. So simple, but it hurt me so much when I opened the box. No one had ever given me something so beautiful. I cried as soon as I saw it, then the letter. The letter just tore me to pieces. My Daddy asked me what was wrong and … and… I couldn’t answer him, I just ran to my room… I had to call Paul.”

Hell, even I was in tears now. Anyone around us that would have taken the time to be more aware of their surroundings than self-centered in their own lives would have seen two grown adults, bawling their eyes out.

Of course, unless they asked they’d never have realized that for one of us – me – they were tears of joy.

Because I came to realize that she did notice me, she did know I was alive during those years. She just allowed herself to get caught up in “the cool crowd.” I understood that feeling; I can forgive her for it. Hell, I forgave her years ago when I answered the phone and she spoke my name.

Snap out of it dammit, you can cry later… focus on Mandy, finish this and let her go… once again…

“Mandy, I want you to concentrate on this next question, ok?”


“Mandy, I want you to remember the letter… the letter you received from Paul. Can you remember it?”


“I want you to imagine it, in your hands, right now. See it as clearly right now as it was the moment you opened the envelope. Live in that moment for me. You have no emotions right now about the letter, you’re just watching yourself from the outside, reading the letter. Do you understand?”


Now the moment of truth: No matter how much prodding I gave to Tim or the other sailors that frequented our second house that spring and summer, none of them ever revealed what the letter said. And since I had chosen to avoid Mandy from that day forward, effectively becoming the social pariah I so desperately did not truly want to be, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what the letter said.

But here’s that one chance in a million; that most astronomically large sequence of events, from that day forward everything that happened in my life came down to this moment. Every mistake I made, every word I chose, every thing I did, every job I had, every moment I slept, every dollar I earned, every dollar I spent, every bus I was on, every stoplight that held me up in traffic, every woman I ever wanted, every friend I ever betrayed, every friend that betrayed me, every tear I shed…

EVERYTHING in my life led up to this moment. If anything that happened between the times I walked off her porch to the moment I ask this next question – if anything had happened differently, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now typing this story for your reading pleasure.

Nor would I get the answer I so desperately wanted: The contents of the letter.

I took a really deep breath, and I let it go. I let it all go: the anticipation, the anxiety, the pain, the suffering, the loneliness, the fear, the love I felt for her, the anger at myself for walking away from her, the loss of so much in my life. It was all gone, in a breath. Just like that first time I finally hypnotized myself.

It was pure bliss. But we can’t be happy all the time. If that was the case, Earth would be Heaven, and that’s just not going to happen.

“Mandy, I want you to read me the letter, word for word. Remember, you are watching yourself read the letter, only in your memories. You will not react to the reading of the letter as you did so many years ago. Now read the letter, out loud.”

She took in a deep breath and spoke.


My name is Tim; and you don’t know me from Adam. But I’m writing this letter on behalf of a guy that likes you very much. You’ve seen him around at school, I’m sure. He thinks you haven’t a clue who he is, that you don’t even know he’s alive—but I bet you do. I bet you notice him looking at you on occasion, and you’re just not sure what you see in his eyes. It’s love, Mandy. He loves you, in ways he can’t express in words. He’s so scared that opening his mouth around you will cause him to slip, and say something that would drive you away that he just doesn’t talk at all. It’s not good for him, Mandy, keeping it locked inside. You know it, but he just doesn’t know how to get the words out. I see him almost every day. I see how he helps his Mom now that his Dad has passed away. I’m sure you knew that, though, that his Dad had passed away. That’s why he missed a few weeks of school before the Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday break. His Dad passed away in the first week of November and his Mom couldn’t handle the grief. She thought he needed more help than she could provide so she took him to see a Psychiatrist. The Psychiatrist decided it would be best if he spent some time there in his facility so he (the Psychiatrist) could help him get through the loss of his Father. But here’s the thing, Mandy: He’s a strong kid. I call him a kid because he’s only sixteen. He didn’t know his Father that well anyway; that’s how he describes it. I call him a kid because I’ve been there, where he is. I’m 25 now, I’ve been all over the world, I’ve been with women from 40 countries, I’ve made love to some gorgeous ones, and some not so gorgeous. The point here is: He needs to talk to you. He needs to tell you how much he cares about you. He needs to hold you in his arms, if even for just a moment. He needs, in most basic terms, to tell you that he loves you with everything he is. But he’s too scared to make the first move. He’s a good kid, soon to be a strong man. That thing with the Psychiatrist blew over nicely, as we all knew. They kept trying to get him to open up, always talking to him, his Mom visiting him on Christmas. How that hurt him she’ll never know. She put the only son she had left in a psych ward. He never disobeyed his Mom, always wanted nothing more than to please her, but he had to live his own life. He even signed the consent form to have him placed in the facility because he knew that if he didn’t sign it, it would create a gap a mile wide between his Mom and him, something already wide enough as it was because of the death of his Father and her husband. He’s not a Momma’s boy; he can take care of himself, better than even he realizes right now. And I’m proud to know him and call him a friend.

