…..dark and humid. Outside, palm trees sway to the South Sea Island breezes. Inside, behind closed doors come the cries of one-sided passion from the customers of the ladies plying the oldest trade in the world. In the fourth room the hypnosis has begun. Easily elevated, her brain is ripe to sail….thanks to the surrounding elements. The humidity shimmers on her skin and blends with the bronzing coconut oil used sunning on the beach that day, he wants to touch but doesn’t. The smell of the sand and fresh body of water is so soothing, somehow reminding her of being tucked under the arm of a gentle and loving soul. The water like a hair trigger, a symbol for her…to her unconscious, the charming hypnotist wants to dive in and deep, to bring up a treasure….he wants to penetrate the unused psyche and give it appropriate expression for her to bring to conscious life. He wants to meet her shadow….

She’s lying on the bed with no blankets, such heats infiltrate the tiny hotel, pooled with the dirty sex hammering from bodies of only acquaintances, its sensory overload. She stares at him while he verbally recollects their day slowly, beginning with breakfast of fresh peach juice. Just outside the café they witnessed an old woman sitting on the cobblestone sidewalk, blind and no legs, peddling chiclets for mere pennies, her clothing a disgusting mess…one wants to give her more than pennies, paying off/away the sadness she is. He then pads her through the small village they visited, tropical flowers hanging off of trees, the brilliance of their pink color and depth of their fragrance offsetting the shabby ruins and tides of snakes held in formations known as peddlers. Standing outside a tee-pee like pup tent, a teenage girl welcomes them inside to view her silver jewelry. She slowly rubs the silver rings with a polishing cloth, continually picking one up and putting one down, one just as beautiful as the next, some embedded with jewels, others not. Sparkling silver rings even in the darkness of her booth. They each buy one. His voice, this handsome and sensual hypnotist, resounds through her thoughts like gold dust whirling around a warped pixie in a Garden of Eden. He watches her eyes go vacant, as he slowly paces through their day, in the heat and humidity and darkness of that late night he sees his hypnosis beginning to work. The headboard banging and the fucking in the next room is the last waking thing she distantly hears. She grabs for the pure ball of white light and energy circling just out of her reach and begins to transfer.

The sexy hypnotist begins to heighten her awareness, wanting to dissolve her fears, to reveal rich emotional rewards. He so certainly moves into her darkness, often unreachable, his confidence will perform tonight. He wants to get lost in her sex, be reborn in it and make a transfer of his own. He starts her un-awake journey with his first sexual innuendo “It’s blowing in here, can you feel that?” She replies by telling him of the wind, so strong and huge, she is feeling too warm on her face, so comforting…whipping her hair all over and around her face, radiating through her. She illustrates to him the picnic the two of them are enjoying in her unfocused mind’s eye, in a Cemetery, a beautiful picnic with candles and a checkered white and red cloth. The candles will not blow out in this inter-galactic wind. The candles stay lit and stand strong at the picnic. Two candles, two silver candles that will not blow out. She adores having this lover at her picnic. The sky is dark and clouded and she cannot help but revel in the setting. The horizon shines a deep harvest orange and the sun slowly sets. She stands at this picnic, carrying her sexuality assertively and every pore of her skin is oozing with sex. She describes to him her silky vintage dress, low cut, black, sleek lines, she giggles to him that the wind keeps blowing her skirt above her thighs and she is demurely trying to contain the show and g-string that most innocently peers out in the wind. Her lover gazes at her like a star in his heaven. She comments that the wind is even stronger now. She quits speaking and waits on her next suggestion.

The hypnotist speaks his second sexual innuendo in asking her “Are you Sleeping Really Hard Right Now?” She cannot recognize why she would be sleeping at a picnic in a cemetery with a handsome man watching her. No, she is wide awake, and wants to charm him. She mentions that she’s feeling sensual in the wind with her just-fucked bed-head looking hair. “I will offer him some licorice and candles” she secretly enlightens her hypnotist. In her minds eye, she turns to him and offers him some Licorice and Candles. Upon handing over her gifts, she notices the letters LC on her right hand, her benevolent hand. The heat from his kaleidoscope cerebral eye contact spills into her panties and dampness scripts her anticipation. Requiems seem to be chanted in the graveyard spilling over soothing yet sultry. The hypnotist’s heart pounds at the sheer excitement of her words from her closed eye vision. He cannot take his eyes off of her. She verbalizes that recognition in the humid and sodden heat of that hotel room where he takes her psyche away from her physical existence.

In her mind a rich calm fills the breathing space of the graveyard and the wind seems to have journeyed towards the ocean. As he ever gratefully accepts his gifts, she keeps hold of his hand and leads him out of the graveyard. He turns back for a quick last glance at the stillness and tranquility entertained in the somewhat romantic burial ground, he marvels as if she’s sent the wind away and she provocatively slurs this to the waking world he is in. The sound of the wind leaving reminding him of a flute cleverly heard above the rest of the instruments, prominent as a soloist. She asks him to run with her, she wants to keep the physical pace of her body with the beating of her spirit. He keeps her tempo. In the corner of his eye, he watches the graveyard vanish and he doesn’t pay more than a little attention as his interest lies in what is to become of his lady at hand. In that flash of a moment in which he eyes that familiar couple, the young girl presents the fellow a picture, this is all he takes time to see.

“Pftttttttttttttttttt” her own loud panting grabs her sleep waking her from yet another dream and sitting straight up in her bed she finds her nimble body clammy. Peering at the clock she’s only slept for 40 minutes while her dream world entranced her with another foolish delusion of perverted fate. Kicking her blankets off she pinches her tits delightfully hard with a possibility and seduction forming in her mind after such a wicked dream of him again. A hypnotist this time? She winces as her nipple rings twist in her rolling fingers clamoring her body with lust. Questioning her own lucidity she begins dawning scenarios in her horny state as to how she could fill her fantasy of him. Damn sexy voice. Crazy dreams. He is only two bedrooms away and a twist of life fashioned them in the same house at the same time. Her body is now craving him, yes he did have a voice that rolled like thunder and she was not going to waste one more moment. Yes, he was exceptionally striking still all these years later. “Here I go” she sniggers to herself. No longer able to fight her die hard physical attraction for him she slips out of bed and feels her way through the darkness and wonders if she is the only one hearing her pussy thumping. Clenching her peach tightly through her nighty she giggles to herself, “Shhhhh!”. Like playing hide and go seek the shivers of being caught swill her skin and she feels the first door way. The floor creaks with her next barefoot step catching her breath with sudden reality. “Just who the hell do I think I am?” sinisterly said sure enough at herself but doesn’t stop when her hand touches the door knob to his bedroom.

She stands at the doorway and not taking a second thought which may have drowned her bravado, enters his room. Having really no plan other than knowing it was the middle of the night and she wanted his vast hands on her for so many years now, big hands belonging to a remarkable man whose charisma outstood his presence in a room. Meeting him so many years ago through six degrees of separation she had built a room in her heart where she often opened the door to see her sensual fantasies that left her legs shaking. Had she known any better, she may have thought there was a saintly host illuminating him at that moment as the moon shone in admiring his strong facial features. Her senses now fine tuned she slithers under his covers and devilishly cracks in her mind… Oh handsome fucker, I want you.