tagMind ControlHypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 01

Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 01

byblacknight99©

This is a chronicle of the most important two weeks of my life. First things first, though. I should warn you about this story. For, while the title is certainly accurate... and while this tale really IS about me hypnotizing the babysitter... and while it really IS about how this girl's head was filled with all sorts of enticing and passionate suggestions... and while it IS about how these suggestions led her to engage in extremely arousing and exotic sexual relations with me... I feel obligated to inform you that this story is NOT actually about what you THINK it's about.

Now that you've been properly cautioned, and if you are so inclined, I invite you to read on.


***************

MAY 19th

I was a wreck. I hadn't been out of the house in months. Well, not except for the normal, non-entertainment reasons. I dropped off my daughter at pre-K and picked her up from daycare on most days. And, I shopped for groceries and clothes and shoes for my little Tina. And, I still ran 5K twice a week during breaks in my schedule. But I hadn't been OUT, if you know what I mean.

I got these weird, wild, off-the-wall ideas in my head, for some reason. And that's what had happened that evening. I decided I HAD to get out of the house. Get out anywhere. I arranged for our regular babysitter, a young tenth grade high school student that was the daughter of a guy who did small plumbing jobs in town. (And before you get ideas that I was destined to wind up stalking this underage little gal, I should mention that this was NOT the babysitter our story is about. You'll meet her soon enough.) I was walking in the general direction of a bar that used to be a favorite of my wife. She was in Portland, so there was no danger of running into her there.

Almost as an afterthought, I realized that I probably didn't have enough money, and I started digging in my pockets in order to take financial stock of the evening. I had a twenty and a five. The sitter would take care of the twenty... I'd HAVE to pay her for two hours, minimum. I racked my brain. Monday. It was $4 domestic bottled beer night. I could just make it... for one beer, plus a tip. Tomorrow, the auto-payment on the credit card would take effect, and I'd be solvent. God, this was the pits. (Of course, things weren't really THAT bad. I could always dip into my savings account or increase my credit limit, the way my card company tried to get me to do three or four times every year. But that would be admitting defeat; and if I could just hold out... if I could just make ends meet a little while longer... I was SURE things would come my way.)

I started to feel the world closing in on me again. My heart began hammering in my chest. Crap! I stopped and leaned heavily against a tree only five houses up the street from my own.

"Evenin', Reggie. You okay?" The question floated out toward the street from the darkened porch.

I straightened myself upright. "Hi, Sam. Yeah, just resting. Nice night."

There was a hesitation. "Sorry to hear about you and Rita."

I kept the sigh out of my voice. I didn't know if he could see my shrug. "It happens. Catch you later, Sam."

"G' night, Reggie."

I walked on toward the waterfront. In all my born days, I never, ever could have imagined that I would be prone to panic attacks. I'm a big guy, athletic, strong... and, I like to think, stable. When a problem presents itself, I always step back a pace and judge my options. Calm. Self-assured. A good man. A good father. For a long while there, I had been a good husband.

My heart rate was steadying out, and I took a deep breath. There was little doubt what was causing this. The psychiatrist knew. I knew. But knowing didn't seem to make it any better.

Nine months ago, I had left home on a business trip. The first leg of any travel entailed an hour-and-a-half drive to either Portland or Boston to catch a plane. On this particular day, my flight had been cancelled, and the next one on the schedule would have put me into Denver too late for my meeting. So, after conferring with my office, I'd driven back home... where I found my wife and her best friend's husband in our bed. I'd never seen it coming. Didn't have a clue.

There had been individual counseling and couple's counseling and marriage counseling. I'd gotten a shrink and a specialist to help with the horrible insomnia... which had led eventually to the panic attacks. But, like I said, knowing what causes something doesn't always mean it's going to go away.

And, eight weeks before this (the start of our story), Rita had dropped the next bombshell. Oddly, though, this time, it didn't seem to faze me. The bad marriage wasn't a result of the infidelity, she said. Rather, the infidelity was the result of a bad marriage. It wasn't my fault, she explained. (WHY do women always say that?) She simply didn't love me. She hadn't loved me for a long, long time, now. She wanted out. And, like always, I stepped back a pace and judged my options. Fine. Whatever. Let's get this over with and get on our lives. I just didn't care anymore.

