The Amazing Randy Judges a Slut-Off

She straightened up the place in a whirlwind effort until it was fit to entertain, finishing up as she took out two large jar candles and set one each on the bedside tables. She went to the closet and pulled some selections which she laid on the covers. Dress or jeans? Stella held the jeans up as she twisted in front of her full-length mirror.

They'd fit. A while back she'd noticed a tiny paunch in her abdomen and had confronted the sign of approaching middle age with renewed efforts at the gym. In Texas, on-air talent needed to be attractive. Her viewers expected it and she did not want to be taken off the primetime crew and sent to the morning, or worse yet, the weekend team, TV news' Siberia.

The evening's look was evolving. The jeans, of course, required boots which required a western top of some kind. A patterned Mexican peasant top of soft cotton with an elasticized neck, short sleeves, and cinched around the waist below the bust completed the look she wanted. She put the blouse on and adjusted the top to reveal her shoulders. Her breasts, topped by her hardening nipples filled out the blouse, but she was not quite ready to make such a bold second impression. She found a soft lace strapless balconette which both supported and revealed her chest's proportions, but intervened between her nipples and the delicate cotton covering. Her hair was cinched into a ponytail.

Stella decided against a cowboy hat.

La Casa d'Espana

Randy took a cab to the restaurant. He had a rental car but was new in town and decided that a cab might be a smarter ride, and, if the evening went the way he was planning, two cars would be one too many after dinner. He paid the driver, opened the door marked La Casa D'Espana and ascended the narrow steps to the dining room.

Stella was sitting on one of three stools at a small makeshift bar. Randy walked to the bar and introduced himself. When Stella turned the man who stood next to her had no facial hair and a short haircut. Instead of black, his hair was brown. "Ah, Randy, you made it. I was wondering what the man behind the make-up would look like."

"Disappointed?"

"Not at all. What will you have?"

"Scotch and water, if they have it."

It was Tuesday night, mid-week, and there were no other patrons. The two moved to a dimly lit table away from the bar. Randy pulled out a chair for his long-legged "date" and then helped the reporter scootch in closer to the table setting. He could smell the fresh scent of her hair and see the delicate curves of her lightly tanned exposed collarbone. He sat down across from her.

"I hope you don't mind, but I have taken the liberty of ordering a kind of sampler platter. It will be big enough for both of us to share. I asked for extra chile rellenos."

"I'm looking forward to trying all of it. So, tell me about yourself, Stella."

The attractive reporter leaned forward as she spoke, just enough to reveal the top of her cleavage. The crease was well-defined and Randy had to be conscious not to stare at his companion's chest. Stella watched his reaction to her posture and smiled. He was interested. Good.

After she had covered the basics- marital status, education, and employment history, Randy took a moment to digest the information as he took a bite of beef enchilada. Randy was a good listener. It was part of his charm and it was also his opening gambit in their little dating dance. "What about the future, Stella?" he asked. "What is it you want from the future?"

Stella sat up straight and stopped eating. "Do you know, Randy, that you're the first man who has ever asked me that? I'm not sure that I have an answer at the ready. Can I get back to you later?"

"Sure. I hope I'm not prying, Stella."

"No, no," she smiled. "You're not, but it's your turn to tell me about yourself. Fair's fair."

Randy talked about his parents, and his time working the state fair circuit while he built and road-tested his act. He talked about how his 'demonstrations' were nothing more than a means to an end, which was laughs and a good time for the paying customers. He talked about Groucho Marx's 1950s game show "You Bet Your Life" and how he had based the format of his act on that show. He spoke about past comedians with reverence, as if he were a historian or a religious acolyte.

"Are you willing to talk about hypnosis, Randy? You must know how interesting your story is. I'm fascinated. Can you really hypnotize your so-called 'contestants?'"

Randy sat up and smiled a thin smile. "Do you mean 'Is my act a fake'?"

"I can see how you might see that as my reporter's side poking through, Randy but it really isn't. I've never heard anyone dissect comedy like that and, I must admit, I'm enjoying our dinner immensely. Thanks for accepting my invitation." She extended her hand, inviting her tablemate to agree merely by touch.

