The Girl with the Man with a Plan Ch. 01

Well, shit. I hadn't seen that one coming. Still, with a little ad lib, I could almost guarantee this evening would go my way. "Your estimate on the dress is off by a hundred ... or six," I told her firmly, unquestioningly. "But she didn't buy it. I did. And the shoes aren't Prada. The sales lady told me they were Jimmy Choo, whatever that means. They were the only pair in her size that matched the dress."

The older woman spun my way, and I was ready. Our eyes caught and held for a long, long, long three seconds before her breath caught, and she staggered back a step, clearly shaken. I've never been able to duplicate "the look" in a mirror, so I'm not sure exactly what it is, myself. But it always seems to have that impact. Maybe the eyes are windows, but some souls are not meant to be seen. Apparently, mine is one of those when I'm really pissed off.

She turned her impotence into rage. "You are NOT to go out in that hideous getup!" she screamed at Polly. "You look like an ostrich turned street whore!"

She'd started with number fourteen! Well, she'd been slightly more flamboyant, but it was still a firm number fourteen. I easily responded by extending my hand and quoting my line: "You look lovely, Polly. Shall we go?"

"We made dinner here!" the bitch countered. "I cooked it for all of us! You HAVE to stay!"

Number seven! Response: Pat the children on the shoulders. "Seconds tonight, kids!"

They looked at me uncertainly. I hadn't anticipated the possibility that the bitch was a bad cook. Didn't matter, anyway. Polly had already put her slim hand in mine, and I was leading her toward the front of the house.

"You walk out that door tonight and you won't be walking back in!" she bellowed.

Number one! She'd actually used number one! YES! YES! YES!

"Gretchen!" the brother said shakily, tentatively. "Gretchen, please! She's my sister!"

"Fuck your sister! And fuck you! That ungrateful skank is not to set foot back in this house!" She stomped out of the room muttering: "Fuckin' Jimmy Choos! Goddamn ostrich!"

Despite my elation, I had kept a stern face. Sociopaths are absolutely the BEST actors! (And lawyers, of course; but that goes without saying.) Polly seemed to be in shock, and allowed herself to be led to the front door like a baby lamb. Outside, as I closed the portal behind us, I heard the little boy entreating: "Can I have my room back now?"

---------------

We sat side-by-side at a private table in the rear, facing the stage at the Club Topanga in Lawrenceville. I'd picked this place because it was within walking distance from my apartment. I took another bite of a T-bone steak that was perfectly done but a little tough. She had ordered a Cobb Salad that must have contained at least two heads of lettuce. The thing was huge; but she only nibbled at it. In an effort to ease her mood, I'd ordered a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. She exclaimed that she'd never had Champagne, and that the wine would be wasted; but I really felt like celebrating! And, when she had finally taken a tentative sip, she said she enjoyed it. (Well, of COURSE she enjoyed it! Wine like that was created to seduce women!) I let her get two glasses in her system before I finally answered the question that she'd asked a dozen times already. "What am I going to DO?!"

"You are going to do what you've been doing all day," I told her so softly that she had to lean toward me to hear. That was orchestrated, of course. This whole thing had been orchestrated, from beginning to end. Well, we were nowhere near the end, admittedly; but we were now well on our way. I reached out and took her hand in mine. The first time I'd touched her, simply to make a point in our conversation, she had slowly-but-firmly pulled away. That had been forty-five minutes ago. Soon, my touches were much, much more frequent, and now she not only tolerated them, she seemed to relish them. She shivered slightly and spread her fingers so that mine could interlace. We were holding hands like schoolchildren, and she was loving it.

"What do you mean?" she asked breathlessly.

I saw the waiter glancing our way and I used my free hand to point toward the bottle of bubbly. He very quickly finished his business at the table he was servicing and scampered off in the direction of the bar. I could almost feel his analytical processes churning, figuring the additional tip he'd get from another bottle.

"From the moment you came to my office today, you've been following my every instruction," I told her softly ... so softly that she had to practically put her ear to my lips to hear. "Just let that continue, and you won't have to worry about what to do. Just ... follow." I spoke that word softly, directly into her ear, and she shivered slightly and clutched my fingers more tightly.

Idly, she reached up with her right hand and slid the left strap of her dress back onto her bare shoulder. When she lowered it again, as if on cue, the right strap slipped off the other. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, slightly slurring her words.

