Georgia

It is fine to indulge in fantasies on an intellectual level, when those fetishes are acted upon the expectations never match the reality. My name is Sidney Mortimer, I work as an engineer, my wife is paralegal we make good money, the bills are all paid and we're comfortable. My wife is an attractive woman, she was, before I met her, a stripper in some southern state these days some of her tone is gone but the shape and curve are all intact. She lights a room when she walks in, when she smiles the world sighs in response. How she got hooked up with me in the first place has always been a matter of dumb luck, mostly on my part. I for the life of me have no idea what women see in men, we tend to be boorish misshapen slobs who only act on the basest of impulses. Why would I want to share her? It's a fetish. It's a base impulse. On an intellectual level it is arousing to think of her forgetting all we've meant and been to each other and letting go to those dangerous urges. It's a voyeuristic fantasy. It's also a control fantasy in that I want her to forget, but still be bound to me. Fantasies are like that, contradictions.

We were at supper; scraps of crust and the odd glazed carrot were all that remained of the meal. Half way through the bottle of Shiraz the conversation got round to sex as it so often does. "If you want to get creative we still have those floggers, oh and the handcuffs."

"No that's not what I meant. I want the extreme, what really turns you on?" She sipped the wine and smiled.

"What really turns me on? Well, I've always been attracted to black women."

"No, I mean like a kink, something a little dirty. Being attracted to black chicks doesn't count."

I smiled and that's really where this whole thing started. I said, "I would like you to forget our marriage, just for a little while and be kind of, um, you know..."

"Say it, what?" She giggled.

"A slut. Forget our marriage and be a slut." Georgia grimaced, "Well, my thought was it's voyeurism right, watching my wife get cozy with another man, but then your vows would get in the way, you'd feel uncomfortable, not fully commit. So I think forget, totally, completely, forget we were married, forget our vows forget our life together." Georgia is still quiet, "I mean you asked, it's dirty and a little creepy and it turns me on." I gulp at my glass, fearing the next sentence.

Georgia coolly sips at her wine. " It sounds fun. Really scary, but fun."

"It's just a fantasy."

"We could do it." I did a double take. "I know a doctor, she does hypnosis, colleagues have recommended her for quitting smoking, back problems, all sorts of stuff. We should do it."

"Really?"

She nods, "Down the line I get my turn though. Dirty, scary, weird little kink whatever it is, deal?" I nodded my agreement.

Doctor Wilhelmina Novaris is the hypnotherapist Georgia spoke of. It was all very professional, she took me into her office and told me in specific what she could do and what to expect. She showed me testimonials, waivers, even in erotic fantasy there is bureaucracy, and finally she gave me a price tag all of which I agreed to. We scheduled the appointment for the following day, Friday. My wife and I arrived and the doctor asked that I wait outside while she worked with Georgia. I was uncomfortable with it but she said my presence would have a detrimental effect on the procedure so I agreed. I heard the doctor's voice, but there was no distinction, no annunciation to it, juts a collection of consonants and dull tenor tones. After maybe an hour the doctor called me in. Georgia was sitting on the couch smiling I sat down next to her.

"Everything went fine, I've given her a couple of code words to initiate the post hypnotic suggestions and a few mental triggers to reinforce the suggestions so you shouldn't have to come back for awhile. Georgia could you step out? This'll only take a minute." Georgia nodded, I smiled at her my heart was pounding in my chest, she kissed me and left the room.

"She seemed a bit out of it still."

"That will pass, now it is important that you remember these words, they are triggers one turns her on the other off, pretty simple." I nod I can barely hear over my heartbeat. "Concupiscence will activate the post hypnotic trigger." I repeated the word to my self over and over in my head the shut off word sounded like shadow, I nodded and stood up I shook her hand and Georgia and I left.

In the car I asked, "What did it feel like?"

She shrugged, "It didn't feel like anything, I was sitting there thinking she wasn't hypnotizing me then I kind of drifted off and it was done."

"It took an hour."

She shrugged, "It didn't feel like an hour."