We didn't fight. We didn't even get lawyers. We did it through something called "Divorce Mediation." She floored me by suggesting that I keep primary custody of little Tina AND the house. She'd simply sign her share over to me. She only wanted our daughter two days a week and every other weekend. It took me awhile to see her reasoning behind this. We had moved to Maine to be close to HER family. There was really nothing to keep me there after the split unless I kept the residence and promised to raise our daughter in it. She figured that giving me the house would do that, and she'd always have easy access to her child while living near her family.

It was a BIG place; six bedrooms, four bathrooms, and it was on the National Register of Historic Places; some treaty had been signed there the better part of two centuries before. It had been hard getting the house in the first place, financially; but she was a doctor and I earned even more than she did. We'd gotten it while the economy was down; and now that times were better, houses in our little seaside tourist town were skyrocketing in value. (A couple movie stars had bought places there.) I figured I could just swing it economically on my own, but financial plans never work out the way we hope; and now I was "house-poor." Without access to her salary, after the mortgage payment, taxes, insurance and utilities, I was literally living from paycheck to paycheck.

I walked into the bar portion of the pierside restaurant, greeted the bartender, and ordered my bottle of Sam Adams as if I actually had more to spend than the fiver I slapped down on the bar. We chatted awhile. He told me it was a shame about Rita. I'd almost perfected my sad-smile-and-shrug routine. "It happens," I told him.

It was warm for May, and I took my bottle and drifted toward the tables outside. While tourist season would officially begin with Memorial Day in less than a week, there were only locals present and the place was sparsely populated. I was actually beginning to think I was going to be allowed to sip my beer unmolested when both Tod and Teri Ramsey barked my name in unison from a small table near the railing. I contemplated how I could get out of sitting with them, and couldn't figure any solution. I realized I shouldn't have tried going out yet. It was too soon. I pasted on my bravest face, went over and sat down.

They offered their condolences about the breakup, pushed gently for juicy details they could pass on to the local gossip mill, but mainly settled for my nondescript answers. We talked about the kids... their two boys and my daughter... and about upcoming events. I was immensely sad to realize that, in lieu of talking, I had been drinking, and now my beer was empty. It was early yet to be heading home, but there was really nothing else to keep me there. However, when I tried to make my excuses and leave, they both protested to the extent that I just sat there, pretending there was still something in the bottle. Without meaning to, I started talking about the house and its associated expenses. I even mentioned that the simple luxury of having a babysitter was more than my budget would allow nowadays.

Teri got a look in her eye that was something between devious mischief and determined resolution; then she got up from the table and headed inside without a word of explanation. I turned a questioning gaze toward Tod, but he just shrugged, indicating that there was no attempting to explain women. She returned with another round of drinks, set them on the table and announced that neither of us was to go anywhere until she returned. And then, she left.

Very strange. Tod only added to the weirdness when he pointed toward the drink Teri had left in front of her own place at the table. "She NEVER drinks wine coolers," he commented. The conversation lagged, and he eventually began lamenting the state of the greens on the country club golf course. After what I deemed a long, long time, I began counting, silently. When I got to a hundred, I resolved, I was going to leave, no matter what he said.

And just as I reached 95, a young woman was suddenly standing at the table. Tod was immediately startled out of his musings about the local links. "Dawn! What are you doing here? Are the kids okay?"

The lady looked down upon us with a great deal of interest. She didn't answer immediately, and seemed to be studying me intently. Finally, she turned to my partner and said: "The children are fine, Tod. Teri is with them." And she returned her scrutiny to me.

Under the circumstances, I didn't feel too self conscious studying her, as well. She was not a pretty girl. She was rather "big boned;" that is to say, she was tall and about thirty pounds overweight. She was obviously Asian in heritage. Her black hair hung long and limp, unkempt, down past her broad shoulders. Her eyes were wide-spaced and intelligent, and her complexion was clear; though her mouth was a little too small and her nose a little too broad to fit any definition of beauty. Her whole face was a contradiction in symmetry. Despite her size, she wore a sweatshirt that was much too large for her, and I immediately surmised that this was to hide the fact that her breasts were... well, they were much more than generous, if you catch my meaning.

