Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist Ch. 07

I awoke Saturday morning to a faceful of sunshine streaming in through a crack in my bedroom window curtains. It was pretty rare for me to sleep in, but after last night's activities, I guess it wasn't too surprising.

What was surprising, once I got cleaned up and headed into the kitchen, was that my wife, Marsha, and Chani, my eighteen-year-old daughter, were both gone. I had the house to myself.

Despite how well things had gone with both of them last night, I was still a little apprehensive. Not too much, though.

For her part, my wife seemed excited about this new arrangement between Chani and me, this status of "secret-boyfriend" and "secret-girlfriend."

Similarly, Chani seemed very excited about the whole thing. However, she did say we needed to work out the particulars with her mom. That's probably what they were off doing right now.

Regardless, there was no way for me to know, so there was no sense in dwelling on it. I took my morning caffeine out to the back deck and enjoyed a few moments of peace before getting to work.

The autumn air was somewhat crisp, but the bright sun warmed my skin. It felt fantastic.

Halloween was only a week away, and while it hadn't yet snowed, it wasn't uncommon to have a little on the ground by this time. There weren't many days like this left before winter.

The fall is my favorite season of the year, and with winter at the gates, I wished I could sit out on my deck all day.

That's not how the real world works for grownups, though, so I gave my spirit a few more moments to soak in the sunshine before heading back inside and beginning my Saturday chores.

---

Around 2:00 pm, my wife and daughter returned home.

I was working in my home office with the door closed, so I only became aware of their presence when they shuffled down the hallway past my door.

They knew to keep quiet when my door was closed, so there were no calls of greeting. However, I was met with the distinct sound of two women laden with what could only be shopping bags. (And not the crinkle of plastic grocery bags, but that particular rustle of glossy bags and tissue paper which only comes from clothes shopping, expensive clothes shopping.)

About ten minutes later, I heard someone, I suspected Marsha, walk up to my door and pause, presumably listening to determine if I was on the phone. After a few seconds of silence, she issued a gentle knock, and I invited her in.

Sure enough, it was Marsha. "Hey," she said, happy to see me. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, you're good. Welcome home. What have you two been up to all day?"

"Shopping!" she grinned, teasing me a little with her smile in that, Hehe, I just spent all your money. kind of way. She hadn't, of course. Marsha had always been responsible with money, probably more responsible than me. It's just fun to play into stereotypes sometimes.

"Anyway," Marsha continued. "I'll let you get back to work, but real quick, I wanted to tell you I made dinner reservations for the three of us tonight at 7:00. It's downtown, so we'll need to leave here around 6:00 - 6:15. That okay?"

"Reservations? Really? Do I have to get dressed up?"

"I'd appreciate it if you wore a jacket, but you don't have to wear a tie."

"Alright. Um...what's the occasion?"

"We're celebrating!" came Marsha's exuberant reply as she stepped back out into the hall and closed the door behind her.

---

The drive to the restaurant was a little awkward and mostly silent. Marsha was clearly in a good mood, so I wasn't worried about anything that might transpire at dinner.

Chani was obviously a little uncomfortable, and who could blame her. From what I was able to piece together about their day—which was still something of a mystery to me—Marsha had been exuberant about mine and Chani's new status. She wanted to share that excitement by having a grand day full of fun. But, knowing my daughter, I was pretty sure Chani had dutifully endured her mother's enthusiasm, even if she would have preferred something more lowkey.

The restaurant itself was very nice—a little pricy, but classy and intimate, romantic even. Clearly, this was a spot for couples, as the vast majority of tables were two tops, though we occupied a four-person table.

An additional benefit of the romantic ambiance was that there was plenty of space between tables, allowing for private conversation without having to whisper.

Continuing the theme of awkward secrecy, we had "normal" dinnertime conversation as we ate—even though it was clear my wife wanted to talk about something.

Maybe she was waiting for the wine to have an effect, I don't know. She did have a couple glasses with dinner, even Chani seemed to be enjoying her glass. (Though whether she was enjoying the "grownup" feelings of drinking wine in a fancy restaurant, or actually enjoying the wine itself, I didn't know. Personally, I think it's gross. To me, it tastes like drinking tree bark, but apparently, I'm in the minority.)