Randy took it and gently squeezed, both to acknowledge her compliment and to indicate that he was enjoying himself as well. He smiled as she returned the intimate gesture before retreating to slice off a piece of a chimichanga.

"Stella, hypnosis is not very well understood by the scientific community, but most authorities agree that there's something to it and... yes, I really do hypnotize my contestants, for real. I'm sorry if I sounded defensive, but I get a lot of disbelief from people. I hope you will find the time to come to one of my shows and judge for yourself. I can even get you a front row seat."

"I thought I was already sitting in the front row," she said with a grin. "My God, you are so interesting, Randy."

"And you, Stella, are as beautiful and charming a dinner companion as a travelling showman could possibly hope for. This has been a memorable day." Randy, who had probed Stella's mind during the brief hand squeeze, knew that she was becoming more and more focused on him as a potential lover. There was no need to rush things. It was barely eight-thirty.

"My," he said with a wry smile that spoke volumes, "these are good rellenos. In fact, the entire meal is great. You're right; it's the best Mexican food I've ever had..." he paused to set up the punch line just as he had done thousands of times both on stage and in intimate conversations with potential lovers... "almost as good as carnival burritos."

The two of them broke into laughter simultaneously. Randy had set the hook. One way or another, Stella Jackson, the most attractive TV news reporter in San Antonio, would end up in the net, and then the bed.

The two continued their conversation, mostly laughing at Randy's jokes. The professional comedian moved effortlessly from carefully constructed shaggy dog stories to sophomoric low brow clowning. Eventually, they both finished their dinner and Randy called for the check.

Nightcap

It was now or never, thought the beautiful raven-haired TV personality. She knew that unless she moved to extend the evening right then and there, she might lose the opportunity to bring him back to her place for the night and make love to this enthralling, mild-mannered, and funny man.

She needn't have worried. Randy's libido had already made the decision for them. He was the real hunter and she was the game. He just wanted to see if she would step into the snare willingly.

"Would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?" Randy smiled as he envisioned the leggy beauty being swept up into the sky, astonished, upside down, and flailing against the air.

"I would love to," said the hypnotist/comedian. I'm afraid you'll have to drive. I got here by cab."

"Lucky us," she said, "I know the way by heart and my rates are very reasonable." Randy rose and moved to help his dinner date up from the table.

"Lead the way," he said.

Stella pulled her car into her allotted space and set the parking brake. "We're here." Randy got out of the car and walked around to open her door while she gathered her pocketbook. First one long leg and then another slid out as Randy extended his hand to assist her. Between the two of them, she managed to get out of the car. As she raised her head, Randy leaned in to kiss her. She returned the kiss and he closed the door.

Stella's condominium was on the top floor of a six-story building. The two left the elevator and walked to the door of her place where she fished out her keys, put one into the lock and then turned the knob. After hitting the light switch and setting her keys and pocketbook down on the counter, Stella reached up and pulled the scrunchie from her ponytail, freeing her jet-black hair. She shook her head and the soft black curls fell just below her shoulders, to the middle of her back.

"What can I get for you?" she asked her companion.

"Do you have any scotch?"

"I do. How do you take it?"

"In a short glass, over ice, and delivered by a beautiful woman."

"Coming right up," she said as she poured two identical drinks and handed one to her guest. Randy accepted the offering, said "thank you," took a sip, and set down the glass. Stella was still in the process of sipping when Randy advanced to take her in his arms. This time Randy quietly took the glass from her, never breaking eye contact, set it down next to his own, and kissed her full on the lips. It said, "I want you, now."

Stella's response was to take her lover-to-be's head in her hands, finish the kiss and then tilt her head to one side, exposing her neck, inviting the hypnotist to direct his attention to more intimate locations.

Randy kissed her softly behind the ear, pausing to savor the feel of his lips on soft skin and the competing smells of her shampoo and perfume. Another, and then another traced a path to her collarbone, which he also kissed lightly, just brushing her skin with his lips. She shuddered.

The hypnotist/comedian stopped and reached for Stella's drink, handed it to her, and took his own. They clinked glasses. "To show business," he proposed.

"To show business," Stella replied as she raised her glass. She paused, as if in thought, and said "Randy, what's it like to be hypnotized?"

