Prison Psychologist Month 02 Pt. 02

Randy was used to nursing his drinks and he was an expert at observing human behavior so he just hung around the makeshift bar while surveying the room. The partiers were a mixed bag so far as age went, ranging from mid-twenties graduate students to septuagenarian department chairs. All of the major colleges and hospitals in Boston were represented along with a few attendees from out of town. Most of their colleagues would join them once the conference convened officially, which was the next day's business.

Men outnumbered women maybe 60-40. As Randy turned his attention to the members of the fairer sex in attendance, he noticed a pretty young brunette whose white linen blouse and black slacks confirmed, along with her tray of scallops wrapped in bacon, that she was a server. She was smallish, but well-proportioned and more importantly, she was both cute and smiling directly at him. She walked up to Randy and extended her offerings to him. The tray looked a little lop-sided and Randy reached to steady her outstretched arm.

Contact.

He could tell that her name was Suzanne, because it was written on her I.D. tag. He could sense that she was a free spirit and she was definitely attracted to him. Still holding her arm, he selected a particularly appealing sample and said, "Well, Suzanne, I'd like you to answer my questions truthfully. Will you do that for me?

"Certainly," was her instant reply.

"Suzanne, why were you paying such close attention to me?"

"Actually, two reasons," she answered matter-of-factly. "First, I think you're kind of cute. You're my type- a little older than me, maybe, but regular-looking, not a pretty boy. Your face is intriguing, like you're hiding a secret."

"And the second is?" Randy asked.

"I think I know what that secret is."

"And how do you know that?"

"I don't just hawk shrimp and cheese and crackers you know. In the daytime I'm a film student at Emerson. My specific concentration is make-up and special effects. I saw you on stage the other night. I could spot the wig and phony moustache right away. You need new ones. You're 'The Amazing Randy.'"

"Well, Suzanne, thanks for the advice. Would you be interested in making me some replacements? I would be happy to pay you for your work."

"Sure. I could use some extra dough."

"You wonder what it would be like to have sex with me; don't you? The next time you offer me a scallop, have your name and phone number written on the cocktail napkin. Maybe we can work it out. Tell no one that you know my true identity, Suzanne."

Randy finished chatting up the help and then looked for Cindy, who was surrounded by young men her own age and sitting on a couch. Just about any man would have been concerned if a pack of young leopards had surrounded his date the way these young professionals had Cindy cornered. Randy wasn't worried a bit. He knew who was going to take her home tonight. He was.

He watched their interaction. There was clearly a pecking order within the pack of nattily clad young men. The "alpha" tended to dominate the conversation. He was around thirty with a taut, muscular frame and a strong jaw, all in all a very good-looking man. He told a joke and everybody laughed, including Cindy. Randy decided that it was time to join the discussion. As he approached the group, he caught Cindy's eye. Immediately she broke into a smile and got up, from her chair.

"No, no." he said, "please don't get up, Cindy. I'll just listen in."

"Folks, this is my date, Randy," said Cindy as she sat back down.

"Hi, everyone," Randy said and then said "please continue your conversation."

"We were just discussing Dr. McCarthy's recently published article in The Journal," said the alpha.

"Wall Street?" asked Randy, knowing full well that he meant The Journal of the American Psychological Society.

"American Psychological Society," said the alpha, looking directly into Randy's face. "Have you read it?"

"No, I haven't had the opportunity, but I'm sure that I will when I get the chance. Psychology journals make for dull, obtuse reading. I prefer fiction."

"So, you're not attending the conference itself?"

"Oh no, I'm looking forward to it. I'm interested in the topic and I wouldn't miss Dr. McCarthy's presentation for the world."

"So you're not a psychologist, Randy?" asked another of the young professionals.

"No, I'm not. I'm an entertainer, but the subject interests me."

"You're in show business," said the alpha. "Do you sing, Randy, act? What do you do?"

"Actually, I do a stage act, mostly small venues- supper clubs and such."

"And your act is..." the psychologist repeated, "what?"

"Hypnosis," replied Randy. "I'm a stage hypnotist."

"You're shining us on, Randy," said the alpha incredulously. C'mon. What do you really do?"

"No, that's what I do. I'm a professional hypnotist," Randy said to the alpha. "You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don't know yours."

"I'm sorry. Randy, this is Dr. Kevin Parker," said Cindy. He's leading tomorrow's session; It's called "Hypnotism: Facts and Fictions."

"I'll be sure to take it in," said Randy as he extended his hand to offer a shake. Dr. Parker took it and squeezed firmly, very firmly, almost too firmly. Randy withstood the silent challenge with a smile, even held the handshake a little longer. He didn't mind the little test of strength; he was busy delving into Dr. Parker's mind. A five second handshake was more than enough time for a thorough probe.