After dinner, we ordered some dessert wine. (Still not my thing, but it's sweet and cold, so I can tolerate it.) And, with our dark, syrupy, "treat" in hand, it appeared Marsha was finally ready to address the elephant in the room.

"Alright," she started as she glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before her eyes settled on me. "As you're aware, Chani and I spent several hours together today. Some of that time was shopping. And, some of that time was talking.

"I told Chani about the relationship I shared with my father and how important it was to me.

"I also apologized to her. I don't know why. Like, I seriously don't know why I never brought it up. Maybe I was just too wrapped up in my own life and my own family. Maybe that's why it never occurred to me that Chani could benefit from a similar relationship with her father, with you, James."

It occurs to me that in all that I've shared with you, dear reader, that I never shared my name. Hi, I'm James.

"I feel really guilty about it," Marsha added.

"No, Mom..." Chani interrupted not quite sure what the appropriate words were to comfort her mother.

"Thank you, Dear, but I do feel guilty. I wish we had done this some time ago..." she trailed off for a moment. "But, that brings me to what I want to talk about this evening.

"Chani and I spent a fair bit of time talking, and sharing, and...planning. Naturally, your new relationship is going to impact this family significantly.

"Mostly in good ways," she quickly added before continuing. "And be that as it may, there's still potential for some negative things as well. Jealousy, for example.

"So, Chani and I decided to lay down some ground rules. I want all of us to go over them, amend them if needed, and agree upon them." Marsha unlocked her phone and presumably began to pull up the rules she and Chani had already agreed to.

"We're doing this here at the restaurant?" I asked, somewhat uneasy with the idea of it.

"Yep. Relax, we're fine.

"Okay, Rule One..." As my wife began talking, I reached under the table to Chani, who was sitting on my right. I took her hand in mine, which she accepted and squeezed before, turning to me and smiling.

Marsha noticed the gesture and gave us both a warm smile before returning to her list.

"Chani can choose to end this relationship—and return to a normal father/daughter relationship—at any time without resistance from either you or me. Of course, you can too, but if it were to happen, I suspect it would be coming from Chani rather than you."

"So, this is like the 'At-Will' clause in an employment contract?" I asked.

"Exactly."

"Sure, I can agree to that. Chani?" I turned to my daughter, and she nodded in the affirmative.

Marsha also nodded in acceptance of our answers and continued.

"Rule Two: There will be a strictly enforced second-base only rule for one month. Which is pretty much Thanksgiving, so we're just going to call it until Thanksgiving."

I cleared my throat, and my cheeks turned bright red as I reminded my wife, "You umm...realize we've already broken that rule, right?"

"I know, but starting right now. Here's the thing. This arrangement needs to be about more than physical intimacy. I think, and Chani agrees, that you need to 'date' for one month before things get too hot and heavy."

I was literally squirming in my seat as we sat, in public, discussing my physical relationship with Chani. Marsha, however, seemed utterly unphased. It was weird. Just plain weird.

"Can you both agree to this rule?"

Chani and I spoke roughly in unison, she with a clear and confident, "Yes" and me with a strained, "Sure."

"Good. Rule Three: Chani may be your girlfriend, but I am your wife. You will spend at least five nights a week, sleeping next to me in our bed. And, we will continue to have regular date nights, just you and me."

"Absolutely," I agreed.

"Uh-huh," Chani affirmed.

"Finally, Rule Four: Communication is key to any relationship. So we all agree to have open lines of communication between us. And, if one of us is uncomfortable with a particular person or topic, then we can use another as a go-between. That's worded weird. Does it make sense? Like Chani, if you need to address something with your dad, but you're feeling uncomfortable, you can come to me, and I'll act as a go-between."

"Yep," Chani said.

"Makes sense," I agreed.

With Marsha's rules agreed upon, we finished up, paid for our meal, and headed out to the car.

Once we were underway, Marsha turned a little in her seat to face me, her face beaming.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "Chani and I have a little surprise for you when we get home.

"Really?" I asked, putting a little excited anticipation into my voice. "What kind of surprise?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you. Though... I will give you a little hint. We may be putting on a show."