When we got home we did the usual things but it was all autopilot, we were anticipating the night. Then the time came to get ready, it was very surreal, both of us knowing that soon Georgia would be essentially a different person. The car ride was silent; this is a part of the fantasy that went against my expectation. We were supposed to be having fun. This felt more like a wake or the anticipation of some imminent disaster. Finally I spoke, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She nodded, "I'm sorry I'm not more talkative. It's just, I don't know, I feel like a stranger in my own body. This thing is exciting beyond belief. I don't know what I'm going to do, if this works. I don't know who I'll hit on I don't know what I'm going to be into. It's crazy and I owe it to myself to give this thing a try." She looked at me hard.

"I'll just watch, and I'll always be close." I stroked her thigh, "Then we're going home to fuck." She finally laughed.

We arrived at the club, it was dark and filled with decadence, it had been a long time since I saw such a display of skin. Georgia clung to his arm, "let's have one drink before we're strangers." She kissed me and we made our way to the bar.

"Cold feet?" She made a little gesture with her thumb and pointer finger.

We drank our drinks and I proceeded into what I felt would be my masterstroke. Get her worked up before sending her off. We made out like teenagers against a wall near the back of a club, I bit her neck and caressed her ass. She grinded up against my groin and breathlessly whispered "Do it now."

I gripped her arms hard and turned her away from me fast, dizzying, and whispered into her ear "Concupiscence"

* * *

I'm at a club like so many I've been to before. Everyone here looks incredibly fuckable. There's a guy behind me that looks like he's coming down from a blowjob. I think it's time to get a drink. I saunter to the bar feeling sexy. I lean in letting my tits heave forward as I order my drink. The bartender hands me my drink as I pull out my cash a guy next to me puts his hand on the cash. "Hey baby, let me take care of that for you." I can see his hard on through his pants. He's wearing a pair of dirty leather pants no shirt, sexy chest, and he looks like he hasn't bathed in a couple of days.

"Sure." I say and he pays for my drink.

"Do you dance?" He asks, I nod and he pulls me against him I exhale, his touch is electric. His hands linger around the small of my back and he holds me close. I smell sweat and nicotine off his skin. I break apart from him and step back, he grabs me around the waist and pulls me back into him, he kisses me and my knees wobble.

He leads me upstairs to a couch, sits down and pats his lap. I take the cue and straddle him.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Georgia." I grind against his lap as I chug at my drink.

The music pulses through the club making every part of me vibrate as I rock on his lap. He puts his hands on my stomach and slowly finds his way to my tits. It feels heavenly. Only a handful of people are around, some of them are watching some are engaged in their own dry humps. I stick my tongue down his throat and his hands creep under my top. I grind against him I can feel every bump and vein of his cock through my silk panties. My cunt is crying out, I pull him close and say, "We need to go now!" He nods and I take him off the couch.

As we're leaving I hear someone screaming something and it occurs to me the voice sounds familiar but when I look back I don't recognize him. Leather pants grabs my ass, I squeal.

The man who was screaming runs after us he's yelling "shadow" at the top of his lungs. The bouncer tries to stop him but the man is too wiry and manages to get around him. My man cracks the screaming man across the face; he goes down like a sack of bricks. If I weren't already horny, I'd be dripping at this display.

Finally we get out of the club and into his car. "That was so hot." I say to him and he fingers me from the driver's seat. I hump against his hand and pull his other hand to my tits. He climbs on top of me, still fingering me, we kiss a sloppy drool covered kiss.

Out of the blue he stops, "Is this gonna cost me money Georgia?" I shake my head, totally dumbfounded by his question. "What do you do?"

"I'm a stripper. I don't take money for fucking." He seems agreeable to this concept. He climbs off of me, puts the car in drive and we're off.

When we arrive at his loft I'm instantly on him, and in return he's tearing at my top. With my tits free he sucks at them, rips my panties away with one hand and grabs my ass with the other. I howl in ecstasy and push him across the room and onto his bed. He smiles, surprised by my strength, I stride onto the bed at this point wearing nothing but my miniskirt, he's pulling his pants down clumsily as I approach. Standing over him I lower myself onto his rigid dick. Dawn broke before I passed out with him still inside me.

* * *

I rubbed my jaw and stood up after the guy hit me. I don't know how much time had passed. As I stood a mohawked punk raised his glass to me. My head was throbbing. She didn't even look at me, that man hit me and she was completely focused on him. I was in a panic, the room was spinning; I threw up all over the floor. The mohawked guy chortled behind me. She was gone, she left me, first I was furious but then my fury dwindled to self-hatred. How could I have been so stupid; how could I not have seen that coming. I put her in this position and she was out there with that man.