"Beats me."

"But you're a hypnotist..."

"Stella, I'm the hypnotist. I do the hypnotizing. Other people get hypnotized. I've never been hypnotized."

"Of course," she said as she sipped her scotch. "Well, that's something else we share in common, Randy, isn't it?"

"Technically..." Randy said as he looked at the beautiful dark-eyed Texan, "that's not quite true."

"What?"

"Stella, neither of us is a newborn. We're single adults, big boys and girls, so to speak. One of the things I hope you will come to know about me is that I'm a truth-teller; I always have been. It's caused me some minor trouble along the way, but it makes life so much easier. "I hypnotized you this afternoon."

"What did you make me do?" asked Stella with some concern.

"Before I answer that, and I promise I will, may I say something first?"

"Yes, lover. You're not in the vice-principal's office."

"Stella, you are a beautiful and sexy woman. I was attracted to you immediately. I'll bet you get a lot of that. When you invited me to dinner, I took the opportunity to probe into your subconscious to see if you might be amenable to... well... to this."

"I could sense that you found me intriguing and I was naturally attracted to your beauty. Feminine pulchritude will always attract men. It pretty much comes with the chromosomes."

"So, what did you make me do?"

"I commanded you to dress 'provocatively.' From where I stand, you did. The combination of those jeans and that peasant top is intoxicating."

"But I don't remember any swinging watches or little lights or anything like that. Did you make me forget?"

"Nope. I never use any of those things. I don't need to. They're just Hollywood props. I use them on stage, but it's just part of the act, Stella. Please don't be upset. I could have commanded you to show up dressed as Bozo the Clown. If I had, you'd be wearing flaming red hair and a big red nose to match right now."

"Everything else, the dinner invitation, the restaurant, the kiss, everything... that was all you. No, well, some of it was us."

"I need to sit down," said the beautiful reporter as she took a long sip, finished her drink, and sat down on one of the high kitchen stools. She reached for the bottle of scotch and poured a second shot over the almost-melted ice cubes. Care for a top-off?

"No thanks, I'm good," said Randy. "Stella, we both have demanding jobs. I do over two hundred shows a year in thirty-five or forty different cities. My love life is limited to one- or two-night stands. I'll bet that you have similar issues, although I am a little surprised that someone as beautiful as you doesn't have a steady guy."

Options

"Do you hypnotize all your lovers?"

"No, but I do when my partner says she wants me to."

"Why would a woman want to be hypnotized during sex? Doesn't that somehow take away from her ability to express her own feelings?"

"That's not my experience. If anything, it allows her to overcome any subconscious impediments, to explore her true self in an atmosphere of complete safety. It lets feelings out."

"Stella, there's no other way to put it. My abilities are comprehensive. I can literally make anyone I choose do anything I choose."

"Jesus Christ," she gasped, "what have I gotten myself into?"

"You can answer that question for yourself, but I'll answer it from my perspective if you'd like. This afternoon a guy broke into the Twirling Bull and I almost got shot. The owner did get shot. Then you showed up and, let's face it, you initiated the events that led to this moment. I merely helped you dial in your outfit. You look great. I'm perfectly happy with the way things are going. Great dinner, better conversation and, so far at least, the beginnings of what I still hope will be a night of love-making."

"But it doesn't have to play out the way I want. I want any woman I'm with to enjoy herself. I would never force myself on any of my lovers, but if I haven't created enough trust between us, I can call a cab and be out of here in half an hour. It will be like you never suggested that we get together for a drink. We both just move on. It's completely your call."

"I'm still a little confused, but I do know that I don't want you to leave. The reporter in me has so many questions, but the woman in me just wants you to keep kissing me."

A Deep Secret Uncovered

"Why can't we do both? I have no problems answering any of your questions. Look, Stella," he said as he advanced, put his hands on her shoulders, and repeated his soft kisses to her neck, "I want very much to be your lover. The taste of your skin is exquisite. I can be a lover totally unlike any you've ever had. I can literally make any fantasy you have come true, here, right now, tonight. This is your chance to completely control the experience. No matter what it is, I promise you that we'll both enjoy it."

