The Conquest of Stephen Perkins Ch. 01

Part 1

1:00 PM--appointment day, Monday August 2

She stood from behind her rosewood desk as I entered her office. Stepping around it, she stopped at the two upholstered chairs in from of it to greet me. Her grey wool suit, a knee-length skirt and tailored double-breasted jacket, fit her exquisitely. Her white satin blouse, the top two buttons unbuttoned, revealed a modest hint of her well-endowed bosom. The name plaque on her desk gave her name: Millicent Kondrikas.

Her face, relative to mine anyway, appeared rather youthful: mid-forties I would have guessed. The loose skin around her neck, however, suggested she was older, having had some "work" done to help her look younger. In her spike heels, she was slightly taller than my 5'-9".

She extended her hand which I shook. Her grip was firm but gentle.

"Welcome, Mr. Perkins," she said, "and thank you for your interest in our project." Her voice was low, sexy, and somewhat husky, reminding me of Lauren Bacall, a screen actress of my youth. "I'm glad you are interested enough in our project to have taken our on-line tests. I must tell you, "she said with a smile, "that you tested very well and we are looking forward to working with you; that is, by the way, the reason we've asked you to meet today."

"Thank you, Ms. Kondrikas, I think (I smiled at her; she returned my smile), although I don't know what your project is or why you find me to be a candidate for employment. For that matter, I don't even know what the employment is."

"Nor should you," she replied, "and please, call me Millie."

"And please call me Steve." So far, so good, I thought to myself.

"The job, itself, is a government-funded psychological experiment. Although I can't reveal its purpose, I can tell you that based upon your testing and our background check, you are an ideal candidate."

"Thank you, I think." We both chuckled. "You can understand my apprehension, though, about taking a job for an unknown purpose doing god-only-knows what and why, and for the government, yet?"

"Then why are you here?" she asked, her demeanor suddenly changing and becoming slightly aggressive.

Taken back, I chose my words carefully. "Quite frankly, being a retired executive and a widower, I am somewhat bored and, if I may be so blunt as to say so, the money discussed with me after my first test was very appealing. Nevertheless, I really would like to know more before committing. Why was I chosen?"

"There are several reasons. I can't go into all of them right now but first and foremost you scored 143 on the IQ portion of the testing. This puts you at a near-genius level, which is one of our first priorities. After that, both your experience as a business executive and your reactions to the other tests in the battery indicate that you are very adaptable, another criterium."

"Well, I can assure you that there is only a very loose correlation between measured IQ and performance in any...."

"Of which, we are well-aware," she interrupted, "but it is a requirement for our candidates."

"May I ask why?"

"Intelligent people are more accommodating of hypnosis."

I was taken aback: "I'm not sure I want to be hypnotized. For that matter, I don't even think that I can be."

"You might not be. Part of our project is to determine which intellectual and personality types are the best hypnotic subjects and why."

"I'm not sure if I want to find out."

She stood up and walked to the front of her desk, in front of the empty chair next to me, sat upon the desk and demurely crossed her legs. Her well-turned calves encased in shiny dark hose fixed my attention. She smiled at me. I smiled back. "Do you find my legs interesting?"

"Hey, I may be old, but I'm not dead."

"I've been told they are my finest feature. I would love to know your opinion. But don't hurry with it. Instead, take time to contemplate my legs. Concentrate upon them. Consider their shape, their subtle curves, the hose encasing them. Follow them down to my beautiful foot...down...down...and relax as you do so and enjoy your contemplation of my legs and foot. They are all you can think of, aren't they?

As she sat, her foot moved in a small circular motion. I really was fascinated by it.

"Did you hear me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. Could you repeat yourself please?"

"Would you like to take a very short test to see if you are subject to hypnotism? I think you will enjoy the test and I assure you that in no way will it cause you any harm or discomfort.

"Of course," I replied with no further thought, although I was curious that my previous apprehension about possibly being hypnotized had all but disappeared.

"Wonderful. I'll need to fetch the apparatus. While I'm doing so, please just sit there and relax."

I did so, calmly, in the very comfortable upholstered chair. I don't recall ever having felt so relaxed.

"Concentration," Millie began, "is essential to any hypnosis. To help provide the needed level of concentration for deep hypnosis, we utilize audio-visual tools," she continued, setting a shoebox-sized carton on her desk. Opening it, she removed what looked like a visor of some sort and stereo headphones.

She sat again upon her desk, again crossing her legs and moving her foot in the same sensuous circular motion as before. She observed my eyes fixing on her foot as it moved and smiled. "You know," she said, "many people find black patent spike heeled pumps to be very sexy. What do you think?"

"Yes. Very sexy," I replied honestly.

She handed me the visor. "Put this on so that it rests on the bridge of your nose and I'll fasten it in place." The straps, one attached to the top-front of the visor, over my forehead, over my skull and down to my neckline--the other attaching to the sides of the visor and encircling the back of my skull, attached together, where they met, with a click. "Let me turn it on and tell me what you see." I could hear faint, subtle sounds, not unlike a computer booting. The darkness in front of me became brighter.

"I can see your office," I replied.

"Anything else? Look around."

I turned my head to the right. Her office wall was gone and, in its place, a deserted sandy beach and an ocean beyond. Now look straight ahead and tell me what you see."

"Your office. And you, sitting on your desk."

"Lower your gaze and tell me what you see."

"Your foot and your shoe, making a circular motion."

"Turn your head to the right now. What do you see?"

"The beach and the ocean."