I stood and pulled her hand, enticing her to get up, as well. "Dance with me," I commanded.

"I ... I don't know how. I've never danced before," she said; though she rose. Perfect. Just perfect.

I led her out onto the dance floor and faced her, keeping hold of her right hand in my left while reaching with my right arm to encircle her waist. The band had just begun playing some slow piece. I'd heard it on the Muzak system in our outer offices, and figured it was something modern, but I didn't know the name. She stumbled at first, and then we settled into a gentle swaying motion, more or less in time with the song. Gently, I raised her right hand up to my shoulder, then dropped it so that I could hold her waist with both hands. "Put your arms around my neck," I told her softly yet firmly. She hesitated only briefly before doing so, and I added: "That will solve the problem you're having with your dress straps."

She giggled briefly at that, then gently settled into my body, the side of her face pressed to the nape of my neck.

After a couple minutes, she lifted her head and looked into my eyes. I met her gaze coolly. "Why me? Why are you doing this to me? You can't find me attractive." I simply kept looking at her, smiling faintly. "Do you?" she pleaded. "Nobody else does. I'm ugly. Please tell me the truth. Do you think I'm attractive?"

She had pulled away slightly in order to see my eyes, but I now firmly pulled her back into me. She didn't resist. "First of all," I told her in a low, distinct voice only she could hear, "I will always tell you the truth. You have my word. I AM looking for a pretty woman, though physical attractiveness in not necessarily something I particularly desire. Sorry if that's a bit vague. But, at this point in time, I need a particular type of woman." I paused and considered that phrase. "No, that's not true. The woman I am seeking is so rare that she defies any 'type.' She is unique. There is no other girl like her. And ... I think maybe I've found her."

The song ended. We stopped, and she stood there, staring at me, before softly following my lead and clapping for the musicians. Both shoulder straps fell simultaneously. I took her hand and guided her off the dance floor while she struggled with one of them.

Back at our table, the fresh bottle of wine had arrived, but the cork hadn't been popped. The waiter had been keeping tabs on us, however, and hustled after us to perform the ritual. She waited patiently, smiling at the man, or at least trying to, while staying silent and meek. I had reserved a corner table all the way in the back. When the floorshow started, every single patron in the room would be facing away from us; and even now, literally no one took the effort to turn our way.

She felt obligated to sip the new glass, nodding and smiling again until the waiter had left. Finally, she heaved a great sigh. "Mr. Baxter, I am very confused."

"Good," I told her definitively. "That's part of my plan."

"Please forgive me if I sound like a character out of some Victorian novel; but what are your intentions?"

I barked a laugh, then tried to stifle my smile. Too late; and she knew it. I had not meant to show her any truly human traits yet. She almost commented; but then she, too, paused, and instead canted her head slightly, considering.

"And I am everything you're looking for in a girl?" she asked quietly.

I sighed. "Almost. In some ways, you're more. I had not expected your apparent level of ... um ... intelligence." Her head remained canted, but her left eyebrow arched. I couldn't suppress another unwanted smile. "You didn't score very high on your GED. I wasn't expecting what you did with those files, back in the office."

Now, she straightened and her eyes widened. "You liked how I sorted the files? You didn't seem very appreciative."

"You enjoy receiving praise?"

"A little would be nice. From the way you acted, I thought ... MFFF!"

I leaned forward toward her while slipping my right hand around the back of her neck, and I kissed her, firmly but tenderly, lingering for about fifteen seconds, which can be an awfully long time in certain situations. When I pulled away and leaned back, her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted; and when I let go of her neck, she swayed unsteadily back and forth for a moment. Her nipples were threatening to poke through the fabric of that dress.

"You did a good job with the files. Thank you." I said, deadpan.

She was struggling to get her breathing under control, and she seemed to make a conscious effort to focus her eyes. "Why?" she huffed softly. "Why are you doing this to me? My first date. My first nice dress. My first glass of Champagne. My first dance. My first kiss." Her eyes narrowed on mine. "You ... You're targeting me for something. You were LOOKING for somebody like me! Inexperienced. Plain."

I sat back hard and looked upon her with fresh eyes. "Miss Pike, you are remarkably bright. Why did you score low on your GED?"