I pulled my cell phone from my coat and raced out the door once my composure had returned. The hypnotist, Wilhelmina, she had to help me. I called her, no one answered finally it went to voicemail. She gave an emergency number on the voicemail, I dialed it it also went to voicemail; I left a message at both. After that there was nothing more I could do, so I went home.

The apartment was quiet and hollow. I crawled into my bed and did something I hadn't done in years, I cried.

* * *

Light wakes me up. There is a skylight above the bed birds had been using it as a toilet for some time by the look of it. I woke up looking into a kaleidoscope of bird shit. I got up and snooped around the place. I suspected he was an artist, and I was proven correct by his collection of paintings. It looks like he was working on a self-portrait; a mirror was set next to a canvas marked with a charcoal skeleton.

I use his shower. All he has is bar soap and mousse, but it's enough for my purposes. I think about the night and the club and the man I rode all night while I lather myself up. I love my breasts, and my butt; I haven't felt this sexy in a long time. I finish my shower and look at myself, naked, in the mirror. My face seemed strange to me. Like it was my face but the expression was different, lustier than I remember.

He is snoring quietly when I get out of the bathroom. He asked my name, but I don't know his. Not that I want to get into something serious but it's nice to know who I'm fucking. Oh God it was good I'll definitely hook up with him again. He's naked and the covers are strewn across the room. His cock is small now flaccid, but I think I should change that, a going away present.

I kiss the tip of his penis gently then lightly lick from the base of his shaft to the head. It is instantly alive, he groans lightly and I continue my ministration. Hungrily I devour him. He weaves his fingers through my hair and humps lightly against my face. With one hand I cup his balls, with the other I grab at his hands. He is fully awake now, moaning, throwing his head back, his teeth grinding in between grunts. He surges and pours into me, I lift off of him and he continues to cum on my face and tits. I laugh and he smiles at me.

"Good morning Georgia." He sits up in bed, "I can think of worse ways to wake up."

"What's your name?" I ask while I wipe my chest with a towel.

"Den."

"Den." I open his closet and pull out a shirt, stretch it over my chest and pull on a pair of his pants. He watches with a bemused look as I pilfer his clothes.

"This is a strange burglary."

I smile at him, "Consider this: me taking your clothes means I'll be coming back."

"When?"

"Another time, but I've got business to take care of." I saunter to him, kiss him one final time. I grab my purse and shoes, then leave.

* * *

It was easier to get back into my routine than I could have anticipated. I woke up, showered, made myself breakfast and read my morning paper. Georgia never woke before noon on a weekend so for a moment I allowed myself to forget, I thought of it as a bad dream. However, I woke up alone, her side of the bed was cold and she wasn't coming back unless I went to find her. Truth however uncomfortable is still truth. My stomach went queasy again and I found myself racing to the bathroom.

How would I find her? The city was huge and I was finding it very difficult to think clearly. Why hadn't the word worked, perhaps it was the wrong word. Where was she? Probably whoring herself by now. No she was still my wife; she still would have some decency. However she was very into her role, picking up the first guy she laid eyes on. I was the first guy she laid eyes on. Am I not good enough for the newer, sluttier Georgia? All these thought were like a deluge in my brain preventing me from any real solution. How would I find her?

I pulled myself together about an hour or so later and got out of the house. My initial thought was like a detective story; go back to the scene of the crime. So I went back to the club. In the daylight it looked different, less ominous nothing like the cave of decadence my wife and I arrived at the night before. The bar was locked up tight, I pounded on the door, but no one answered. I walked around to see if maybe some members of the cleaning staff had a door open somewhere. I called the club on my cell but still nothing. I was about to leave when someone arrived. He was massive and doughy like an old pro wrestler, bald and dressed in black military fatigues. "Excuse me." I said.

He turned and grunted, " The bar opens at nine."

"No, I just have a question." He stopped and turned to me. "I'm looking for a guy, left last night with a girl around midnight." He just shrugged. I was getting frustrated. "He was about six foot, long hair, no shirt, leather pants."

"Could be Den."