So now it comes down to this: I could ramble on for another page or so, telling you what a great guy he is, but if you can read between the lines, maybe, just maybe, you’ll give him the chance he needs to open up and be the man he wants so desperately to be. If you think, if even for a moment, that this person I’ve described would be worth having as a friend—If you think, if even for a moment, that this person I’ve described would be worthy of loving, then you owe it to yourself – just yourself – to take a chance and see what develops. His name is Paul. He lives a street away from you. He can be here, knocking on your door in five minutes. All you have to do is call him. His number’s on the outside of this envelope.

Mandy, when opportunity knocks on the door to your heart, will you have the courage to open it?

It’s up to you now.”

Mandy went silent, merely breathing in and out, following my suggestions as given. She showed no sign of emotion about what she had just recited to me, again owing to not only my suggestions, but her being an exceptional hypnotic subject.

I, on the other hand, was devastated. My whole life, from the moment I walked off her porch, walked away from a possible future, was wasted.

I knew it as soon as she went silent. I know it now as I type this story, lying in bed, at 1:44AM on April 12, 2004.

Yesterday, April 11th, would have been my Dad’s 87th birthday.

I dedicate this story to the memory of a man I never knew as much as I so desperately wanted.

I sat there in shock for several minutes, wanting to cry so badly, but no tears would come to me. I felt disgust at myself, but I’m used to that. I felt anger at letting myself go for so long, but even that wouldn’t take hold. I couldn’t find anything that would stick: jealousy, pain, suffering, denial, more pain, more suffering, hate, more anger.

More and more of the same old same old, over and over; I couldn’t find what I was looking for then, I don’t think I’ll find it now.

But then, just when I thought it was over, just when I reached that point of no return, saying “fuck it” to everything I had done in life, I looked at Mandy.

I looked at my Goddess, once again.

And I cried. This time I really cried; it was very difficult to hold back the tears this time. I didn’t want to attract any undue attention to us; besides, I have to bring Mandy back to me.

Wait. Think about what you just said. You said “bring Mandy back to me.” Think long and hard about that, Paul. Don’t walk away from her again. Remember one of your favorite quotes:

“It is never too late to be who you might have been.”

And on that sad footnote, I cried even more. I read that quote years ago someplace; I’m sure if I Google for it, I’ll find out who said it exactly.

I’m also quite sure that someone reading my story right now has probably seen or read it themselves and will write to me to comment on how my story touched them about love, life, loss and finding love again, and share with me the name of that quote’s author.

But right now, I had to ask Mandy a question.

“Mandy, it’s almost time to wake up. I have one last question to ask of you, can you answer it for me?”


“Thank you, Mandy. I want you to think back to that day, the day you read the letter. After reading it you realized it wasn’t from Paul, you still felt the need to call him—and you did call him. When you asked him to come over for dinner, and he agreed, how did that make you feel?”

“Giddy, I don’t know. Happy. I felt deliriously happy. I wasn’t sure if he’d actually come over. The letter, Tim, he sounded so sincere. Tim was a slick one, I knew that, but he wasn’t making a move on me, I could tell that much. He wanted Paul to talk to me, and so did I. Something about the way Paul looked at me, I could never tell what it was exactly, but after reading the letter, I understood what it was. It was love.”

And here I was thinking I was done crying, but oh boy was I wrong. More tears, more sobs, blah blah blah.

“Mandy, did you have any feelings for Paul?”