Once my wife said that my thoughts immediately returned to the sounds of shopping bags I had heard when Marsha and Chani returned home earlier today.

Clothes plus "show" likely equals fashion show. Okay, that could be fun. Though the more I thought about it, I realized that in all our two-plus decades together, my wife had only ever put on a couple "fashion shows" for me.

Oh man, if Marsha was staying true to form, this was going to be a fantastic end to the day.

We drove on in silence, the wine, coupled with the monotony of the road, led to a predictable effect. Chani seemed to be asleep in the back seat, and Marsha's eyes were drooping heavily.

"Marsha," she turned to me at the sound of my voice. "Deep sleep, Marsha, deep sleep."

My wife's head instantly drooped.

"Chani," I repeated myself slightly louder, "Chani!"

"Huh, yeah, Dad?"

"Deep sleep, Chani, deep sleep." She too slumped in her chair, entering a deep hypnotic state.

I turned my attention back to Marsha, "Marsha, you will remain in a deep hypnotic trance for the entire car ride home. During the trip, your subconscious mind will hear and take in my words only when I address you directly. Otherwise, you will ignore my words completely. When we arrive home, you will awaken out of trance with no conscious memory of the trip or anything I said. You will believe that you had just drifted off to sleep. You will be rested, refreshed, and ready for the rest of the evening."

I repeated my commands to Marsha once more, then gave a similar set of commands to Chani.

"Marsha, tell me about this 'show' you have planned?"

"We're going to model for you," her words were somewhat sleepy, but clear enough.

"Both you and Chani?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to model?"

"Lingerie."

I knew it! Holy shit. My wife and daughter were planning on modeling lingerie for me. This was going to be hot. But, I had an idea of how to make it even hotter.

"Marsha, listen carefully. You're going to model for me. Both you and Chani are going to model for me. You're doing this for me.

"I am a man. Nearly all men like certain things and I can be like nearly all men.

"You and Chani are putting on a show for me. You're putting on a show for a man.

"Remember last night what you tasted on my face?

"You're two women, putting on a sexy show for me, a man. Men like seeing two women together.

"Remember what I told you last night when you tasted something familiar on my lips?

"You're putting on a show with two sexy women for me. I like seeing two women together.

"Remember how you sometimes got drunk and experimented back in college. How exciting it was.

"You're putting on a sexy two-woman show for me. Men like watching two women have sex together.

"Remember that 'Rule Two' includes me. Rule Two doesn't include you.

"You're putting on a two-woman sex show for me. I like watching two women having sex together.

"Remember how, when you're drunk, it's fun to experiment with women. Remember how fun it is.

"You're putting on a show of two women having sex for me. I like watching you and Chani having sex together.

"You're drunk, Marsha and you and Chani are putting on a lingerie sex show for me.

"Remember that you and Chani are putting on a lingerie sex show for me."

After that, I encouraged Marsha to drift off to sleep, and I turned my attention to Chani.

Based on what Chani had done and said last night, I was already pretty sure she was sexually interested in her mother. More specifically, I was pretty sure Chani was sexually interested in women (probably more than men). Since I had convinced her that it was okay—good even—to have sex with her father, her brain likely made the logical leap that it was likewise okay to have sex with her mother.

The language I used with Chani was different but similar. I played up the idea that she and her mother were putting on a show. And since it was a show, everyone was just having fun, it didn't mean anything. I also played up the drunk angle. Since it was a show, and since they were both drinking, no one was in complete control. They were just having fun without consequences.

I was pretty sure this would work. Regardless, it was the best I could do in the car, so I just went with it and decided to see what manifested back home.

--

Once we arrived at home, the girls, as expected, woke up from their little "nap" feeling great. We all headed inside, and once we were out of our shoes and coats, I offered to pour them a glass of wine.

When doing the hypnotic "programming" in the car, I had used alcohol as an excuse for the behavior I was encouraging. I wanted to make sure that the explanation made sense, hence the offered wine.

Marsha readily agreed while Chani needed just a little encouragement from her mother. Regardless, just a minute later, both of them sauntered down the hall, wine glasses in hand.