"Do you know where I can find him?"

"No." He went back to unlocking the door ignoring me.

"Wait. I can pay." I reached for my wallet and he turned back.

"I can't tell you cause I don't know. The guy is a regular that's all I know."

"Thank you." I pull out a fifty and hand it to him. He just goes inside, the door thuds behind him. I was left standing there with a fifty in my hand.

* * *

The t-shirt I took from Den is perfect for my goal. My tits are straining against the cotton, and it's hugging every curve of me. I only have a little bit of cash left so I need to get a shift tonight. I can't remember why I haven't worked in such a long time, but it's time to get back in the game. There is money to be harvested from horny old men.

The Wet Dream is my first stop. There is already a bouncer sitting behind a glass booth. I walk up, my chest thrust out. "Is the manager in?"

"Yeah. Cover is twelve dollars." I don't know what I expected; he's a bouncer at a titty bar. I pay him and walk in. I order a drink and ask the bartender to get the manager.

The manager leans in next to me and smiles. He is a little creepy but he has the air of a businessman, dressed in a nice shirt, tie and khaki pants. "Hi I'm Brady, How can I help you?"

"Brady, I would like to dance for you."

"Alright, stage time is fifty dollars, you get put in the rotation at seven o'clock. Also the bartenders and bouncers get tipped out ten percent at the end of your shift."

I'm beaming, "thank you." I shake his hand. His grip lingers too long. "Do you need anything else from me?"

He leers at me, "Yeah, we should probably do an audition."

"On stage?"

"No, my office." I nod and he leads me from the bar to his office.

"I don't have any of my outfits with me." I grin at him.

"That doesn't matter." He closes the door. I feel nervous, like I shouldn't be here, but then I notice my reflection in a mirror. I am a slut; my tits are pulsing against the fabric of this t-shirt. My face is filled with sex and my hair is tussled and teased. I look like a slut and suddenly I feel like a slut.

I turn back to Brady, "Should I do it here?" He nods. "What about music?" My mouth is dry. Suddenly I want to taste him.

"No music." He just stands in front of the door eyeing my body up and down.

One final look at the mirror and I slowly teasingly pull my shirt off. My boobs pop out as I bring the shirt over my head. "Do you want more?" He nods. I unbutton my jeans and gyrate slowly so that my ass is facing him. I ease the jeans off and step out of them. I am stark naked wearing only my heels, my back is arched my ass is pushed out and that's when he jumps me. He forces me against the wall, I moan. He licks and kisses my back. I feel Brady enter me and I am lost in sensation. He is rugged, aggressive, and so utterly hot I can't deny him anything.

He pulls out and turns me around so I'm facing him. He gropes at my tits and reenters me. I kiss him and bite at his lower lip while he thrusts slowly and longingly with the patience of a million one night stands and then it is over, like it never happened. We walk out satisfied, but otherwise completely professional. "I'll be back at six thirty." He nods and goes about some other business.

* * *

I drove around in my car for a while, trying to figure out my next step. My cell phone rang. It was the doctor. "I just got your message." She said.

"I said the trigger, it didn't work." I said to her, forlorn.

"Before I start I need to remind you that you did sign the waiver." I pulled the car to the side of the road and sighed, "What happened?" She asked.

"My wife forgot about me, it worked to the letter, everything I wanted to happen did, until she ran off with that greasy... I said the trigger 'shadow'--"

She broke in, "the trigger was 'hallowed'."

"So what do I do now?"

The doctor paused, it sounded like she was eating something. "I'd recommend you find her. I instilled several triggers that would perpetuate and reinforce her amnesia. It'll wear off eventually but in the mean time she is out there with a desire to have sex the impetus being to please you. She believed you would be watching. So she's going to follow that imperative to her detriment."

"Can I ask you something?" she grunted in the affirmative, "How did you do it?"

"Essentially I had her regress to her days as a stripper. She's back in that place mentally just amped up. Mirrors perpetuate the hypnosis itself. She feels how she looks."

"How long do I have? Will this affect her permanently?"

"No, not if you find her quickly. However, the longer she is out there the more this new personality will grow. Developing new memories, gaining a life. The new Georgia may not take kindly to being changed. I'd say you should find her in the next couple of days to avoid that possibility."