“Until I read the letter, I thought of him as just another guy wanting to get into my pants, and I knew he did, just like every other guy. It was hard to picture myself with Paul; he’s a big guy, not really fat, but he could use some help with his style. He just wears stuff that; well… they don’t fit so well. He wears clothes that are even bigger than he is so he’s comfortable in them.”

So she did notice me after all. I’ll be damned. Far more than I thought I would, but I’ll be damned to this Hell I’m in forever. But then again… maybe someone can set me free…

“What happened after you read the letter, Mandy? Did your feelings towards Paul change?”


She just sat there, waiting. Trance logic has a mind of its own sometimes, no pun intended. Ask a direct question, get a direct answer.

“Mandy, what did you feel for Paul after you read the letter?”

“Love. I came to realize I loved him. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. It hit me so hard, in the stomach, like I had been punched. And I know what that felt like, I got a soccer ball in the stomach once in school, make me sick for days. But I loved him. I still love him. I only wish he could be honest with himself and tell me… tell me… tell me…” her voice trailing off into a whisper.

I was crying inside so hard, but now I started to laugh at the same time at my Goddess. She’s smart, she’s beautiful, she noticed me when I didn’t think she did, and she just told me she loved me.

But I’m not the same person anymore, and neither is she. People change, feelings change.

It’s time to end this; it’s time for us both to move on.

“Mandy, in a few moments I will count from 1 to 5. With each number I count, you will find yourself becoming more and more awake, returning to full waking consciousness at the count of 5. You will not remember what we have talked about here while you’ve been hypnotized. You do remember that you are hypnotized, don’t you?”


“You understand that no one is your Master, especially not while you are hypnotized, unless you yourself choose to address that person as Master, don’t you, Mandy?”


“You will no longer believe in myths about hypnosis. You now understand it is a tool like any other, and can be a very bad thing if abused. You understand you cannot be forced to do anything you don’t want to do under hypnosis, don’t you?”


“Thank you for being such a good subject and for being so honest with me today, Mandy. Paul has one message he always wants you to remember. A simple message, but very powerful. Will you allow yourself to always remember this message that Paul has for you?”


“The voice you hear after my next question will be Paul. You will recognize his voice, you will trust his voice. You will remember his message for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

“Paul… yes.”

Ok sport, you’ve got the ball. Run with it. Although I think you’re fucking stupid for telling her to forget about what you two have discussed today, but what do I know. Me, you, we’re one and the same, ya know…

“Mandy… I love you. I always have, I always will, with each breath I take, with each day that passes, I love you. I wish I could tell you this face to face, when you awaken from your deep relaxing place, but it would be too much trouble for the both of us. I thank you for loving me from afar; I only wish I had been there to love you in return. I am so truly sorry for walking away from the love you were offering me there on your porch that day so long ago. Know that I will always love you. If you ever need me, if you ever need a… friend… I will be there, you have only to ask for me and I will be there.”

“Now it’s time to wakeup Mandy, I have to go now… the next voice you hear after I say goodbye will awaken you. Sweet dreams, Mandy, and remember to take very good care of your daughter… goodbye.”

The emotions she was experiencing at that moment must have been bubbling up from her core. I had goofed so badly; I didn’t suggest to her that she not feel any emotions while I spoke to her. Big mistake on my part, but her letting me go was probably the best thing, actually.

All I could hear her say between her whimpers and sobs was my name… my name on her lips… my name in her mind, tormenting her.

And I felt nothing but utter disgust and shame for making her hurt once more as I did so many years past.

“Mandy, it’s time to wake up. With each number I count from 1 to 5, more and more awake. At the count of 5 you will awaken, eyes wide open, feeling wide awake, alert and refreshed, knowing that you and I had nothing but a pleasant chat this afternoon. We’re just two old friends, meeting again by chance, and reminiscing about old times. You will not feel sadness or anxiety about missing that movie, and you will feel an overwhelming desire…

Watch it there, bub, desire is an awfully strong word.

“Shut up, you. Just because we share the same mind doesn’t mean you know what I’m about to say…”

you will feel an overwhelming desire to call your daughter and tell her you love her.”

Oh that’s perfect. You’re such a nice guy.

“Yeah, it’s a curse. Sue me.”

“1… coming up now, slowly, feelings returning to your fingers and toes… 2… rising faster now… 3… higher and higher, floating to the surface of waking… fingers and toes now moving, arms moving, beginning to stretch those relaxed muscles back into motion… 4… almost there now, sights and sounds returning to you as you become more aware of your surroundings… and… 5… open your eyes, Mandy.”