"Won't you sit down, Dawn?" I asked, trying to break the silence.

This seemed to shock her. "Um... thank you." She pulled out the chair that Teri had left and sat, still regarding me openly.

"Do you like wine coolers?" I asked her. "We seem to have one that's going to waste."

Again, my words appeared to startle her. "Uh... thank you. I love wine coolers." She twisted off the cap of the bottle and poured it into the glass of ice before her.

"Dawn is Teri's cousin," Tod explained to me hesitantly. "She's... uh... staying with us for awhile."

She waited for the effervescence to die down for a moment before pouring the remainder of the small bottle into the glass, and then she returned her attention to me. "Are you Mr. Torrance?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, bemused by this whole scenario. "Please, call me Reggie."

"This is for you," she told me, handing me an envelope. I had no idea where it came from. She wasn't carrying a purse. I took it automatically. It wasn't sealed, and inside was a single sheet of copy paper with one inked paragraph in a woman's neat hand which had obviously been written in haste:

"Reggie,

I believe that my cousin Dawn might be the answer to your immediate problem. She's looking for a place to stay. She's absolutely amazing with children. She's helped us out by watching Tod-Junior and Tony from time to time. You've got all that room in that big old house of yours... and unless things have changed dramatically, you could save a bundle by having her watch Tina instead of paying for daycare."

I read it through twice while Dawn studied me intently. "Do you know what this says?" I asked her. When she gave her head a little negative shake, I handed it to her.

She glanced at it for perhaps four seconds, then she solemnly put it down on the table in front of her. "Well," she said softly, quietly, sadly.

Tod snatched it up and studied it for a long time. Despite myself, I had already done the math. Three hundred fifty bucks. Rita paid half, but with the summer coming and full-day day daycare costs facing us while I worked in my home office, my savings would still be $350!

"Dawn," Tod said seriously. "Don't let my wife pressure you into something you're not ready to do. You're family. You are welcome to stay with us for as long as you like."

"No," the woman answered without looking at him. She kept her attention on me. "I've overstayed my welcome. I should leave." She hesitated. "What do you say, Mr. Torrance? Can I offer you my services in exchange for room and board?"

She tried to keep her gaze steady and unwavering, but when I smiled at her, she blushed and looked down. "Please, call me Reggie," I repeated.

"No," she answered quietly. "I won't. I'd like to keep it formal, please. Do you mind?"

I contemplated her. "Have I offended you somehow?"

That made her look up into my eyes. "No!" She hesitated again. "I mean... no, you haven't! You mustn't think that! It's just that... that... I have a problem with authority."

I sat back, shocked. A glance in Tod's direction didn't help. His mouth was hanging open, and he was obviously stunned. "A problem with authority? That doesn't make any sense," I told her gently.

"Please," she whispered imploringly. "Don't ask me to explain; but please... allow me to do that, at least. It's all I'll ask of you, I promise: just that one little indulgence."

"Indulgence," I muttered. She was looking down again. When she first walked up to the table, nothing seemed to be able to keep her gaze off of me. Now, she appeared completely unable to make eye contact. She was forced to look up, however, when her peripheral vision saw my outstretched hand. "It's a deal," I told her. "I'll see you tomorrow. Do you need help moving your things?"

She was looking down again as she shook my hand. "No, sir. I only have one suitcase. I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you, sir."

**************

MAY 22nd

It was absolutely astonishing how quickly she became part of our household. That first night, while I was putting her to bed, Tina asked me imploringly if we could "keep her." They had become "bestest friends," she explained.

Having just turned four years old, my daughter was distressingly into all the things I loathed when it came to little girls. Disney princesses, mermaids, fairies, the color pink, ribbons, stuffed animals and baby dolls. Everything the Industrial Entertainment Empire told us little girls SHOULD like... well, that's what she liked. It's not that I was having "little boy envy" or anything; it's just that I wanted to raise an individual and not just another "girly-girl."