Dr. Parker's mind was pretty much as Randy suspected it would be. Dr. Kevin Parker had serious designs on Dr. Cindy McCarthy, but every man in the circle did; of that, Randy was sure. Randy also sensed the young psychologist's antipathy toward him, having correctly identified Randy as the primary obstacle to his connection with Cindy. Randy could tell that, so far at least, Dr. Parker was not overly concerned by this plain-looking itinerant entertainer as a romantic rival. He was confident in his own attractive powers. The condescension in his mind was palpable. Kevin Parker did not think much of Randy or of "stage hypnotism."

What Dr. Parker could not know was that not only was the man standing in front of him the greatest hypnotist who had ever lived, but his would-be rival also possessed the street smarts of a man who had actually been out in the real world. The Amazing Randy had been touring the country alone for years and before he had developed his current stage act, he had developed his professional "chops" working the state fair and carnival circuit. There was no better training ground for the kind of combat that both men anticipated. Randy Baumgardner not only understood people, all kinds of people, but he had a wealth of experience manipulating them on stage, in front of spotlights, and in front of a live and skeptical audience. The Amazing Randy had the tee shirt.

Despite his marquee good looks, multiple college degrees, a flock of potential "wing men," and abundant self-confidence, Dr. Kevin Parker was, in a word, "over-matched." No, make that two words. He was "hopelessly over-matched."

"Tell me, Randy; how's the stage hypnotism business treating you?" asked the handsome doctor in the two-thousand-dollar suit.

"I get by. How's the clinical hypnotism business treating you?"

"Touche," replied the young doctor. Then, after a pregnant pause he said "How many plants does it take to get through a show, Randy? You can tell us. Think of it as doctor patient privilege. We won't tell a soul," said the doctor with a wry "up yours, you phony" look on his face.

"What do you mean, Dr. Parker, houseplants? Like ferns and geraniums?"

"You know what I mean. How many people in the audience do you have on the payroll?"

"Oh," said Randy in mock surprise, "those kinds of plants, Zero."

"Bullshit," was the immediate reply from the handsome psychologist. "Stage hypnotism is bunk. I have been studying hypnotic suggestion for over a dozen years in my laboratory and there is no scientific evidence that supports the claims of so-called stage hypnotists. It's as fake as a three-dollar bill."

"Maybe you ought to get out of the lab more often," said Randy calmly, "you might learn something new."

"I'm out of the lab now. Why don't you teach me?" said Dr. Parker, clearly offering a challenge.

"You mean you want a demonstration, here right now?"

"If you can, which I doubt," replied the doctor, dripping with very thinly disguised sarcasm.

"There is a small problem, but I think we may be able to get around it. Doctor I'm not just a "stage hypnotist." I'm a "professional" stage hypnotist. I do it for money. If you want to see my show you and your colleagues will have to pony up. Shall we say twenty bucks a head? I count eight of you. That's $160 American."

Immediately the wing men reached for their wallets but were stopped by Dr. Kevin. "Put your wallets away. This one's on me." The tall psychologist reached for his own wallet, opened it, and withdrew two crisp new $100 bills. "This ought to cover it nicely."

"It will," said Randy.

"Would you care to make a little side bet, Randy?"

"What kind?"

"I have another two hundred bucks that says that you will be unable to hypnotize me right here right now. Care to match it?"

"If I can. Let me look to see if I can cover it," said Randy as he retrieved his wallet and fished out the cash. "Yep, he said smiling, got it right here." Randy knew he had the cash but was enjoying the set-up so much that he decided to allow the skeptical doctor to continue digging himself into the hole. Handing the cash to Cindy, who had been quietly witnessing the show like a princess deciding which champion to back in a joust. "I assume it's good with you to have Cindy hold the wager."

"Fine with me," said the doctor.

"Tell you what I'll do. Give Cindy all the dough. I'll sweeten the pot by adding my show money to the pile; that makes six hundred total, but only if all of you consent to being hypnotized right here right now. Dr. McCarthy's holding the money, so she gets a pass. Agreed?"

"Sure," said the doctors almost in unison. "We're in."

"OK, now let's decide how to settle the bet. I propose that to avoid any conflict of interest that we allow Dr. McCarthy to hold the wager, but bring in a neutral observer to judge the contest. How about the young lady handing out canapes? "Miss, could I have one of those scallops, please?" Suzanne came over and held out her tray for Randy to choose. Taking one toothpick by the fuzzy cellophaned end, Randy asked for a cocktail napkin. Suzanne reached into her apron pocket and handed Randy a napkin which he covered with his hand as he patted his mouth before putting the slightly soiled napkin into his suit pocket. "Miss, could we prevail upon you to help us for a minute or two? There's an extra tip in it for you."