She opened her eyes, smiled at me and… well, that was all it took. She smiled at me, and all was right with my world.

I smiled back and asked her, “How do you feel?”

“Free… for some reason, free. Like a huge weight has just… I don’t know, it’s strange.”

“I’ve had people tell me that before, after spending time getting to know me. Especially over a nice conversation like this one we’ve had together this afternoon. My goodness, look at the time.”

Mandy glanced down at her watch: “Holy cow, it’s almost six o’clock, what the hell. Well… it was a nice conversation, best I’ve had in a long time. Thanks. I’ve gotta call my daughter.”

I love it when a plan comes together.

“Hey, you don’t have a cell phone do you?”

“Nope, never needed one myself, but times like this make me want to reconsider that decision. Payphones are right there, just past Steak Escape and the restroom at the exit.”

She rose from her chair and stretched, arms rising high above her head, stomach so flat and firm…

My Goddess.

The exact same stretch she did that day, on her porch. The day I walked away from love.

I won’t ruin this story by saying “Oh god, I came again,” because this time, seeing her stretch before me, only an arms length away, I felt nothing but love for her.

It wasn’t lust: the lust had become part of my love for her years ago, as I grew up. I still want her, even now as I type this sentence, more than ever actually, but sometimes it’s just not enough.

I vowed to never make that mistake again, ever.

“Wow, I feel wonderful, didn’t you say something about you being a Hypnotist? Wonder if I’d feel like this in a trance. It is supposed to be a relaxing thing, right? I mean, I don’t know a lot about it, but I’ve had friends tell me it was the most relaxing thing they ever did.”

“That’s what I’m going to find out, Mandy. Now run off and call your daughter, I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

“Stay here, I’ll only be a minute,” and she walked off out of my life, not realizing the symbolism of it that just now crashed down on me like a demolished building.

I knew she’d say that, I just knew it; I didn’t need to plant a suggestion to make it happen.

I took out a pen from my jacket, grabbed a piece of paper from my portfolio and wrote three words on it, placing it back in a spot she would easily see when she returned. The phones are in an area that prevented her from seeing me rise, gather my belongings, and, as sad as it is for me to say (and type this) I walked away from love once again.

This was in direct contradiction to something I had just decided only moments before, but the love I felt for Mandy had to stay in the past.

It just wasn’t meant to happen – at least that’s what I believed.

I walked about 100 feet away, taking a spot in a coffee shop just across from where we were seated. It afforded me an excellent view when she returned.

Too bad it became the most haunting memory of my entire life.

When I walked away from her the first time, I never looked back, so I never got to see her crying, standing there on her porch.

I never got to see her roll herself into a ball crying, there on her porch.

I never got to see her Daddy come outside, asking his little girl what was wrong, picking her up in his incredibly strong arms, carrying her to her room and staying beside her while she cried herself to sleep.

I never got to see her cry herself to sleep every night for the next week until her Daddy finally took that note and burned it to ashes.

I never got to see him cry himself to sleep because I had hurt his little girl.

Don’t ask me how I know these things, because I can’t answer that – but suffice to say, I believe I know what happened, with all my heart.

And now, after all the pain and suffering I’ve been through, all the pain and suffering she’s been through, I now have to suffer once more, because instead of the joyous happy look on her face I so wanted to see every moment of every day for the rest of my life, I had to watch her come back to an empty table.

Her smile was there, but as she looked around for me she realized I was gone, and her smile faded – much quicker than I would have liked.

She looked down at the table, noticing the paper, and picked it up.

I’m 100 feet away from her and I can see her in my mind’s eye like some kind of super emotional zoom just kicked in, and I hear her own thoughts as she reads the words I had written:

“I love you.”

She collapsed into the chair, totally lost to the pain and suffering I had brought upon her yet one more time. I knew that if I had the courage, if I would JUST DO IT I could walk over to her, take her in my arms once and for all, take away her pain, kiss her and tell her I’ll never leave her again, ever.

But I am not the man I want to be, not yet. And so once more, my Goddess suffers because I am not the man I can be.

I am not strong enough for her, and to be honest, I’m not sure I can ever be strong enough for her love.

I got up and walked away, for the last time.