She struggled with that, unwilling to let go of her demands. But eventually, she surrendered ... an overriding trait that thrilled me. "That was a HARD test!" she exclaimed emphatically. "I'm surprised I passed it on my first try! I didn't even find out until I'd gotten there that there were things I should have been studying in advance!"

"Wait a minute," I interjected. "You didn't take any prep courses before you took it?"

"I didn't even know about them! Nobody told me!"

"And you only completed ninth grade?"

"Daddy died when I was in tenth. From that point on, I was with Mommy full-time, up until she died in August. She was bedridden."

"And you're twenty now?"

"Next month."

I sat, considering. "You must read a lot."

"Yes, from the library. Constantly. We both did. Especially after the TV started going on the fritz a year or two ago."

"Your brother couldn't help with things like that?"

She sighed. "He had problems of his own. The two of us only had Mommy's Social Security. We made it, but just barely. Richard couldn't really afford to help."

"What a Dick."

She giggled at the pun. But then she sobered and returned to the topic at hand. "Mr. Baxter, what's going on? In a single afternoon and evening, my whole world has turned upside down. I've been kicked out of my house. I have no money and nowhere to go. And now, suddenly, I seem to be living in a dream. I have no one to turn to ... except you. Was ... Was THIS your plan?"

Well, crap. I couldn't keep the self-critical grimace off my face. Sighing, looking for some sort of inspiration, I picked up my glass and drained its contents. I suddenly realized that she would be able to read any lie I could come up with. I had anticipated almost everything ... except intelligence. Damn.

"Yes," was all I said.

"Mr. Baxter ...." And the band launched into a loud, raucous piece of music as dancing girls skipped onto the stage in unison and the house lights came down.

We were sitting on a comfortably padded, built-in bench seat against the far wall. She was in the corner, and I extended my arm along the top of the seat and slid toward her. She gave me a sort of startled look, and moved away from me inadvertently, but she quickly bumped into the adjoining wall. Her breath seemed to catch, and she stared down at her hands, which were fumbling together on her lap. A man was singing some sort of tropical love song, which blared from the speakers mounted all around us, so I put my lips to her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you, Polly. But I owe you an explanation. I'm sorry I can't give you all the details. Not yet."

She reached up and put the strap back on her right shoulder. It immediately slid down again. She looked up into my eyes with a mixture of fear and longing; then she shivered as I gently moved the shoulder strap back into position and held it there with the palm of my right hand. Leaning forward, I realized that she wanted to communicate with me in the same fashion, so I dutifully turned my head so that my ear was within striking distance, and she spoke directly into it. "Please tell me. Why me? Why did you choose me to do this to?"

It was time to shift positions again. She faced forward, but before returning to her ear, I gently ran my lips along the lower line of her jaw and the top of her neck. Her whole body stiffened at the sensation, and she quivered for a long two seconds. I followed up by nibbling the edge of her ear, receiving much the same reaction. "I've been watching you. You were in the building on Monday, and again on Thursday and today. For my plan, I needed a girl who was inexperienced and yet sensual. My intent, after all, was to seduce her. She should to be shy, introverted, innocent. It would have been SO much better if you had been ever-so-slightly stupid; but ... I suppose nobody's perfect. I have to say, I greatly misjudged you there."

She didn't move, so I continued. "And then today, I overheard you in the cafeteria downstairs. They were talking about a nightclub act one of them had been to. Do you remember what you asked that girl?"

She shifted, but didn't turn enough to actually face me. She had become comfortable in my embrace and seemed reluctant to move away from the sound or feeling of my lips on her ear. Her eyes shifted toward me. Frightened. Embarrassed. She was blushing.

"She had been to a hypnosis show," I continued, "and she had been called upon to volunteer and go up onstage. Everybody else wanted to know what the guy had done to her ... what he had made her do. But YOU ... you only wanted to know what it had felt like. That's what you asked her. 'What did it feel like?' But she just shrugged. She didn't really care. Nobody else seemed to care, either. But you did, didn't you, Polly?"

A woman had joined in the love song onstage. The sound of the duet, along with the band, was so loud that the room vibrated. Everyone in the place was watching the act. Everyone except us. Polly didn't answer my question, but she was now blushing even more.