Marsha called back over her shoulder, "We'll need a few minutes to get ready. So just get comfortable. It's going to be worth the wait!" The tone of her voice carried the promise of naughty fun. I had already been looking forward to this 'show,' and now a familiar swelling sensation reminded me of just how excited I was.

Even so, we're talking about two women getting ready here, so I sat down and got comfortable. I even turned on the TV—with the volume turned way down—since I figured I probably had at least 20 minutes to wait.

My assessment proved accurate as an entire syndicated episode of Family Guy later, I heard the bedroom door open. I quickly shut off the TV and adjusted my position to appear as if I had been sitting in complete anticipation of the girl's return.

"Close your eyes!" my wife called. I complied.

I heard my wife and daughter walk into the room and get into position. Then I heard Marsha's voice in hushed tones as she gave quick instructions to Chani, "no... like this... here... stop fight-ing-me... okay... good... yes... perfect."

Marsha then paused, sighed contentedly, and added—still in a whisper, "You look beautiful."

There was another pause, as I assume Marasha got herself into position, and finally, Chani said, "Okay, Daddy. Open your eyes!"

I did, and my heart skipped a beat. I think that phrase is overused because I'm pretty sure that my heart literally skipped a beat.

That sight before me was absolutely breathtaking.

Both standing in what can only be described as "lingerie catalog poses" Marsha and Chani were stunning.

On the left was Chani. She wore an all-pink cami set. One hand toyed playfully with her hair, while the other rested on her hip. The satiny material complimented her curves perfectly, and the strategically placed sheer mesh panels showed just enough to tease the treasures hidden behind the more opaque portions of the ensemble.

On the right stood Marsha. With one hand high on her waist and the other resting on her thigh, she stood in a slightly cocked position. It looked perfectly relaxed—though I bet it was actually somewhat uncomfortable. Either way, her runwayesque posture served to accentuate her bust while simultaneously giving me a glimpse at the sculpted perfection that was her ass.

Marsha wore a beautiful lace chemise, white with black accents. It was just a tad more conservative than Chani's outfit, but still incredibly sexy.

By the way, I had to look up what these articles of clothing are called. I love looking at them, but don't know the first thing about how to define them.

I'll admit, while the girls looked incredible, and it was more than enough to have my pants straining, I was a little disappointed.

These were undoubtedly sexy outfits, but they were also every day (or mostly every day) sleeping attire. It's the kind of thing that my wife might wear when she wants to communicate, "I'm open to being intimate...but I'm also completely open to reading a chapter of my book and passing out."

I had been staring for at least a full minute when Marsha finally spoke up, "Well? What do you think?"

"You look amazing," I said, obviously having trouble forming my words—which Marsha seemed to enjoy. "You both do. Wow! I'm just speechless."

The contrast in their expressions was fascinating. Chani's face beamed. It was like hearing my compliment was the most important thing she'd ever heard. Marsha also seemed to appreciate my words, but her face held a little more of, "That's right, I do look great!" And hey, who could blame her. She was 43 years old, a mother, and someone who worked hard at a stressful job.

Even for as damn fine as Chani was, she could only pray that the gods of aging treated her half-as-well-as they had her mother.

For another minute or two, both women continued to model their sexy sleepwear as the turned, tilted, and occasionally giggled.

For my part, I just sat in stunned silence, rapt in my total admiration for the scene playing out before me.

My lack of loquaciousness wasn't improved any when Marsha took Chani by the hand, and they looked at each other, seemingly confirming something already agreed upon. Then, in unison, they both turned their gaze and fixated upon me in what could only be described as feline hunger.

Hand in hand, they stalked the five or six steps until they came to stand directly in front of me and where I sat on the couch.

"I'm so glad you like our new outfits, Sweetheart, "Marsha said to me, her predator's eyes now matched by the husky tone in her voice.

"The truth is," she continued, "these aren't actually for you. Now don't worry, we did buy some things for you. That part of the show is yet to come. No, we bought these for us. Sometimes a woman likes to feel sexy, just for herself. But, since we had them, we thought it'd be fun to tease you a little.

"After all, I'm still mad at you for not talking to me about all this first, before you and Chani agreed to anything.