He can't

He clapped along with everyone else. Slow. Mechanical. His palms felt numb.

All he could do was watch.

The hypnotist stepped sideways along the line of women, his cape brushing the stage floor. He stopped in front of the woman on the far left, first in the row. She seemed to be in her mid-twenties, auburn hair down to her shoulders, wearing a simple floral dress that looked like it belonged at a family barbecue more than an underground show. Chuck watched her shift her weight from one foot to the other.

The hypnotist pulled a small handheld mic from inside his jacket pocket and held it out to her. “Let’s start with our first brave participant here. Go on, darling, tell everyone your name, how old you are and who you’re here with tonight.”

She hesitated, eyes flicking toward the audience, then took the mic like it might bite her. Her voice came out small at first, then steadier.

“Um… I’m Emily. Emily Harper. I’m twenty-six. And I’m here with my husband.”

The hypnotist snatched the mic back before she could hand it over properly. He turned toward the crowd, grinning wide enough that Chuck could feel it even with the mask in the way.

“Who’s the lucky man who bagged such a hot wife?” he called out, voice booming. “Come on, don’t be shy, stand up and take a bow!”

A couple tables over, a man rose to his feet. Middle-aged, late forties maybe, slightly balding on top with the rest of his hair cropped short. He wore a dark button-down that looked expensive, sleeves rolled to the elbows and a smug little half-smile like he’d been waiting for this. He raised one hand in a lazy wave. The spotlight swung over and pinned him in place, making his gold wedding band catch the light.

The hypnotist clapped slowly. “Well done, sir. Congratulations on landing yourself such a gorgeous piece. She’s a keeper.”

Emily’s face flushed red. She uncrossed her arms, then crossed them again tighter, looking anywhere but at her husband.

The hypnotist turned back to the man. “But what brings you two lovebirds here tonight, my friend? Valentine’s special and all?”

The husband leaned forward, voice carrying without needing a mic. Loud. Casual. Like he was chatting at a bar.

“Yeah, having a hot wife is cool and all,” he said, shrugging. “But I’d trade it in a heartbeat for some goddamn peace and quiet. She’s bitchy. Rude. Nags me from the second I walk in the door. Can’t even watch the game without her bitching about the volume.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open. She took a step forward on the stage, toward her husband, eyes narrowing. “Mark, what the hell—”

The hypnotist spun on his heel, smooth and quick. Before she could get another word out, he waved his hand right in front of her face, once.

“Sleep!”

Emily froze mid-step. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her head dropped forward, chin to chest. She stood there swaying slightly, arms limp at her sides.

Chuck blinked. He hadn’t expected it to work that fast. Or at all.

The hypnotist chuckled into the mic. “Close one there! Quite the feisty one, your woman. My apologies for being so rudely interrupted, sir. Please, continue.”

Mark laughed. A short, barking sound. He didn’t even glance at his sleeping wife.

“Yeah, man,” he said. “Just take her. Give me some other whore and I’ll be satisfied. You can keep her.”

The room went dead quiet for a second. Then laughter exploded, scattered at first, then rolling through the tables like a wave. Chuck felt his stomach turn. He looked around, people were actually clapping, some raising their drinks like it was a toast. Did the guy really just say that? In front of everyone?

Emily stayed stock-still, swaying gently, no sign she’d heard a word.

The hypnotist nodded once, theatrical. “Well,” he announced, voice loud and bright, “I did say I needed a new assistant. Gave my last one away at the previous show, after all.” He laughed again, like it was the funniest thing he’d said all night.

He stepped behind Emily, placed both gloved hands over her eyes and leaned in close to her ear. Chuck couldn’t hear the words, just saw the hypnotist’s lips moving, slow and deliberate. Emily didn’t react at first. Then her head gave a tiny nod. Another. Slow at first, then firmer, more certain, like she was agreeing to everything he said.

After a long moment the hypnotist stepped back, satisfied. He motioned toward her with a flourish.

Suddenly a thick cylindrical curtain dropped from the ceiling, black velvet, heavy-looking, falling around her in one smooth motion and hiding her completely from view.

“I’ve accepted the trade offer so generously provided by our patron here,” the hypnotist declared. “But I can’t have her be part of the show looking so drab, can I?”

“NOOOO!” the crowd shouted back, half-jeering, half-excited.

“Ladies and gentlemen… meet my new assistant, Em!”

A burst of white light flashed from the stage, bright enough that Chuck had to squint. The curtain whisked upward, vanishing into the rafters.

Emily stood there wide awake now. A huge smile plastered across her face. Her floral dress was gone. In its place was a slutty magician’s assistant outfit: shiny red corset that pushed her naked tits up and out barely covering her nipples, tiny black skirt barely covering her ass, fishnet stockings and sky-high heels. Her auburn hair had been teased higher, lips painted bright red. She looked like she’d stepped out of a cheap porno version of a Vegas show.

She bowed low to the audience, cleavage on full display. The room hooted and whistled. Some guys clapped like they were at a strip club.

Em straightened, still beaming and stepped over to stand beside The hypnotist. Without missing a beat, he reached out and gave her breasts a firm squeeze, right there in front of everyone.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Just kept smiling, eyes bright and empty.

“Just testing the goods, you know,” he said into the mic.

Laughter erupted again, louder this time.

Chuck sat there, hands clenched on the table edge, staring at the stage. Emily didn’t even glance toward her husband’s table. She looked happy. Eager. Like none of her previous life had ever happened.

And Mark was already sitting back down, smirking, raising his glass to someone at the next table like he’d just closed a business deal.

The hypnotist turned back to Em, still standing there with that wide, vacant smile, tits out and everything.

“Hey Em!” he called, waving his arm toward the audience like he was presenting a prize. “Do you mind giving your tits a shake for our lovely audience here?”