"Excellent. The beach and ocean are always going to be on your right. I'll be sitting in front of you on my desk and we're going to show you new images if you look to your left. All you have to do is to decide which of the three images you prefer to look at by turning your head. I will know which of the three images are being observed by you, and will record for each, the time that you choose to look at each. Before we start, I'm going to put these headphones on you to provide the needed audio stimulation."

"OK."

Looking straight ahead, I saw Millie still sitting on her desk, her lovely legs crossed, her foot still twirling hypnotically, holding my attention. And yet, behind me I could feel her leaning over my shoulder as she fixed the headphones in place. Strangely, I felt a band of some kind now running under my chin. As it was tightened, I could feel it pulling down on the headphones. Similarly, I could feel another band being pulled around the back of my skull, snugging what I now knew was a VR visor into position. I was startled by the sound of two metallic clicks, which sounded like something metallic being fastened. I must have appeared both startled and afraid of this, as involuntarily, all my muscles seemed to jerk.

"Don't be afraid," said Millie's low, husky voice, now coming from the headphone clamped to my head and seeming to resonate off the inside of my skull. "Just gaze at my beautiful foot, as it twirls in front of you." I glanced down and there it was, the overhead florescent lights dancing off the shiny surface of her pointy-toe, patent pumps.

Suddenly, I could hear the calming sound of the calm surf, gently rolling up to and over the beach sand. I glance to the right. "Isn't it just amazing how calming the sound of the waves at the beach are? So calming...so natural...the ocean...the source of all life. You feel yourself being calmed by it, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you do. Which would you rather look at--the beach or my beautiful foot?"

I was unsure; the beach was so calming, yet Millie's foot, twirling sexily in her pointed toe, spike heeled, black patent pump was so exciting. Almost unconsciously, I found myself looking back at her foot. A barely stifled giggle came through my headphones as I realized that everything I heard was part of a program except for Millie's voice which came, real time, from a microphone she must be holding. But looking up and straight ahead, her image was unchanged and she still there but with no microphone.

"All right, Stephen. I want you to look to your left and tell me what you see."

I did so and was shocked to see a conflagration of shapes and colors swirling about, disorienting me, making me dizzy, nauseous. The background noise was equally disorienting: a cacophony of screeches, screams and panicked voices. I felt ill. I jerked my head to the far right and was back at the beach, but still heard the disorienting sounds I'd heard on the left rather than the calming background sound of the water advancing and retreating upon the sand.

I turned my head facing straight ahead, looking slightly downward and there, again, was Millie's beautiful foot, twirling erotically, and in the background, incongruously, I heard the soft, gentle sounds of the calm ocean lapping the shore.

My physical comfort disappeared, and Millie's voice came back to me. "Wonderful," she half-whispered into my mind, "you have found your refuge."

"Look to your left," Millie urged. Without hesitation I did so. "What do you see?"

"Nothing. Just a void."

"What do you hear?"

"Nothing. Just silence."

"Listen harder. Surely you must hear something, very faintly in the background."

"Yes, yes I do. Music, I think. Very faint."

"Listen harder. See if you can hear it more fully."

"Yes, Yes, I can. Definitely music. Soft, comforting. Slowly growing louder. I think I know the melody. Yes. Yes, I do. It's kind of impressionistic tune."

"Do you recall the name of the tune? Do you recall the composer? Think back to your school days...back to junior high...back to your music appreciation courses."

"Of course. It's Clair De Lune."

"And who is the composer?"

"I...I...I'm not...Debussy?"

"Very good."

"Keep looking to your left. Just as you tried harder to hear something, you must now try harder to see something. Do you see anything?"

"I don't see any...wait, there's kind of a faint glow...kind of like looking at the dawn in Chicago, just before the sun clears the horizon over Lake Michigan."

"It's chilly, isn't it?"

"Yes. The breeze off the lake makes it uncomfortably cool." Involuntarily, I shivered.

"Listen closely; do you hear the taps of spike heels moving up the sidewalk from behind you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"It is me. Coming for you. To take you to a place where it's warm and comfortable. Would you like to be warm and comfortable?"

"Yes. Please."

I could feel Millie take my arm in her hand to guide me. "Where are we going?"

"Back to my office. Come along."

"Look forward, dear," she said. "What do you see, now?"

"Your office. And you sitting on your desk. But..."

"But what?"

"But I'm still cold."

"Strange," she offered, "I'm quite comfortable. You must have been more chilled outside than either of us expected. Here; let's put this over your shoulders. It will help you warm up." With that, she removed her tailored jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It seemed to help.

She resumed her position sitting on her desk, legs crossed, twirling her dangling right foot. I raised my eyes to look at her more fully, my field of vision taking in her knees, her waist, her white satin blouse pulled taut by her breasts, the shapes of her erect nipples outlined against the shiny fabric."

"Are you still chilled from being outside?" she asked.

"No. In fact, I'm quite comfortable. Why do you ask?"

"I was curious if wearing my jacket made you more comfortable."

"I guess it does," I said, suddenly embarrassed.

A coquettish giggle was her only reply.

We sat there, without speaking for a few minutes, it seemed.

She spoke first: "Are you comfortable now?"

"Yes."

"Good. 3...2...1...*snap*"

"I thank you for your time. I must say, you are extremely well-qualified for our project. Please take this envelope. There is $500 inside, the agreed-upon payment. I'll need you back here the day after tomorrow at 3:00 PM for our next appointment. OK?"

"Yes. 3:00 pm, the day after tomorrow. $500 seems like a lot of money for an hour's meeting though. Are you sure you haven't overpaid me?"

"Our pay is based upon $500 per meeting, irrespective of time involved. Besides, did you look at your watch?"

I did so:

11:00 PM--I'd been there for 10-hours.