"You see," I said, "I declared a double-major in college. Business was one; Psych was another. I became very proficient in hypnosis. I was never much of a hypnotic subject, though I tried, since it was part of the lab course. I've got a bit of a psychological problem myself. That's why I was taking the courses; and, that was probably the reason I was unable to relinquish control as a subject. If our ... relationship progresses as I hope it will, I'll explain more about that to you some other time. However, I was very, very good at hypnotizing others. I soon found that certain girls around the campus had a deep-seated curiosity about it; and many of them were eager to try it when I offered. I must admit, I took advantage of that little proclivity. They were so easy to manipulate, to bend to my will. To seduce through trance.

"And so, today, when I recognized that little trait in you, after I'd been planning and plotting since the moment I first saw you, it just kind of tipped me over the edge. It was as if everything sort of coalesced, right at that moment. I have no idea if my crazy idea will work or not; but I knew right then and there that you were the girl I was going to try it with."

Polly slowly turned her head, and I shifted so that she could put her mouth to my ear. "Mr. Baxter, I don't understand. I'm very ... confused."

She turned forward again, facing the stage. What an odd way to communicate! I whispered over the din: "You are feeling many, many things. Physical things. Emotional things. Tell me, what is it that you are feeling the most right now?"

She faced me, concerned and confused and scared. She said: "No, Mr. Baxter, please don't make me tell you that!" But, of course, since her mouth wasn't near my ear, I couldn't hear a word she uttered.

The band hit a sudden loud note, then launched into another number with the same general beat. It drew her attention back forward again, and so I pressed my lips back to her ear. "Tell me, Polly. Tell me the truth. Tell me now."

She shivered, then slowly turned her head toward me. I dutifully twisted mine, so she could impart the knowledge I sought. "It's my nipples, sir. They hurt. They're rubbing against the fabric of the dress every time I move, and they're driving me crazy. And ... And the craziest thing of all is that I don't think I want them to stop hurting. Isn't that weird?" She shivered again. "Everything is so weird!"

We shifted again. It was natural now. "Polly, I want you to keep facing forward, like you are now; but instead of looking at the stage, I want you to look at the candle on the table." She didn't appear to move, but I saw her eyes shift lower. "Now, I want you to relax for me. Just relax." For a moment, she did just that. But suddenly, she seemed to catch my meaning. She stiffened and started to turn back. "No. Do as I say. Do it now." I saw her eyes dart left, then up and forward, then left again. "No one is watching, Polly. Just do as I say. Obey me, please. I really need you to do this for me."

She let out a long breath. I don't know how long she had been holding it, but it seemed to take a while for her to get her breathing under control again. Finally, to my immense satisfaction, I felt her shoulder relax under my hand, and she seemed to sink an inch into her seat.

"Wonderful. That's it. Relax all over. Relax completely. There is so much going on tonight. So much noise. So much worry and trouble. So many uncertainties. Relax now, and let me take that all away. Take a deep breath in for me, please. Yes, perfect. Now, let it out; and with it, let out all of your worries and all of your troubles. Breathe naturally, and listen to the sound of my voice. All your life, you've been curious about how this will feel, and now you're about to find out. You WANT to find out. And you know that I can take you there. You know that I took advantage of girls in college by doing this. And so, you know that I am very experienced. And you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can do that to you, too. You know that I am the one who can give you the feelings you have always sought.

"Watch the candle flame and listen to my voice. Relax more deeply. Soon, you will be asleep, and your worries will be gone. You want that so much. You want me to take you to a place where troubles don't exist. Relax. Deeper and deeper. You know it will happen. All those girls I hypnotized and seduced. I'm so experienced; and you realize ... beyond a doubt ... that it's about to happen to you, as well; that you actually want it to happen to you. You know that I'll kiss you again. It's part of being seduced, after all. Relax. Deeper and deeper and deeper still. See only the candle. Hear only to my voice. Relax.

"This is the best. The absolute best. So relaxed. So deep. Only the candle. Only my voice. So relaxed. Deeper and deeper and deeper still. You've always wanted this. Always wanted to drift like this. You feel so light and free without your troubles and worries weighing you down anymore. You've always wanted to feel hypnotic sleep surrounding you. You can do that now. Feel sleepy. Go ahead and let it happen. So relaxed. Deeper and deeper and deeper still. So sleepy. Nothing but the candle. Nothing but my voice. Everything else has gone away. All there is left to do is surrender and let sleep take you. So sleepy. You want that so much. So badly."