Hypno Therapy

Friday arrived faster than I expected.

Alex welcomed us back with the same coffee, the same leather chairs, the same gentle smile. “How was your week? Did you talk?”

Rita spoke first. “We want to improve things. We just don’t know how. We’re, I am … caught. In habits. Patterns.”

Alex nodded. “I’ve reviewed everything from Monday. I have an idea, I think it might help. I’d like to try hypnosis with Rita - a light trance, nothing you won’t remember. Just a way to help your mind loosen some of those patterns.”

Rita glanced at me. “Will it work?”

“That depends on you. Some people respond well. Some don’t. But it’s worth trying.”

She took a breath. “Okay.”

“Sean, I’ll have you wait in the waiting room. There’s coffee. Magazines. This should take about twenty minutes.”

I squeezed Rita’s hand and stepped out. The waiting room was empty. I poured a coffee I didn’t want and sat in a chair that was too soft and stared at the same page of a National Geographic for what felt like an hour.

When Alex opened the door, I stood too fast.

“Come back in.”

Rita was sitting in her chair, looking … relaxed. Looser. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Fine. Maybe a little dizzy. I don’t think it worked, honestly. I don’t feel any different.”

Alex gestured for me to sit. “Rita, would you mind waiting outside for a few minutes? I’d like to speak with Sean.”

She stood, gave my shoulder a light touch, and walked out. Her hips swayed slightly - maybe my imagination.

The door clicked shut.

Alex turned to me. His expression had changed. Still warm, but now there was something sharper underneath.

“Sean,” he said, “the hypnosis worked.”

“What do you mean?”

“I put her into a trance state. A deep one. She was responsive. Very responsive.” He leaned forward. “And while she was under, I implanted some suggestions.”

I felt my pulse quicken.

“The first,” Alex said, holding up a finger, “is that she should love her own body. Feel proud of it. Not be afraid of people looking. A little exhibitionism, if it comes naturally to her.”

A second finger. “The second - she should embrace orgasm. Seek it. Touch herself when she wants to. Want pleasure as much as she deserves it.”

A third finger. “The third - she should talk about sex. Tell you what she needs. Be vocal in bed. Initiate conversations she’s been avoiding.”

And a fourth. “She should open up sexually. Not wait for you to initiate. Seek you out. Pursue you.”

I stared at him. “You can do that?”

“The mind is more flexible than people think. These suggestions won’t make her do anything she fundamentally doesn’t want to do. They just … loosen the inhibitions. Remove the fears. Let her be the person she’s been suppressing.”

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small notecard. “I also embedded a trigger. If you take her left earlobe between your thumb and forefinger and squeeze gently, she’ll go back into a trance state. In that state, you can give her commands. New suggestions. Refinements to the existing ones.”

I took the card. My hand was shaking.

“But Sean.” Alex’s voice turned serious. “Use that trigger very carefully. The suggestions I’ve placed are gentle. They’ll unfold over the coming days. You don’t need to push. Let her lead. The trigger is for emergencies only.”

“Emergencies?”

“If she gets frightened. If the changes overwhelm her. You can use it to calm her down, reassure her, adjust things. Don’t abuse it.”

I nodded. “Same time next week?”

“Same time next week.”

Rita was leaning against the wall outside when I emerged. She pushed off and fell into step beside me, and we walked down Channel Street in the late-afternoon sun.

Then she stopped.

Her hand caught my arm and she pulled me toward her, and before I could speak her mouth was on mine - not the quick, perfunctory kiss we’d been exchanging for years, but a kiss that had weight and heat and the faint taste of the mint tea from Alex’s office.

When she pulled back, her eyes were bright.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“Great,” she said. “Really great. And I know it didn’t work - the hypnosis - but something happened in there. I made a decision. I want to reconnect with you. I want to feel like myself again.”

Her hand slid down my chest.

“Actually,” she said, and her voice dropped, “I feel horny right now. Is that crazy?”

My throat went dry. “Not crazy.”

“What do you think?” Her fingers toyed with the button of my shirt. “Maybe in the car? I want your cock in my mouth. I want you to go down on me. I want … I want everything. I feel so good, Sean.”

Her palm pressed against the front of my trousers. I was already hard, and her touch sent a jolt through me that made my knees feel unreliable.

“Rita.” I caught her wrist gently. “I love this. I love your attitude. Let’s get in the car and find somewhere private.”

She grinned - a grin I hadn’t seen in years, maybe ever - and practically pulled me toward the parking lot.

I drove. She directed - her hand on my thigh, her fingers tracing patterns that made it hard to concentrate on the road. We ended up in a gravel lot behind an abandoned warehouse, shielded by overgrown hedges and decades of industrial neglect.

I killed the engine.

Rita was on me before the keys stopped swinging.

Her mouth found mine again, hungrier this time. Her tongue pushed past my lips and her hands were everywhere - my chest, my belt, the zipper of my jeans. I fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. One popped. Neither of us cared.

“Backseat,” she breathed against my neck. “Now.”

We tumbled over the center console in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing. Rita’s black bra looked very old-fashioned - I didn’t recognize it.

“I’ve wanted this,” she said, straddling me. “I’ve wanted it for so long and I just couldn’t - couldn’t let myself ...”

“Shh.” I kissed the hollow of her throat. “You’re here now.”

She slid down my body. Her fingers wrapped around me. I watched her face as she looked at my cock - really looked at it, the way she used to, with something like hunger.

“I want to taste you,” she said.

Her mouth descended.

The wetness. The suction. The way her tongue curled around the head and then flattened against the shaft. She took me deep, deeper than she ever had, and her hand worked what her mouth couldn’t reach. My head fell back against the seat. My hands found her hair. She made a sound - a low, satisfied hum - and the vibration traveled through me like electricity.

“Rita.” My voice was ragged. “If you keep doing that ...”

She pulled off with a slick pop. “Not yet. I want you inside me.”

She climbed back up. Hiked her skirt. Pushed her cotton underwear aside. Her fingers guided me to her entrance, and she sank down with a gasp that became a moan.

She was wet. So wet. The heat of her gripped me like a fist.

“God, Sean.” She started to move. “I forgot - I forgot how good this feels ...”

I grabbed her hips and thrust up to meet her. The car windows fogged. The suspension creaked. Rita’s head fell back and her mouth opened and the sounds she made - the high, breathy, uninhibited sounds - were sounds I’d been aching to hear for three years.

“Harder,” she said. “Please. Harder.”

I gave her harder. The slap of skin on skin. The leather seat sticking to my back. Her fingers digging into my shoulders. Her breasts bouncing free of the black bra she’d pushed down.

“Close,” she gasped. “I’m close - don’t stop - don’t stop ...”

I didn’t stop. I watched her face as it happened - the way her eyes squeezed shut, the way her mouth formed a perfect O, the way her whole body clenched and shuddered and then collapsed against my chest.

I followed her over the edge a moment later, groaning into her hair, spilling inside her while she kept rocking, kept milking every last pulse out of me.

We lay there afterward. Sweaty. Breathing hard. The windows completely opaque with steam.

Rita lifted her head and looked at me.

“I don’t know what changed,” she said. “But I like it.”

I kissed her forehead.