"Pleasing lovers is what love-making is all about. I want very much to please you, Stella. Would you like me to hypnotize you tonight?"

"Anything I'd like?"

"Pretty much. Either you can describe it to me or, if you'd like I can search your subconscious mind to see what's there. It won't hurt and you'd be surprised what sorts of things you might have buried inside."

"How about we do both? You can tell me what you want and then I can check for details."

"Wow," she said as she gently shook her head from side-to-side. "Give me a minute to think."

"Take as long as you want, he said as he returned to caressing her collarbone."

Stella swooned just a bit as she re-adjusted her stance. "You're not making this easy, Randy."

"Just doin' my job, Maam," said the hypnotist as he paused to allow one of his feathery kisses to linger." He seized the beautiful reporter's upper arms and gently turned her around to face him directly. She shook her head and her wavy black mane whipped back and forth as she raised her lips to meet his.

"Randy, she said, "I'm so caught-up in the moment, I can't focus on fantasies."

"Would you like me to take a look? You never know what might be there, just below the surface. We don't have to, but you might find something out about yourself. What do you say; trust me yet?"

"Kiss me again."

Randy's lips met Stella's, as he kissed her softly, barely a kiss at all. It was intended to show affection, but also to defer. It said, "I'm interested, very interested, interested enough to take a step back and let you decide."

Stella's knees threatened to buckle enough so she had to take a steadying step to the side.

"I know what I want," said the dark-eyed west Texas beauty. "I'm thinking about it right now. Why don't you tell me what it is?"

"Let me see," said Randy as he continued to caress her collarbone. With one hand he reached around and placed the palm flat against the bare skin between the top of her jeans and the bottom of her blouse. He spread his fingers wide as he gently pulled her back to him. She could feel his cock poking her in the ass through the tight denim.

With his other hand he hooked his index finger under the top of her blouse and slowly, maddeningly slowly, he began to ease it down off her shoulders. As the short puffy sleeve descended her arm, his lips followed, kissing her chest as more and more of her skin was revealed by the soft retreating cotton.

He stopped as soon as her cleavage, pushed and highlighted by her bra, came into view. He kissed the very top of her tit, on the newly revealed section of her chest which just moments ago had been hidden by the blouse. He pursed his lips and applied light suction to her exposed flesh.

"I know what you want, Stella," he said as he released his lips and whispered into her ear.

"Tell me. Tell me about myself."

He whispered again. "You have a hidden vice, and I have to say that it's a doozie." he said."

"Tell me."

"You're into romance novels, you know, 'bodice rippers.'"

"Oh, my God," she said. How can you know that?"

"Your mind is filled with images from the covers of romance novels. Every one of them features you and some handsome hero, a pirate, a fireman, a cowboy. How many of these books have you read?" he asked, chuckling.

"Too many," admitted Stella, laughing as well.

The romantic mood was broken, but not irretrievably.

"Let's take a break," suggested the reporter as she shifted and tugged on her outfit, returning her blouse to factory specs. Why don't you pour us another drink, lots of ice this time, while I go into the bedroom and light the candles. Wait," she said, "I've never taken candles out before a date." Looking at her lover-to-be, she said, "That was you, Randy; wasn't it?"

"I promised to tell the truth. Yeah, it was me."

"Presume much?" she asked, smiling.

"So far I seem to be doing all right."

"You are," she said as she kissed him on the cheek. "Give me five minutes. I want to make a little costume adjustment." She went into her bedroom and closed the door.

Randy the Cad

Randy set about pouring the drinks. It would be his last of the night. Randy was always careful not to get drunk or even tipsy. Drunks were mistake-prone. His secret required constant protection.

Eventually, Randy was summoned from behind the door. "I'm ready," the beautiful news reporter said.

Randy opened the door with one hand while he balanced both drinks in the other. The room was dimly lit, so much so that Randy had to pause with his eyes closed to allow his night vision to kick in. When he opened his eyes, Stella was reclining on the bed. Her peasant blouse was pulled as far down as it could be, exposing soft cleavage and the dark tops of her aureoles. Randy could see her nipples poking into the cotton just below. The strapless bra was gone.