"Sure," said the cute waitress. "What would you like me to do?"

"Doctor Parker here has wagered that I can't get him to quack like a duck. Isn't that right, doctor?"

"Indeed, it is. I will not quack like a duck. If I do, then he wins the pot," said the handsome doctor.

"Got it," said Suzanne.

"Then the wager is set. Shall we shake on it? It is a wager between gentlemen, after all." Randy extended his hand to each of the young doctors, bending close to speak privately as he grasped each hand. He said the same thing to each man. "You will obey me completely. Once Kevin does his best imitation of Donald Duck, you will laugh. Once I thank Dr. Parker for his contribution, you will stand by silently awaiting further instructions." Then he turned to Dr. Parker and, taking his hand a second time said "For the next minute no matter what anyone says to you, you will react as if you were Donald Duck. After that you will await further instructions, which you will obey to the letter."

Randy stepped back and said, "Well, Dr. Parker, do you still insist that all stage hypnotism is 'bunk?'"

"Quack, quack quack quack quack QUACK!" was all that Dr. Parker could say. His wing men burst into laughter.

"C'mon, Kevin, cut it out," said one of his colleagues.

Kevin turned to answer. "Quack! Quack quack quack! QUACK QUACK QUACK!" was all Kevin could say. He was clearly incensed as he turned to the beautiful blonde psychologist, who tried, but could not suppress her laughter. "Quack quack quack, quack quack!" said Dr. Duck.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that we have a winner," said Suzanne. She turned to Cindy and said "Doc, give the man his money."

With Dr. Duck still quacking his exasperation, Randy reached into his wallet to pay the judge. He removed two twenties and handed them to Suzanne who thanked him. "Don't go away just yet, please."

Then he turned to Dr. Parker and said "Thank you, Dr. Parker." Immediately all of the psychologists stopped laughing and stood silently, including Dr. Parker. Turning to Cindy, he said, "Now might be a good time for a trip to the ladies' room, Cindy. We're leaving soon."

Cindy rose and walked towards the rest room. Turning to Suzanne he asked "Are you still interested in joining me for some fun after work?"

"More than ever," was her reply. "That was cool as shit."

"Would you still be interested if I told you that Cindy will be joining us?"

"Certainly, Randy, she's beautiful. Between us, it wouldn't be the first time that I've joined in a threesome. I'm in," said Suzanne.

"You're up for just about anything, aren't you Suzanne?" asked Randy as he surveyed the curvaceous collegian.

"I'm open-minded, but it all depends on what you mean by 'anything', said Suzanne.

"I understand," said Randy. "Would you, for example, be willing to participate in some bondage and submission provided I could assure you that while you may be pushed a bit, that no harm will come to you and that you may very well like it?"

"Will I be doing the binding or the submitting?"

"Could be one or the other or it could be both, but either way I promise you that you will not be harmed."

"Will I be hypnotized?"

"You're hypnotized right now, Suzanne. Do you feel any ill effects?"

"No," she replied staring The Amazing Randy right in the eye. "I trust you, Randy. You're on."

Randy smiled and then asked "Can you be at Room 611 by 11:30 tonight? Will that give you time to freshen up?"

"This is my last tray. I'm done in ten minutes and I can scoot home and take a quick shower. My place is nearby. I'll be there between 11 and 11:30. Is that OK?"

"Fine," said Randy. "Wear your sexiest outfit. See you later." With her instructions understood, Suzanne said "Thanks, Randy. Thanks for the tip too." Hefting her almost empty tray she disappeared into the service area as Randy turned to speak to the mesmerized psychologists. Speaking softly, he gave his final instructions, which included strict admonitions not to reveal anything they had seen or heard that evening and to forget they had ever met him.

"Thank you, Doctor Parker. It's been a pleasure doing business." Randy turned and made a bee line for the bathroom. He had to go.

As he emerged from the men's room, Cindy was standing a few feet away, up on her tiptoes surveying the room for her date. Coming up from behind, he took her arm. Cindy spun and said "There you are. You startled me, Randy."

"Cindy, I've had about enough of this affair. Let's go up to our room for a nightcap. I believe that you said something earlier about 'level four'. I hope you're up for it, because I'm beginning to envision how level four might look."

"I'm hoping for a lot more than a nightcap, Randy. The way you handled that pompous ass, Kevin was so sexy. It's time for you to claim your prize. It will take just a few minutes for me to say my good-byes. Will you get my things for me?"

"Certainly," said Randy. "Take your time."