But damn, she was cute.

Dawn, seemingly, couldn't care less what my philosophy was. If Tina wanted to play "princess dress-up," then that's what they did. And my new "babysitter" did it in such a way that my daughter was almost instantly in her thrall. Dawn never spoke down to her. With the exception of kneeling or sitting to "put them on the same level," she spoke to the little girl as an equal. She would often explain confusing words in terms that a four-year-old would instinctively understand. They would read book after book, take long walks together or sit under the tree in the back yard and just talk. By the end of the second day with us, Tina was insisting that Dawn read to her at bedtime, kiss her goodnight, tuck her in.

During Tina's "alone playtime," Dawn cleaned the house, did the dishes and laundry, and tidied up. No amount of protest on my part made her stop these little extracurricular exercises. I hadn't realized how I'd let the place go until I saw her working. After Rita moved out, I had immersed myself in my work. Funny thing about work... the more you do, the more everyone EXPECTS you to do. I simply hadn't realized until now how much I'd neglected everything else.

During Tina's naptime and after bedtime, Dawn closed herself up in her bedroom with her laptop and cell phone. She explained to me that she worked "part time" as a "tech rep," but when I queried her about this outside work, she quickly steered the conversation in other directions, and I hadn't found out what it was. I heard her through her door, though, often speaking quite earnestly about something. Whoever she spoke to, she called "sir." These calls were always rather brief, and never lasted more than half an hour. Also, I noted, they never called her... the calls were only placed when she had time to make them. In fact, nobody ever called her.

It was late that night, the third day that she'd been with us, that I heard a slight tapping on my bedroom door. I sleep in the nude, and I was reading an old novel, the blanket pulled up just past my waist; so I called out for her to come in. She entered, head down, as if she was afraid to look up at me, concerned that she might become embarrassed. She wore some sort of nightshirt which was much too large for her. She let go of the doorknob and stood there, her arms at her sides, one of her hands in a fist, holding something.

"Please, sir. Do you have a moment? I'd like to talk to you."

I sighed. "There's nothing I can say to you to make you stop calling me 'sir,' is there?"

"No, sir," she whispered.

"Because you have a problem with authority," I finished.

"Yes, sir."

I regarded her curiously and let the silence stretch on awhile. When it became obvious that she would say nothing else until I spoke again, I said: "You happen to have caught me in a slightly indecent condition."

That made her look up, and she gasped loudly, blushing crimson, as if the sight of a man's bare chest was beyond the capacity of her senses.

I laughed at that. "Oh, for crying out loud, Dawn, relax. What's on your mind?"

After a long, indecisive pause, she took a step toward me, paused again momentarily, and finally walked all the way to me. Her very large, unencumbered breasts moved enticingly beneath the fabric of her shirt, and her face was constantly flushed as she made her way resolutely to the side of my bed, where she sat, her hands in her lap. Making sure I stayed covered up, I scooted over a little to make room for her.

"You don't sleep," she said softly.

I cleared my throat. "Um... I've been struggling with insomnia for awhile now. I'm sorry; have I kept you awake?"

"What are you taking for it?" she asked, ignoring the question. I pointed absently to several prescription bottles, all with their childproof caps, sitting on my bedside table. She picked them up and glanced at them, each in turn, before setting them back down. "Pretty powerful stuff," she commented.

"They'd be better if they actually worked," I said morosely. "You're familiar with them?"

She nodded. "Three of them. I had that problem myself, not long ago." She let the comment hang for a few moments. "I found something better."

"... Which you have in your hand," I commented.

She looked down at her closed fist, then straightened her fingers and offered the item to me in the palm of her hand. I didn't take it. It was a necklace... a sparkling, clear gem on a thin gold chain.

"I'm not really into homeopathic medicine," I told her. "You really believe that wearing a magic necklace will help me sleep?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Hypnosis," she said simply. "I use self-hypnosis."

I tried not to show her the utter disbelief I felt about her opinion, but I must have conveyed something, because she looked suddenly startled and unhappy. I sighed. "Let me get this straight. You hold that thing up and stare at it, and it puts you to sleep?"

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